A/N: Y'all blew me away with your responses to the previous chapter. Thank you! Hermione really has come into her own, hasn't she?

Chapter Thirty-Seven: What Happened After

Hogwarts, 5 June 1995

The final flying carriage had disappeared into the cloudy sky, and if there were some melancholy faces amongst her schoolmates, Hermione honestly could not have cared less. She, Fred, and George were with the Durmstrang scholars that had become her friends over this school year. The boys were talking to Stasia whilst she spoke to the rest.

She shook Viktor's hand, letting hers stay in his for a few moments. "Thank you for your friendship," she said quietly. "You cannot know what it's meant to me."

He clasped her hand in both of his before she could slide hers away. "Thank you, too, Hehrmyoni. You are a rare voman."

"And you are a brilliant man! And a good friend."

It was something she knew was rare, the sincere friendship of a member of the opposite sex. Once they had discovered that there was no chemistry between them, they had grown stronger as friends and that had been welcome. "You vill write."

"I will."

The rest of her friends came to bid her farewell, too, air-kissing near her cheeks or over her hands as custom dictated in their native countries. She spoke in French if necessary, or bade her farewells in their native languages if she knew the words. She would definitely be writing to them over the summer, to maintain contacts that could be valuable as she ventured out into the world.

At last, Stasia came to her, and the twins flanked Hermione as they usually did. "We were finalizing your visit with my family," the Russian girl said. "I look forward to introducing you to my fathers and mother. I am sorry they did not get to meet you at the Third Task."

"As am I. I look forward to meeting them. I will send you an owl from France."

"Can't believe she's going to those French beaches again," Fred said with an exaggerated tone of irritation.

George sighed and nuzzled her hair. "At least she promised pictures."

With a laugh, Stasia shook their hands and kissed Hermione's cheek. "Until August, then."

"Have a good trip home, Stasia. Please send my—our—best to your parents."

Viktor had been waiting for his schoolmate and the two of them waved once more before entering the imposing ship that had spent so many months in the Black Lake. As it began to sail and submerge itself, Hermione sighed a little and leaned up against her boyfriends.

"It's going to be lonely on the end of the Slytherin table," she said after a moment. Behind them, everyone was turning away, possibly endeavoring to remember how life was at Hogwarts without so many colorful guests.

Each of them wrapped one arm around her and steered her gently toward the castle doors. "Might not be so bad, now, you know."

"And if it is," Fred said, "you can join us."

"And we can join you!"

She halted, turning in their arms and kissing each of them with quick, passionate appreciation. "Thank you. Might take you up on that."

As they reached the Entrance Hall, they heard someone loudly clear their throat. "Hey, George. Fred."

"Harry!"

"The Triwizard Champion himself!" Fred made as if to bow, but he was still intertwined with Hermione so that didn't work very well.

Hermione chuckled. "Potter. You're looking well. Everything all right?"

"Er, yeah. That. Look, Granger, can I talk to you for a second?"

Surprise prickled her skin. "I suppose?" She waited.

Potter looked to the twins and met each of their gazes. "Alone?"

George made a show of wrapping her up entirely in his arms as Fred said, "Remember, she's taken!"

Potter rolled his eyes and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I don't believe anyone in England or on the Continent will forget, lads."

They laughed and her boyfriends each kissed a cheek before heading indoors. "We've got a thing to do in our room, but we'll see you at dinner!"

Leaning against the wall, Hermione waited, as she had learnt to do, whilst Potter fidgeted about. He paced a couple of strides, stopped, stared at her, and paced again. She watched him, knowing he was uncomfortable but unable to think of a thing that she had done to make him so.

At length, she decided she had to say something or he'd pace until dinner. "So, what happened with Pettigrew?"

Potter stopped, eyebrows high under his messy black fringe. "They've got him in a special holding room at the Ministry. There's an inhibition against him transforming there, or something" He blew out a breath. "And, he confessed to lying about my godfather back in 1981, so that means Sirius is going to be reinstated and all that."

Hermione nodded; his family matters were not her concern, not really. "What about with him trying to abduct you? Pettigrew, I mean?"

He opened his mouth but nothing came out. She watched while he did it again before he finally said, "Look. Basically, you saved my life, that day."

"Third Task?"

"Yeah." He looked about and drew nearer to her until he was leaning on the wall as well, scant inches from her.

She tossed up a quick Muffliato. It had become one of her favorite spells. "There. Now no one will be able to discern what we're talking about. Only that we're talking."

"Where did you learn . . . ?"

"Professor Snape. So?"

"Right. So. Voldemort—you know, everyone calls him You Know Who or something—was trying to resurrect himself."

She cringed. "Ew."

"Yeah. And he had, had bits of his soul he'd split off and stored. In items. Like a ring or locket, you know?"

"That's just . . . frightening."

"It is, and you can't tell anyone, Granger. Except maybe the twins." He rolled his eyes.

"Sure. So what happened with Pettigrew?"

"Well, see, over the past several months, since Lupin came in as professor, right?" She nodded and he continued. "Dumbledore and some others started looking for these, these things where the soul pieces were. And they found and destroyed them."

"That's good, right? That means he can't come back, Voldemort?"

Potter threw his head back against the wall and winced. "That's the theory, but. Turns out there was one more piece of his soul, Granger. One they didn't know how to get to and they didn't—didn't tell me about it. But Pettigrew knew where it was and he was determined to get it to bring back his Dark Lord."

She frowned, thinking and putting pieces together. It was her best talent. "Pettigrew thought you had the final piece?"

"Bloody hell, this is hard to say." Potter dragged both hands through his hair. "But I have to. You have to understand, Granger." He turned to catch her gaze with his own and moved his fringe out of the way to expose the famous scar on his forehead. The equally famous green eyes were practically burning. "I have the final piece right here. The soul piece, if left in a living thing, can only be released if that thing is killed. So, Pettigrew was going to take me and kill me. He'd been planning it for, for a long time. He was the one who told Voldemort where my parents were, he's why they were, they were murdered."

Despite her usual inclinations, Hermione reached out for the younger boy and took one of his hands in hers. His fingers were like ice. She cast a warming charm about his hands and he snorted out a chuckle.

"Thanks. But really, I need to thank you. If you hadn't been there, hadn't been so fast, he could have got me. He was ready and he had a path and everything. I'd be dead and Voldemort would be alive and everything would have gone to hell. Perhaps literally."

She paused, for gratitude was a heavy burden and, as such, it was something that, in Slytherin, was handled carefully. She wanted to ask how they were going to get the soul piece out of Potter, if anyone else would be trying to abduct him, and why the bloody hell no one had taken care of it before then, but she didn't. Potter looked relieved enough just to have said that much and she wasn't friends with him or anything to share a bigger conversation. "I'm glad to have been there," she said after a few moments.

"Well, so am I. Look. I won, right? Big cup and all that."

She smiled. "Yeah. Rumor has it that it glows and everything."

"Hell of a nightlight, yeah?" He appeared far more relaxed and even smiled naturally. "Not too many of us that know what a nightlight is, you know?"

"Muggle-born."

"Muggle-raised."

Abruptly, he pushed himself from the wall and got a bag out of his robes. "Here." He whispered, "Engorgio," to it and the bag grew considerably until he held it with both hands.

"That was wandless," she observed.

"I know." He winked. "So. I won a thousand Galleons. I want you to have it." He tossed the bag to her so that her reflexes gave her no choice but to catch it.

It was heavy. "No. I can't. I did one thing and I'm glad it helped, really, but I can't take your prize money."

"Granger. Hermione." His smile was pained. "I've got money. It's waiting in a vault in Gringotts 'til I come of age, I've been told. I don't need a prize. I don't want it. I didn't want to be in that thrice-damned Tournament anyway. You know this." She nodded. "So take it. I hear you go to France every summer. Go, go shopping or whatever it is you girls like to do."

She laughed. "Or I could buy books."

"Well, yeah. I guess you could give them a thrill at Flourish and Blotts. They might even make you a partner if you invest all that."

The idea lit in her mind like the twins' fireworks and she grinned, all thoughts of making Potter take it back fleeing. "Thank you, Potter. Harry."

"Just don't tell anyone, all right?"

"My lips are sealed."

"Well, will you look at that?" George grinned as he stared across the Great Hall. He and Fred had planned on joining their girlfriend for dinner that evening, custom be damned, but he stopped in his stride.

"That's—that's—"

"A surprise."

"Good, though, yeah?"

"Yeah. How about we let her enjoy it? Catch her later?"

Fred nodded and clapped his twin on the shoulder. "Serves us right, running late. Oh, look. Roast beef and Yorkshire Pudding!"

They served themselves, but all the while, they were watching the new seating arrangement across the Hall. For years, they'd seen the proud green and silver ties gathered up in the middle and one end of the table whilst a lone little girl—and then young woman—sat alone, surrounded by books or parchments. Meal after meal, day after day. It had become expected.

Then, foreigners came and joined her, giving her companions and, eventually, friends. Fred and George had their moments of jealousy, certainly, but those moments had abated after New Year's Eve. They'd just been happy for their girlfriend. She needed friends.

And now, when they'd thought she'd be all alone again, she wasn't, and that was a sight that made George's heart swell in pride. "She showed them, didn't she?" he whispered to Fred.

Fred was looking utterly besotted. "She really did. Brought down an entire House, our girl."

First years, seventh years, sixth years, and a few of the others, too, had joined Hermione on her end of the Slytherin table. The food had followed after a few minutes, as if Hogwarts herself couldn't quite believe what was happening.

Through the various heads and colors and across the tables, Hermione's gaze caught theirs and they grinned at her, feeling their pendants warm against their skin. She touched one ear and smiled back with obvious happiness.

"Go, Hermione," Fred said with relish.

George hefted his pumpkin juice to her in a silent salute. "I knew they'd appreciate her one day," he told his brother.

"You start reading my tea leaves and I'll toss you in the lake."

After dinner, they came to her and were all set to congratulate (or commiserate) regarding her new, non-outcast status when she stopped them with an unusual look that neither of them could interpret. Why did she have her school bag with her?

"Come on. I need to talk to you."

Well, that wasn't good, George reflected, feeling a bit cold all over suddenly. They followed her out of the Great Hall and up a set of stairs that moved twice over before settling. She stared at them the whole time, still with that oddly complicated light in her eyes.

Fred ignored the movements of the staircase and held out a hand to her. "Sweetheart."

She took it and kissed it and that eased the pressure in George's heart considerably. "Did the, did your Housemates say anything to, to upset you?"

Her eyes grew wide and the complications in them melted away. "No! It was so odd, George. They just converged, you know? So many of them, talking with me as if they hadn't spent nearly five years making my life miserable." She cocked her head as the stairs ground to a halt. "I do hope they don't get in the way of my revising during breakfast tomorrow."

The laugh surprised George even as it poured from him. Then, Hermione took his hand and Fred's and tugged them along, through a set of leaded glass doors, and onto a slim balcony. The breezes played with her hair and George caught at the wild curls, loving the texture of them, loving all the pretty colors that made up a golden brown. "So, what is keeping that brilliant brain of yours busy, love?"

She leaned against the rail and studied them again before catching at both their hands, which she'd had to release to open the glass doors. "I have something for you. But I don't want you to get upset with me about it."

Fred frowned and played with her fingers. "Why would we get upset?"

"Is this about us?" It was a hard question but George felt he had to ask it, even if his heart was stuck in his throat and his jaw felt tense with invisible strain.

She nodded and Fred drew nearer to George, though they still clung to Hermione's hands. Fred looked out past her into the darkening sky beyond Hogwarts. "What is it?"

"I was talking with Potter, and he told me . . . things. And he thanked me for saving him at the Third Task. And . . . he gave me his prize money."

"He what?" George and Fred blurted that out simultaneously.

"I mean, that's fantastic, of course," Fred amended immediately.

"Surprising, but really grand," George added.

"It was, yeah. But see, I don't want to go shopping or whatever like he said."

Fred squeezed her hand that he still held. "Not even for books?"

"No. I actually want to give it to you. To invest in your business. And in Portable Magic." She disentangled her fingers from theirs and reached into her school bag. "Here."

She held out her hands and let a heavy, black silk bag roll from her fingertips.

George and Fred gaped, catching the bag and staring at it. Then at her. Then at one another. "Hermione."

"So, it's all right?"

"Cor! Blimey!"

"More than. We can, we can open our business!"

"We can get inventory. And, and material to make more!"

"We can talk to the bank. Get a shop!"

Fred hardly dared to open the bag, but he eventually did so, turning subconsciously away from the open air to return to the safety within the actual walls of the castle. "I've never seen so many Galleons."

"We better get it split up. Not all the eggs in one basket, and the like, yeah?"

"We'll need to—"

All at once, they looked around and saw they were inside and it was dark and they were still talking and, to their deep embarrassment, they saw that their girlfriend was still outside on the balcony, though she had turned around to gaze at the night sky.

They turned and ran back to her, pulling her roughly inside before pressing her against the wall next to the open glass doors. "Hermione," Fred said against her throat.

George felt completely in awe of her and his touch was light under her robes, still and always above the waist. "You're the most amazing girl ever."

"Dream come true, and not because of the money."

They kissed her, deeply and fervently, forgetting even the weight of a thousand Galleons in a black silk bag.

23 June 1995

"No, I don't care about my hair this morning, Ilana," Hermione snapped as she pulled on her sturdy Mary Janes. "I just want to finish these exams. I'm going mental. I swear, the boys will never speak to me again."

Shana laughed and tossed Hermione a fresh school robe, its collar a shiny emerald green. "Doubtful, Hermione. They've been through their O.W.L.s and know how it can be. They've got that look about them as well, you know."

"What look?" Hermione studied herself in the mirror, saw ink just under her ear, and tried to clean it off with a harsh Scourgify that stung the sensitive skin.

"That look that says they're counting the minutes until they can get you back into bed," Ilana Shafiq stated with a languid lift of her brow.

Hermione felt the blush clear to her toes. "I'm, I'm underaged. We've not, er, reached that point."

"Then they are totally counting the days. Can't be too many, yeah?"

"Stop it! I have to concentrate!"

They were still laughing at her as she left the dorm.

A little more than a week later, she stared at herself in the mirror once again. She had showered but still looked as if she'd been run over by a lorry. Or a herd of hippogriffs. Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology—all these she'd taken after her boyfriends had helped her revise and prepare for them. She felt strong in those classes. Ancient Runes had been a challenge, but she'd felt good about that O.W.L. as well. She'd taken Potions, Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures, and Arithmancy that week. If she passed them all, and she hoped to, she'd have ten O.W.L.s to her credit and one early N.E.W.T.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she'd told her Head of House in their Career meeting weeks before. "I just can't take Divination seriously."

"I understand. It's hard for the Muggle-born to do so."

"I do want to take the History Magic N.E.W.T., though," she had reminded him. With an exaggerated sigh, he signed off for her to do so, muttering something about her being an overzealous know-it-all.

Still, she'd seen his lips quirk with the hint of a smile before she turned away.

Her ears burned and she smiled at her reflection and caressed her charmed earrings. "Okay, so I might look ruddy awful, but they love me anyway. And I'm the only fifth year who's taken a N.E.W.T. this year!"

She blew out a breath and nodded to herself in great satisfaction. It had been a good year.

A/N: To answer a note I am seeing from different reviewers and in PMs: Sirius and Hermione are not involved in each other's lives in this AU. Sirius is Harry's godfather and, aside from an offscreen expression of gratitude that might occur - or he might send flowers? - their paths don't cross. I have nothing against Sirius in this AU. He just doesn't share space with Hermione at any point.