Chapter 1: Omen

I do not own Harry Potter and I am not making any money from writing this whatsoever. The Harry Potter franchise is the property of Warner Brother's and J.K Rowling.

"Somehow, I think we'll be alright."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

- Ronald Weasley to Harry Potter at the end of their fifth year.

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

It was a relatively warm day in Britain. The breeze as he drove on Sirius' motorcycle was pleasant against his face.

Everything was good.

Except for a very tight pressure around his stomach.

"I'm not even going the actual speed limit," he said loudly over the bike's engine. He rolled his eyes.

"We're not wearing helmets!"

Johnny actually laughed at that one, of course, that was what she was worried about.

"You're going to make me get winded the way you're squeezing so tight."

Her grip loosened fractionally, and in the rearview mirror, he could see that she was blushing.

Some passersby's stared as he drove. Unsure of his age or the lack of helmets, he didn't know. Or care, really. They could be nosy if they wanted, so long as nobody called the police or something.

Another few minutes and they were at their destination.

Johnny snorted as he looked at her hair. It had gotten better since the time he first met her, but much of it was still very bushey. It was made even worse now by the lack of a helmet while driving.

"It looks terrible, doesn't it?" She asked self-consciously.

"Messy," he admitted, "not terrible. Kinda funny though."

Hermione huffed as he locked the bike and they made their way to the library entrance.

"A perfect summer day," he lamented dramatically, "spent inside a prison of books."

She smacked his arm playfully. "You could have just dropped me off and left."

"Oh stop," he said, holding the door open for her. "You know I couldn't."

He was here to protect her family, after all.

"I expect you to be there for them, at least for a few weeks before Ms. Granger goes to the Burrow," Dumbledore said.

Johnny raised an eyebrow. "My powers are gone, how could I possibly protect them if the Death Eaters come knocking?"

Dumbledore just smiled that infuriating smile, before tossing him a locket.

"Say the word 'Goodstock', and help will arrive immediately."

He toyed with the little locket between his fingers. It was around his neck, faintly warm against his skin. An amethyst pendant was attached to it.

Johnny still didn't much like the idea of only him being here for them, but he supposed he should trust Dumbledore.

They found a table in a semi-secluded corner of the library. The place was huge, even bigger than the one at Hogwarts, according to Hermione, who was really sad when she found out he hadn't bothered to visit it during his stay for the last few days of term there. He didn't tell her - and likely never would - that he was watching over her the entire time, not exploring.

Immediately, Hermione had pulled out some books. "These are the next ones I've been wanting to read," she said, still looking at the nearest shelf. She pulled out a fourth, purple book that had old Norse on it. "I'm still incredibly jealous that you met Odin! That the Gods are even real at all!"

"Yeah, it was pretty cool, almost being killed in Hel notwithstanding." He took two of them for her and set them on the table. "If you read all of these in one go, I'm gonna have to start getting you ones that actually teach you stuff, like how to cook or something."

Hermione, who had sat down across from him, blinked.

"That did not come out right." He said, a little fearful. "It sounded really sexist, I swear I didn't mean it like that."

"Do enlighten me then," she said, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

"Cooking is a useful life skill," he said, waving his arms a little wildly in desperation, "I love to cook - I could even teach you if you wanted. But you really don't have to, as a woman does not need to know how to cook, but, er, everyone should, in my opinion."

Hermione held a blank expression on her face for a few seconds before cracking a grin.

"You're such a dick!" Johnny said in exasperation.

She was laughing. "I'm sorry - but you had to see your face!"

Someone shushed them from a nearby table.

They quieted down after that.

"You are right though," she whispered to him, "everyone should learn to cook, and I'm happy you have a different viewpoint on it than most."

"It's really the bare minimum," he replied.

She returned to her book, and it was after a few minutes of pure boredom from looking around the spacious library did he turn back to face Hermione. Johnny watched her read for a moment and shook his head. He liked reading too, but this was a little ridiculous.

"I can't believe this," he said, smiling, "y'know summer break is supposed to be fun, right? Why are you spending it all in the library?"

If it was anyone else who said that, he was sure she would have replied with something snappy, but she just smiled back.

"I suppose I could take them out with my library card," she conceded, "I should get back home and do some of the homework assigned..."

"No," he said.

Hermione raised an eyebrow again. "No?"

He shook his head. "You are absolutely not going back home just do to homework. We're getting a slushy or something."

"That's so bad for your teeth," she said, making a face.

"So what? Live a little, dude." He countered. "C'mon, we're leaving."

"Wait, wait wait!" She said, hastily reading a page before turning it and placing a bookmark.

They went to the front desk, where an old lady sat.

"Hello, I want to take these books out," Hermione said politely, showing the books and her card that she retrieved from a wallet in her handbag.

The old woman smiled. "Oh, don't worry dear, I know you'll return them, you always do."

"But-" She tried to protest.

"Nonsense," the old woman said, chuckling a little, "you go on, it's so nice to see you bring someone along after all this time." At this, the lady looked at Johnny, giving him a warm smile.

Hermione took the books and put them in her handbag without a word, but her face was a little pink.

Johnny didn't say anything either, his face was also heating up.

They got back on the bike in silence then, and Johnny was even more aware now when she hesitantly wrapped her arms around his stomach. He was glad she didn't have super hearing or something because his own heartbeat sounded plenty loud to him.

Jesus, what was happening to him?

The slushy was forgotten now, his only mission was to get them home so he could put some distance between them because why was his stomach fucking fluttering?

They went home with no further words, and when Hermione got off the bike, her hair was even worse than before.

Her parents weren't home, unsurprising he supposed, they were workaholics.

Johnny liked them though, and they clearly adored Hermione, despite not really knowing much about her life at Hogwarts.

Mrs. Granger, who insisted he called her Emma, was laid back and far different than her daughter. She was still incredibly smart but was far more subtle about it. Mr. Granger - Dan - talked more openly about a bunch of things that went over Johnny's head but he nodded his head politely along anyway. Dan had a bit of a more crass sense of humor that contrasted greatly with his wife and daughter that every time he made a joke it made Johnny burst out laughing at the sheer absurdity of it.

It was a nice environment, he had to admit. They provided him with the guest room, and mostly let him and Hermione do whatever they wanted.

Its why he also brought the cookbook up earlier in the library was because none of them actually knew how to, and it was the first major hiccup in his stay, where the Grangers simply refused to let him cook for them. They usually ordered out or bought premade stuff or kept leftovers from Mrs. Granger's mother.

It ended in a compromise of sorts, in which Johnny made breakfast, and they ordered for dinner. He usually made lunch too when they were at work, or just took Hermione out for it.

Now, Johnny desperately wished he was with Sirius and Harry at Grimmauld Place, if only to get his heart to stop beating so fast.

Hermione took out the books and placed them on the dining table, resolutely looking anywhere but at him.

God, Johnny had a feeling that this was going to be a long day, and it wasn't even lunch yet.

He hated being right.

"A birthday party?"

"That's right!" Mr. Granger confirmed enthusiastically. "It's my brother's birthday, I'd nearly forgotten what with how busy the practice is."

The Grangers had gotten home an hour or two after Johnny and Hermione.

"So we've taken the rest of the day off to get ready," Mrs. Granger said, dropping a handbag onto the couch. "The others should be fine on their own."

"I'll make sure not to make a mess here then," Johnny said from where he sat at the dining table. Hermione was upstairs in her room. They had loitered around for a few minutes before she awkwardly made an excuse to leave.

"What do you mean?" Mrs. Granger asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion, "you're coming too, we can't just leave you on your own."

He sighed internally. He may not be an adult, but he was still very mature and capable of being on his own goddammit. "That's really unnecessary, what will you tell your relatives when they ask who this strange American boy you've brought over is?"

"I have family in the states," Mrs. Granger said simply, "you are a distant cousin that is staying with us for a sort of apprenticeship over the summer."

That was... actually a pretty good lie, which was worrying in of itself coming from a Granger.

"If you're sure..." he said hesitantly.

"We are," Mr. Granger said with a nod so full of confidence that reminded him so much of Hermione. "D'you think you could go upstairs and let Hermione know to start getting ready?"

No. He said inwardly, not quite ready to face her just yet. But out loud, he said; "sure, no problem."

This was so stupid, they were friends - good friends, even. Johnny shouldn't be nervous around her, he didn't get nervous around anyone.

It was with this newfound resolve that he trudged up the stairs, his socks making no noise against the flooring.

Her room was the first one you'd see at the landing, straight ahead when you went up. The guest room - the one he was staying in, was at the end of the hall to the left.

Johnny knocked on her door, but there was no answer.

"Hermione?" He called.

There was a shuffling noise, and finally she responded, but she sounded odd.

"Y-yes?" Hermione said.

"Uhm, your parents want you to start getting ready for your uncle's birthday party. It's today and they forgot to bring it up."

Another moment of silence.

"O-okay, thank you."

"Yeah," he said awkwardly and went back downstairs.

Only Mr. Granger was still there when Johnny came back.

"I let her know," he told him.

"Great, thanks," Mr. Granger said, "are you coming like that?"

He said it politely enough, and Johnny knew these people to be genuine. Still, his hackles rose minutely.

Johnny was wearing the brown leather jacket that Sirius had gotten him for Christmas, some black skinny jeans that had rips around the knees, and a Pink Floyd shirt.

"Er, yeah, is... is that okay?"

Something flickered on the other man's face, but it happened so fast Johnny barely noticed. "Yes, of course, we don't mind it at all. I'm a bit partial to most of the bands that you have shirts for."

'We' didn't mean the rest of his family, Johnny noticed. He suddenly had a bad feeling.

"When are we leaving?" Johnny asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, in an hour and a half, ideally." Mr. Granger responded, apparently glad for the change. "We'll be eating dinner there, so just wait around and relax until then, I suppose."

Johnny nodded, taking a seat on the comfortable couch they had and turned on the television. He felt very weird using their stuff without asking, but they had frequently encouraged him to do as he pleased as if it were his house too.

"We're here in Geneva, Switzerland for the Champions League draw..."

He didn't mind soccer, so he kept it here.

Mrs. Granger came out from the washroom a minute or two later, and she smiled at him broadly when she saw him sitting down, which he found a little strange. She and Mr. Granger both then went upstairs to get ready, leaving Johnny all alone and very confused.

He sat awkwardly in the backseat next to Hermione as Mr. Granger drove. Johnny had initially wanted to drive his bike there behind them, but like with most things, they insisted he'd join them in the car.

So here he was, his breath hitching every time his and Hermione's knees bumped together. Their car was annoyingly small, didn't they have a lot of money?

Hermione was determinedly staring out the window, making him feel even worse.

Johnny had no idea what was happening between them, but he knew he didn't like it. Not talking to her sucked. He knew she wasn't mad or anything - Hermione usually had no problem making that clear to people - but what else could it be?

Well, he did have some idea of what it could be, but it was so stupid and unlikely that he just shook his head in annoyance. Mostly at himself.

He tried to think of something else, but doing that meant remembering the prophecy or Blackheart's death, and he'd already seen plenty of that in his nightmares. Hermione was a preferable topic to constantly have on his mind.

The ride there was quiet and uneventful. Some music played on the radio that Johnny didn't really care for, but that was pretty much the only other notable thing. It took around an hour to reach Mr. Granger's parents' house, which was a rather large one in a secluded and semi-wooded area. A gate went around the property.

It reminded Johnny of some of the houses in Upstate New York, which was already a small red flag to him.

"We're here," Mr. Granger announced, getting out of the car to unlock the gate. He got back in and drove them up the paved driveway that was damn near a road what with how long it stretched.

Four other cars were parked near the actual house itself. They stopped behind the nearest one.

"How many people are here?" He asked a little nervously.

"Oh just my siblings," Mr. Granger replied, smiling. "My sister and her two kids, my brother and his three, my cousin and her two, my other cousin with his two..."

Dear god. Johnny nearly shuddered at the prospect of that many screaming kids. Was this a nightmare? He certainly hoped that he'd wake up soon.

They walked up to the front door, which was dark oak and expensive-looking. The house itself was large and modern-looking. Much nicer than his place in Upstate New York. The sun was already going down by the time they arrived.

Mr. Granger rang the doorbell and waited patiently. The door was answered a moment later by a woman with graying hair and wrinkles. She wore glasses with one of those beaded chain things that Johnny never knew the purpose of and smiled broadly at the sight of them.

"Oh, Dan! So glad you could make it!" She said, with an accent he could only describe as posh. It was similar to Hermione's in that way.

Mr. Granger gave the woman a hug. "Hello, mum, good to see you too."

Her expression twitched only slightly - but still enough for Johnny to notice - when she laid eyes on Mrs. Granger, who was smiling pleasantly at her.

"Emma," she said not as enthusiastically, "lovely to see you too, dear."

"Likewise," Mrs. Granger returned.

And then her eyes fell on Hermione, who was dressed in a sky blue fluffy sort of turtle neck, and her expression brightened again.

"And there's my little Jeanie!"

Hermione blushed, Johnny snickered.

This was the wrong thing to do, however, because now the woman's attention was on him.

"And who is this?" She asked.

"Oh, this is a cousin of Emma's from the States," Mr. Granger explained, "he's staying with us over the summer for an apprenticeship of sorts." He turned to him. "Johnny, this is my mother, Elizabeth."

"Nice to meet you," he said politely, offering her a smile.

But Elizabeth did not smile back. She appraised him for a moment, lingering on his jacket and ripped jeans, before turning back to her son.

"Yes, well, do come in. And mind you, take your shoes off on the carpet."

Yeah, this was going to fucking suck.

They walked in, Elizabeth already halfway towards another room. The entrance area was round, with a staircase straight ahead and two different rooms to the right and left.

He took off his shoes and left them neatly on the carpet. Not because she asked them, but because something like that was taught to him early on by Crash and Mona.

Mr. Granger started leading them towards the room to the left. It was a dining area that connected to a large kitchen. Many adults were littered around and having conversations. Some held glasses of wine in their hands.

A few of them noticed as they entered, and called out.

Johnny had never felt so out of place in his entire life. They were all dressed smartly, and as they greeted the Grangers, their eyes would flit over to him. Even as Mr. Granger repeated their perfectly crafted lie, Johnny could see it in their faces. They were disgusted by him. His presence here. Clearly, they agreed that he didn't belong either.

They wouldn't say it, and their expressions became welcoming and polite a moment after, but it was too late.

He greeted them all, before disappearing into another room. It was empty and seemed to be a study of some sort. He took a moment to let out a deep sigh.

How was he meant to survive the night here?

Figuring it would be rude to not talk to anyone all night and only prove to validate their initial, incorrect opinion on him, Johnny decided to brave the dining room once more.

The first thing he noticed was Mr. Granger speaking to a group of other men, and Hermione over in a corner with two other people that must have been cousins because they looked around his age. Mrs. Granger was also in a corner in the kitchen with some of the women. Not really talking to them, but scanning the room. Her eyes landed on him, and she offered a small smile. He could have sword she also mouthed the word 'sorry'.

"So, Johnny, right?"

He turned, two women also apart from the group were to his right at the kitchen island. The one who spoke had brown hair the same color as Hermione's, and the other was a blonde. The one who spoke to him was the blonde.

"Yeah, that's right." He responded.

"How are you adjusting to Britain?" The brown-haired one asked.

"It's been alright," he said. There was something funny about not mentioning that he'd already been here for almost a year now, and that the adjust was anything but smooth. "I've met some good people working with Dan and Emma."

"What did you do before for work?" The blonde one asked.

"I was a mechanic, I worked for my father in Harlem."

"Is that where you grew up then?"

They probably didn't know much about New York other than it smelled and was riddled with crime. So any place he named wouldn't matter, really.

"I moved around a lot," he answered. Like hell, he was going to go into detail with them. "Manhatten, Washington Heights. We finally settled in Upstate New York after a few years."

Their eyes widened in recognition. Figures they'd only know one of the rich parts of New York.

"That sounds nice, then," the brown-haired one said.

"It is," he said.

They were testing him in some way, he knew. But what they thought of mechanics, he would never know, as they went to join the other group of women in conversation.

He eyed Hermione again, but she was still talking with her cousins, so he decided against it. If they were anything like the other people here, he knew that it wouldn't be worth approaching them.

Johnny walked into the study from before again, but this time kept going towards a door on the other side. It went around to the left room near the main entrance. There was an old man sitting on a leather couch with his feet up watching a soccer game on the television. Kids were playing on the carpeted floor nearby.

Six little brats all stared up at him as he entered.

They all had various shades of brown for hair. The kids stood up and surrounded him in seconds. A myriad of questions coming from their mouths.

"Who are you?"

"...one of auntie Jess's 'friends', I bet..."

"What do you know about that, Mark?"

"Are you a criminal?"

Alright, that last one really surprised him.

"What?" He said, laughing a little bit.

The boy - who looked to be the youngest of them all - eyed him with scrutiny.

What the fuck did they teach these kids?

"Grandma says that anyone who dresses like that is a criminal."

Feeling more than a little annoyed, he crouched down to the kid's height and smirked.

"The worst kind of one," he said, "so you all better move out of my way before I get mad."

The kids gave him a wide berth after that, and he saw a couple of fearful glances as he walked towards the couch.

It was a dick move, but he didn't really care at the moment.

Johnny'd regret deciding to sit down soon, though.

The old man, who he assumed to be Hermione's grandfather, shook his head as Manchester United was put into a group with Juventus for the upcoming champions league.

"Unlucky, that," the old man said, "Juventus has a decent side this year. Can't say the same for United when they still have Andy Cole in the starting eleven..."

Johnny didn't respond, instead, he found himself counting down the minutes until they left and fearing for when dinnertime came around.

"What's New York like, Johnny?"

He paused with a fork of spaghetti wrapped around it about halfway towards his mouth. This was a question he was sort of dreading. Well, any question directed towards him was enough to be alarming, but still. One of Mr. Granger's brother's asked the question, Johnny had already forgotten his name.

"It's..." he trailed off, thinking.

Smelly, crime-riddled, the people are assholes...

"It's home," he said, a soft smile playing on his lips, thinking of James. "It's not perfect, not by a long shot, but... there's no other place like it."

There was silence for a moment, everyone was looking at him. Hermione was grinning.

"I'll say," another one of Mr. Granger's brother's piped up suddenly, "bloody alien invasions every week!"

"Richard!"

"It's true!"

Johnny laughed. He wasn't exactly wrong.

"They've got a fantastic music scene," one of the women said.

"And loads of talented artists," another added, nodding.

Alright, maybe some of them weren't so bad.

"Well when I went, I was hoping to see that Spider-Man bloke, but he never showed up where I was walking around. Some fight with a nutter called the 'Shocker' at a bank."

He laughed again.

Twenty minutes later, dinner was done and the adults were back to chatting in their little groups as the kids played.

He was in the library because of course, they had their own damn library.

Fascinating books mostly on history, and the place wasn't really all that big. Some philosophical one's in there too.

A voice from behind him startled Johnny out of his skimming of a Shakespeare book. Really, he ought to be used to it now.

"That's one of my favorite plays from Shakespeare."

At first, he thought it was Hermione, but the girl in front of him looked nothing like her, it was just the voice that was similar.

She was blonde, with striking hazel eyes. Her face was a bit fuller than Hermione's and her hair was shoulder length.

"I'm not too big on him," he admitted, looking back down to 'A Winter's Tale'. "Too much drama and forced scenarios."

She chuckled, and he had to admit, it was a little endearing.

"That's fair," she said, "a product of its time, I suppose." She stuck her hand out. "My name is Emily."

He took it. "Johnny."

"I know," Emily said, still smiling, "my relatives gossip a lot."

"I would say hopefully good things, but they don't seem the type." He said, not really caring if it was rude to say that.

Thankfully, she laughed again, and it was almost melodic.

"You'd be right, unfortunately. It gets tiring after a while."

"I don't know how you survive," he admitted.

"By going along with it, of course." Another voice said.

Hermione was here too now, standing near the end of a shelf and glaring daggers at Emily.

"Ah, Hermione, there you are," Emily said a little stiffly.

He didn't remember seeing Emily with Hermione and her other cousins when they first arrived now that he thought about it. Guess he knew why now.

"Yes, well, I need to speak to Johnny, if you don't mind."

Jesus Christ, he'd never heard Hermione talk like that before.

"Not at all," Emily responded coolly, stepping around her and waving at Johnny. "Nice meeting you," she said.

"You as well," he called.

It was just him and Hermione now. Johnny raised an eyebrow at her. "Anything you want to tell me about that?"

"She's a horrid person," Hermione said bluntly, crossing her arms.

"I kinda got that, by the way you were trying to kill her just by looking at her." He joked.

Hermione ignored the slight jab and led him out of the library. "She likes to pretend she's above all the gossip, the down talking, but really, she can't get enough of it."

Inwardly, Johnny was hit with such a strong sense of relief that it was almost staggering. At least Hermione knew how unlikeable her relatives were. He had been an idiot to think she'd be blind to it, this was Hermione for chrissake, she knew what people who looked down on others looked like.

Hermione huffed to herself as they idled in the hallway.

"Want to get some fresh air?" He suggested.

She nodded stiffly, so off they went to the front door. There were people in the back, last time he checked before going to the library, so this seemed like the safer option.

They sat down on the front porch, their legs stretched down the steps. It was dark out now, the moon was completely unobstructed by the clouds. It was a beautiful night.

"What's up with you?" Johnny asked. "I've never seen you talk to anyone like that, not even Ron when he was annoying you."

Hermione was silent for a few moments.

"When we were younger, there was a boy I fancied at school. We went to the same one together, you see, and... well... I told her about it. This boy wasn't popular like the other time I'd confessed my feelings, there was actually a chance he'd say yes. Well... she swooped in and... and - nobody ever really talked to him, so of course, he'd take any sort of attention as romantic feelings. It was easy for Emily to get him to like her. She only did it to get at me, and barely a month or two later they broke up."

"Damn," he said, eyebrows raised, "what a bitch."

Hermione let out an exasperated chuckle. "Yup."

He laughed and nudged her with his elbow. "Well, I don't think you'll have to worry about her stealing me."

She looked at him, with a smug little grin on her face. It was something he'd never really seen her do before, and it made his breath catch.

"Oh, yeah?" Hermione said, a taunting lilt to her voice.

Johnny opened his mouth - probably to stutter dumbly and-

Crack!

They jumped apart, and Johnny hadn't even realized that they had been sitting so close in the first place.

Severus Snape stood before them on the driveway, dressed in his classic black robes, a small smirk on his face.

"Am I interrupting something?" He drawled, waving his wand slightly.

"No," Johnny bit out, glaring at the man. "Not at all."

Normally, he didn't have a problem with Snape. Johnny found his sniping comments pretty funny most of the time. But right now, Johnny would love nothing more than to clock him in the face.

"Excellent," Snape said, still smirking. Johnny was determinedly not looking at Hermione. "I've come here to let you both know that Professor Dumbledore has requested that you both spend the rest of your summer vacation at the Weasley's home. He feels it is a safer move than staying with Mr. and Mrs. Granger."

"Why send me here then in the first place?" Johnny asked, feeling annoyed.

"No doubt, you have heard about the Brockdale Bridge being destroyed?" Snape said instead of answering.

"Yes," Hermione said, "it was all over the news."

He remembered hearing about that, and indeed, Hermione's parents were glued to the television for the entire coverage of it on the local news channel.

"Well," Snape said, "that was very clearly an attack by the Death Eaters. Our now former Minister, Fudge refused to step aside for the Dark Lord, and that was the repercussion. Additionally, Emmeline Vance and Amelia Bones have both been murdered."

Hermione gasped loudly while Johnny swore under his breath. He turned his head behind him to make sure nobody was coming outside to check on them, but there was no movement by the front door.

"Professor Dumbledore feels it is no longer safe to keep you both here," Snape continued, "and thus, has sent me to deliver the message."

"Do we have to go right now?" Hermione asked.

"No," Snape said, "you are both free to return home to pack, of course, someone will be by either tomorrow or the day after you pick you up."

"Wait," Johnny said, "how did you even know we'd be here? I didn't tell anyone about the birthday party."

Snape smirked again. "How else? We've had extra Order members watching over the house. Didn't want to bruise your pride by having you do nothing all summer. There is so much you have to learn about how Dumbledore operates."

"I do know one thing," Johnny said, wishing he could punch him.

"And what's that?" Snape asked.

"You're a dick."

Snape bowed his head in acknowledgment. "That's true. Now, if there is nothing else..." He waited a moment, but neither teen spoke.

He disappeared with another crack.

Johnny looked at Hermione, there was an unreadable expression on her face. But he had a good idea of what she was thinking about.

If Emmeline was dead, which one of them could be next?

A/N: Decided to post the sequel story here, for those that prefer this site over ao3.