Sparrow's Nook, Cornwall, Eleven Years Later

Hermione raced down the narrow lane, her heart beating at a thousand miles an hour, fuelled not just by her vigorous exercise, but by the fear of what she might find when she returned home.

That is if the place still was her home.

For things had already fundamentally changed in her world, she noticed that as soon as she re-emerged in the Time Chamber in the underbelly of the Department of Mysteries. The Temporal Distorter, the device she had been using to punch holes in time, vanished right before her eyes ... which could mean only one thing ... she had never invented the thing in the first place.

That would change other key things, such as her permission to even be down here in this part of the Ministry in the first place. As a senior research Fellow of the Department she had access to all areas, but as her work was literally disappearing before her eyes, she could only assume that this was no longer her job. To be caught down here now would carry a severe punishment, perhaps even a stint in Azkaban.

Hermione riled against that as the thought crossed her mind ... she loved this place, this work ... loved investigating mysteries that would push her brilliant mind to ever more extraordinary levels. Not for her a life in politics or Healing. This was her true calling. There was rarely a dull day and she absolutely adored what she did

In fact there was only one thing she adored more, and she was frantic to discover if any of that was still hers anymore.

Which is why she was to be found now hurtling down the maze of narrow country lanes that led to Sparrow's Nook, the home she and Harry had set up together three years after leaving Hogwarts. They hadn't moved in together right away ... they had gone travelling for a year after Voldemort's defeat, feeling some time away from the spotlight of the Magical world was just what they needed.

So they visited the ancient sites of Greece and Rome, Egypt and Mexico ... sunned themselves on beaches in Florida and the Bahamas and the Balearic Islands ... fell asleep in each others arms under the sweeping lights of the Aurora Borealis. It had been a perfect year. Then Hermione enrolled on a Bachelors Degree at Oxford University, having passed the entrance exam with an exemplary score, and having her Hogwarts qualifications verified by the secretive department of the ancient university that dealt with Magical students wishing to study there.

Two years later and the first baby came along, and neither Hermione's dorm room nor the flat that Harry had rented in the city were anything like suitable enough.

So they chose Cornwall for its seclusion and beautiful scenery. They weren't far from the open-air Minack Theatre, and it soon became one of Hermione's favourite things to take her babies - both small and big - to sit on the stone pews and while away the days with an ice cream or a mug of Earl Grey. In fact, it was where Harry had clumsily - and soppily - proposed to her, shouting out for her hand in marriage whilst pretending to test out the acoustics of the amphitheatre-like venue.

It was the image Hermione would call on if she ever needed to produce a Patronus.

But now all that was in danger of vanishing into the mists of another time. Hermione could feel her pulse in her throat at the very thought, hoping against all dying hope that she was wrong. She soon rounded the last bend ... the house was in sight, the garden gate she knew so well ... this would be the test, this would be how she knew ...

And then she promptly rebounded off the security charm around the garden, crying out in heart-sore horror as she hit the floor with a bump. But it wasn't horror of a bruised thigh that was terrifying her so ... it was the sobering realisation that the house was denying her entry without permission.

It meant she was no longer its Mistress.

Hermione wailed at the understanding. She and Harry had agreed on that security feature, even for people that they knew. Ron had often brought his new girlfriends and one-night stands around unannounced, and the next thing the Potters knew was that there were exclusive articles in Witch Weekly detailing the fabulous inside of their private manor. So they decide to restrict access to everyone but their immediate family.

But now that family did not include Hermione. She was filled with an ice-cold sense of dread at who might have taken her place as the Lady of the House, though the angry part of her soul knew just who she would find inside. An acidic hatred bubbled in Hermione's breast, it choked at her, drummed a relentless tattoo of bile against the inside of her throat. She had to get inside, had to find out for sure ... then find a way to put it right.

Hermione soon heard footsteps on the white-gravel path. She looked up, hoping to see Harry ... but instead she saw a young boy, maybe six or seven years old, walking towards her in a spritely quickstep. She didn't know the boy, but she did recognise some of his features ... dark, messy hair, sparkling green eyes ... but no scar, no glasses and, as far as Hermione was concerned, no name.

But he knew hers .. and when he used it she felt a chill reach into her very bone-marrow.

"Auntie Mione? What you doing on the floor?" the boy asked curiously.

Hermione wasn't sure what was worse ... being called 'auntie' or 'Mione' by this boy. For one thing, she hated the contraction of her name. Always had. Girls at her primary school had used it to bully her with, and she'd never forgotten that. Then there was the use of 'auntie' ... which came with all sorts of negative connotations. Hermione didn't want to believe what her worst thoughts were telling her.

But then she looked beyond the child to see Harry striding from the house. Hermione's heart-rate accelerated at the sight of him, at the sight of his goofy grin as he crossed to the gate and flicked the security spell down with his wand. Then he offered his hand and helped her to her feet.

"The security ward told me it was you," Harry quirked with a wry smile. "Fancy telling me why you're trying to break into my house?"

"Harry, I need to talk to you! Now!" Hermione hissed, urgently. Then she threw a look at the alien child still watching from the garden. "Alone."

Harry looked at Hermione curiously, but he was never one to question her when she was this serious. He turned to the boy.

"Run along into the house, James. Help your sister with that tower of blocks she's building in the living room."

"Lily doesn't like me playing with her blocks," little James protested. "She always says she need them all, but she doesn't really."

"Just go an play somewhere else then," Harry insisted.

James, knowing a dismissal when he heard one, shrugged a goodbye to Hermione and slouched into the house. Then Harry turned to Hermione.

"Alright, we're alone. Now do you want to tell me what this is all about?"

Hermione grabbed onto Harry's robe sleeves and tugged him close. "Where are the kids? How are the kids?"

"Well, you've just seen -" Harry tried to say, but Hermione cut him off sharply.

"No, not him, where are the other kids?"

"My other kids are fine, they are in the house," Harry replied suspiciously. "Are you alright, Hermione? You look a little green around the gills."

"No, I am not bloody alright!" Hermione cried. "Where are the children? I want to see them."

"Why are you suddenly so desperate to see my children?"

"Because of the way you're calling them my children!" Hermione snapped. "But mainly because I am supposed to be their mother .. your children are supposed to be my children, too!"

Harry blinked his eyes in concerned shock. "Look, Hermione, I know we have always thought about our kids as one, big happy family ... but this is going a bit far. Are you ill? Shall a call a Healer?"

"No, Harry! Listen to me. Or, better yet ..."

Then Hermione leaned in, took Harry's face in her hands and tried to kiss him. But he backed away hastily.

"Whoa, whoa! Hermione! What are you doing!?" Harry hissed. "What the hell are you playing at? If Ginny saw that she'd go mental!"

Ginny! A low groan of some magnitude left Hermione's throat. Her knees buckled and Harry had to grab her before she collapsed to the ground. It was all true then, all true ... Molly had succeeded and changed the past. Hermione had failed.

Harry eased Hermione to an old tree stump and sat her down. He looked her over in deep concern.

"Hermione, what's wrong? Something is deeply wrong. Tell me. Maybe I can help."

Hermione looked up with tear-strewn, puffy eyes. "Just tell me something ... do you still love me?"

"Of course I do. You know that, that'll never change."

"No ... I mean love me, love me? Am I still your wife?"

Harry drew in a sharp breath and sat back on his heels. "Hermione ... what?"

"I'm not, am I?" Hermione whimpered. "We aren't married ... you don't love me ... you've never met Sophie."

"Who? I don't know a Sophie."

Hermione howled shrilly in her grief. Harry gave her a moment to let it all out, then she looked back at him.

"Sophie is our daughter, Harry ... our eldest daughter," Hermione whispered through her weeping. "She has long black hair, curly like mine, green eyes like yours ... she likes singing songs about monsters and playing a pretend game where all the kitchen condiments get together to colonise the Moon. You have to play at being the Sun, or sometimes be Mrs Nesbitt when she makes you have a tea party with her dolls.

"She's our baby, Harry! And she's just vanished from existence. She's been taken from us."

The effect on Harry was profound. He stared at Hermione with a worried, anxious expression. He didn't suddenly believe that this was all true, but he was convinced that Hermione did ... and that was enough for him to want to help.

"I don't understand what you're trying to say, Hermione," Harry muttered. "We aren't married, we don't have children ... or at least, I don't remember us being that way."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, Harry!" Hermione cried desperately. "We are and we do. But the past has been changed and you've forgotten all that. You've forgotten that you ever loved me."

Harry looked at her in deep pity and concern. "How could I forget something like that? And how do you still remember?"

"Because I've just come from the past, I had to tell our earlier selves to ... to ..."

"To what?" Harry prompted.

Hermione gasped in her terror. "I don't know! I've forgotten. My memories are disappearing, Harry! The timeline changes are starting to affect me. My daughter has vanished from existence, my husband is married to someone else ... the tapestry of my life has been unravelled and is now being rewoven together wrong. I have to stop it."

"Your daughter hasn't disappeared from existence," Harry reassured her.

"She hasn't?" Hermione asked in hope.

"No, of course not. Come on, we're just about to go and see her now. Let me take you, I'll show you that everything is okay."

Hermione numbly allowed Harry to guide her into the house. She saw her living room, her fireplace, but instead of pictures of her and Harry and their daughter she saw images of Ginny, of that boy from the gate, and some other little girl she didn't recognise. It was Harry's other family, his own little contribution to the Weasley dominion.

Harry led the way into his study. Hermione groaned as she saw it ... this was her library, these were her books ... Harry wouldn't have need of so many. In fact, Hermione could have told him all the ones that he'd bought for her over the years. But then he was calling out to the children.

"James! Lily! Come in here. It's time to go to Grandma's."

"James and Lily? Are you serious?" Hermione seethed. "You named both your kids after your parents?"

"Only two of them," Harry replied, slightly cross. "And it was Ginny's idea."

"I bet it was!" Hermione riled. "Play on your vulnerabilities to keep you sweet. Sly bitch."

"That's my wife you're talking about," Harry fired back. "Watch your language, please."

"She's not your wife, I am," Hermione replied, fiercely.

"And I've forgotten, as you said," Harry returned, dismissively.

"Exactly."

"Right, I'm getting you a Mind Healer. Today. Jim! Liliput! Get in here, now!"

"Don't call me Liliput, you know I don't like it," said a round-faced little girl as she entered the room carrying an arm full of toy blocks. She had the trademark Weasley red hair. She looked up when she saw Hermione, dropped the blocks into a heap, and ran to hug Hermione's leg. "Auntie Mi! When did you get here?"

Hermione wanted to swat the child off like she was a fly in her tea or something, but she was held on like a limpet. So Hermione had to endure it.

"Not long ago, Lily, not long," Hermione replied emotionlessly. She looked over at Harry. "So where is my daughter? You said we were going to see her."

"We are, she's at your house," Harry explained. Then he took a handful of Floo Powder and crossed to the fireplace, where he threw the green dust into the Hearth and yelled, "The Burrow!"

Hermione felt all colour leave her face. "Are ... are you saying I married Ron, we had kids ... and we lived at The Burrow!"

"You know you did," Harry frowned back. "You even let the ghoul babysit the kids in the attic nursery."

That was too much for Hermione. She turned and hurried to the window, grabbed a planter that was on the sill and vomited heavily into it. She knew it would be empty, as she'd placed it there only days ago in her old world ready to plant some chrysanthemums that Harry had bought for her. The fact that some things were still the same ignited a flicker of hope in her.

"Come on then. Take me to my daughter," she demanded briskly. She was bristling for a confrontation with her new world now.

So Harry led her warily through the fireplace, holding hands with both his fake children as they were transported to The Burrow. There was a birthday party in full swing for Verity, George Weasley's wife. She was cooing to their baby as Bill and Fleur fawned over her. At the back of the room, Ron, Neville and Luna were sipping on glasses of punch, while Arthur and Molly were dancing together in front of the Wizarding Wireless set in the corner. There were other children and people dotted around, but Hermione was too dizzy to take much notice.

Then a little girl suddenly ran up to them. She had ginger pigtails and lots of freckles.

"Mummy!"

"There you go, Hermione!" Harry beamed in triumph. "As good as my word!"

Hermione pointed down furiously at the little child with her arms eagerly outstretched for a hug. "Who the fuck is that?"

"Hermione ... that's Rose Water," Harry muttered quickly. "Your daughter."

The little girl looked up in hurt and shock and repeated in a small, nervous voice, "Mummy?"

"Stop calling me that!" Hermione yelled. "My daughter is called Sophie. She has black hair and hates pigtails. I don't know who you are!"

The child erupted into tears and raced over to hug onto the legs of Ginny, who was standing in the middle of the room holding an infant in her arms.

"And who the fuck is that?" Hermione screeched, gesticulating wildly at the baby.

By now the whole room had gone deathly silent. Ron traipsed over as Harry moved close to Hermione and whispered, "That's my youngest boy ... that's Albus Severus."

Hermione spat out a derisory laugh. "You called your son Albus Severus! Are you actually kidding me? Were you setting the kid up to be a cunt or what, naming him after those two bastards!? One who despised you, the other who manipulated you for his own ends! I can't believe I'm hearing this Thestral-shit!"

"Language, Hermione!" Molly hissed from the corner of the room. "There are children present. "

"You can shut your pie-hole too!" Hermione seethed at her. Then a flicker of memory sparked in her brain. "You ... you're responsible for this. I ... I cant remember how, but you are. What did you do to me?"

"What are you talking about?" Molly asked, smoothly. "Harry, dear? Do you have any idea, because I'm sure I have none?"

"Hermione isn't well, she needs to rest," Harry replied. "She's having some ... er ... memory problems. I'm going to fetch a Healer to see her right away."

"What's wrong, babe?" Ron asked, slightly slurring his words from too much punch. "What have you forgotten?"

"Don't babe me!" Hermione sniped, folding her arms and stepped back towards the fireplace.

"Harry?" Ron tried.

"Nor me ... that would just be weird!" Harry smirked lightly. Ron chuckled back as he understood.

"Come on, Jeaney-Weeney," Ron went on in baby language. "I'll take you for a lie down and you can tell old Ronniekins what you're fretting about today."

"Touch me with those hands and cut the bloody things off!" Hermione snarled. "I'm warning you, Ronald, stay back. I mean it."

"I'll take her, Harry," Luna volunteered bravely. "She does sound very sick. I'll take care of her until you get back."

"Thanks, Lu," Harry smiled gratefully. "Hermione ... will you please go with Luna?"

Hermione thought for a second then quickly agreed. If anyone here was likely to believe her wild story, it was Luna Lovegood. Hermione had never had greater need of the quirky witch in all her life.

"Alright ... but don't be long," Hermione agreed. Then she stepped close and whispered into his ear, "If I forget by the time you get back, just know that I love you. I've always loved you."

Then she placed a chaste kiss to his cheek. Harry looked at her curiously, as if remembering something about her, but the moment passed just as quickly.

Luna led Hermione away from the quiet room, which crackled to life in gossiping whispers as soon as the door was closed. Hermione wanted to rush back in and hex them all for their snidiness, but Luna guided her up the stairs to the cool air of the bedroom that she shared with Ron. They sat on the musty, creaky marital bed ... and Hermione buried her head in her hands and wept profusely for several minutes.

Luna showed admirably restraint, allowing Hermione to calm before finally speaking.

"What's wrong, Hermione? Is there any way I can help?"

Hermione looked up in hope. Even her voice was laced with it. "Maybe ... just by believing my story?"

"I cant believe it until you tell it to me," Luna smiled, sitting next to Hermione on the bed. "But I like a story, so I'm happy to listen."

"Thank you, Luna!" Hermione cried, throwing her arms around Luna for a hug. "I don't know where to start ... but I know for a fact that everything about my life is wrong ..."

So Hermione began to tell her tale, but the details were drifting away so fast. She remembered her marriage to Harry, their children ... she remembered going back in time to stop the changes she'd already noticed, to find who had caused them. But the finer points were fading like the scenes of a vivid dream.

"And now I'm here!" Hermione finished. "With kids I don't recognise and a marriage to a man I don't love. Does this sound totally crazy?"

"Well, yes, but that doesn't mean it isn't true," Luna replied, thoughtfully.

"Then you believe me!" Hermione exclaimed. "You don't think I'm losing my mind?"

"No, of course not," said Luna, brightly. "In fact, I think I know what this is."

"You do? Tell me. Please!"

"It's called The Mandela Effect," Luna explained. "My Daddy just did a big article on it in The Quibbler. I was showing Neville and Ronald downstairs. I can show you, if you like."

"I do, I do like!" Hermione cried. "What is The Mandela Effect?"

Luna unfurled a copy of the magazine from inside her sleeve and opened it to the centre-page article. "It's a phenomena where people remember history differently, but are convinced their version is right. It got it's name from when people started to say they remembered the South African leader, Nelson Mandela, dying in prison. They claim to have remembered seeing his funeral on television, and even problems with his wife claiming his legacy and estate after his death. But, of course, Muggle history records it very differently."

Hermione felt her heart pounding as she quickly skim-read the article. Luna carried on talking as she did so.

"There are loads and loads of other examples from the Muggle world. There's a cartoon that confuses people ... is it Looney Toons or Looney Tunes? ... lots from films ... life was like a box of chocolates for Forrest Gump, or life is like a box of chocolates for him ... did Darth Vader say 'Luke, I am your father' or 'No, I am your father?' ... was it Sex AND the City or Sex IN the City? ... did the character on the Monopoly game have a monocle or not? ... was the cleaning product febreeze spelt with two 'E's' or febreze with one? ... was the breakfast cereal called FRUIT Loops or FROOT Loops? ... the list goes on.

"But the main characteristic is that lots and lots of people, thousands in fact, swear that the accepted version of history is wrong."

"And did your Dad find out why?" Hermione asked keenly. "What causes this to happen?"

"His conclusion was that it happens either when two universes collide in the multi-verse, and that causes the change or swaps one bit of information in our universe to something similar from another one, or that someone has gone back in time and done something that leads to the change, however minor."

Swapping one bit of information that's similar ... eihwaz to ehwaz ... Hermione didn't know why that bit of trivia from her past had suddenly flashed into her mind, but she felt it deeply, as though another version of herself was whispering a hidden message to her ... or maybe her memory was whispering to itself.

"Sometimes," Luna went on. "Another universe gets so close to ours that we can see other people from that universe. We mistake them as ghosts and things, but they are actually real people, right next to us but totally divided by a whole other universe. And, at other times, when the universes bang together, people themselves can be moved from one to another. It's all very fascinating, don't you think?"

"Yes, very," Hermione agreed, thinking hard. "So ... this is what you think is happening to me? I'm suffering from The Mandela Effect?"

"It certainly sounds like it."

"So all these things that I think happened ... they just happened somewhere else? Or some time else? They were all true for me before?"

"Yes, but it isn't true anymore. This is your new normal now. You'll soon get used to it as your mind adjusts."

"But I don't want to to adjust!" Hermione cried fervently. "I want my old life back. I want to go back to how things were. They were better like that. I know that above anything."

"I don't know that you can," Luna replied sadly. "My Dad never found anyone who did."

"Then I'll be the first," Hermione declared resolutely. "And the key lies with that wally Molly. Come on, Luna. She's going to tell me what she's done to me or I'm going to punch her teeth out."

"Hermione! Wait!" Luna yelped. "That's not a good idea! She's much bigger than you, for a start!"

But Hermione wasn't listening. She bounded down the stairs two-at-a-time until she was outside the living room. The door was ajar and the whole party were listening to a story Arthur was telling. Hermione blinked in astonishment at what he was saying.

"Well, if Hermione doesn't get better, we can always use this new toy I found to send her back in time until she does," Arthur chuckled.

"New toy, Dad?" Bill was asking. "What's that?"

"Oh, just something I picked up on a raid just recently," Arthur replied smugly. "We had a tip-off that some Muggles were experimenting with a dangerous new technology, something involving temporal manipulation. So we had to have a look. Turns out that they had found a way to send someone back into time, into a sort of loop of their own lives only. They had little control of when or where they would go, but it was proven to work at least.

"It sounded utterly fascinating, but it was far too dangerous to leave in the hands of Muggles, so I had to confiscate it and bring it back here."

"You don't still have it, do you?" Fleur cried aghast. "Such a thing needs to be given to the Ministry to be destroyed. Time tampering is far too dangerous to be left out so recklessly."

"I will turn it over, just as soon as I've finished my analysis of it," Arthur replied, brightly. "You can only visit your own past life, or that of your ancestors if you fancy a risk. And you can only go back and forward within your own lifetime. You cant go into the future. It could have some very useful applications."

Like manipulating my life! Hermione seethed in her mind. Where the hell was this thing ... it was Hermione's only hope. Luckily for her, Arthur Weasley was a naive simpleton.

"I just want to see if I can go back to build better foundations for the garage. It isn't wholly safe there at the moment."

"Hermione! No!"

Luna cried out loudly as Hermione bumped her out of the way and bolted for the door. The cries roused the others, who came out to see what the fuss was. Luna explained quickly and there was uproar as the entire Weasley clan took off in pursuit.

But by the time they found Hermione she had already reached the device, thrown up a Shield Charm around the garage that none of them could penetrate, and was already setting about trying to activate the time-travel vortex.

"Hermione! Step away from the Quantum Accelerator!" Arthur cried out angrily. "It's dangerous and you don't know what you're doing with it! You could get hurt ... or worse."

"Fuck off, Arthur!" Hermione scythed back. "You're a clown for messing with this ... and you wife has been using it to fuck with my life. I'm going to put it all right."

"Hermione! Don't do it!" Ron yelled. "Come back ... think of our children!"

"We don't have any children!" Hermione screamed. "Those two things aren't real. They didn't come from my womb. They are aberrations of nature!"

"They can hear you! You're upsetting them."

"Good. Now shut up and let me work."

"Hermione? What are you doing?"

Suddenly, Hermione swung around and found Harry right behind her. She gasped at how close he was.

"How did you get through my Shield Charm?" Hermione demanded.

"I don't know ... I just walked right through," Harry quirked. "Now tell me what you're doing ... before I'm forced to subdue you."

Hermione stepped in close and placed her hand to Harry's face. Remarkably, he closed his eyes at her touch, as if on reflex ... as if it were the soft caress of a lover. He looked at her with confused eyes.

"I don't understand ..." he whispered

"I know ... but you will," she hushed back. "I'm going to make everything right. I promise."

"You're going to make what right?"

"This ..."

Then Hermione leaned up and kissed Harry softly on the mouth. He was surprised at first, but then found himself kissing her back, threading his hands into her hair and pulling her face close to his own. On some level, very deep down, he remembered something profound, as though they'd done this before ... maybe lots of times before. And there was something that just felt so right about it.

They broke apart breathlessly. Harry searched Hermione's face with bewildered eyes.

"Hermione, I ... what is this?"

"It's the truth, Harry," Hermione whispered. "Molly has used this device to go back and change that truth ... and I want to use it to put it right. Help me? Help me, my love ... if you believe in nothing else, believe in that ... believe in our love. It defined who we both were ... and I know you still feel it, somewhere in here."

Hermione then pressed her hand to Harry's chest, felt his heart beating fast and strong ... beating for her, beating for them. She willed him to know, to believe her. He searched her eyes hungrily, desperately, trying to win a war inside himself.

And then ... with an almost imperceptible movement of his head ... he nodded.

And Molly Weasley screeched out as she saw it.

"NO!"

A second later and Hermione's Shield Charm came under magical assault as Molly drew her wand and began firing her most vicious spells at it. Ginny joined her and soon the whole Weasley clan was attacking the magical barrier, which shimmered as it began to weaken.

"Help me, Harry!" Hermione begged.

"Alright," Harry agreed quickly. "Step onto the platform. I'll see if I can get it to work."

So Hermione did, standing on the hexagonal-shaped plate as Harry scanned the base for a way to activate the Accelerator.

"Ah! Got it!" Harry cried. "There's a button down here ... if I just ..."

"Oof!" Hermione cried from above him, doubling up in pain. The Weasleys had broken through the Shield Charm and Bludgeoning Hex had struck Hermione right in the mid-riff.

Harry roared out in anger and leapt up, drawing his wand as he did so and darting in front of Hermione. He ranged off against the Weasleys, every single one of them, and they hesitated a moment. No-one fancied a duel against Dark-Lord-slayer Harry Potter.

But Harry had no intention of duelling. Remembering a spell that Dumbledore had once cast against encroaching adversaries, Harry whipped his wand around and around his head, sending out a jet of white-hot flame with each rotation until soon he and Hermione were encircled by a cyclone of fire, harmless to them but deadly to anyone trying to cross the threshold.

"Are you alright?" Harry demanded, turning back to Hermione in deep concern.

"I'll live," she grimaced. "Thank you ... for believing me."

Harry grinned at her. "Believing in you has never led me astray, not in any life. Who am I to argue with the smartest witch of any age?"

"I prefer it when you call me your wife!" Hermione smiled back. "Send me back, Harry ... let me get you to call me that again."

Harry went to kneel down again, but he couldn't help himself ... he just had to kiss Hermione again. He stepped back with a smirk.

"If I believed nothing else, I'd believe that was right," Harry remarked. "It was like my lips were made to kiss yours."

"And they will again, I swear it," Hermione vowed. "I'm ready to go."

Harry dropped to his knees, placed his finger to the button, then looked up one more time and smiled.

"Good luck, Hermione. Hope to see you soon ... as Mrs Potter once again."

Then there was a flash of light, a deafening rush of air, and the Quantum Accelerator came to life. A second later, and Hermione Granger vanished into her past, with Molly Weasley's squeals of blue murder ringing loudly in her ears.