Hermoine woke with a start, opening her eyes to nearly blinding light. She rose her arm to shield the light and heard the sound of rifles being brought to the shoulders of soldiers. She saw that she and her friends had been surrounded by soldiers, most no older than she was, wearing very familiar uniforms. She looked at Ron and Harry and saw that they were awake as well.

"Who are you?" one soldier asked, wearing a helmet adorned with two silver bars.

"Sir, we just-" Ron was cut off once again by Hermoine.

"Captain, my friends and I were out looking around and got turned around somewhere," she replied. She recognized the uniforms as World War II era, and the patch on the shoulder showed the American flag.

"So you come from Doudeville, then?" a man asked with the marks of a sergeant on his collar.

"Just visiting, actually. Y'see, we're from Britain," Ron replied, thickening his already heavy accent.

The captain made motion with his arm and the soldiers lowered their rifle. "How long have you been out here?"

"Days. I've rather lost track of time," Harry replied.

"I'm... I'm sorry. We've just come from Doudeville. It was nearly destroyed, ransacked by those damned Nazis," the captain replied, squatting down to look Hermoine in the eye, then looking down at the twigs beneath his boots, as if he were breaking some horrible news to her.

"Oh," Hermoine replied, trying her best to act distraught.

Harry and Ron looked at each other, wondering what they should do. All the soldiers seemed to be focusing on the strange girl that they had found sleeping in the roots of a tree. Harry and Ron almost felt ignored.

"Oh, Hermoine, I'm so sorry, your aunt and uncle..." Harry started, trying to help her get into character and give the three of them some idea of what to tell the soldiers as to why they were stranded in the woods so far from England.

Hermoine forced her eyes to tear up, the pretended to choke them back before standing with grace and dignity. "Were... were there any survivors?"

The captain, who had returned to his feet when Hermoine stood, now bowed his head again. "I don't think so, miss."

Really getting into character, she gulped back more tears and lifted her head higher.

"If you would like, you could tag along until we reach Louviers. We may be able to find a way to get you back to England," the captain said, replacing his helmet on his head.

"I think I need to talk to my friends, captain. Please, give us a minute to discuss it," she asked.

"Of course," he said. He gave a quick head jerk and the soldiers moved through the woods. The captain continued, "I'll be just on the other side of these trees here."

Harry and Ron moved quickly to Hermoine's side. "If we could somehow get to England, maybe we can find Hogwarts and find some way back," Harry said.

"But what about Draco?" Hermoine asked. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we've landed right in the middle of World War Two. We're in northern France right now, close to the Channel."

"World War Two? Isn't that the big Muggle war..."

"Yes, and we should be glad it was Americans who found us, not Germans. With your accent, we'd have been skewered by now," Hermoine said.

"Well, who really wants to go running back to Hogwarts so quick? I'd rather stay and watch a little," Ron said.

"Well, Ron, don't worry. If we go with the Yankees, it'll be a while before we reach Louviers, if I've got my geography right. I'm sure you'll see enough of war to be sick with it," Hermoine replied. "Well, I suppose it is the wisest choice. While we're alone, we should put our wands closer to ourselves, not in our robes. I suspect that if we are traveling with them, we will be expected to wear something a bit less suspicious." The three of them tucked their wands out of sight in their clothing.

"Well, Hermoine, you seem to be the favorite around here, why don't you go and inform the 'Captain' of our intent?" he asked, slightly bitter with emphasis on 'Captain'.

Hermoine caught the bitterness in his voice and decided to ponder over it at a better point in time. She turned and walked toward the Captain. He had three extra uniforms, as close to their sizes as possible, sitting in wait. He allowed them time and privacy to change. Afterwards, the trio followed the division through northern France. When they stopped for camp, Hermoine sat off to the side, Harry and Ron within earshot, but more intrigued by the weapons that were being dropped next to weary soldiers.

"Is this seat taken," a young man asked, holding a canteen lid of water out for Hermoine.

"No, go ahead," she replied, taking the water. Her throat was parched after the long march.

"So where are you from?" the soldier asked.

"England," she replied. She looked at the man and saw someone who had aged far faster than he should have. She could see hints of his true age, in his smile, his eyes, but though she could tell he couldn't be more than nineteen, he could have passed for ten years older.

"I'm from Texas, myself. The name's Johnny. Johnny Packard."

"Hermoine Granger," she replied, taking the boy's hand, expecting a handshake. Instead, Johnny lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Hermoine was surprised at the motion, and it must have shown in her face. "I'm sorry, Hermoine, I was just brought up by my mother and sisters. They taught me to act by the codes of chivalry."

"Oh, I see. Did you not have a father?" she asked, gently, hoping not to hurt his feelings.

"He... died. In the Depression."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she replied, putting her hand over his in a gesture of sympathy.

"Were you very close with your aunt and uncle?" he asked.

"My-" she caught her confusion before Johnny did and came up with a response. "Not really, in fact, I had only seen them a few times before the three of us came down to visit. We got caught on this side of the Channel when the fighting got closer."

"Well, don't worry. We'll get you back to England just fine."

"I'm sure you will, Johnny." She looked down at her hand, still being held by Johnny's, then glanced up and saw Harry turn around quickly as Ron asked a soldier about his M1 Garand. "Well, we both have a long day ahead of us. I think I should try to get some sleep."

"Oh, of course. I'm sorry. If there's anything you need, you can ask me. The guys around here call me 'Tex.' Honestly, I think it's the nickname for anyone with a Texan accent."

"Have a nice night, Johnny," she smiled.

"You too, Hermoine," he replied, stepping backwards and nearly tripping over a fellow soldier's pack. He turned back and nodded at her again as he stumbled away, completely flustered.

Hermoine sighed and walked over to Harry, who was now sitting alone as Ron had gone off to look at one of the M1 flamethrowers.

"Harry, can I talk to you?" Hermoine asked.

Harry looked up at her with a forced quizzical look on his face. "Me? You want to talk to me? With everyone else here willing to bend over backwards for you?" he asked, in pretended awe. "I'm honored."

"What is your problem, Harry Potter?" Hermoine demanded. "Why are you being like this?"

"I don't know, why don't you ask your new boyfriend, or the Captain?" he asked, turning his back to her again.

"Is that what this is? Why, Harry Potter, I do believe you're jealous," she said, grinning. She walked around to his side and sat down facing the opposite direction, so that they were looking past each other.

"I'm not jealous. Why should I be jealous? That's ridiculous," he replied.

"You know, this seems to be quite the adventure for Ron. I think he's about to go nuts over all this weaponry," Hermoine mentioned casually.

"Well, with him and his guns, you with your men, and me with-"

"Harry! What on earth... you are jealous, aren't you?"

"No! I need to get to sleep," he replied, lying down and turning his back to her.

Hermoine watched him for a moment longer before becoming comfortable a few feet away, and allowing sleep to overcome her.