A/N: My deepest apologies for taking so long to update. I really struggled writing this chapter. I appreciate your patience and hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 3

Lunch had ended, plates and platters with food unfinished and untouched vanished from the table, signaling the end of the meal and the cue for students to start heading to their next class.

The students exited the Great Hall in clusters of twos and threes, the different conversations mingling together to form one loud cacophony of voices.

Harry allowed himself to be swept along as people swirled around him, brushing past and buffeting him from behind. The wave of people carried him through the doors of the Great Hall and into the Entrance Hall where the teeming mass dispersed as the students separated, heading in different directions, leaving Harry to continue forward carried only by his momentum, which was slowed until it was almost nonexistent.

He watched as his classmates passed by him, laughing and talking. He felt a pang of longing as he recalled that he had once been among them, participating in the time-honored tradition of talking too loudly about things that didn't matter while heading to a place that, given any other choice, you'd rather not be. But standing here, he felt so removed from it all, as if he had stepped into a movie and was watching everyone play their parts, while he was relegated to the background.

He was pulled from his musings by a soft touch on his arm. He turned his head to see Hermione standing next to him, a concerned look on her face.

"Are you alright?"

He laughed in his throat as a way of reply.

"Yeah, probably a stupid question."

They stood there, watching as the last of the students disappeared, leaving them standing alone in the large room.

"Hadn't you better get going?" Harry asked, gesturing toward the stairs to the dungeons.

"I'm coming with you," she replied matter of factly.

Harry looked at her blankly. "I think I can manage the walk by myself."

Hermione nodded, pursing her lips. "Mmhm, I'm sure."

Harry scoffed. "What, you don't believe me?"

"Harry, are you honestly going to tell me that as soon as I'm out of sight you planned on heading straight to Madam Pomfrey?"

Harry opened his mouth to affirm his intentions but closed it quickly as Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.

He rubbed the back of his head, "Well, not exactly."

Hermione rolled her eyes and laughed. "We've known each other for almost four years, Harry. I think I know you pretty well by now." She looped her arm through his. "Now, come on."

He was taken aback by her touch. Hermione felt his hesitation and hurriedly extricated her arm from his. "Oh, I'm sorry. I just—habit, you know?"

She cleared her throat, embarrassed, readjusting the bag on her shoulder.

Harry shrugged. "It's alright," he said as they walked together through the Entrance Hall. They came to the base of the spiral staircase, Harry a half step behind Hermione as they began to ascend, and as she was intent on staring down at the steps, it afforded Harry the opportunity to examine her unobtrusively.

Her steps seemed heavy, her shoulders weighed down by more than just the half a dozen books he knew she had stuffed in her bag. Her hand clenched and unclenched by her side, and Harry wondered what thoughts were plaguing her mind.

They continued steadfastly up the stairs, they're steps sounded loud in the silence that pervaded the space between them.

"Harry," Hermione said, breaking the silence, "Can I ask you a question?"

Harry had been uncomfortable in the silence, tempted to break it himself just to ease the tension, but now, as Hermione spoke, he realized that whatever she was going to ask might be just as, if not more, uncomfortable than the preceding quiet.

"Sure."

Hermione climbed two more steps before continuing.

"In your timeline, what was different? When you went back, I mean. What did you change?"

Harry supposed that was a fair question. After all, what he had changed had affected her entire life, not just his. He thought back to that day when Ron had insulted Hermione, unaware of her presence and then he… he had… he had what?

"It was on Halloween when Ron called you a nightmare." That much he knew for sure. His forehead scrunched in concentration as he tried to recall the memory, struggling to push past the recollection of chasing after Hermione and back to the original timeline.

"In my timeline," he continued, "I didn't run after you. I just-," he raised his arm and let it flop back down, the heat rising to his cheeks as pieces of the memory floated to the surface of his mind, bringing with it the shame of his passivity. "I just stood there and did nothing."

Hermione was quiet, but Harry could see that she was working the inside of her cheek between her teeth.

"Then how did we become friends?" She finally asked.

Harry grimaced, rubbing his forehead, trying to draw the memories back. "I'm remembering something about trapping you in a bathroom with a troll."

Hermione's feet faltered at this. "Are you serious?"

Harry strained, sparse bits of memory flashing to the forefront of his mind; a flailing troll, a wand covered in snot, and a terrified Hermione. "Yeah, it's all a little fuzzy, but Ron and I fought it off."

Hermione stopped suddenly and Harry bumped into her as she turned abruptly to face him.

He took a step back, forcing himself to look up at her. "What?" he asked.

She looked at him suspiciously. "What do you mean 'it's a bit fuzzy'?"

"Oh," was all Harry could manage to say. He had forgotten that Hermione didn't know about the real reason behind his headaches; about the slow, and painful, replacement of his memories with those from the new timeline. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I just meant because it was so long ago and all," he said, not quite able to meet her eyes.

She eyed him suspiciously but didn't push the matter, turning to continue up the stairs, reaching the second-floor landing. "Seems like fighting a troll would be something that would become indelibly etched on your brain," she muttered.

Harry followed as they continued up the next flight of stairs, relieved that he managed to avoid that conversation; but if this Hermione was anything like his own then she wouldn't be deterred for long.

"So, erm, what's up with Dean and Ron?"

Harry realized right after he had finished speaking that maybe this wasn't the line of questioning he wanted to go with. The pain was still too fresh.

The corner of Hermione's mouth pulled into a smile as she shook her head, air escaping her nose. "Honestly, your guess is as good as mine. Or anyone's for that matter. After you and Ron had that falling out, he and Dean started hanging out a lot. They're completely different and they bicker over the most ridiculous things, but it seems to work."

Harry knew he should stop there, but he couldn't help himself. "And what about Ron and me?"

Hermione slowed, so they were walking side by side, and turned her head slightly to look at him. "Were you two— really close in your timeline?" She asked hesitantly, avoiding answering his question.

"Yeah," he said, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat. "Like brothers."

Harry saw Hermione's hand move toward him as if to grab his, but at the last moment, she let it fall to her side again.

Harry could see the pain etched in her features. He felt a knot of tension curl up in his belly as he realized that this must be just as hard on her as it was on him.

"Hermione, I—,"

She slowed her steps and grabbed his arm, "Shh," she hushed him, continuing in a whisper. "Do you hear that?"

Harry stood still and listened; voices were coming down the stairs toward them. As they came closer he recognized Snape's voice, catching bits and pieces of the conversation.

"...broke into my office last night…boomslang skin missing…Potter…"

Harry stiffened at the mention of his name.

"...too hard on the boy… give him the benefit of the doubt." The voice that replied was Dumbledore's.

Hermione caught his eye and motioned with her head, gesturing for him to make his way back down to the previous landing. Harry nodded his understanding and carefully turned around, moving quietly and steadily downward.

Snape and Dumbledore's voices were growing more clear and they could hear more of the conversation.

"Benefit of the doubt?" Snape hissed. "I have served you faithfully for thirteen years, and yet you still thought it necessary to sic your dog on me. Where was the benefit of the doubt for me?

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean, Severus."

"Moody, Albus; that paranoid lunatic has been sneaking around my office and going through my things as if I'm a criminal."

"I can assure you that—"

But whatever Dumbledore had been going to assure Snape of they never discovered, for right at that moment the pair came around the last curve of the stairs just as Harry and Hermione had reached the second-floor landing.

"Potter!" Snape hissed.

Harry turned to face the Potions Master, the man's face livid, the usually sallow complexion red and splotchy. Dumbledore was standing beside him, looking at Harry over the top of his spectacles.

"Eavesdropping in stairwells now?" His eyes darted to where Hermione stood beside Harry.

Snape walked quickly down the stairs until he stood right above them.

"Why are you two not in class?"

Harry set his jaw. "I could ask you the same thing, Professor, as it's your class we should be in."

Snape's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes boring into Harry's.

Harry met his gaze, a mixture of conflicting thoughts and memories flooding his mind as Professor Snape seemed to penetrate the barrier of his eyes and reach straight into his head. He grimaced as the pain began to return, tearing his eyes away from the black depths of the Potions Master's eyes.

Snape's expression turned from one of contempt to one of confusion and shock as the eye contact was broken.

Hermione spoke up. "Sorry, Professor. Harry wasn't feeling well, so I was walking him to the Hospital Wing."

Snape kept staring at Harry as if he hadn't heard Hermione at all. Dumbledore came the rest of the way down the steps and spoke in his stead.

"Very prudent, Miss Granger. Mister Potter does have a tendency to end up in the most unexpected of places. Severus, I believe your students are waiting for you."

Snape's gaze swept over Harry's face one last time. "Quite right, Headmaster," he said before squeezing past Harry and Hermione and sweeping down the next flight of stairs.

Harry met Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes, the Headmaster holding his gaze before finally saying, "Carry on you two."

Harry nodded and he and Hermione edged around Dumbledore and continued up the stairs. Harry was never quite sure how much Dumbledore knew, but whenever he looked into his eyes the answer was everything, Dumbledore knew everything.

"Well, if there is one thing that has not changed about you it's your predilection for trying to get under Professor Snape's skin," Hermione said, shaking her head.

Harry snorted. "Trying to? Please. That's accomplished by my mere presence."

Hermione laughed. "That's true enough."

They continued up to the next landing and turned down the corridor to the Hospital Wing.

"Harry, what happened back there?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when Professor Snape was glaring at you intent on murder, you made a sound as if it hurt you just for him to look at you."

Harry had been hoping she hadn't noticed, but he realized that he wouldn't be able to hide the severity of his headaches forever, or blame them on hitting his head for much longer either.

Just as he was thinking this, the searing pain returned and Harry clutched his head, feeling as though someone had touched a hot iron to his brain.

Hermione clutched his arm worriedly. "Harry is everything okay."

"No," he said between gritted teeth. "My head!"

He tried to muffle his screams as the pain intensified.

"Harry!" Hermione's shrill cry of anguish sounded like it was coming from far away, as blackness pushed against the edge of his vision.

He stumbled over to the side of the corridor, groping for support as his legs gave way underneath him. He slumped to the floor, Hermione's arms the only thing keeping him from hitting his head against the wall.

He could hear Hermione's worried exclamations, but that too was soon consumed as the darkness enveloped him.

And then pinpricks of light dotted the darkness, growing into a multitude until his mind was flooded with fresh images.

Harry wasn't at all interested to see who was knocking at the door; it was never for him and the people on the other side usually found some way to make his life more miserable than it already was.

He was heading upstairs to his room when Uncle Vernon went to answer the door. The next thing he heard was the last thing he had expected.

"Hello, Mr. Dursley, is it? I'm Ted Granger and this is my wife, Julia. My daughter goes to school with your nephew, Harry."

Harry nearly fell down the stairs as he spun around midstep.

Uncle Vernon grew pale and his jaw worked up and down before he finally sputtered. "What makes you think it's acceptable for you to be at my house," he hissed. "Your kind is not welcome here!"

He tried to slam the door closed but Mr. Granger shoved himself into the opening, keeping it from shutting.

"Mr. Dursley, please," he grunted, "I think there's been some kind of misunderstanding. We're not magical. We're just ordinary people. Dentists actually."

Harry jumped down the steps, clearing nearly all of them in one leap.

Uncle Vernon hesitated at this declaration, giving Mr. Granger the opportunity to ease the door back open.

"We're not here to cause trouble, sir."

Harry peered around Uncle Vernon and got his first look at Hermione's parents. There was no doubt in his mind who the two people were that stood on the stoop of Number 4 Privet Drive. The man had the same brown frizzy hair and wide smile as his daughter, and the woman shared the same brown eyes and intense gaze.

When they saw his face, the Grangers smiled. "You must be Harry."

"Harry!?"

Hermione stepped out from behind her parents, her familiar bushy hair and toothy smile making his heart light.

"What do you want?" Uncle Vernon asked gruffly, his initial anger replaced by disgruntled annoyance.

His rough demeanor did not ruffle her parents in the least. "Well, we know it's Harry's birthday and Hermione said she promised to make a day of it with him."

"A little rude, don't you think, waiting until the last minute?"

"I do apologize. We did try calling but we kept getting disconnected."

Harry knew better than that. Anytime someone called asking for him, Uncle Vernon promptly hung up.

"Yes, well, technology, you know." Uncle Vernon said pathetically by way of reply.

Mr. Granger nodded as if he did. "Yes, well, would it be alright if we took Harry down to Brighton for the day?"

"Brighton? That seems like a long way just for the boy's birthday."

"Well, we were planning to head down that way anyway. It's something we do as a family every summer."

"We have a busy day today, guests coming and all. I'm afraid it would be rather inconvenient for my wife if he were to go."

"We can make sure he's back by five o'clock if that helps."

"I don't feel comfortable with the boy going off with strangers."

"Oh, I can understand that," Mr Granger said, pulling a wallet out of his back pocket and removing two cards, handing them to Uncle Vernon. "There's my I.D. and business credentials. You can hang on to them if you like, until we get back. But I assure you that we'll take very good care of him.

Uncle Vernon grabbed the cards and examined them.

"And I'm sure," Mr Granger continued, "a very busy and important man like yourself, with two growing boys to care for, could use a little bit of a break."

Uncle Vernon cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders back and puffing out his chest.

Harry's eyebrows rose, impressed with the way Mr. Granger had managed to turn the situation around.

"Well, if you promise to have him back by five…" Uncle Vernon relented, tired of coming up with excuses and now feeling that he did indeed deserve a break from the boy.

Harry's heart leaped in his chest and Hermione whooped as Harry rushed out the door before anyone could change their mind.

Hermione and Harry walked side by side up the pier, licking their ice cream cones. The cool breeze off the ocean ruffled his hair, sweeping away the remaining heat of the day. They had spent the morning and afternoon playing games, riding attractions, and frolicking in the waves, only taking the shortest amount of time possible to eat and refresh themselves. Harry couldn't remember having a better day in all his life. He looked at Hermione out of the corner of his eye, the same serenity he felt was reflected in her face, and he tried to imagine what it would be like to feel this way all the time. He was sad that they would have to be heading back soon, but he was going to milk every ounce of goodness out of the time he had left and keep this feeling for as long as possible.

Hermione turned off to the side and sat on a bench, the waves lapping the beach behind her. She patted the seat beside her and Harry sank down, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Thanks for coming to get me, Hermione."

She pulled her legs up and crossed them underneath her. "Well, I didn't figure you'd be doing anything for your birthday. Not if history was anything to go by." She caught a drip of ice cream before it fell on her hand. "Plus, I was getting worried about you. None of us had heard from you all summer."

Harry shrugged. "I wasn't allowed to send letters. Uncle Vernon locked Hedwig in her cage."

She looked aghast at him, jaw dropped. "Are you joking? Harry, that's—that's barbaric. I'm surprised he even let you come today if he was that intent on keeping you isolated."

"Honestly, it's lucky your dad said what he did. It also helped that they're not wizards."

"Yeah, dad's always been good with people," she said, smiling. "Would have been nice if he'd passed that along instead of the hair, but…" she mumbled as an aside.

They were quiet for a few moments, both intent on licking their ice cream.

"You could have written to me, you know," Harry said.

Hermione's eyebrows disappeared into her hair. "Harry, I wrote you at least ten letters," she said incredulously. "At first, I thought maybe you just didn't want to talk. But then I owled Ron and he said he hadn't heard back from you either. That's when I talked to mum and dad."

Harry's face screwed up in confusion, the ice cream forgotten in his hand. "I didn't get a single letter from anybody."

"Do you think your uncle had anything to do with it?"

Harry chuckled. "I wouldn't put it past him to try and shoot any owls out of the sky with a slingshot."

Hermione joined in his laughter for a moment, and then they quieted, the sound of the ocean and the fair filling the silence.

"I had begun to believe that you all had just…forgotten about me," Harry said while staring at his feet, voicing what he had worst feared.

Hermione snorted. "Forgotten you? Not likely."

Harry smiled and flicked his tongue over a melting portion of his ice cream.

"You know," he said, "If it weren't for you, I would have spent all day cleaning."

"Harry, that's terrible," she said, shaking her head. "I'm sorry we didn't come sooner. Mum and dad were trying to figure out what to do without making things worse for you."

"I really don't think it could have gotten any worse. No worse than spending all summer thinking we weren't friends anymore."

She nudged him with her shoulder. "We'll always be friends, Harry. Always."

Harry blinked his eyes open and found himself staring up at a high ceiling of the Hospital Wing, with blurs of light set at various intervals. The sight was familiar, one that he'd woken to quite often in the past three years.

He reached over to the table by the bed, fingers scrabbling across its surface as he searched for his glasses.

"Here."

A blurry hand clutching a pair of glasses entered his field of vision. He carefully grabbed them, unfolding the arms and sliding them into place.

Hermione's face was brought into sharp focus, fear and confusion tinged with relief were etched into her features

He pushed himself into a sitting position. "Thanks."

She merely nodded and rose from her seat. "I'll let Madam Pomfrey know you're awake."

She came back a moment later, Madam Pomfrey in tow.

"Well, Harry, in here a little early this year, are we, my dear?" The older woman smiled warmly at him, laying a tray of vials down on the table.

"Luckily for you, the bed I usually reserve for you at the end of the year was available today." She pulled the stopper out of one of the vials and began pouring a thin liquid into a cup.

"This is just a general pain reliever. I can't really do anything more without knowing what's causing the headaches." She finished filling up the cup and handed it to him.

She pulled up a chair and sat next to him. "So, why don't you tell me what's going on." She grabbed his chin and turned his face from side to side, examining him. "With you, I can usually deduce the problem due to the obvious lack of bones or large gashes across your face." She released him. "However, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with you outside of a small bump on the back of your head, which in itself is not enough to cause a debilitating headache."

Harry sipped the concoction, wincing at the bitter taste. It certainly didn't taste as bad as other things he'd been required to take over the years and for that he was grateful. He drained the cup under the watchful eye of Madam Pomfrey and Hermione.

He handed the cup back to Madam Pomfrey and she held it cupped in her hand while she waited patiently for a reply.

Harry looked into her eyes and suddenly had an overwhelming familial feeling toward her. His head throbbed as multiple images flashed across his eyes in quick succession; images of Madam Pomfrey hovering close to his bed as she cared for him over the years, never questioning or complaining: a constant presence. He couldn't bring himself to lie to her, but he also couldn't tell her the truth. Not all of it anyway.

"Well," he began carefully forming his response, "I'm not sure what's going on. It started last night. I was taking a bath and I started to feel light-headed and queasy. I think I may have used too many soaps," he said, looking pointedly at Hermione as he said the last bit.

Madam Pomfrey nodded, "Sounds like maybe heat-induced sickness. What happened next?"

"Nothing much, really. I went to sleep and felt fine when I woke up. Though, I did fall out of bed and hit my head."

"Explaining the bump," she said. "Is that when the headaches started?"

"Soon after, yeah. That's all I can really tell you."

Madam Pomfrey drummed her fingers against her cheek. "Not really much to go on, and nothing that would explain the headaches."

She stood to her feet, the chair scrapping as it was pushed back. "I don't know that there's much more I can do for you. Still, I'd like to keep you here for further observation, and if you have another episode I'd prefer you to be in bed where you can't hurt yourself."

"I'd like to stay with him, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said.

Madam Pomfrey smiled, laying a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Of course, dear." She gave Hermione a final pat before walking away.

Hermione waited until Madam Pomfrey had walked out of earshot before questioning Harry. "So, the headaches are a result of time traveling?" Even though they were alone she still spoke in a low voice.

He pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes. "They're not just headaches, Hermione. I—I see things. Memories. Memories that are mine but— they're not."

"You mean, memories from this timeline? From the other Harry?" Harry saw a spark of hope in her eyes, but she quickly tamped it down.

"Yes. At least I think so." He pressed his palm into his eye. "I can't even really tell because these things I see just become part of me as if they were always there and my memories slowly disappear."

"They become fuzzy," she said.

He nodded.

"And the pain," she continued, "must be because two things can't occupy the same space. The two timelines must be having to reconcile themselves in your mind. Wow, that's fascinating. I wonder if the same thing happened to the other you when you went back in time and then returned to the future. I mean, did he have your memories even after you left?"

"Hermione," he said, stopping her, "can we focus on one thing at a time here? I feel like I'm losing my mind and you're going off on the mechanics of time travel."

"Sorry, you're right," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I was being insensitive." She breathed in deeply and let the air out through pursed lips. "So…what memory did you see this time?"

"It was when you and your parents took me to Brighton for my birthday before second year."

Hermione smiled, a faraway look in her eye. "I remember that. We had a lot of fun."

Harry found himself captivated by her smile and he had to force himself not to reach out and take her hand. "You told me we'd always be friends."

Her eyes softened as she looked at him. "And I meant that, Harry. No matter what happens."

Harry closed his eyes and sank down into the pillow. Every time a new memory embedded itself into his mind he saw her differently; aspects of her that had gone completely unnoticed by him were making themselves known.

What was happening to him?