The second time she saw the strange American boy was on the evening of December 28th. Christmas had been three days before, and her friends had stopped talking to her because she'd let Professor McGonagall know about the Firebolt Harry had received for Christmas. Both Ron and Harry were furious with her and refused to even look at her, much less speak with her. Naturally, she was very upset as she'd only done what she thought was right. No one even knew where the thing had come from and she'd only been thinking of Harry's safety because she cared about him. Neither boy seemed to see it that way. It wasn't like she couldn't see their perspective though - even though they hadn't even bothered to consider hers, as per usual. There was a small part of her that expected it; she really was the odd one out. Harry and Ron had been friends first, after all. They'd only even accepted her as a friend under duress because of a troll.

Irritated and out of sorts, she went to the one place that would never disappoint her: the library. Madame Pince was much more forgiving when it was just her, though not by much. She tended to be a bit shirty when Harry and Ron were around because they were disruptive at times. It wasn't their fault, really. Ron especially had trouble keeping his voice down and Harry always tended to follow Ron's lead with these things. One would get going and then the other one would reciprocate and... Hermione sighed sadly at the thought, wiping at her eyes because, damn it all, she wasn't going to cry over this anymore. She'd had a good long one in a bathroom on the way here, enough was enough.

The library was absolutely deserted, for which Hermione was grateful for. It was just her and Madame Pince, who was irritably stamping books in at the circulation desk. She gave Hermione a beady, distrustful glare before going back to stamping, rather harder than she needed to. Most students gave the library wide berth during the holidays, except for Hermione, who would have been here anyway. It just so happened that being here and avoiding her friends made a rather nice Venn diagram under the circumstances.

Taking her mind off her woes was a bit hard. Being upset had the annoying effect on her concentration in that it tended to wander and made reading her Arithmancy notes that much harder. Also it didn't help that she was reading through her tears, because she hadn't stopped crying. She dearly wished there was some sort of spell to stop it. After an hour and a half where she pretended like she was going to get something done, instead of just crying, she surrendered to it. Burying her head she sobbed into her arms, her entire body shaking silently.

She was so absorbed in her own grief, she didn't notice when someone sat down across from her. Nor did she notice that he'd pushed his chair back noisily or that he'd loudly plonked his feet on the table, ankles crossed neatly. She didn't even twitch when he started to beat box, though to be fair to her, he was trying to keep it library quiet beat boxing. It was only when he started actually rapping that she realized she was not alone.

"Noooow don't you tell me to smile," he began, hands behind his head all casual as if rapping in a library was The Thing To Do. "You stick around I'll make it worth your while. My number's beyond what you can dial. Maybe, it's because we're so versatile."

Hermione raised her head, positively alarmed by the blond boy sitting as if he wasn't wildly out of place in this library. She looked a mess - tear streaked and snotty with her bushy hair sticking out five different ways from Sunday.

This did not detour the casual rapper, who continued, "Style, profiled, I said. It always brings me back to when I hear 'oooh child.' From the Hudson River out to the Nile I run the marathon to the very last mile..."

She blinked, once, twice, three times. Shaking her head, she wiped her eyes because it had to be a hallucination. It was getting late, she was stressed and upset. It had to be a hallucination. The hallucination, however, hadn't stopped rapping, as the Beastie Boys were one of his favorites and damned if he wasn't gonna at least finish the entire first verse. Seeing as she was just sitting there with her mouth open, gathering flies, he felt continuing really was the best course of action. By the time he got to, "... Go ahead put my rhymes on trial. Cast you off into exile", she had recovered, which was pretty great timing, he thought.

"You!" she breathed shrilly, slapping her hands on the table.

"Sure am," he said, with a sarcastic little salute. "And you're you. Now that we got that out the way, Dave Strider, your friendly, neighborhood Knght of Time." And then he held out his fist. "C'mon man, fist bunp. Don't leave me hanging."

She was somewhere between towering fury and absolute confusion, watching as he guided her own hand fist bump his. "WHO- WHO ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU GET HERE?" she bellowed as she slapped his hands away, in her temporary insanity forgetting about Madame Pince and her firm insistence on absolute quiet in the library.

He held up his pointer finger, twirling it in the air theatrically, "Question numero uno. Dave Strider, def just mentioned that," holding up his index with a similar flourish, "Quuuuuestion deux, Time Travel... Also mentioned that before but more obliquely, re: being the Knight of Time- which, to break that down, means being a mother fucking time traveler. AKA, being an interdimensional badass. Nice to meet you too, B-Tee-Dubs."

An ominous rustling came from somewhere in the vicinity of the circulation desk. Remembering herself, she hissed, "I know you're not a student -how did you get in here? There's no way you apparated and most of the secret entrances are either guarded or closed."

"We covered this. I warped the fabric of space time and abraca-fucking-happened right the fuck where I felt like being. That's how," he drawled, dark eyebrows popping up over his glasses.

"How did you get past the Dementors?"

He actually laughed. "What, those fucking shitty floating zombies? Like I'm gonna be stopped by bunch gently drifting garbage bags that fucking wishes they was relevant enough to present me with even a modest challenge. Please."

Hermione bit her lower lip, thoroughly unsettled that she could not tell if he was being truthful or just full of stereotypical American Bravado. "Are you saying you're not affected by them?"

"Am I supposed to be? That's a real question. Cuz I'm not. Just kinda feel like the whole thing is super passé. Like the scary shit in your world ain't even trying that hard."

She was desperately trying to convince herself that it was just bravado. Because even if the things weren't allowed that close there was a terrible pall of melancholy hanging over the entire school even before the Firebolt incident, she'd noticed it since November. But this American seemed positively ebullient.

"You're American," she blurted out, feeling very foolish for saying the only thing she could come up with in the moment.

"As apple pie. Next question," he quipped, snapping his fingers and making little finger guns at her.

"Why are you here?"

"Finally!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together softly. "So, like, you want the literal answer or a more existential dialog? I can do both. Don't know if you can though. You get like... what? Five hours out that thing?" He pointed a finger at her necklace. "I got lots more time. To liberally paraphrase somethin' a legitimately terrible person said once, I have all the time. All of it."

She clutched the time turner, which had fallen out from under her jumper when she'd had her little episode. "How do you know about that? No one's supposed to know!"

He stopped and stared at her for ten whole seconds, his hands pressed together as if in prayer. Pursing his lips, he drew his hands up to cover his mouth. With a sigh, he pointed his clasped hands at her and said, "My dude, we literally covered this already. I. Am. A. Time. Traveler. What about that is a mystery?"

Opening her mouth and closing it several times as she tried to form an argument, she finally conceded. "Noted. But haven't told me why you're here?"

"And you didn't tell me if you wanted a straight answer or more of an existential 'Carl Sagan Pale Blue Dot why are we all here' type thing?" She gave him a withering look. "I ain't got nothing but time and nowhere else to be. Saw you on this timeline, all by your lonesome with the crying and shit. You looked all hella sad and this is, as you know, a sads free zone, so I thought I'd do ya a solid and chase them sads away by hopping on in to say howdy to my fellow time buddy."

"I'm not your time buddy," Hermione asserted acidly, her eyes narrowing.

"Yeah, I know! That's cus you haven't even made a proper introduction like a fucking civilized human being. Like, I'll show you how that shit works." He pointed to himself. "Dave Strider." Then he gestured to her. Leaning forward with his arms crossed, he stared at her until she answered.

"Hermione Granger." He held out a hand expectantly. Rolling her eyes, she took it, muttering, "nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Soooo... Sup?"

"Sup?" she scoffed haughtily, "What does that even mean?"

"Sup as in what is up, as in let's ask 'how are you' but in a way that doesn't confirm a stick is so firmly stuck up your ass that you could pass for a fucking Muppet," he shot back, a liberal dose of humor in his voice. "So are we done with the hostilities here and can we maybe talk about shit that isn't boring as fuck?"

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "So, what you're trying to tell me is... you're a time traveler who got bored and came here to talk? To me?"

"Preeeeetty much." He made a little popping noise with his lips and nodded, pulling one of her books over to him to look at it, sunglasses still on.

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"

"Sure do. Cus it's 100% Pure-D-truth. The truthiest truth that ever did truth," he insisted, slowly flipping through the book, pausing to look at a particularly complicated illustration. "Ain't you wizards got some sort of horse shitty truth serum? Probably got some dumb ass name that combines Latin and English badly and it makes some sort of shitty whimsical pun. Y'all be like, hey, get me that Et-tu-Brute-Juice, Rupert. Gotta make some dipshit spill his guts so he gives up them dope ass secrets."

"It's called Veritaserum," snapped Hermione defensively. "And I don't have any."

"HA! Called it. Anyway, why don't you go get some or whatever. I'll drink that milk shake right the fuck up and lay down some nasty truth that I've been saying since the very beginning. Because it's, you know, the truth." She stuck her lip out stubbornly and he rolled his eyes behind his aviators. "I ain't got no ulterior motives here, sis. Like, you tell me what kind of jackass would pull a stunt like this while being as absurdly upfront as I'm being right now."

"Well, you might not be aware, but there is a former Death Eater on the loose right now. Who happens to want to murder my best friend! So pardon me for being suspicious of some mad American wizard who broke into Hogwarts for a laugh, apparently."

"WHOA-MAHGAWD!" he exclaimed, holding up a hand as if to ward something away. "Dude... Firstly, gonna go on record as not giving a shit about any of the words you just said. Secondly, I ain't a fucking wizard, so jot that down."

"Not a wizard, that's impossible! There's no way you would be able to even find Hogwarts if you weren't."

"Yeah, I'm sure it's a job of work for people who aren't me," he snorted, still idly flipping pages. "Look behind you."

Biting her lower lip, she scowled and slowly turned her head. Standing at the bookcase just behind her was Dave Strider. The Strider at the bookcase gave a salute and said, "yo." Her head snapped back and found the Dave Strider she'd been talking to this entire time was still there. He was staring at her blankly, hand hovering over a page he hadn't yet turned. Turning again, the Strider at the bookcase was also still there but only for a moment. He smirked and gave her a little thumbs up. She could hear something that sounded like a ticking of a clock as he slowly disappeared, whirling gears overlaying his afterimage. And with a final chime from that invisible clock the other Dave was gone.

"How... how did you do," Hermione spluttered pointlessly. "You shouldn't be able to do that. Hogwarts has all sorts of enchantments and wards. You can't... How did-"

"Cus I'm the Knight of Time! Something I might have mentioned a ridiculous number of times within the last few minutes," he said in a rather sing song manner, chortling at his own little joke.

"What does that even mean?!" She threw up her hands, pulling at her hair in aggravation. "And don't you dare say time travel! What does that actually mean?! I'd like an explanation, if you please."

For the first time, he seemed uncomfortable. Hermione couldn't find it within herself to care. "Eh, it's a long story that neither of us got time for, and that's saying something." She glared at him murderously. "Aaaanyway, the title itself means that, like, I exploit time as a weapon. I got that by ascending to the God Tiers - which is a condition where you're granted godlike power related to your particular Aspect. Mine is Time. So there we go."

Hermione Granger had officially had it. "Okay, fine. Bloody brilliant! You're a god-"

"Hate to interject, but demigod would be a bit more accurate," he corrected, going back to perusing her book. "Right now though, I'm more like the Dave of Guy, who thinks this whole conversation is stupid and booooring. I came here to have hang outs with my good time buddy."

"And do demigods always wear sunglasses at nine o'clock at night?" Hermione didn't know why this bothered her, but it did. The entire exchange had been exasperating thus far, and the fact that he'd just begun perusing her Arithmancy book without even asking if he could while still wearing those stupid aviators was driving her spare.

"Yup. Standard uniform for all rad dudes."

"And you just came here to talk... to me... because I'm your time buddy," she stated, somewhat derisively, making little air quotes as she said 'time buddy'.

"HELLS yeah! 'Bout fucking time you got on this tiger boat!" He shouted, triumphantly slamming the book closed. Standing up, he cracked his knuckles and said in a more conversational tone," but we gots to get outta here ASAP, wasn't kidding about us not having that much time... that lady who looks like she's never found a lemon she didn't wanna suck is gonna kick us out in about 4.13 seconds."

At this point, Hermione didn't really care much if this was a stress induced illusion or an actual thing that was happening. She really did need to talk to somebody, even if it was some blond goofball claiming to be a time traveling demigod who wore sunglasses at night. "Fine, where shall we go?" she sighed, packing up her belongings until they were all safely in her bag.

He tilted his head, listening to the distant shuffling steps of one lemon sucking librarian. "The roof. Riiiight now."

"We can't-" but her objection wasn't noted because before she could blink he'd grabbed her wrist and then they were on a small parapet on one of the many towers in the castle. "How did we get-"

"Time traveled a few seconds into the future. I can't teleport... two of my best friends can, but they ain't here right now. So gotta make due."

Hermione shivered violently, trying and failing spectacularly to recover from the shock of such an abrupt mode of travel. "It's freezing up here. I can't believe I let you talk me into this. Don't even have my cloak," she muttered pitifully, slipping her hands and arms deep inside her jumper.

He mumbled something and a cape was forcibly hurtled from out of nowhere, hitting Dave in the face hard enough for him to stumble back. "Fucking sylladex," he grumbled as he pulled it off his face and handed it to her without looking at her directly. His glasses had gone askew and he needed to fix them.

For the first time in hours, she laughed lightly. It really was quite funny. "What's a sylladex?"

"Complete bullshit way of organizing your shit is what," he grunted, clearly a bit embarrassed by what happened but also glad he got a laugh out of her. "So, feelings jam. Let's do this."

Wrapping the cape around her, she inhaled deeply, not even sure where to start or if she wanted to talk about it at all. Instead she commented, "This cape is really warm."

"Damn straight it is," he declared, quickly cleaning the ledge so he could turn around and casually lean back on the parapet. "Warm as the fucking Texas sun."

She noticed then that he didn't have a coat or a cloak on either. He was still in that bright red hoodie and a thin t-shirt with the same design he'd worn before. Hermione scrutinized him before observing, "Aren't you cold?"

"Nah, I got lava in my veins, sis." Her eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. He snorted with a faint hint of a smile. "Just kidding, I'm freezing my fucking nuts off here. Who knew that Scotland in the middle of winter would be a really shit place to be, not fucking me, that's for damn sure," he said with a one shouldered shrug. "Probably shoulda planned better before hoppin' on over here."

A time traveler who didn't bother to plan ahead; the absurdity of it all struck her all at one and she began to laugh, almost hysterically. Once she started, she simply couldn't stop. Her stomach hurt and tears were streaming down her cheeks as she laughed and laughed. The sound of his laughter mixing with hers was unexpected. It seemed he found the situation equally hilarious. He turned his face to adjust his glasses so he could wipe the tears from his eyes. It wasn't lost on her that he'd purposefully turned his head so that she couldn't see them. This thought sobered her a little. As if by design, their laughter tapered off.

"Why do you wear those glasses, really?"

"Can't get nothin' past you," he said, easily slipping his aviators off and perching them on top of his head. Long gone were the days when he was ashamed of his eye color. Being cagey about it at this point was worse than predictable and predictable was tedious. She gasped, hand clutching her throat. His eyes were a bright, penetrating blood red. "Nice reaction. I'm sure in this world there's some kind of ominous shit that goes along with having eyes this color. But I assure you, this is straight up genetic fuckery that runs in the family." He mumbled something again and a photo popped out of nowhere. Grabbing artfully between two fingers as it floated in mid-air, he handed it to her.

Taking it tentatively, Hermione gazed down at the Polaroid. It was a picture of four teenagers, Dave and three others to whom he was obviously related. They all had the same deep tan skin and white blond hair. There was Dave, glasses clipped to the front of his t-shirt with his arm around a small girl who could almost be his twin, except her eyes were a vibrant purple where his were red. Her hair was neatly bobbed, full lips tipped into an impish smile made all the more prominent by the dark lipstick she wore. To say she was gorgeous was a dreadful understatement.

Just behind her was another girl, who wasn't as put together as her sister but still very beautiful. She had wide eyes with bright pink pupils and her grin was more silly than alluring. Her coiffure was a riotous jumble of candy floss as if the exuberance she exhibited in the photo extended all the way to tips of her hair. The pink eyed girl's arms were wrapped around the other boy in the photo's neck as if her chokehold was the only thing keeping him there (in truth, it was). He had a look of blank annoyance on his face, as if he alone was the mature one in this family or perhaps the least ridiculous. Had Hermione been a connoisseur of Anime, she might have been able to better describe his hair in more specific terms. As it was, it seemed to defy gravity, sweeping back in sharp, neat spikes. A pair of triangular sunglasses were buried haphazardly in it as if someone had stuffed them in there in a hurry. His eyes were bright orange and vaguely reminded her of Hagrid's overlarge pumpkins he grew for Halloween.

Without prompting, Dave explained who they were. The purpled eyed girl was Rose, and she was, as it turned out, his twin sister. Roxy was what he described as his older sister/mom friend. It must have been some sort of American slang, as Hermione had never heard of the term. She got the concept but it was an odd turn of phrase none-the-less. The older boy with the triangular glasses was his brother, Dirk. Hermione thought about asking if they were all demigods as well, but somehow resisted the urge. Instead, she asked about where his parents were, curious if they had the same odd colored eyes. Dave got quiet then and said that it was "hells of complicated" and best not to get into it. She assumed that this was code for them being dead and was sorry she'd asked at all.

He began telling little stories about his family and some of his friends, which she could tell were somewhat edited. According to him, Rose was a lot like her; studious, sometimes serious, and too smart for her own good. Roxy was just as smart but more fun loving, and he claimed that she'd shit bricks if she knew he was here. He laughed as he explained, "She fucking loves wizards. Cus wizards ain't even a thing that's real in our world, I guess. Total fake fucking bullshit, and not cus it was hidden from prying normal people eyes or whatever."

"Your world?" Hermione asked cautiously. Whether or not this was a hallucination, the night had suddenly become far less dreary and more interesting. "You're not just a time traveler then?"

"Nah. Come from an alt-universe Earth where this whole world is a total fraudulent fantasy book for small children that my sisters are obsessed with. Well, Roxy more than Rose - I think Rose only ever liked 'em ironically but you never can tell with her."

Hermione was not entirely sure if he was being serious or if he was having a laugh at her expense, so she said nothing. He continued on talking about his brother, who was occasionally ridiculous, sometimes serious, and un-ironically loved and built his own robots. His anecdotes about all of them had to be greatly exaggerated, because the 'shenanigans' they got into were too extraordinary to believe. She informed him of that fact without even thinking.

"You live in a fucking wizard school and you just said that to me," he pointed out, holding out a hand emphatically. "Fucking incredible."

"Fair point, but you honestly expect me to believe you and your sister flew into a moon, blew up some enormous bomb inside it which created a Green Sun that you ascended out of, hence becoming a god."

"Demigod," he corrected. "And yeah, that's what happened, hand to myself and all that shit. And let's be clear... Y'all are turning horses into tea cups 24/7and you're over here giving me the business over the mundane facts of my own life." She looked scandalized and opened her mouth to object, but he cut her off quickly. "Your best friend fucking survived an un-blockable killing curse when he was a baby; I know that shit for a fact. If that fuckery is true, then me emerging from a Green Sun like a mother fucking phoenix ain't too much to believe."

"I really want to disagree but that's actually impeccable logic," grumbled Hermione, honestly feeling a bit sick saying the words. She'd known this American less than a day and she just knew that Dave Strider and impeccable logic didn't often go together.

"Score," he deadpanned. "Anyway, we've been talking about my shit for a while and as amazing a concept as this is, I'm tired of talking. So, how 'bout we discuss them mad sads you been having. Get that shit all sorted out."

She hadn't realized how good it had felt not to worry about her problems. The last few minutes had been aggravating but also weirdly enjoyable. The thought of delving into her troubles felt as if she were dunking herself into the Black Lake without a stitch on. But she really did need to talk to someone and Dave didn't really know anyone else involved. He was neutral and whatever perspective he'd have would be purely his own. She wasn't daft enough to think he'd offer a good solution but he was nice to talk to, despite his flippant, annoying American bravado.

Beginning slowly, she told him everything that had happened, not just with the Firebolt but also with the murderer stalking Harry and basically everything; every single little thing that had bothered her about her last two and half years at Hogwarts. The fear for her friends that she felt she couldn't express. Her insecurities about her place not only in the wizarding world, but within her little friend group and how easy it had seemed to her that they cut her out. She'd never had friends like this before and to lose them over something so stupid... it hurt more than words could even say.

"I k-know they just t-think I'm an annoying, bossy swot. B-but I wasn't trying to ruin anyone's f-fun. I was just worried, that's all," sobbed Hermione, a steady stream of tears down her face. Dave silently handed her a tissue which she took with a small, whispered thanks. "It's like they e-e-expect me to apologize for c-caring a-about... a-b-bout..."

"A pair of knuckleheads too up their own asses about sports."

"YES! It's not as if I don't u-understand why it's important to them, but they d-didn't even bother to look at it from a..."

"...A clearer, more nuanced perspective where you were more concerned for a friend's welfare than a ludicrous sportsball game that don't mean shit in the grand scheme of things?"

"YES!" Wiping away her tears with her palm, she gazed at him thoughtfully. "I could do with a bit less cursing, but you're a-actually quite good at this. How are you good at this?"

"I like to think it's because of the swearing." He grinned cheekily, eyebrows waggling. "But on the real, relationships are complicated as fuck. I've just had a bit longer to figure shit out than you. Y'all are young, navigating in a much larger world, realizing things ain't made of rainbows and sunbeams and all that other childish horse shit. It's confusing as hell, and it ain't gonna get that much easier, but... you start to work it out, y'know? Just give it time, they'll either come around or not."

"And if they don't come around?"Herimone said, with a miserable look on her face.

"Then fuck'em. Ain't worth your time if they can't see how awesome you are." If there was a way for her to look sadder, he had found the exact words to make it happen. "C'mere." She gazed up at him, looking very much like a wet cat. "For real, c'mere." With a shaky sigh, Hermione shuffled over to his side, squeaking when he threw an arm around her shoulder. Giving her a little squeeze, he reassured her. "I'm guessing these friends of yours will see the light. Like, trust me. They're gonna pull their heads out their asses and then you'll have the perfect passive aggressive ammo to bust out at any conceivable opportunity. And this kind of ammo is gonna last for years, dude. So don't worry."

"That's easy for you to say. What's a demigod got to worry about," she grumbled, picking at the sleeve of her sweater.

He gave her another squeeze, explaining to her slowly, "I'm gonna let you off the hook for that, cus you don't know my friends. They're straight up a bunch of douchebags, myself especially. We've had more than our share of disagreements, but we always come back to each other. Cus we're basically all we have - like family, 'cept you get to choose. Your friends ain't no different."

"You really think so?" she whispered in a very small voice.

"Yup, very sure in a completely sincere and not-ironic way, like I know that sounds like a goof or a joke, but really... it'll be cool. So stop worrying already." She gave him a little smile, her cheeks a little pink. After all, she'd never been held by a boy like this, especially one that was a little older than her and very good looking. Dave, completely unaware, gave her another squeeze and then ruffled her hair. She squawked indignantly, slapping at his hands again. "There's my good time buddy. So, I'm thinking... I ain't got nothing to do for the next while. This project we're working on is sort of stalled at the mo'. Figured since I got time, maybe we can make this a thing."

"What a thing?"

"I meet up with you whenever it's convenient for you, and you can talk about your problems or just chill, like the raddest of time buddies any universe ever did see."

It might be a sign of an inevitable mental breakdown, but she actually agreed. They had both decided that weekends would be best. But how they'd be able to contact each other for appropriate times and places to meet, she hadn't a clue.

"Don't worry 'bout it. I'll let you know," he insisted when she pressed him for details, as he'd outright refused to use owls - 'they wouldn't find me anyway' was his answer for why it was out of the question.

"But-"

"You're just gotta trust me on this one. When I see a good opportunity, I'll send you word."

"How-" but before she even asked the question, she realized he'd just answer time travel. "Fine. Send me word, then."

"Rad," he said, giving a thumbs up before his face turned more serious. "Welp, I think we've done all the damage we can today. Time to pack it in."

Grabbing her hand, she was pulled through time again. Thinking about it later, it had reminded her of the numerous times she'd ridden the Black Hole and other rollercoasters at Alton Towers. There was a peculiar lurch in her stomach and a dizzying sensation as if she'd been pushed off a cliff. It never felt this way when she used the time turner... it didn't really feel like anything when she'd used it. It was very strange. She could only guess that perhaps time travel was different in his universe than her own somehow.

They appeared in the library only a few seconds after they'd left. Just in time for Madame Pince to come storming over to their table, breathing fire. She nearly chased them out of the library. Hermione half expected her to throw books at them as they ran pell-mell down the hallway. Dave was cackling wildly as he dragged her behind him. They stopped several hallways later, sweaty and breathing hard.

"Ohmigod... gonna check that box off my bucket list. That was the best. Shit, I wish I went here. I'd make it my personal mission to give that old bat an aneurysm," he gasped, resting himself against a wall.

"You're not alone... half the school wants to do exactly that." Privately, she thought it was a good thing he didn't go here. Merlin knew the kind of mayhem he'd get into if he joined up with troublemakers like Fred and George.

"That's the first time you said anything about this place that made any fucking sense."

Once they caught their breath, they meandered down the hall, Dave following Hermione as she knew where she was going. At the stairs that lead to Gryffindor tower, they stopped and he gave her a hug. Hermione's face went brick red as suddenly everything felt awkward. With a kind smile, he ruffled her hair again and giving her a little half-assed salute, he bid her goodbye and disappeared in a swirling maelstrom of clock gears. She gazed at the spot for a very long time, before letting out a tired little sigh and trudging joylessly towards the tower. Staring up at the canopy of her bed that night, she thought about sleep deprivation and stress and all the reasons why what she'd experienced tonight could not be real. Her sleep was restless and filled with chiming clocks.

AUTHOR'S NOTES

-Alton Towers is a real theme park located in the UK in Staffordshire. And the Black Hole was an actual roller coaster located in the park, opening its doors in 1983 and operating until 2005. It was an enclosed steel coaster/dark ride. I only know about it thanks to a really cool youtube channel, Defunctland.

-Since Hermione has not yet met John or Jane, she isn't aware that she ought to be far more terrified if they met Fred and George. The ensuing prank war between the four of them would probably be legendary. (and if anyone out there feels like it, write a god damned companion piece with that very scenario. I don't want to write it, but I'd love to read it.)

- I am no good at rapping or poetry in general, so I saved everyone the trouble of me making any kind of attempt and had Dave quote the Beastie Boys instead. I think we can all thank our lucky stars that I made the right decision.