Waking up slowly, Hermione winced in pain. Her head hurt so badly. Dimly, she thought she ought to get up and do something about it before it became worse. But the rest of her body disagreed. So she lay there for several minutes, pretending that she'd be able to slip back into sleep. And then she smelled bacon.

For a moment, she forgot where she was.

The smell reminded her of lazy Sunday mornings at home. It was her father that had always been the cook. Her mother could never be bothered with it and even when she did try... well, it was always a disaster. And for just those few moments in time, her mind convinced her briefly that she was safe at home with her parents, who remembered her. There was no war. They were not starving and on an unimaginably futile quest. They were safe.

She didn't want to wake up. Because if she did, then she'd know that the smell was a lie. The feeling of being safe was a lie. And the truth was: she was in the middle of a war and searching for a way to end it.

Moaning, she opened her eyes slowly, making a rather disgruntled face as she did so. She clumsily brought herself to a sitting position, wiping her bleary eyes. Her head was throbbing in pain. She grunted as she massaged her temple. Looking around, she realized she was in the wrong bed. This was Harry's bunk. And then she noticed that there was someone sitting in front of that bunk, draped over two chairs and very much asleep. She looked godlessly uncomfortable, her head was hanging limply off the back of her chair at an odd angle and yet she was snoring softly as if she were sleeping on a bed in a five star hotel.

"Roxy," Hermione called, reaching out tentatively before realizing there was no way she'd be able to touch her from her bunk. With great difficulty, she stumbled out of bed, wobbling on her feet a bit as she shook her friend's shoulder. "Roxy, wake up."

She woke with a loud snort, nearly falling off her chair in surprise. "Whatimeizzit?!" Roxy looked around, eyes focusing on the figure in front of her. "Mmm. You're up. Fuck, musta fell asleep." Swiping at her eyes tiredly and unconsciously smudging her makeup terribly, she smiled. "Shouldn't you still be in bed, Miss? Like, you're all fucked up from that shit yesterday. P'tty sure you're 'posed to be resting."

"Can't. Have a headache," Hermione replied shortly. "Why am I in the wrong bunk, by the way? And... well, what happened?"

Roxy grimaced. "Eh, this is so no my department," she murmured before sighing. "You want ibuprofen or aspirin?" Clearly confused, Hermione indicated which one she wanted and how many. Holding out her hands, she produced three ibuprofen and a glass of water out of thin air and handed them to her. She continued to speak as Hermione downed the medicine. "As for the rest... you're gonna hafta ask Jane to get the deets on that. She's in the kitchen right now, whipping up breakfast. C'mon, lemme help ya."

Hermione wanted to walk on her own but was quickly disabused of this notion. Her legs felt like jelly and her first few steps almost landed her on her face had it not been for Roxy. Someone had made a makeshift privacy curtain that hung limply over the alcove where Harry's bunk was located. Roxy carefully pushed it aside while helping her out into the main part of the tent, which was radically changed.

The living area had been transformed into a dining room of sorts or perhaps more like a mess hall. It was obviously larger than it had been before and all the chairs from the living room had either been removed or pushed against the walls of the tent. The dining room table and its attendant benches had been moved out into the main living area and duplicated somehow, as there were now two tables rather than one and four benches rather than just two. Hermione could only guess what now occupied the dining room as the ten-flaps had been closed.

She was pleased to find that she had not been hallucinating when she woke up, as Jane was frying bacon. Roxy gently led her to the table and helped her to sit before addressing her friend.

"Hey, Janie. One of your patients is awake and hungry for answers. Also bacon, probably."

Jane looked up briefly as she carefully laid another strip of bacon in the pan. "Oh, good. I'll be done in a sec. Would you like orange juice, coffee, or tea?"

It was really rather sad that she had to think about it. "Orange juice, I suppose."

"Rox, would you mind?" Jane asked sweetly.

"Sure thing," she answered, cupping her hands to prepare herself.

Shadows gathered and with a pop three large oranges appeared seemingly from nowhere. She caught them in her arms and walked them over to Jane, who took them out of arms one by one. As Jane sliced one in half and prepared to juice it, Hermione looked on with an astonished expression on her face. It wasn't really the first time she'd seen it - the glass of water was alarming enough and there was that box of tea she'd made four years ago. But this...

"How did you do that?" she demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at the oranges. "They aren't in season right now and whatever you just did it wasn't summoning! You've done something like that three times now and it's completely impossible!"

Jane and Roxy looked at each other, each wearing something of an amused expression. Roxy shrugged, smiling mischievously. "I make the impossible possible," she sang with a little wink. Hermione was not at all impressed, crossing her arms and glaring at her expectantly. "You really wanna know how I did it?"

"Clearly!"

"That's for me to know and you-"

"To find out," Hermione cut in, utterly done in. "Don't you dare give me that tosh a second time. I don't know why it's so hard for you to be honest about your Aspect, but-"

She went from amused confusion to outright alarm in one easy step. "How the hell do you know about Aspects?!"

Hermione gaped at Roxy for a moment. "Are you being serious?" From the astonished look on her face, she was. "You told me. Not about your Aspect in particular, you were very cagey about that. But you did tell me about them in more general terms."

Roxy let out a high pitched laugh as she slowly shook her head in abject denial, apparently immune to the irony of her statement. "That's fucking impossible!"

"No, it isn't. You said- you TOLD me that Aspects were a part of who you are, no different than DNA. Those were almost exactly your words."

"Wrong! You got about five seconds to come clean cus I haven't told you shit," Roxy threatened, her hands slapping against the counter angrily.

"Yes, you have! We had a whole infuriating conversation about it where you were needlessly mysterious!"

"WHAT ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT?!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in aggravation. Her right hand twitching slightly as she prepared herself to draw her weapon, if necessary. "We haven't even met till now. You're standin' here talkin' about some fucking conversation that ain't ever happened. Fuck, I don't even know WHO you really are much less whatever the fuck you're talking about!"

"What... w-what do you mean you don't know who I am?" She demanded, her voice deathly quiet. "H-how could... You k-know who I am. We've met. Y-you told me... you s-said I'd see you in four years and you're h-here. Yuh-y-y-you ca-ame. You're here and h-how can you not know who I am?!" Her voice cracked as she asked the question. She was on the verge of tears now.

Roxy was struggling with her emotions. She was somewhere between suspicion and an alarming degree of sympathetic sadness caused by the look of anguish on the young woman's face. Her hand was trembling as she held it mid-air, it would only take a single swipe and her gun would be in her hand. But for reasons she couldn't fathom, she could not draw - it was like everything the girl was saying was true and some part of her knew, even though there was no possible way it could be true. Rose hadn't told them many details. Only that there were two people they needed to save, a witch and a wizard.

This girl was from another version of earth, she should have no idea who or what they were, much less neat little game details like Aspects. She knew too much and she felt too familiar, almost like a friend, and Roxy didn't know what it all meant. To be perfectly honest, it scared the shit out of her, flashbacks of the Condesce's manipulations swimming through her mind. She wouldn't lose everything she'd gained. Not again. Jane prevented further escalation of the issue by touching Roxy's arm, giving her pale, shaking friend a warning look.

Jane, ever the detective, had pieced some things together. She addressed the young woman trembling and near tears before them. "You say you've met us before, correct?" The girl nodded, the first tears escaping her eyes which she wiped away furiously. "And this was four years ago, am I right?" Another nod and more tears. "Rox, this is clearly a time paradox situation, put your hand down and wake Dave up."

Roxy ran off without glancing at her, exiting the tent with far too much haste. Hermione felt herself breaking down; it was just too much to deal with in such a short time. Covering her face with her hands, she wept openly, her sobs coming in harsh, shrieking gasps. Jane hurried over to her, feeling tears welling in her own eyes. She pried Hermione's hands away and enveloped her in a hug which she sunk into without protest. The Maid of Life held her like this for quite a long time, soothing her with gentle back rubs and quietly whispered words that were mostly nonsense to her ears. After a bit, she got a hold of herself to find that Jane was also crying. She had no idea why.

As if reading her mind, Jane said to her in a very soft voice while wiping away her own tears. "I'm so sorry about all this. You've been through so much since yesterday and I'm sorry we're going to put you through more. But I promise, we will get to the bottom of it. How 'bout we start with introductions?"

She gave Jane her name and Jane gave hers. It was all very foolish but also strangely amusing, the Maid of Life had a handy knack of getting someone to feel good about things that you might have a hard time feeling good about. Jane then got her working in the kitchen. Hermione was tasked with squeezing the oranges so they'd have juice. Jane went to work trying to save the bacon, as some of it had gotten burned during their hug-fest. Once she'd salvaged what she could, she switched to preparing pancakes.

"It takes a bit to get Dave up and running in the morning," she explained as she mixed the batter, though to Hemione's eyes it looked exceptionally thick. "I'm sure Roxy is busy dodging arms and elbows right now." And then she laughed, plopping a dollop of batter into a pan.

The tent was mostly silent aside from the sounds of cooking food for the next few minutes. Hermione watched Jane cook, awed as usual by the light blue fire as it was infused into her cooking. Jane noticed her staring.

"Oh, sorry that's-"

"I've seen it before." Hermione cut her off, her voice hollow. "It's part of your Aspect. Life - You told me it likes to be involved. You're Maid of it. There was a whole terrible pun you made... which was actually kind of clever."

"Oh."

The awkwardness was mitigated by the fact that the food was done. Jane made a plate for both of them and they sat down to eat silently, lost in the uncomfortableness of the situation. The food was delicious, as always, and had the side effect of making her feel loads better - physically anyway. Hermione hadn't really understood the American obsession with pancakes in the morning, and she was too polite to question Jane about it in the moment. She noted that Jane had made American style pancakes which were quite a bit thicker and fluffier than what she was used to. The addition of maple syrup almost made them too sweet, but it was good all the same.

And then while she was in mid-bite she remembered the photo. Her fork clattered loudly onto her plate and she shot up, now able to make it to her bunk without help. Jane stood slowly, staring at her cautiously. Hermione didn't notice as she all but dumped out the contents of her beaded bag until she found the green volume the photo was hidden it. She didn't bother to flip through it like she would normally, instead turning it over and shaking it until the photo fell out on its own. Rushing back to the table, she slapped it down and slid it over so Jane could see. Why hadn't she thought of that a few minutes ago?

Jane picked the photo up to look at it better. The anxious look on her face transformed into wonder as she recognized her own face as it smiled back at her. At that moment, Dave stumbled in looking tired and harassed. Roxy was not far behind him, glaring at him with a look that was half-amused, half-disgruntled. Jane turned to them wordlessly and held out the photo. Dave took it and seemed to only glance at it tiredly. And then he came to a full stop, pushing his glasses into his hair. Brows furrowed, his eyes roved over the photo as he let out a harsh sounding exhalation.

"Fuck," he whispered, mostly to himself. His gaze found Hermione's and his lips turned up into a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes at all. "Welp, temporal destiny sure fucked us good, didn't it."

He handed the photo over to Roxy, who made a small, shrill gasp when she looked at it. Sitting down, he nodded at Hermione that she should do the same. He stared at her long and hard with those strange eyes of his and with a deep breath, he asked, "I need you to remember the date we met, as accurate as you can get."

"It was in September of 1993, about two weeks after term started. I remember clearly it was a Thursday, my birthday was in three days... it was the sixteenth."

"Time?"

"I don't remember exactly... I was using a time turner that year to get to all my classes. I had three of them at the same time, nine o'clock. I was going to my last class in that block, Arithmancy, so it might have been ten or eleven?"

"The fuck is a time turner? Wait, doesn't matter. Probably some kind of shitty time travel device, amiright?"

"Yeah-"

"That'll make it a fuck-load easier," he stated, flipping his glasses back onto his face quite literally. "Just hafta look for those ugly tell-tale tears in the fabric of time heaps of shit like that make. Later nerds," he said with a salute, leaping up and disappearing in his customary whirling clock-gears.

It wasn't until he was gone that she realized he was wearing the same outfit he'd worn when she first met him four years ago and not the strange red outfit she'd seen him in more recently. Seconds later he reappeared, a huge grin on his face. "Holy shit! You should have fucking seen the look on your face, like both times. Classic! Thought I was walking into a complete shit-show and I have never been so glad to be wrong about something, like ever. Looks like I'll be hopping around for a while, someone let Rose know I need to talk, ASAP. Gonna go drag 'Rezi out of bed as well. See ya soon, time buddy." And he gave Hermione a pair of finger-guns in lieu of a goodbye wave before jogging out of the tent to make further preparations.

The quiet after he left was thunderous. Roxy was still sitting at the table, her gaze troubled as she looked at the picture in her hands. Setting it down, she left quickly and quietly. Jane watched her go, brows crinkling in consternation before she turned back to Hermione.

"She'll come around eventually, you know. She's just been through a lot. I guess we all I have," she said kindly with a funny kind of shrug. "After a while, you get kind of used to things like this, but I'm sure it's awfully strange for you. For what it's worth, I'm excited to get to know you all over again. If you need to talk... "

Hermione tried to shake her head 'no' but burst into tears again. Jane enveloped her in a hug. It was an unconscious thing, but Life rose up from her hands and sunk into the crying young woman in her arms. Warmth surrounded her on all sides now as slowly her tears dried and she felt herself becoming a bit calmer. After wiping away the tears, Jane helped her put away all the things she'd thrown out of her bag. And with a strained smile, asked if she'd like to know how her friend was.

The good news was he was alive and would be okay. The bad news was that it would take some time for him to get better. Currently, he was in a magically induced coma, except it wasn't really magical, as it turned out. One of their group, the one they'd called Vriska, had some kind of power that forcibly caused people to sleep. Jane indicated that was all her power could do to humans which indicated that its primary purpose had nothing to do with sleep and its effects on human subjects was incidental. And then she wondered at the usage of the word human. She had a hazy memory of the night before of a nightmare of a woman, tall and grey-skinned.

Frowning, she asked Jane, "So... this Vriska isn't human, then?"

"No, not precisely," Jane answered evasively. "It's a hard question to answer without being insulting, to be honest." She pressed her lips together as she thought for a second or two. "I guess you could technically call them aliens, because they're not from earth."

"They're from Alternia," Hermione supplied, casting back to what she'd read in the green book. "I thought that Rose was exaggerating a bit. I thought she was giving them a silly name because they were just from a different version of Earth not connected to your session. That she called them trolls because of how unhelpful they were at first. But from what you're telling me, they aren't from any version of Earth at all?"

"They are not," Jane confirmed, looking at Hermione speculatively. "You've talked to Rose as well, I take it."

"Well, yes, but not about this. She... she gave me a book about all your adventures."

"She gave you her journal?" Jane asked, astonished. Rose rarely let her journal out of her sight and never let anyone else touch it, not since 'The Incident'.

"No, it was a proper book. In the introduction, she called it a history that was written by those who lived it. I could..."

The Maid of Life shook her head and smiled sweetly. "It's all right. Like you said, I lived through it, and I'm not masochistic enough to want to experience it a second time, even in book form. Would you like to see your friend?" Hermione's face fell a little, but she nodded. Jane led her back into what had been her old room. "I'm sorry we had to put him in here. We, uh, guessed this was your bed by the stuff on the table... It's just easier to work in a larger space like this."

Harry lay on her bed as still as a statue. The only sign he was even alive at all was the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he slept. Coming closer, she sat on a chair next to the bed and got her first good look at him. He was incredibly pale and his scar looked red and irritated. The skin around his eyes was a harsh, bruised looking purple. There was a nasty looking wound at his temple that had been clearly tended to, but was not healed entirely. There were also deep cuts on his cheeks, neck, and chest. He looked terrible. She thought about getting the bottle of dittany in her beaded bag but then decided against it. Their stores were already critically low and Jane's power was incredible.

And then something occurred to her. She touched her cheeks. There should be deep scratches there from where the Dementors had clawed at her face. But the skin was smooth. The sickness she'd felt when she'd woken up was gone after she'd eaten food infused with Jane's power.

"Why isn't he healed?" She asked, almost accusingly. "Life works quickly, doesn't it? He shouldn't be like this."

Jane nodded solemnly. "It does, normally. But your friend... he's fighting it somehow. At first, we thought it was the fundamental incompatibility of our very different powers. Basically, magic works differently in this universe from our own. The rules aren't the same. It's why we could kill those things that attacked you, but people from this reality can't. But then we realized if that was true... my power would be hyper effective."

Hermione realized the enormity of her admission, but before she could say anything there was a cough that seemed far too deliberate to be real. It was Dirk and he was no longer wearing that silly magenta getup. He was dressed in one might term extreme casualwear as he leaned up against a tent strut, arms crossed. Dirk did not wait for them to invite him into the conversation.

"It's like a exploit or a glitch in a video game that allows you to level up with no effort or use powers you shouldn't have access to. But in the kid's case, it's the exact opposite." He tilted his head to the side contemplatively. "Whenever Jane tries to heal him, something in him resists it. It's almost like a kind of magnetic polarity - like we're trying to push together two South Pole magnets and they just keep pushing each other back. Rose thinks it has something to do with that giant fucking scar on his head."

"And the necklace you were wearing," Jane added quietly, gesturing to the jewelry in question sitting innocently on the bedside table. "There's something horrible in it. I felt it when I took it off of you and I feel it when I touch that scar. It's... something dark. It's awful... squirming under the surface when I use my power. I think... I think I'm hurting whatever it is and that's why it's reacting."

Hermione's eyes became bright as her mind raced. "Do you think you could destroy it if you tried?"

Jane shook her head sadly. "I already have. Whatever it is, it's very powerful. I practiced on the locket but all it did was burn my hand. I didn't dare try it on your friend..." She shifted nervously. "It's why we've kept him sleeping, whenever I heal his other wounds, it hurts him."

"Or more correctly," Dirk interrupted. "Whatever's in that scar hurts him because Jane was hurting it." He gazed at Hermione sharply, and though she couldn't see his eyes, she was none-the-less intimidated at capturing his full attention. "Hope you don't mind me asking what the fuck is up with that, because I'm convinced you know what's going on."

She looked down, swallowing convulsively. "I can't tell you that, I'm sorry."

Dirk nodded sagely, but his attention remained piercing, direct, and centered entirely on her. "Let me break that down for you, cuz maybe I wasn't making my meaning clear. I know what the fuck is in that locket and in his scar. I'd just like you to do us the fucking courtesy of being honest about it. Because we put our asses on the line for you and I don't truck with putting my friends in danger without them being aware of exactly what it is they're facing."

"Dirk... you really don't have to," Jane interrupted gently, her hand held out in a placatory gesture.

"No, that thing almost burned a fucking hole in your god damned hand," he ground out, a bit of Texas heat in his voice. His gaze became fierce as he stared at Hermione witheringly over the top of his glasses, bright orange eyes burning with barely suppressed fury. "I overheard Dave... he thinks y'all are good friends. So if there's any truth to that then you best give us some answers."

"If you know so much why don't you tell them then?" Hermione shot back. She wasn't going be bullyragged into talking about their mission.

"Not my farm, not my cow," he retorted easily.

"This was a mission given to Harry specifically. He didn't want anyone else beyond me and Ron to know, and I will not betray his trust. I'm sorry," she stated tightly, shaking as she tried to master herself.

"Really... then where the fuck is Ron?" Dirk challenged, gesturing around the tent as if Ron would spontaneously show himself. "We only saw two of you on that cliff, and I'm pretty damn sure Brodo Baggins over here ain't named Ron."

Hermione was angry and scared, but she would not budge, crossing her arms defiantly.

"You wanna play it like that, then. Fine by me," he growled, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses. "The thing in that locket and in his scar is a fragment of a soul. But it's not normal... it's damaged somehow, like whoever did it just tore the god damned thing out and stuffed it into a locket like a piece of garbage." He paused for a long series of seconds, shaking as he nervously ran a hand over the back of his neck. Once he'd calmed himself he continued, his voice dangerously quiet. "Whoever did that is dangerous. That thing is dangerous. Soul fragments shouldn't be able to react to outside stimulus like that. The only way it could was if it was designed to be that way. Shit, that thing is sentient and it goes out of its way to hurt people. Pardon me for being concerned."

"Do you really think that there's a fragment of a soul in his scar?" Hermione whispered, the color draining from her face as she stared directly at him.

"I don't think that's what it is, I know it for a fuckin' fact," he confirmed pointedly. "You weren't aware of it?"

"I've suspected it was for quite some time, but I've never been sure, until now," she said tremulously, her heart hammering a thousand miles a minute. "Have you told anyone else?"

"Rose and Terezi already knew. Jane knows. Roxy, maybe. That's it. Why?"

"Because you're right... that thing is very dangerous." She closed her eyes and prayed that Harry would forgive her if he should ever find out what she was going to do. "It's a Horcrux - and some of the darkest magic anyone could ever perform is required to create one. The way you described the soul... as if it was torn or damaged, you're not too far off from the truth. In order to make it, you have to split your soul by force and the only way to do that is to commit coldblooded murder."

"Then I assume once the soul is split, they put it into something? Like that locket," Dirk mused, his brow furrowed. He was deeply disturbed by the thought of anyone willingly mutilating their soul like that. Sure, he'd made some splinters but they were all accidental and it in no way harmed him. Annoyed him sometimes, yes, but there was nothing inherently malicious about them. And most importantly, he never had to murder anyone to create them. "What possible benefit would there be to put it in a person though? People are fucking fragile as shit."

"I don't think the monster who did it meant to," Hermione replied softly. Summoning her courage, she went on. "I do hope that's enough to sate your curiosity. As you might guess, this knowledge is dangerous and no one beyond this tent should know."

Jane, who had been quiet up till this moment, reminded him carefully, "I think they mean to destroy it, Dirk. She asked about it earlier, remember?"

But Dirk didn't reply at all, he stood there stock still, thumb rubbing restlessly against his lower lip as his mind began overclocking - furiously turning over the problem in a brain that never stopped thinking, ever. Jane, who knew him very well, could tell he was troubled by all this. It was a calculation he'd missed in his search for answers and he'd unintentionally hurt someone in the process. But to anyone else, he looked like a cold, blank slate. Without a word, he turned on his heel and left.

Jane was sure he'd most likely be beating himself up over this. She was also sure he was figuring out some way to make it up to the young witch, most likely involving some kind of mechanical device. His apologies almost always came with some new bit of tech. 'Just hope he doesn't make her a little robot,' she thought to herself with mild amusement.

"Sorry about Dirk. He means well, but sometimes he goes a bit overboard with the protectiveness when it comes to his friends. It's sweet, but annoying sometimes."

"Did it... d-did it really almost burn a hole in your hand?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Well, yeah. But... healing powers," she replied brightly, holding out both hands which were perfectly fine. "It just freaked Dirk out because he had to, um, help... remove it."

"I'm suh-s-sorry," Hermione sobbed, her voice muffled by her hands.

"Oh, no. It's fine. You were unconscious at the time and couldn't have told me anyway. And I don't blame you for not wanting to say anything," she added hastily, fluttering her hands anxiously. "You're a good friend, to both of us." And as she said it, she subtly pointed to the young man sleeping uneasily in the bed. "Would you like me to stay or would you like some time alone?"

"I'd like to be alone for a bit, if you wouldn't mind."

Jane nodded, gently patting her shoulder before turning to leave. "If you need anything, let me know," she called out quietly as she closed the privacy flaps.

I like to call this section the small pause in the camping trip from hell or Hermione's personal intermission in the main story of Harry Potter. Anyway, happy birthday, Hermione!