AN: Hello, fanfiction and Harry Potter fans. I do not own Harry Potter, but feel free to enjoy this or hate it. If you enjoy it, please leave a lovely comment, if you hate it, then leave some constructive criticism, thanks!

Can You Take the Jump?

Chapter 8

"Can she shoot lasers from her eyes?"

"No."

"Can she become invisible?"

"Can't every magical person?"

"Oh, right. Can she breathe fire?"

"Does my sister look like a dragon to you?"

"Can she—"

"Sev, enough."

Lily whipped around to glare at Severus Snape. The Snapes and Evanses were doing their children's Hogwarts school shopping, but so far, Lily was stuck answering Severus's ridiculous questions about Hermione than admiring the wonderous Diagon Alley.

It had been close to a week since Severus managed to leave his house thanks to Hermione's help. Lily had gone to check up on the Snapes every day since they've been there, but what she didn't expect from this was Snape's ever-growing curiosity about her dear sister. She'd expected him to be wary of her, but instead he treated her like a superhero character from a comic book.

"Can I ask one more question?"

Lily sighed, but reluctantly nodded.

"Why did she help my mom and I that day at Spinner's End?"

She tilted her head, unsure how to answer the question. She wanted to say it was because her sister wanted to help people out of the goodness of her heart, but Hermione rarely did such things. Not that she was mean, but mostly indifferent to others whom did not concern her. Severus wasn't technically a stranger to Hermione, but he wasn't exactly a friend either.

"I think you're going to have to ask her that question yourself." Lily told him, nodding towards her sister who walked at the front of the group, carefully explaining to her father how a magical broom flew.

Severus grimaced at the thought of having to interact with her sister.

"No, never mind."

"This should be the last stop. The wands." Mrs. Snape told the group. She'd been the main person who was actively showing muggle family around, explaining this and that. "Since Severus isn't 11 yet, the twins will be the only ones who will actually buy wands, but we can join them and see what the process is like."

The soft sounds of bells tinkled when the group opened the doors to Ollivander's shop.

Everyone, but Mrs. Snape and Hermione, gawked at the stacks upon stacks of boxes that contained wands, shocked by the sheer number of inventory in the place and its seemingly disorganized layout.

"Welcome, welcome!" Around the corner, a man in his late 30s walked out to greet everyone. He had a full head of brown hair and a thick beard. He was much buffer than Hermione remembered, but it was undeniably Garrick Ollivander standing in front of her.

"Ah, let me guess. We have an 11 year old who wants to get their new wand?" Ollivander's eyes glinted as he scanned the group.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Ollivander." Eileen greeted.

"Ah, Miss Prince! I believe I gave you my 10¾, cedar, with unicorn hair. Fairly springy too?"

Eileen nodded, "Your memory is unparalleled as always, sir."

"Good wand. Great even, depending on the wielder. But it needs constant use, or else it'll get too brittle, even for you."

His tone was ominous, as if he knew of the horrors Mrs. Snape had faced during her marriage.

"We're here to buy some wands." Hermione interjected, pulling the attention away from the uncomfortable woman.

"Ah, yes." Ollivander went back to his normal jovial tone as he turned to Lily. "You're the one who requires one of my wands, yes?"

"Actually," Mrs. Evans placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "She needs one too. They're twins, you see."

Ollivander looked at Hermione in confusion, "Really? I'd assumed you were well above 11, my dear. I'm sorry. I've never been wrong like that before." He frowned, looking her up and down. "But I guess there are firsts for everything. Anyway! Let's start with you."

He pointed at Lily and immediately started searching for a wand that'd fit Lily.

"Did that mad man just call my daughter old looking?" Mr. Evans scoffed, "Unbelievable! What about Hermione says that she's anything over 11? Twelve max."

Mr. Evans's offense was a natural reaction from a protective father, but Severus thought Ollivander's words held a grain a truth. It wasn't that Hermione necessarily looked old (Lily and Hermione were twins for Merlin's sake), but there was something about her that made her feel old.

"Ash, 10 ¼, unicorn hair." Ollivander took the wand out of its casing and placed it in Lily's hand.

"Unicorns are real?" Mr. Evans no-so-subtly whispered with wide eyes.

"Go on, give it a whirl." Ollivander encouraged, almost equally as excited as Lily was.

Lily tentatively moved the wand, causing light to glow. Everyone gasped and clapped, but Ollivander didn't seem pleased.

"Good, but not perfect." He quickly, took the wand out of Lily's hand and started rummaging through the boxes he'd brought out. "Try this one; 10 ¼, cypress, dragon heartstring."

"Dragons are real?" Mr. Evans asked to one in particular again.

Lily glanced nervously at the adults around her. Not a word left her mouth, but Hermione could easily read her eyes and expression; "perhaps there wasn't a wand in this store that would suit her, and if that was true, then what would that mean for her? What would that mean about her rights as a witch? What if she didn't deserve one?" They were the same thoughts Hermione had when she first stepped into Ollivander's shop years ago.

Hermione grabbed Lily's other hand and grasped it tightly.

Lily looked down at their joined hands. Her sister was rarely the type to show affection, so something as simple as holding her hand felt like a huge consolation to her. With a grateful smile, Lily gripped the wand with much more confidence and gave it a little whirl.

Several boxes of wands shot out of their locations on the walls and swirled around the group. Ivy and Robert awed, and even Petunia, who'd been trying to look uninterested this entire trip, couldn't hide her gasp. Mrs. Snape looked impressed with the level of Lily's magical control.

"How does the wand feel?" Ollivander asked, glancing back and forth between Lily and the wand. "Cypress wands are great for those who are self-sacrificing. Heroic."

"Try another one." Hermione encouraged, giving the old wand-maker a small inconspicuous glare.

"But, it feels…good. Unlike the one before, this one feels…" she paused, unsure how to describe the feeling of the wand in her hand. Lily looked at her sister with confusion, the wand in her hand felt good, and no one else seemed to be expressing any concern. "It feels like I'm just a moment away from being shocked by static electricity. A tingling sensation?"

"Try another one." Hermione repeated. "Unless you have a habit of breaking or losing the most important item a witch could have, you only get one wand Lily. Don't worry about everyone else and try another wand. We have plenty of time."

"Is…is it okay if I try another wand Mr. Ollivander?" Lily asked hesitantly.

"Of course, my dear." Ollivander took the wand from Lily's hand, but stared curiously at Hermione. "10 ¼" Willow, Unicorn tail hair."

Lily's wand.

With a hesitant hand, Lily reach forward and touched the wand, only for a flutter of butterflies fly out of end the moment Lily's finger came into contact.

"Oh my." Mrs. Evans let out a small laugh, when the magic-made butterflies landed on her head and on the tip of her nose.

"Lily," Hermione turned to her sister. "How does this one feel?"

Lily smiled nodding at her sister. "It feels right." She laughed, knowing how ridiculous it must've sounded to everyone else. "It feels like an extension of my arm."

She lifted the wand and focused on the butterflies she'd created. She may not know how to perform magic, but everyone had an instinct for these types of things.

"With confidence." Hermione instructed quietly.

Lily waved the wand with as much confidence as she could. The butterflies burst into a beam of warm glowing light them fluttered down like specks of golden glitter from the sky.

"Willows are uncommon wand wood with healing power. It's great for advanced magic. Unicorn tail hairs have consistent magic, and it will be loyal wand to you. Plus its swishy, a perfect fit for those who are talented in Charms."

"Lily-flower," their father gave his daughter a tight hug. "You're gunna do great things with that wand. I just know it."

"Alright." Ollivander clapped his hand and turned to Hermione. "It must be the wise sister's turn now."

After measuring the length of her arm, Ollivander inspected Hermione with a keen eye, while tilting his head from side to side, like she was a difficult puzzle.

"Well, the only way to solve a challenge like you, miss, is to just try any answer you can think of."

After a tiring and disastrous 13 wands later, she sighed and sat down while Ollivander went to the backroom once again. To say she hadn't expected for it to take this long was an understatement. She was beginning to wonder if there was a wand that suit her in Mr. Ollivander's shop. The wand-maker even handed her old vinewood wand, but she knew the moment she touched it she knew it wasn't the one. She was no longer fit to carry that wand. 11 year old Hermione Evans was simply too hardened and broken to wield a wand that fit Hermione Granger at the same age.

Ivy Evans was the only who remained in the shop. Everyone else had left, too hungry and too tired to wait through Hermione's seemingly endless trials and failures.

Ivy's hands were clasped desperately together, hoping for a match to occur.

To Ivy, Hogwarts was a chance for Hermione to finally be a child. To attend school and have friends. To learn something from other intelligent and magical people who could keep up with her unbelievable intellect and stimulate her further.

Ollivander finally walked out of his back room holding a wand box that looked like it could fall apart with a strong wind.

"My grandfather made this in his prime." He very carefully removed the wand out of its case. The design was impossibly simple; the sleek dark wood was covered in simple wand varnish and the woodwork had no embellishment or carvings. If it hadn't been for a narrower pointed end and a heavier fatter end, she might have not known which side was the handle. The only thing that interrupted the otherwise smooth stick was a small and shallow indentation near midpoint of the wand for her index finger's placement.

"He told me that he never thought it would ever be sold. It's a stubborn one. It's made from the branch of the oldest living tree. A 5000 year old bristlecone pine tree. Pine wands always choose independent, individual masters. They're good for people who like to use magic creatively."

"That's our Hermione." Mrs. Evans smiled encouragingly. "She's always been independent and she's always so creative. She reads so much and she's so smart."

"You haven't said anything about the core." Hermione noted.

Ollivander smiled at the acute observation. "And there's a reason for that, but let's try the wand first. The core can be explained later."

When her skin touched the wand, the bristlecone wood felt like a hot fire burning on her hand, but there was no pain, just the sensation of power and energy flowing through her body. This wand felt completely different from the other wands she had, as well as her old vinewood wand, but there was a pull in her gut that told her this was the one.

"We found it, haven't we?" Ollivander smiled, the satisfaction of finally matching her with a wand.

Hermione flicked her wrist; the boxes, wands and research papers that she ruined with the other failed trial wands, righted themselves in the correct place and order in the small and crowded shop. The cobwebs shook itself clean, the floors dusted themselves and the windows wiped themselves.

"The wand's a tricky one, special wood and an even more special core. I always thought that the age in which wands are bought is simply too young for a wand like this, but I see that I've been corrected."

"So what is it?" Hermione asked. "The core."

Ollivander gave a quick look behind Hermione where Ivy sat, leaning in to try and hear their conversation.

The old man's eyes flickered back and forth between the determined mother and the nervous daughter. "It's the hair from a thestral's tail."

"What is a thestral?"

"Well Ma'am, it's—"

"It's a winged horse. Magical. Very rare as a core." Hermione interrupted Ollivander quickly, "Kind of scary looking, but docile creatures."

"Rare? Well, that's certainly a word I'd use to describe you darling!" Ivy clapped with glee. "It's good right? You've finally gotten your wand?"

"Seems like it." Hermione smiled with her mother, but glanced sideways to Ollivander. He watched her and the wand in her hand with a raised brow.

Like the Elder wand, her wand held a thestral tail-hair core. It was the rarest of cores, only 5 ever recorded of being made, and 3 out of 5 had origins from folktales and bedtime stories. But one thing that was known about thestral tail hair cores was that it wasn't as simple as winning the wand, it was only mastered by a witch or wizard who was able to face death.

"Thank you for all your hard work Mr. Ollivander." Hermione greeted. She quickly dug through her mother's purse and pulled out the pouch with all their galleons. She counted the necessary amount and handed it to the shop owner, but he shook his head.

"It's yours. You're doing me a favor by getting rid of this wand for me. You've finally allowed it leave my inventory and in the hands of a budding young witch."

"Oh," Mrs. Evans looked shocked at the kindness the wandmaker was showing, but she hesitated. "No, Mr. Ollivander, you should take the money. We've taken so much of your time and we'd like to thank you for your excellent service today."

"I insist." Mr. Ollivander shook his head. "Feel free to send me a letter if you have any questions, Miss Hermione."

Hermione him a discrete nod and left his shop, dragging her mother behind her. The newly bought wand left heavy in her pocket as she stepped through the threshold of the store.

"I know you've always been one, but I feel like you're a real witch now." Ivy squeezed her daughter's shoulder.

"What, the floating furniture wasn't enough to convince you?"

Ivy grimaced, "Why do you think you and your sister were baptized when your father and I barely go to church?"

"Did you think Lily and I were Satan's child or something?!" Hermione laughed at her mother's honesty.

"No! Just po…" Ivy's words trailed and muffled by the sound of the busy street.

"What?"

"Just pos…" Ivy again mumbled the last word under her breath.

"Mum."

"Possessed!"

Everyone in the street stopped and stared the mother daughter duo.

"Maybe not the smartest thing to shout in the middle of the street." Hermione teased her mother. She linked her arm around her mother's and took the bags off her shoulder. "So, possessed, huh?"

…

At the end of the day, her parents dropped her off at the hospital with all the shopping bags they'd accumulated throughout the day. The Snapes were the first to go, taking Lily and Petunia with them. Invitations to dinners and promises to meet up sometime for tea were made as Ivy and Robert Evans spent plenty of time thanking Eileen and Severus for dropping by and staying the whole day.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Lily promised as she kissed Hermione's forehead. She tried to linger as long as possible until Petunia practically dragged her out.

The only ones remaining were her parents.

"Go home," Hermione gave her father's hand a squeeze then tilted her head towards the door. "I'm going to be fine. The healers gave me enough drugs make me sleep through the night."

"But Hermione—"

"But nothing. Belby and Bones left hours ago. Alphard just needs to do the last check up and then he's going to go home too." Hermione interrupted, giving her parents and Alphard a pointed look. "Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

Mr. and Mrs. Evans sighed, but nodded. "Alright, we'll see you in the morning love."

"No, mum. Sleep in, you're no use to anyone if you're dead on your feet. No need to come early in the morning. Pinky will come by to give me breakfast."

Mrs. Evans's lips firmed into a thin line, then trembled. Tears threatened to escape from her hazel eyes for the 100th time that day.

"Alright, I think that's sign for us to leave." Mr. Evans, wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her into his side. He reached out to Hermione and patted her head. "We'll see you tomorrow, bright and early. No complaints."

Hermione nodded, knowing they couldn't be persuaded otherwise.

"Good night."

When everyone was gone, Alphard stepped up next to her bedside. "Why'd you lie?" he asked as he checked her vitals. "We didn't give you enough drugs to make you sleep through the night."

"How else am I going to send them home?"

Alphard nodded understandingly.

"How is having Severus and Mrs. Snape around the house?"

"It's different. Makes me think of what it would be like if I had a family of my own."

"You're still good-looking. I'm sure some lucky witch will still gladly gobble you up for your looks, status and money." Hermione teased.

In truth, she wanted to ask if he regretted dedicating his entire life to her. Her parents had each other to rely on, but Alphard took on a parental role for her with no questions asked. He embraced the role completely and absolutely. He was the one who was present when she first walked and talked. He was the one who accurately assessed her intelligence and started giving her more difficult books, something that she desperately craved.

He gently pushed her in a teasing manner. "Yes, I've always wanted to be with a gold-digger." He replied sarcastically. They laughed for a moment, but he turned serious once more. "Even if there was a girl who loved me for me, I wouldn't allow myself to love her."

"Because of your family?"

Alphard turned to her with a look of surprise, but the chuckled. "I can't get anything past you, can I?"

"Maybe you'll find a woman who won't give a damn."

"Watch your language around your parents, they keep thinking that I'm the one who taught you to have a foul mouth." He sighed, at her unwavering stare as he attempted to change the subject with a joke. "Even if the woman doesn't mind, I will. I've been hurt by my family on more occasions than I can remember, I know what that pain feels like. I don't want her to experience the same thing."

Alphard worked in silence, as Hermione drew a sketch of him on her charts. She was no artist, but as an amateur, she caught Alphard main features on paper with impressive likeness. She'd never learned to draw, but with 11 years of not attending school nor having any friends, and a limited supply of books forced her to pick up habits she'd previously never thought she would have. She was proficient in most indoor activities, such as knitting, cooking, drawing, cross-stitching, painting, flower arranging etc.

"Give me that." Alphard grumbled, as he snatched the portrait away, but instead of throwing it away, he gently folded the page and placed it in his pocket.

Her hospital bedroom was lit with warm lamp light, allowing her eyes to trace the weariness from the older man's eyes to the firmly shut jaw and slouched shoulders. The Blacks were a fanatical family. She doubted even a perfect Pureblood would have made a good daughter-in-law to the wretched Irma and Pollux Black.

"I'm going to go grab some water and check on how Belby's doing with your new batch of Dreamless Sleep Potion."

Hermione didn't bother respond as she thought about her personal double-edged sword; her modified Dreamless Sleep Potion. The irony that the potion allowing her to live a relatively normal life was the thing that would end her life. Like being stabbed in the back by your own savior.

Dreamless Sleep Potion is addictive, toxic, and even neurologically detrimental if taken chronically in high dosages. She was given the highest dosage of Dreamless sleep ever given to man, only for the record beaten by herself, repeatedly. The fact that she'd been on it since she was a baby didn't escape her mind. Her magic, due to the Obscurus, was more powerful and immense than an average witch. While her Obscurus was her demon, it was also the only thing allowing her to have a buffer from the toxins overtaking her body, but buffers never last forever. Soon, her buffer would soon run out and she would feel the toxic effects of the potion almost immediately. It won't matter what kind of precautionary organ protecting drugs and supplements she took.

"It's likely I'm not going to live after killing Voldemort. So, it's either slow death by a poisonous potion or death by a murderous psychopath." Hermione thought to herself.

Alphard stepped into her bedroom with a tray that had a glass of water and the newly formulated purple iridescent potion. It swirled around its bottle, mocking her with its wonderful, yet toxic, effects. Alphard quietly set the placed the vial next to her, but refused take his hands off. He gripped the glass tightly until his knuckles paled.

"Even with your accelerated cell regeneration thanks to magic, you won't pass 25." Alphard whispered solemnly.

Hermione blinked; she slowly turned her head to Alphard who had his head down. Although she couldn't see his eyes, he could see his shoulders shaking and his ragged breath could be heard. Her normally fun-loving, goofy physician was crying. He'd never done that before.

This meant only one thing, her buffer had started to chip off. She was a step closer to her deadline.

"I thought…I always thought I could help more. I thought I could give you more time."

Hermione's heart broke as the man didn't even attempt to hide his tears anymore. Of all the people she's affected in this life time, she predicted she affected Alphard the most. She knew he loved her like a daughter. He'd been at the front lines fighting the battle of her Obscurial with her, and had a hand in trying to find a cure. He was failing, a feeling Hermione was very familiar with.

"I'm not your failure." She consoled. This was a situation they had been anticipating for a long time. "I'm not your failure. You've helped me more than anyone."

"I-I-" he stuttered, unable to make out the words. She shook her head, telling him words weren't needed. She understood his sorrow, his guilt and that feeling of incompetence.

"I know."

The two sat there for a long time, the entirety of which Hermione never shed a tear for her shortened lifespan, whereas Alphard cried continuously. Her circumstances made her think of her newly acquired wand. The thestral core had certainly chosen the correct person. She didn't know any other 11 year old that faced the news of impending death like she was currently doing.

Hermione let out a deep sigh, "Don't tell my parents. It's better for them to not know."

Alphard watched the calm girl, hiccupping through his tears. "They need to know."

Hermione shook her head as she leaned over to her bedside table and pulled out a few napkins so that the grown man could wipe his tears and snot with a little bit of dignity.

"My death will not be of their concern."

"Why would it not be of their concern?" Alphard, no longer outright crying, stared at her with shocked teary eyes. "Have you Seen this?"

A Seer; that was what her healers and the government thought she was, or more like what she eluded herself to being. While Hermione initially hated the idea of being thought of as some divination master, it was a great excuse. Now she didn't need to make long explanations on how she knew what she knew and no issues that arose if she refused to answer certain questions.

"You know I can't say anything." Hermione responded vaguely.

"The only way Ivy and Robert wouldn't go insane from grief is..." He gasped. "Your parents. You've Seen them die."

"Worse," She looked him dead in the eye. "I've seen the future die."

…