"History is written by the victors."

misattrib. Winston Churchill


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19th September 1999

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Harry and Ron left Hogwarts rather less optimistic than when they had arrived. Never before had Harry had such a uniquely answerless discussion with Dumbledore. Even the time he'd been shown Professor Slughorn's false memory and cheerfully told to go and get the real one paled in comparison.

"Pub?" he suggested to Ron, as they walked down to the gates, the late afternoon sun setting the lake ablaze and picking out those leaves that had already begun to show off their autumn colours. Even in the golden light, Ron was even paler than usual, freckles standing out against his skin, his ears still red with anger.

"Yeah," the red-head agreed. "Yeah, I could do with a drink."

They apparated from the gate to Hogsmeade, and, dodging the inevitable well-wishers, found a table in the Three Broomsticks.

"1944," Ron said, eventually. "I wish we knew a bit more about time-travel… where's Hermione when you need her, eh?"

It was a weak attempt at a joke, but Harry smiled anyway.

"Yeah. I wish…" he murmured, then added, "Riddle! She must always have gone to school with Tom Riddle. She went back and she knew what was coming!"

"With Riddle?" Ron asked, shocked, and Harry could cheerfully have throttled his friend for being so dim.

"Yes with Riddle. That's when he was Head Boy."

"Dumbledore said she was safe, though. And – still around?"

"That's true."

They lapsed into silence, as Rosmerta brought over two butterbeers.

"On the house for you two," she said, with a wink. Ron flushed a bit, Harry noticed fondly. Twit.

When she'd gone Ron looked at him, a look of horror spreading across his face.

"D-do you think she'll be old?" he asked, and Harry would have laughed, except…

"Yeah," he said. "I suppose so. Maybe. I don't really know."

"You've time travelled, Harry!" Ron said, as though it were a revelation.

"For three hours, not fifty four years," Harry pointed out. "We just caught up with ourselves."

"That's what I mean," Ron said, having one of his moments of clarity that still surprised Harry. "When you went back you did everything you'd seen happen, like the patronus and saving Buckbeak, and then you caught up with real time. That's what Dumbledore was trying to tell us."

"What you mean she's been around this whole time?"

"Must be. Yeah. So she's probably trying to find us, if I know Hermione. She'll have marked down exactly when she disappeared. She's probably at the Burrow, Harry!"

"Let's go then." He stood, eagerly.

"Just… let's finish our drinks?" Ron was looking uncomfortable.

"Don't be a prat, Ron. So what if she's old? She'll still be Hermione."

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But when they arrived at the Burrow Hermione was not there. Instead, they walked into a scene of some confusion.

Percy Weasley had arrived and was looking harassed with a stack of official looking scrolls.

"Oh, thank Merlin – you're back," said Mrs Weasley.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, scowling at Percy as though he were personally responsible for Hermione's disappearance into the past.

"You've been summoned to testify at Hermione Granger's trial," Percy said. "I'm sorry, that's all I've been told so far although of course as Senior Assistant to the Minister's Undersecretary I'll be present at the trial. It's all very hush hush at the moment though."

"Her trial?" Harry asked, the word belately resolving itself into meaning.

"Yes, she's at the Ministry. Something about time travelling?"

"An owl came with a letter for you Harry. It's Hermione's writing," Molly said, handing it to him.

He ripped it open.

Dear Harry,

Sorry for the rather dramatic day you must be having. Don't panic – everything's going to be fine.

In short: the globe Albus sent to me sent me back in time, and I have spent many years living as another person. Fifty-five years, in fact. Today I will finally, finally be able to be both the people I am, if that makes sense.

I'm going to the Ministry to explain what's happened, because a hex I put on myself when I was two will have broken the moment I went back. It was necessary to prevent people recognising Hermione Granger as Hermione Dearborn, the name I have borne for many decades. Enough people have met both 'versions' that it was necessary – I'm sure you remember the first rule of Time Travel, Harry, is don't be seen! Well, I've broken that of course.

Obviously, I have been preparing for this day for many years. There will a trial, and so I request that you and the Weasleys come and simply explain what happened today. Please give Percy the note that came with the present as well.

I expect you've already been to Hogwarts to speak to Albus's portrait, so hopefully you know a little already. I have an affidavit of sorts from him for the Wizengamot, so don't worry about fetching his portrait to testify or anything – it wouldn't stand up in court under Article 198 C of the Wizengamot Constitution (if you can call it that) states portraits can't be used to testify because they're susceptible to trickery and threats.

Anyway, I'll see you soon I hope – it's been a very, very long time, Harry, and you can't imagine how much I am looking forward to seeing you again.

Hermione

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Of course Hermione had fully prepared for this. It was Hermione. Whatever her surname was.

"I think it's alright," he said, and read the letter aloud.

"Hermione Dearborn?" Arthur and Molly said at the same time.

"Yeah, that's what it says. Why?"

"She's married?" Ron said, ears turning red.

Harry wanted to tell him that that probably wasn't the most pressing issue, but tried to imagine if it were Ginny… Perhaps it was the most pressing, for Ron at least.

"I don't think so. She's… goodness me. Hermione Dearborn was our Hermione all this time. Well I never. I thought she must be dead." Molly sat down, cheeks turning pink.

"She helped found the Order," Arthur said to Harry. "We'd better get to the Ministry. It says the trial starts in half an hour," he added, brandishing the summons.

Harry reflected, not for the first time, that the Magical world was a far cry from the Muggle one when it came to the legal system. The Ministry could say come immediately, or be damned, and you had to just go.

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When they arrived at the Ministry, a flustered looking bureaucrat whose name Harry couldn't remember met them in the entrance hall and ushered them to the Minister's office.

"He's expecting you," he said. "So sorry about all this, Auror Potter."

Harry nodded in response.

The chamber outside Kingsley's office was filled with a large and rather mixed looking group of people, including, Harry noted with some surprise, the Malfoys, whose shining blond hair made them easy to spot in almost any crowd. Lucius had only recently been released from Azkaban, after serving a reduced sentence. Harry's testimony on behalf of Narcissa and Draco had unintentionally aided Lucius too. He'd been sent back to finish the time he'd been given for being caught at the Ministry the night Sirius died.

"We'll wait here, dears," Mrs Weasley said. "You go on."

Harry took a deep breath, and clapped Ron's shoulder.

"Come on, mate. It'll be fine."

Ron, looking a bit green, nodded.

The door opened.

Kingsley was sitting at his desk, clearly laughing, at something the witch sitting opposite him, back to the door, had just said.

She turned as the door opened and, just as it had at the Yule Ball, it took Harry a moment to place the elegant young woman. She was dressed in pale blue robes, thick dark hair braided back either side of her face, falling loose down her back, a pointy hat the same shade as her robes perched atop the desk next to her.

By the time he'd registered, she was standing in front of him.

"Harry Potter," Hermione breathed, eyes wide. She was hardly a day older than she had only hours before.

To his surprise, she offered a hand and he shook it, bemused. She was close to tears, and if her face had hardly changed, her eyes had, although he couldn't work out how.

"So," he ventured, "all-in-all you've had better birthdays?"

She choked slightly, and a grin lit up her face.

"You're not old!" Ron interjected, tactfully.

She laughed.

"Oh, I am Ron. It's very nice to see you both. Come and sit down, we don't have very long. Kingsley, do you mind if we have a moment?"

Something in the way she phrased it seemed more command than question.

"Of course not. I should go down anyway. Again, I'm really sorry about this, Hermione. Formalities."

"I understand. Have the Goblins brought the rest of Albus's Will?"

"I believe so. Best of luck."

He left, with a half-bow to Hermione.

"You, um, you look nice," Ron said.

"Not bad for a seventy-five-year-old at least," Hermione replied rather pointedly. "Now, we have very little time but I just wanted to see you both. You can't begin to imagine how many times I've imagined this moment - or how hard I've worked to make it possible."

There wasn't much to say to that; they'd seen her not five hours earlier.

Harry thought of all the strange days he'd had, this was probably the strangest. Ron was staring at her, mercifully silent.

She continued, looking rather nervous. Her voice was a little different too, Harry thought. Hermione had always been well-spoken but now it was slightly old fashioned, like something from a film or an old newsreel. Low and precise with the slight inflection of someone who has spent a great deal of time abroad.

"Lots of people are going to be at this trial, including some people who might surprise you a bit so I thought I'd better give you some fair warning. My cover story in the past included an adoption by a very wonderful wizard, who you'll meet later, called Cerdic Dearborn. I went to Hogwarts, as Dumbledore's mentée."

A knock interrupted her, and Percy put his head round the door.

"Sorry, Hermione. It's time to go down."

"Curse it," she muttered. "I thought we'd have more time. Alright."

Another man came in, and bowed.

"I'm coming, Dingleford. Is she here?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, she's here, Madam Dearborn."

"Good, that's good. Right. Let's get this over with."

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Trial hearing of the nineteenth of September, nineteen ninety nine, into offences committed under the Decree for the Restriction and Prevention of Time Travel Without a License by one Hermione Jean Granger, resident at Number 7, Canonbury Park South, Islington, London, and also under the Decree Against Fraudulent Identity.

Interrogators, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic; John Dawlish, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Percy Ignatius Weasley, Undersecretary to the Minister; and Levinia Monkstanley, Head of the Department of Mysteries. Court scribe Ralph Lackley.. .

Witnesses for the Defence: Harry James Potter, Ronald Bilius Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Molly Weasley, Horace Slughorn, Sophia Circe Malfoy, Cerdic Giwis Dearborn…

The list of names Harry didn't recognise went on, until finally, "and Albus Dumbledore," sent a shocked thrill running through him, and murmurs throughout the packed courtroom.

As he looked around, the full Wizengamot stared coldly down in their plum coloured robes, their benches high up above the witness benches and those filled with the public.

"Dumbledore?" Ron muttered. "How's she managed that, then?"

Harry just shrugged, helplessly.

Witnesses for the Prosecution, Hermione Jean Granger.

He definitely didn't understand, he thought. But he trusted that Hermione at least knew what she was doing.

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Hermione sat at the witness stand with her pointed hat on like the elder members of the Wizengamot, looking composed and even a little amused. She was in a chair that looked far more comfortable than that which Harry had been offered down in Courtroom Ten.

"Hermione Jean Granger, you are charged with illegal time travel. How do you plead?" Kingsley asked her.

"Not guilty," she replied, firmly.

"You have signed a witness statement, dated 18th September 1999. Please recount the statement for the court."

"On the 19th of September, 1999 I was celebrating my twentieth birthday at The Burrow, the home of the Weasley family. I opened a gift. There was a note attached which said it was from Albus Dumbledore. I believe it has been submitted to the court.

"The next thing I knew," she paused, looking around the court, "I was face to face with a young Albus Dumbledore. He informed me that it was July 24th… 1944."

She stopped again, as the murmurs increased, and then continued calmly.

"He later informed me that the object that had sent me back contained a message from his future self, informing him that I had always been present in the past. As I'm sure everyone in this court understands, you cannot alter time, because the effects of what do have already been felt and so forth.

"Albus took me on as his protégée," she continued, "and organised a cover story. I've never been party to the details but I believe he forged a birth certificate and magical registration. I was adopted by a friend of his, Cerdic Dearborn."

She smiled at a distinguished looking wizard, dressed in forest green, his dark brown hair threaded through with barely a hint of silver, who was sitting a few rows away from Harry.

"I started Hogwarts, and finished the Seventh Year there. No one has ever detected me as a time-traveller, and those few who suspected were offered sufficient explanation for my oddities or obliviated by either myself or by Professor Dumbledore. I have lived a full life as Hermione Dearborn."

She was apparently done with her story: the Minister was nodding and Hermione stood and walked over to sit down beside her legal council, although it was more of a sweep than a walk.

"The court calls Arthur Weasley," he said.

Arthur nervously confirmed what Hermione had said, followed by Molly, and then Harry and Ron were asked similar questions. Nothing more or less than to describe what had happened that afternoon at The Burrow, and had they ever heard of Hermione Dearborn before that day? No, they both said.

It was very straight-forward, with no tricks.

Back in his seat, Harry started to wonder if Hermione had orchestrated the entire trial before it had even started.

"The Court calls Cerdic Dearborn," the Minister intoned.

The tall man walked to the stand, green robes billowing. Harry thought he must have been a strangely young man to be chosen by Dumbledore adopt a twenty-year-old daughter. But then, Hermione didn't look her age so why should her pretend father?

"Mr Dearborn, what is your connection to the Defendant?" Dawlish asked, taking over the questioning.

"She's my daughter," he stated. "Adopted under the Concipia Familia spell."

The man's plummy voice was warm and kind.

"Conkipya familiar?"

"Full adoption spell, what. Very old. Means you're magically bound as family. People used it to when they swapped Muggleborn babes with their Squib children to turn them 'Pure' as they call it."

Harry scanned the assembled Wizengamot for their reactions to that, and noticed that a few of the very eldest looked surprised, and very interested. Most of them looked baffled.

"Why did you adopt Miss Granger?"

"Well, my very old friend Albus asked me to name a girl as daughter, said it was important. I owed him a favour – and you know, it was Dumbledore. He'd just defeated Grindlewald! Not the sort of man you'd turn down. Then he took me to meet her, and I grew fond of her… but, as a man with a few enemies knocking around myself, I – we – thought it was safer to make sure the cover was more than just my word. Albus performed the spell, and that was that. I'm her father, sure as day, and Albus her godfather as he did the spell. Neither of them told me where she'd come from and I didn't ask."

"Some might say it was an extraordinary act…"

"Is that a question, young Dawlish?"

"No, sir. You say Hermione Granger never revealed where she'd come from?"

"Never," the man agreed.

"How old are you Mr Dearborn?"

"One hundred and fourteen," the man said, rather smugly Harry thought. And with good reason; he didn't look a day over fifty-five.

"You look very young, Mr Dearborn," Dawlish replied kindly. "Why is that?"

Hermione's father's eyes twinkled.

"My dear old thing, you simply can't ask an alchemist to spill all his secrets."

Dawlish laughed, as did quite a few others, as though this were an acceptable answer.

Harry raked a hand through his hair. There was an undercurrent he didn't understand, something to do with Hermione's very traditional robes, the in-jokes, something that was relaxing even the members of the Wizengamot he knew for a fact were the most bigoted and traditional, and who should not be smiling warmly and nodding thoughtfully at this particular trial.

"Thank you, Mr. Dearborn."

As he returned to sit down, Cerdic Dearborn shot a wink at Hermione. She was still sitting with what Harry could only assume were her legal advisors, including the man she'd called Dingleford. In the Magical courts, your legal advisors prepared the Interrogators - which for a high profile case like this included the Minister himself -, supposedly ensured legal proceedings were fair, and made a summary speech to the court.

"The Court calls Horace Slughorn," Kingsley stated. Ron stirred next to him.

"Wonder what old Sluggy's got to say," he muttered.

"Professor Slughorn, how do you know the Defendant?"

"Well, I've had the true pleasure of teaching Hermione Granger Dearborn twice," he gushed. "First in the school year 1944 to five when she joined our existing Seventh Year class at Hogwarts, and again in the school year 1996 to seven. As an outstanding student we naturally stayed in touch when she left Hogwarts the first time. Second."

"Did you recognise Hermione Granger as the girl you had previously taught as Hermione Dearborn?"

"Indeed no, not until today. I didn't make the connection."

"Did you ever suspect the girl Hermione Dearborn of time travel?"

"Merlin, no, no not at all. Why would I? Her father's a tremendously well-respected Wizard, we all knew he was a bit eccentric, and besides Albus Dumbledore said he was her cousin and godfather. Who would ever have even questioned it? To be sure, she was an extraordinary student – joint top of her year – but aside from that, there was nothing odd about her at all."

"Thank you, Professor Slughorn."

Harry grew restless.

"The court requests Sophia Malfoy's witness."

An elegant woman in her seventies stood and walked across the floor, long dark blue robes flowing behind her. She looked incredibly grand, Harry thought, and from the rustle of hushed voices, he presence was something of a surprise.

"Madam Malfoy, thank you for joining us," Dawlish said, reading off a piece of paper. "The Court appreciates your time."

The elegant woman inclined her head slightly, but she wasn't looking at Harry's boss, she was staring at Hermione. Harry looked and saw tears in his friend's eyes.

"Madam Malfoy, please tell us how you knew the defendant."

"Hermione Dearborn was my house-mate at Hogwarts in my Seventh Year. She became my closest friend, and is the godmother of my only child, Lucius," the woman stated crisply.

"Did you ever suspect Miss Grange – Miss Dearborn of time travel?"

"No. I did not know of her… origins," the woman said, frowning.

"And to the best of your knowledge, did any other students or friends become aware of Miss Granger Dearborn's past?"

The woman tilted her head, and looked back at Hermione, as though assessing her.

"Tom might have. No one else," she said at last. "She didn't let many people in."

"Tom?" Dawlish asked, looking at his notes confusedly. Harry sensed they'd gone off script and Hermione's rigid posture indicated that indeed that was the case.

"Tom Riddle," Sophia Malfoy said, a flicker of a smirk on her lips. "But I suppose you can't really ask him, can you?"

The court erupted. Harry saw Hermione whispering to her lawyer, as though reassuring him.

"Tom Riddle?" Dawlish asked, floundering. Clearly this hadn't been prepared for in the questions on his parchment.

"Yes," she replied simply, and offered no further explanation.

As the tall witch returned to the stands, Hermione's lawyer took a note to the Minister.

"The Court calls for the testimony of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," Kingsley stated.

Hermione stood, and returned to the stand, shortly followed by a goblin carrying a small chest. There were again murmurings of wonder and Harry began to see how she'd staged this, keeping the Wizengamot on their toes with a series of surprises. It was a masterpiece of theatre, and he was impressed, despite himself.

"The court recognises the object as part of the estate of the decreased Professor Dumbledore, and states for the record that the box could not be opened at the time of his death. Miss Granger has claimed that she alone can open it. Please proceed, Miss Granger."

Hermione held her hand over the box and flicked the fingers of her other hand. Two bright drops of blood fell onto the lid and there was a scraping noise, like a key being turned in an ancient lock.

"That's blood magic," Percy Weasley gasped, breaking his solemn countenance for a moment. "It's Dark!"

"Don't be so narrow-minded, Percy," Hermione said, coolly, as the Goblin presented the box to Kingsley Shacklebolt. He opened it and took out a globe, which shimmered into life at his touch.

A translucent imprint of Albus Dumbledore rose up, as though out of a Pensieve, but larger than he'd been in life.

"Good afternoon," the figure said, "I trust that you are all well. I have left this testimony to ensure the safety of my ward and apprentice, Hermione Dearborn, born Hermione Granger. I believe my own death is drawing near," he gestured with his ruined hand, "and so I have taken steps to ensure that all remains as it should and that the timeline is not disturbed, if indeed such a thing is possible.

"On July 24th nineteen forty-four a young woman appeared at my home in Devonshire. I was taken aback at her arrival, as I had exceptionally good wards on the house, but appear she did. She informed me that I had sent her there, and when I examined the object that had brought her to me I found this was indeed the case: there was a message from my future self explaining the circumstances.

"I took steps to ensure the girl's identity could never be discovered, providing her with documentation and a family. It was essential the girl pass as wizard-born, both for her safety in the climate of the time, and to explain her absence from Hogwarts, and as it happened I had a dear old friend, who seemed to fit the hat rather well. It surprised no one that Cerdic Dearborn, well-known as an eccentric, a reformed rake, and a recluse, and who looked enough like the girl, would have simply not told the world he had a daughter, and educated her at home in the old fashion of some families. He willingly agreed, and later adopted her so she is now as much a Dearborn as though she were born one.

"I took steps to discover how such an extraordinary trip was possible, and in doing so found that it was – a secret I do not believe should ever be shared, and one I will die in the knowledge it cannot be used by those of limited understanding and faulty ambition, who would attempt to alter the past for their own gain. Only I knew the full spell to send her back and I shall tell no one.

"I tell you this, time cannot be altered. Hermione Dearborn came to me because she had always done so, and she assures me now that nothing has changed. I also tell you there is no way to go forward that I have ever discovered. And so, in order to prevent her discovery I admit I did commit several crimes, but with the very purest of intentions.

"Hermione has dedicated her life to the cause of the light, at great risk to her own life. She was the very first member of the Order of the Phoenix, and its first spy.

"I move towards my own impending death with a light heart, knowing that I have left our world in the very capable hands of both Mr Harry Potter, and in Hermione who is my heir, and in whom I have the very greatest trust and the strongest affection. I accept all responsibility for the crimes committed in this instance. I wish you all well. Goodbye."

He bowed, and was gone.

The court remained silent this time, more than one person moved to tears at the sight of the great hero. Hermione looked triumphant.

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.

The rest of the session was lengthy, with repeated testimonies from people who'd known Hermione at various points over her life stating how good and wonderful she was, and no, of course they hadn't known she was a time-traveller.

An expert on time-travel testified that all known evidence pointed to the truth of her story, a man who was apparently the ruler of a small West African nation Harry was ashamed to admit he'd never heard of testified that Hermione Dearborn had briefly been a freedom fighter there, helping overthrow a corrupt regime, another testified that they'd been lovers for several years in northern California, and no he'd never even suspected, man

Hermione took the stand one last time.

"Do you agree to the use of Veritaserum for our final questions?" Percy asked her, holding a small crystal bottle.

"Of course," she said, smiling. "I have nothing to hide."

She accepted a glass of water with three drops in it, and drank it unflinchingly.

"Please state your name," Percy said, reading off a piece of parchment.

"My name is Hermione Dearborn."

"And your birth name and date?"

"Hermione Jean Granger, born on the 19th of September, 1979."

"Miss Dearborn, have you ever revealed that you were a time traveller deliberately or otherwise?"

"With the exception of my meeting Albus Dumbledore in 1944, no."

"Miss Dearborn, have you ever used your knowledge of the future to change it?"

"Yes," she replied baldly. "I tried to prevent Tom Riddle from becoming the Dark Wizard Voldemort."

More mutterings, and Harry felt a surge of relief. She was still Hermione!

"Please explain for the court."

"We were at school together, and it became clear to me that he was far from the Dark Lord that would come to terrorize our world. He had taken the first steps down that path, yes, but there was still hope. We became friends…"

She paused for a moment, and Harry heard a delicate snort. Turning his head, he saw Sophia Malfoy was smirking at this, and he began to wonder.

"We were very close, for a time. Albus asked me to befriend him, to keep an eye on him – he suspected something, even then, although he had no idea of the extent – and I could not tell him.

"I hoped it – hoped I – would be enough… But alas, it was not to be and there was nothing I could do. I tried to kill him, once, but my wand simply wouldn't fire. I realised then, something I had known but denied even to myself, that there was some force outside of myself that prevented me taking any steps to change the timeline as I'd known it. And so, with great regret I watched, helpless, as people I loved walked blindly towards their fate. My cousin, Caradoc, who died in the First War. The Potters, who I knew a little, and their baby son Harry, who was and is as dear to me as though we were blood. Albus Dumbledore himself, my mentor and lifelong friend. So many others… There was nothing I could do."

She was crying, Harry saw, a few tears sliding down her face, before she took a deep breath, and turned her large brown eyes towards the Wizengamot. The murmurs were sympathetic now, and Harry's own heart burned with the realisation of how terrible that must have been.

"Merlin," Ron whispered. "That's rough."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, a lump in his throat.

"I still can't believe she's Lucius Malfoy's godmother, though," he snorted.

.

.

After a vote found overwhelmingly in Hermione's favour, the proceedings reached an end. Harry's watch told him it was long past dinnertime though his rumbling stomach had reminded him more than once.

"The court recognises the co-operation of Hermione Granger Dearborn, and wishes to state for the record that it has sympathy for her plight. However, as you were party to several crimes committed by the wizard Albus Dumbledore, and for the crimes of being seen in the past, and trying to change the future, the court fines you forty-thousand galleons"

Ron and several others gasped audibly, but Hermione didn't bat an eyelid.

"I have it here, Minister. In cash," she said, gesturing to the Goblin. He brought a large chest that Harry hadn't noticed before, and, sparing a very dirty look at Harry and Ron, took it to Percy, who bowed.

""In addition, let the records reflect the former Miss Granger and Miss Dearborn will henceforth be Granger Dearborn, as per her request. The Court is dismissed."

Hermione stayed in the stand, watching people leave, and as the crush of people leaving pushed them towards the doors, Harry decided to wait for her outside.

He and Ron weren't the only ones lingering outside. The stately Madam Malfoy stood with her family, and Harry nodded awkwardly to Draco, reflecting happily that the young man looked as though he'd been smacked over the head with a brick. Rita Skeeter was also there, to his disgust.

Hermione at last came through the door, accompanied by the Minister, both smiling merrily.

"Thank you very much Kingsley. I have some things left to tie up in Libya, but I'll let you know when I'm free and we can begin."

The Minister bowed to her, and left, smiling at Harry and Ron as he passed.

Harry started to move to congratulate her, but held back as he saw Sophia Malfoy step forward.

The witches paused, looking at each other, and he remembered how Hermione had tensed during her testimony. He wondered if there would be trouble.

"You utter bitch," the older woman said, for it was still hard to think of Hermione as old. "How did you do it?"

"Jealous?" Hermione asked mockingly, and then to Harry's utter surprise, they laughed and embraced.

"It's very good to see you. You look tremendous."

"I do, don't I? So do you. Not a day above fifty."

"Hag. There is much to say, Hermione, that can't be said here. I will be at the Manor for the rest of the week before I return to the continent. You will come and explain yourself in full tomorrow at five o'clock. But… it really is wonderful to see you."

They kissed again, and Hermione turned to the other Malfoys.

"Lucius," she said softly. "You're not quite as intimidating now I remember reading you stories when you were very little."

The man's cheeks flushed, and he nodded stiffly, before kissing Hermione's hand.

Draco looked even more gratifyingly sick.

Harry wondered if he was actually just having a cheese dream, and instinctively put a hand on Ron's arm to stop whatever he'd been about to do.

The Malfoys walked away and Hermione turned to Rita Skeeter.

"I trust you're content?" she asked, politer than Harry would ever have imagined.

"Oh, yes. Yes very much so. A picture to go with the article?" the other woman asked, her voice gleeful and greedy.

"Yes, of course. With Harry and Ron?"

"That would be splendid," the odious woman beamed. "Just splendid. Bozo?"

"Do you mind?" Hermione asked him and Harry shook his head stupidly. "We have an… agreement. I'll explain later."

She seemed to be saying that a lot, but Harry put his best Saviour Smile on, and they stood by the sign to the courtroom, a happy trio.

"Super, super. Best of luck, Miss Granger Dearborn."

"I should have something else for you soon, Rita."

The blonde woman left, looking delighted.

"I'm sorry about that. I had to get her to agree not to put me in that atrocious book she wrote about Albus – she tracked me down, amazingly enough, she's actually a decent hack I suppose – so I offered her a deal. Of course, it'll actually benefit me because she's reporting today exactly as I've told her to, but she doesn't care as long as she gets the scoop. The Prophet will have a special evening edition out with the story."

"I wondered why you weren't in the book," Harry lied, having not actually thought about it at all. "Did you really know my parents?"

"Yes, Harry. I did – I thought you'd like to hear about them when I saw you again so I made sure I met them. I've got a Pensieve full of memories I collected for you."

"Thank you," he said, hoarsely.

"I've used it quite shamefully in my own favour today, but I can't wait to sort out the court system. I mean I wrote most of those questions. What a sham. Anyway, I'm absolutely starving aren't you? Let me take you to dinner. I've booked a table at The Ivy – out of the way of prying eyes in our world."

"Yeah," Ron said, looking much perkier suddenly. "I am starving now you mention it."

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said, rather sweetly, "you haven't changed at all."

And then she apparated them straight out of the bowels of the Ministry, passing through the anti-apparition wards as though they were nothing.

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Well? What a performance, Hermione!

I hope this has whetted your appetites rather than spoiled them – there are some really big hints as to what's to come. Just don't assume anything.

Also - I meant to address this ages ago as someone mentioned it in a review, but the Mudblood scar on Hermione's arm is not canon, it's only in the films. Helena Bonham Carter and Emma Watson thought it up together. So that's not part of this story, although it seems to have become a staple in the fandom. Like Prefects taking House Points, which is explicitly not a power they have in the books. That would be the Inquisitorial Squad.

P.S. 100k words and still no kiss. #youarewelcome