James introduces Hermione to his best mates with surprising results. This is a long chapter. If you're enjoying it, feel free to let me know.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 3

When Hermione woke the next day, it was to a pounding in her temples and a foul taste in her mouth. Her thoughts were all muddled and for a few seconds she wasn't sure where she was until the bedroom door burst open and a figure made a beeline for her bed.

"By all that's Holy, Harry," she screeched, clutching the blankets to her shaking form. "You frightened me!"

Through a curtain of dark, tangled hair, eyes attempting to focus on her surroundings, Hermione saw Harry frown. An unfamiliar voice called her an unfamiliar name, "I'm sorry, Ivy. I suppose I was in too much of a hurry to make sure that you're okay and didn't even think that I might scare you. Who's Harry?"

Oh. My. God. The reality of her situation came crashing down upon her. She was somewhere else. Someone else! How had she managed to get herself here?! Was she in the past? She wasn't sure, she just knew that this was Harry's father and this Ivy person was engaged to him! Perhaps another dimension? She's never really thought about dimensional travel before although she'd read extensively on the subject under the guidance of Remus. What she did know was that in her time-line, James Potter married Lily Evans and eventually gave birth to her best friend.

"Harry is my best friend," Hermione explained slowly.

Her eyes met James, and all she saw in them was warmth and concern. He was good-looking and Harry favored him physically to a tremendous degree. Not that she ever thought much on Harry's physical attributes because they didn't have that sort of relationship at all, but his father was looking at her as if the sun and moon rose out of her arse.

"Such language," a voice reprimanded her. Which shook her up pretty good since the voice was coming from inside of her head! "A lady does not speak such words."

"I am not a lady," she argued insistently, also inside of her head. "I'm just me. Hermione Granger. Nothing extraordinary."

A melodic laugh followed her statement. "Oh, my dear… you are much, much more than you realize."

Fists clenched, Hermione demanded, "Who are you? Why are you in my head?"

"All will be revealed at the proper time," was the non-informative reply.

"Is this bloke someone I'm going to have to duel for your affections," James asked with a playful smile, but his eyes showed serious intent.

"Harry's just a friend." James' expression cleared of all concern. "Fact is, I'm not too certain I'll ever see him again. The circumstances which parted us were most unfortunate."

Closing her eyes, Hermione was unable to hide the flash of dread and longing at possibly being separated from her best friend forever.

Mistaking her expression for fear, James whispered, sounding concerned, "Ivy, nothing can hurt you here." Her eyes flew open when she felt the warmth of other fingers encase her still clenched hands, rubbing them soothingly until they relaxed. "You're safe here. I promise."

He was so touchingly earnest, that something she couldn't put a name to, unfurled in her chest, traveling throughout her system, easing the tension in her body. "I'm so confused," she uttered, lips trembling.

"That might still be the potion, my dear." Similar dark heads swiveled to the doorway where James' mother stood, frowning her disapproval. "You shouldn't be sitting on Ivy's bed, you presumptuous boy."

Rolling his pretty hazel eyes, James replied, "Come on, Mum. You know that's just silly, archaic Pure-blood nonsense."

"Be that as it may, there is a proper way in which these situations are approached and adhered to especially since Ivy now resides with us," his mother explained – again – in exasperation. "We are already breaching protocol by allowing you to remain in this wing of the manor."

Snorting, James scooted closer to Hermione, saying, "Ivy thinks all of this is ridiculous too. Don't you, poppet?"

Poppet?! Oh brother. Hermione was torn between annoyance at the absurd nickname and an odd sort of reassurance and pride. What was wrong with her? How could she even contemplate feeling the latter emotions because Hermione Granger did not like nicknames.

Hadn't she spent a good portion of her time trying to break Sirius Black of his tendency to call her, princess? When he wasn't calling her that – when he was in an especially playful mood – he'd sketch a very low, very aristocratic bow, stating warmly, "Whatever, my lady commands." It was equal parts annoying and charming. Remus usually gave him a sharp elbow in the ribs in retaliation. An act that Hermione appreciated.

It was bad enough that Harry and Ron sometimes called her 'Mione. Although, to be honest, that didn't bother her as much and maybe it was because it was Ron and Harry calling her that. It was sort of like their own special name for her. Ginny tried it out once, but before Hermione could tell her that was a no-go, Ron and Harry gave her identical glares while Harry insisted that she absolutely not call Hermione anything other than Hermione.

Ginny had been so angry, that she hadn't talked to either boy for over a week. Mrs. Weasley had to run interference by explaining to the close-knit trio that Ginny often felt left out and just wanted to be a part of their little group. When Ron tried to explain to his Mum that the three of them shared a bond that no one else could ever hope to be a part of, not even his sister, Mrs. Weasley relented and spoke to Ginny at length until all seemed fine with everyone once more.

"Well, Ivy," the older woman began, "Do you feel this is all nonsense?"

Completely out of her depth in regard to Pure-blood traditions, Hermione said slowly, "I suppose… there is merit in our traditions, yet I cannot deny that I do feel much safer and sheltered whenever James is near."

The weird thing was, she did feel safer with Harry's father close by, and yeah that wasn't, odd at all.

James did his best to not throw his Mum a triumphant smile, but knew he was failing miserably.

The woman's' face softened, "That was a very diplomatic answer, dearest. Perhaps a life of politics is in your future."

James guffawed. "Really, Mum… Ivy in politics… that's just crazy. She'll be far too busy taking care of me and the children for such nonsense."

"James!" Dora's voice cut across the room like a whip causing James to blanch. Striding purposefully toward her cowering son, she bit out angrily, "You will not speak of such things, my boy. Ivy is under no pressure to accept your suit, and you would do well to remember that fact, young man!

Hermione giggled. Hermione Granger giggled! Dorea's lips twisted ever so slightly on hearing her. "I'm sorry," Hermione stated, biting her lip to keep it from becoming a full-fledged smile. "I suppose I haven't seen anyone this scared of their Mum since the Twins let all of their best fireworks loose in the house."

"Twins," James echoed.

"Uh, yes," Hermione searched her brain for a way to salvage the situation. "Friends of mine from back home. They were always causing mischief of one sort or another. It drove their Mum nearly mental."

"They sound like the all right sort," James proclaimed. "Marauder material in the making."

"They were wonderful, the best." Hermione exclaimed, probably more fervently than she intended because Dorea's brow furrowed.

"Were, dearest," Dorea asked gently and Hermione felt James fumble under the covers for her hands again, giving them another comforting squeeze.

Tears burned behind her closed eyes. Would she ever see the Twins again? What about Harry and Ron? The Burrow and all the people she loved there? Even Grimmauld held a special place in her heart because it housed the last two Marauders and she loved them both dearly.

"I… I…" She took a moment to collect herself. "I' m not sure if I'll ever see them again either. I fear they may be lost to me forever."

"Oh, no. I'm so sorry, dearest," Dorea exclaimed, seating herself, she pushed Hermione's hair back behind her ear. "They may be gone, and it might sound trite, but they remain in your heart and as long as they are there, they are always with you."

Several tears made their way hotly down Hermione's cheek. She was grateful when James pulled her into a consoling hug, the heat from his body warming her chilled form. He really was very sweet and Hermione couldn't understand why it had taken Lily so long to figure that fact out. She supposed if this was a completely different world, that maybe this was a completely different James.

Clapping her hands together sharply, Dorea proclaimed smartly, "I think it's time for you to leave this room, my dear." Hermione felt a sharp pang of fear. What did the doors beyond this bedroom hold for her? "Now, James and I will leave you and allow Tilly to assist you in your ablutions."

"That's not necessary," Hermione protested. "I'm quite capable of bathing and dressing myself. If you could just point me in the direction of the bathroom, please."

"Mum," James broke the sudden silence, "Maybe you should have Ivy checked out at St. Mungos."

"I'm perfectly fine," Hermione insisted, frustrated at having Tilly and St. Mungos pushed on her.

"Um, Ivy." James began tentatively, giving her a slight squeeze, "We're worried because you've lived with us for the past week and should already know where the bathroom is located."

Oh grief! How could she have made such a stupid mistake? Hermione now vaguely remembered the night before, James saying that his father had gone for Ivy a week ago, so of course, she would possess knowledge of the facilities whereabouts.

Thinking quickly, Hermione said while touching a hand to her forehead, feigning confusion, "It must be the lingering effects of the calming draught."

Looking skeptical, Dorea said, slowly, "Perhaps. If that is the case, then it's even more important for Tilly to assist you."

Giving in, Hermione said, "You're right, of course."

Pleased with Hermione's acquiescence, Dorea smiled warmly, rising from the bed, pulling James along with her. "We'll be in the small dining area when you're ready to join us for lunch."

Lunch? Had she slept that late into the morning? Hermione was generally an early riser. She shouldn't have been surprised at her exhaustion. She had just been in a vigorous fight at the Ministry, found out she had traded places with another woman in possibly a different dimension, and was engaged to James-freaking-Potter. On top of that, she'd had a calming draught all but forced down her throat. So, yeah, no surprise at all.

Hermione pulled back the covers, swinging her legs over the side, a loud POP made her squeak in surprise.

"Tilly sorry, young mistress. Tilly meant no harm. Tilly come to help the young mistress ready herself for lunch."

Steadying the rapid beating of her heart, Hermione said, "That's all right, Tilly. I'm a bit jumpy after last night and I think I'm feeling the after effects of the draught."

Through narrowed, large unblinking eyes, Tilly replied shrewdly, "Young mistress is clear-headed enough. Tilly knows why you fibbed to Mistress and young master."

Dropping her head in her hand, Hermione admitted tiredly, "Okay, Tilly. You and I both know that I'm not your young mistress. I'm not exactly sure what's happened to her."

"True young mistress still there, I sees her."

"You do," Hermione gasped, feeling hopeful at her situation for the first time.

Nodding her bulbous head, Tilly continued knowingly. "Oh, yes. She be there," pointing in the vicinity of her chest. "She be sleeping now."

"Do you know who I am, how this happened?" Hermione asked in trepidation.

"Tilly knows yous don't belong here. Tilly knows you mean no harm to Tilly's family. Strong magic in you, young mistress, Tilly sees this clearly."

"Do you know how I can get home," Hermione asked, begged if she were being honest. "I… I have to get back. There's a War happening in my home world and Harry needs me desperately!"

"Yes, yous has battled," Tilly agreed, "Tilly sees the scar."

Instinctively, Hermione's hand flew to her side where Malfoy had hit her with the curse. "It doesn't hurt anymore," she assured the visibly distraught elf.

"Young mistress will have the mark always. Never fade. Powerful magic mark you."

"Dark magic, I'm afraid," Hermione informed her.

Shaking her large head side-to-side, Tilly replied, "Meaning no disrespect, young mistress, this not Dark magic. Tilly knows difference. This be magic from Founding family yous be linked to."

"Founding family?" Hermione was confused. 'I don't understand. In my world I'm a Muggle-born, so how could I be a part of a Founding family?"

Shaking her head again, Tilly insisted firmly, "Tilly sees what Tilly sees. You bear the signature of the Peverells."

"That's impossible," Hermione sputtered. "Didn't you hear me? I'm Muggle-born!"

"Tilly hears just fine," the elf snapped. "True young mistress is of Peverell lineage. Yous may be Muggle-born in other world, but here yous be different."

"But, I'm not really her!" Hermione was starting to get rattled, voice rising.

"Hush," Tilly commanded, looking toward the closed bedroom door. "Mistress come with sleep medicine if yous begins with the screaming."

That had the desired effect. Hermione took several long, deep breaths which actually did help a bit. "What am I going to do, Tilly?"

"Yous must be young mistress whilst yous be here," she said matter-of-fact.

"I'll never get away with it indefinitely," Hermione stage-whispered dramatically. "Someone will find out!"

"Young master sees his lady not often," Tilly explained. "Just young ones last time they meets."

Confused, Hermione said, "He acts as if we've known each other all of our lives. I mean, I remember him saying that I slept better with him in the room, so I naturally assumed that I was on a very intimate level with all of them."

"Yous be family. Cousins. Yous betrothed since cradle." Hermione frowned, not liking that one little bit. "Yous heard Mistress. Yous no marry young master if not want to."

"I don't want to marry anyone," Hermione declared with a determined jut to her chin. "I don't even know these people. Aside from that, I'm much too young to be thinking of marriage."

Tilly snorted. "Yous be of age soon. No needs to wait. Young master is keen on yous, he won't wants to wait, not that one."

Putting her hands on her hips, Hermione, "It isn't all about bloody James Potter, for Merlin's sake! I only knew him in my world through stories and he was an arrogant git then; spoiled rotten!"

Tilly smiled her first genuine smile since Hermione arrived. "Tilly likes this young mistress very much," she said, eyes filled with approval. "Yous be keeping young master in place. Spoiled, he is, but good heart he has. Young master infatuated with yous appearance. He soon finds out, more to yous. Tilly looking forward to it."

"What's the real Ivy like," Hermione asked, very curious.

"She fine lady," Tilly hurriedly replied. "Worthy mate for the young master. The Peverell blood in hers be strong, but shes no use it yet. Shes not weak, but fears hers powers. Needs discipline and training."

Hermione thought about this for a moment. Clearly Ivy was a young woman groomed in Pure-blood etiquette, with the focus being on making a good match, settling down and providing all the Potter heirs she was able to with nary a moment spent on educating her in the ways of defensive magic even though by Tilly's account, she was rife with magical potential.

"Where I come from," Hermione began slowly, "there is a Dark creature bent on taking over and ruling the Wizarding world. He's evil and has a special hatred for all things Muggle, not caring that there are Muggle-borns much more adept at magic than some Pure-bloods. He's targeted my best friend and I've been helping him in his efforts to prevent this Dark wizard from rising to his full strength. It's almost impossible because his faithful followers are everywhere. I must return to my own world."

Nodding her head, Tilly said solemnly, "Tilly understands. Darkness rising here as well." Hermione should have expected that there would be similar circumstances, but she hadn't, not really. "There is one whose name is feared. Most doesn't believes. Only stories told, but Tilly remembers the Dark days wells enough."

Great. Just great. She leaves one world on the cusp of a war only to be thrust head-long into another. Why was she here? How did she get here? How was she going to get back? What was she supposed to do while she was here? Who could she trust? All of these questions and more rolled around her head although the last was uppermost in her mind.

She desperately needed someone she could trust. Tilly, though so far not having shared the truth of the situation with the Potters, could not be fully trusted. She was the Potters house-elf which made her ties to them owed Hermione no such allegiance, so she found it curious as to why Tilly hadn't already outed her.

"Tilly, why haven't told Lady Potter the truth about me? As their elf, aren't you bound to protect them from, well… anything remotely suspicious or possibly harmful to the family?"

"Yous no harm Tilly's family. Yous Tilly's family too," she explained, making Hermione feel like a complete idiot for even asking the obvious.

Ignoring the reference that she was Tilly's family also, Hermione said with a scrunched brow, "You're right, when you say that I mean the Potters no harm. However, your true bond is with them, and I'm essentially a stranger who has happened to appear unexpectedly and without precedence into someone else' body; taking over their identity! So, it would stand to reason since you have the Potters best interest at heart, that you would be suspicious of my motives and inform them of all that you know about me."

Through squinted, large eyes, Tilly went on, "Yous be correct. Potters is Tilly's family to protect. Tilly's elf-family serve House of Potter for generations. Wes also serve House of Peverell for centuries."

Hermione was surprised and it showed. "Are you saying that serving the Peverells takes precedence over serving the Potters?" Tilly nodded. "I don't understand, I mean… aren't the Potters descendants of the Peverells?" Again, Tilly nodded. "So… "

"Yous is confused," Tilly pointed out unnecessarily. "Mistress and Master not direct descendants. Young mistress, Ivy is a Peverell. Peverell bond stronger, but Tilly loves all Tilly's family."

Holy Merlin! She was in the body of a direct descendent of the Peverells! In her world, there were families associated by blood but not closely; several generations removed since no actual Peverells remained. This was unbelievable! But, there was no earthly reason for Tilly to serve her. Great Godric's ghost, her life in this world was really just one great big mass of unexpected weirdness. The sooner she was out of here the better!

"Yous must bath and dress, young mistress. Guests be arriving soon. Mistress is one to makes sure to be on times for such things."

Hermione didn't dare refuse Tilly's 'suggestion' considering the severe look in her eyes. Hermione meekly followed the house-elf into the large en-suite bathroom. Large was an understatement! It was enormous! The bath alone rivaled the small pool in the Prefects bathroom at Hogwarts while the shower stall was pure marble with triple shower heads and could probably house the entire Weasley clan. The double vanity was lined with the best bath and hair products known to wizarding kind. There were plenty of plush bath towels with perpetual heating charms, making sure that no one suffered a chill while exiting the bath tub or shower area.

Hermione was reluctant to disrobe in front of Tilly being of a modest nature, but Tilly made it non-verbally clear that she had no other choice. After unbuttoning her nightgown. Hermione let it slip off into Tilly's waiting hands. Hermione was startled when you caught her reflection in one of the mirrors. She studied herself carefully.

Ivy was a beautiful young woman in the way that Hermione Granger could never hope to be. Her hair was black as night, so black there were purple highlights to its curly length. The lovely ringlets reaching to her waist were tousled and it irked Hermione that even her bedhead was attractive.

Large, sapphire blue eyes stared back at her from a triangular-shaped face sporting high cheekbones, a slightly pointed chin, with an elegant, straight nose. The only flaw Hermione could detect was that her mouth was a tad too wide with a too thin upper lip, although the full lower lip sort of compensated for that. Even without smiling, there was an enchanting dimple at the corner of her mouth, which was really annoying.

Her breasts weren't large but they were well-formed, there was a narrow waist leading to slightly flared hips while her skin was as white as ivory and entirely unblemished except for a strange splotch above her left hip that could have been mistaken for a birth mark. It was the exact spot where Lucius Malfoys' curse had struck her. Initially, it had been quite painful but as she ran her fingers lightly over it, there was nothing but a slight tingling.

"Tilly has drawn bath for young mistress," the house-elf said, leading Hermione to the immense tub, clicking her fingers making Hermione's long hair pull up into an intricate up-do. "Tries not to get hair wet, young mistress."

Fragrant swirls of mist rose from the water and Hermione recognized the scent as jasmine and honeysuckle. Although she herself, never used scented water, Hermione found it very pleasant. Lowering herself onto the built-in bench, she groaned at how wonderful the warm water felt. Leaning back, she let all of her muscles be soothed and relaxed by the jets which pushed the water against her body. There was something to be said for being in such luxurious surroundings.

Tilly allowed her to simply soak for about ten minutes before insisting that she bath herself so as not to be late for lunch. Hermione did just that, taking only minutes to clean her body and after she was finished, Tilly was right there with a heated towel. Hermione dried herself and shouldered into a lovely silk kimono, following the house-elf back to the bedroom.

Already spread out over the made up bed, were robes of such beauty, Hermione gasped. She fingered the soft, expensive fabric reverently. Hermione had never been a slave to fashion like Lavender Brown or the other girls in her dorm. But this beautiful garment was something she was eager to put on. It was a gorgeous shade of plum with subtle but intricate, silver embroidered vines and leaves around the collar, sleeves and the hemline.

It fit her perfectly, highlighting her figure without being vulgar and was feather-light as it fell to her feet in soft folds, brushing the tips of her opal-painted toes. Hermione hadn't ever looked nor felt so girly in her entire life. Tilly guided her over to a vanity and chair where she began to brush out Hermione's dark hair until it glimmered. Using diamond encrusted combs, Tilly pulled her curls back on either side of her face, securing the thick tresses allowing the rest to flow freely down her back.

"Young mistress is lookings very pretty," the house-elf said with a proud smile. "Yous need no cosmetics. Fine just as yous are."

Tilly was right, of course. Her pale skin had an under flush of color across her cheekbones and her sapphire eyes needed no embellishment, they sparkled brightly. "Thank you, Tilly," Hermione breathed, still stunned at her appearance.

"Yous go now, young mistress. Guests arriving now," Tilly motioned to the bedroom door with a shooing motion of her hands.

"I don't know where to go, Tilly," Hermione exclaimed, terrified of leaving the sanctuary of her bedroom. "This is going to be disastrous!"

"Finding way is easy. Yous follow Tilly and pays close attention so yous know how to get theres on yous own."

Inhaling deeply, girding herself for what was to come, Hermione kept up the mantra of: You are a Gryffindor. Brave and courageous. Tilly guided her down the long hallway. Portraits hung on either side, glancing at her curiously, whispering amongst themselves. You are a Gryffindor. Brave and courageous. As if sensing her distress, Tilly reached out and took her clammy hand in her own. That tiny act of kindness made Hermione feel tons better. More stoutly, she proclaimed to herself: You are a Gryffindor! Brave and courageous!

You can do this, Hermione. Fabulous. The mysterious voice was back. I will help you in any way I can. Ivy needs your experience, knowledge and eagerness to learn and excel. Is that why I'm here, Hermione demanded. Partially, but you are not ready to know the full truth as of yet. How did I get here, can you answer me that? Soon. Hermione rolled her eyes. Fat lot of help you are! Her only answer was a beleaguered sounding sigh. I'm just saying that a bit more information would be immensely helpful. Stubborn child. Damn straight! No retort came and Hermione was certain that the voice was done for the moment.

Hermione felt like Scarlet O'Hara as she descended the wide, curved staircase with their gleaming banisters and almost blinding bright steps. In a way, it was sort of like the Yule Ball, but instead of Viktor waiting for her at the bottom, James stood gawking up at her. He looked remarkably handsome in his forest green dress robes. A very fit figure indeed. The way he stared at her was slightly embarrassing; all-consuming and with hungry pride. Only Viktor had looked at her in a similar fashion and when he'd kissed her, she'd felt the same fluttering in her chest that she did now as James approached, taking her hand and kissing the knuckles lingeringly.

"You look glorious," he said fervently, pressing her fingers. "Are you all right," he asked, brow furrowed in concern. "Your hand is freezing."

"Just nervous," Hermione answered, licking her lips, coloring rising up her neck when James eyes followed her action avidly.

Guiding her hand through the crook of his arm, he began leading her toward the double-doors standing open, saying with a pat to her hand, "There's no need to be nervous. It will just be Mum and Dad along with three of my closest mates. I'm eager for you to meet them and I hope you'll all get along although Severus can be a dour git every now and then. He's as brilliant as they come, and has a tendency to get lost in his studies."

Hermione steps faltered at hearing the name of her Potions Professor falling from James' lips with such fond amusement. She really had stumbled into the Twilight Zone if Severus Snape was one of James' best mates. Oh, glory. This, this was going to take every ounce of acting ability she possessed because that man was not someone she wanted to get to know at all, and certainly not to the extent that James expected.

They glided through the entry way, into a lovely dining room with a large rectangular table set with fine china, delicate glass goblets and cutlery fashioned from actual silver, gilded with gold around the handles. Although large, the room had an atmosphere of intimacy, helped along by the fireplace in the corner, casting off warmth within its blazing depths.

But, it was the people standing off to the side of the table who caught her attention. James' parents were smiling at her in an encouraging fashion with obvious affection. The other three were each handsome young men, which surprised Hermione considering the Severus Snape in her world would not have been considered handsome at all. Probably more due to his abhorrent personality rather than his actual looks. He still looked intense, but there was no contempt in his gaze when his eyes met hers. They weren't exactly warm either, more curious than anything else.

The other two were polar opposites in their looks. One was tall with fair hair and light blue eyes. The cut of his robes were less extravagant, but they suited his slim figure nicely. His face was pleasant, and he was good-looking in a less flashy fashion than James or the other boy who stood next to him. This young mans' features were finely cut and absolutely stunning. Here was an aristocrat through and through, even Hermione could tell that. He was so incredibly good-looking, Hermione found it difficult to drag her eyes away. Grinning widely when he noticed her appreciative stare, he gave her an audacious wink which brought renewed color to Hermione's face.

"All right, Regulus, stop flirting with my girl," James admonished his friend. Addressing all of his best mates, James announced, "I'd like to introduce you to Ivy Rose Hermione Peverell."

Hermione's head began to swim alarmingly. What the hell?! Crazy enough to discover she was in the body of an actual Peverell but one of her names was Hermione! James didn't notice that her face lost all color, eyes wide with shock, but the sandy-haired boy took a step forward, worry for her well-being stamped on his face.

"Are you unwell, Miss Peverell," he asked.

Instantly, James turned his head, "What is it, Ivy? You're trembling."

"I think I need to sit down," Hermione replied in a voice that shook.

Instantly, several people converged on her at once. James, his parents, the fair-haired boy and Regulus. Severus stood back, watching as everything transpired, intrigued in spite of himself.

"Stand aside, James," Charlus ordered taking hold of Hermione by the waist, helping her to sit in one of chairs. "Perhaps it was too soon to have her meet other people outside of the family."

"Who would have thought that a Peverell would be such a delicate flower," drawled Severus and although in other circumstances it would have been considered a compliment, clearly it was not.

Hermione's head shot up and fixing him with a fierce glare, snarled, "I am not a delicate anything, you unmitigated arse!"

James snickered. Regulus' grin grew to huge proportions. The blonde boy looked amused. James parents looked alternately shocked and indulgent. Severus Snape's reaction was the one that puzzled Hermione most. His back eyes flashed with approval, bordering on admiration, a slight smirk twisting his thin lips.

"My apologies, Miss Peverell." Severus slid in smoothly. "I meant no disrespect to your good name."

"Of course you didn't," Hermione threw back at him sarcastically, eyes flashing dangerously. "Perhaps you'd like to take this outside, if you desire proof of my abilities."

A glint of true interest ghosted over Severus' face as his gaze raked over her slim and deceivingly delicate looking physique to come to rest once more on her flushed, angrily determined features.

"I think I would enjoy that immensely," he responded much to the shock of everyone else in the room other than Hermione.

"Right," Hermione barked briskly, while pushing herself up from the table. "Let's do this."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," James stepped in, pointing out to Severus. "I'm not certain that's a good idea. I mean Ivy's been recuperating and it's been slow going. I don't think she's up to a duel, for Merlin's sake."

Placing her hands on her hips, Hermione turned on him and said sharply, "Then it's a good thing I didn't ask you to think for me, James Potter!" Hermione called out," Tilly." Immediately, the house-elf was at her side.

"Young mistress calls. Hows can Tilly serves yous?"

Moderating her tone, Hermione said, "I'd like for you to take us some place on the grounds where it will be safe for this gentleman and I to duel."

Without even looking to James, Dorea or Charlus for permission, Tilly snapped her fingers and all were transported a safe distance from the manor.

"Does this please the young mistress," Tilly asked

Surveying her surroundings thoughtfully, taking in the vast area of level ground, the sporadic tree and bush, and well away from buildings or inhabited areas.

"This will do quite nicely, Tilly," Hermione agreed much to the house-elfs' delight. "Thank you."

Bowing slightly, Tilly replied solemnly, "It is Tilly's great pleasure to serve the House of Peverell."

"Uh, Mum… Dad," James looked to his parents, silently beseeching them to step in and stop this madness.

"Don't even think about it, Charlus," Dorea ordered, as her husband took one tentative step forward. "James may want this to be over but I know very well that you and I are eager to see what Ivy is made of."

"Too true, my darling," Charlus admitted, ignoring his son's crestfallen expression.

Tilly had taken the Potter family a short distance away, making it possible for them to converse and not be in any danger of being affected by the melee about to take place.

"I believe taking a second is the usual practice," Regulus reminded the dualist. "I should be honored to act in that capacity on Miss Peverell's behalf, if she is willing."

"I accept your offer, Mister Black," Hermione granted, eyes now firmly set on her opponent.

"Very well," Severus agreed amiably. "Remus," he said, causing Hermione to start in surprise, gaze swinging immediately to the other man. "Is it acceptable that I ask for you to act as my second?"

How could she not have seen that this smiling, light-haired young man had been none other than her former DADA professor? She could be forgiven she supposed since he resembled nothing of the man she knew in her world. This man's face was unscathed by werewolf transformation. Healthy in body and apparently worthy enough to be Severus Snapes' friend! The surprises just kept on rolling.

"I accept," Remus said with a wry twist to his lips before adding, "Although I expect you would rather call on James for this honor seeing as how he is your best mate and brother in all things other than blood."

If Hermione hadn't been so worked up over Snapes' insults, she would have needed a smelling salts, because this was just all too surreal, and passing out seemed like the perfect solution in escaping this present madness where Snape and Harry's father were bosom pals, Remus was hale and whole and where Regulus Black was a part of James' inner circle which begged the question: Where and what was Sirius Black's part in all of this?

"They will need a moderator, dear," Dorea pointed out, secretly thrilled at this unusual turn of event.

Needing no further prompting, Charlus made his way over to the small group. Clearing his throat, he said, "I shall act as moderator."

"Agreed," Hermione and Severus said simultaneously.

"It goes without question that there be no, and I mean no, usage of Unforgiveables." Both duelers nodded in agreement. "The first to draw blood or disarm, will be proclaimed the winner. Understood?" Both nodded again. "Very well, please present your wands for inspection."

Good gracious! Hermione had totally forgotten that her wand was no longer in her possession. How was she supposed to duel this smirking bastard without one?

Reluctantly, Hermione admitted, "I regret to inform you all, that I am presently without a wand."

Silence greeted her announcement followed by, "Do you forfeit by default?"

Hermione's fists clenched at her sides. Clearly, Snape thought it a ruse to get out of the duel that she instigated if his bored, self-satisfied expression was anything to go by.

"I most certainly do not," was Hermione's swift tartly spoken rejoinder. "It will merely be a postponement until I am issued a new wand."

"Of course," Severus drawled in that infuriating manner of his. Smug bastard.

"If I may render my services to the lady," a smooth, cultured voice suggested.

It took only one glance at the tall, outstandingly good-looking man off to James' side for Hermione to recognize him as Lucius Malfoy. He was watching the proceedings with cool amusement lurking in those smoky grey eyes of his. Resplendent in emerald green robes, long white-blonde hair bound at the nape of his neck, sporting the exact same snake-head cane as he did in her world.

Hermione's palm itched, hand twitching wildly and if she'd had a wand, she would have no doubt used it on him from reflex alone. Snape had been a damned nuisance, unfair to her in every word and deed and hateful to the extreme. But this man… this man had spawned a horrid menace who dogged her every footstep while shouting the worst Wizarding obscenities known while doing his damnedest to make Harry's life miserable in every way imaginable. Hogwarts was Harry's haven and where Hermione had finally found acceptance, so for that little weasel to be the viper in their own sort of Eden, was reprehensible.

While the Mini-Malfoy made life miserable inside of Hogwarts, the man himself, made lives miserable outside of that revered institution. Hermione had no idea how many Ministry officials he had in his deep, deep pockets, but the Minister was one of them for sure. It went without saying, that the lunatic Death-eater had earned Hermione's eternal enmity when he'd slipped that damned diary into Ginny's cauldron. Hermione was not ever going to forget how Ginny's life had been endangered and Harry nearly killed by Tom Riddle and his basilisk.

Rolling his dark eyes, Severus said, sounding bored, "But of course you would swoop in at the last moment in an attempt to rescue the fair maiden. Are you not weary of this routine, Lucius?"

"I do not need rescuing, you damned cretin," Hermione exclaimed, looking fit to be tied.

The other boys snickered. Lucius looked impressed and Severus smirk grew to really, really annoying proportions.

"Are you offering me the usage of your wand," Hermione questioned, completely unaware of the beauty she radiated in her wrath.

"Why of course..."

Before he could even finish his offer, Hermione reached across him, grabbed the snake handle and ripped Lucius' wand out of its hidden space, brandishing the wood with an elegant flourish.

Eyes wide, Lucius sputtered, "How did you..."

With a harrumph, Hermione turned her back to him, stalking with sheer purpose to where Mister Potter stood, handing the wand over with a toothy, triumphant grin at Severus. Charlus examined both wands carefully before handing them back with an approving nod.

Hermione pulled off the snake head and nonchalantly threw it over her shoulder, much to the annoyance of Malfoy who'd paid handsomely to have the cane hand-made to his specifications.

Catching his annoyed glare, Hermione stated with no remorse for her actions, "It will only hinder me. It's utterly useless with that hood ornament on top of it."

Hermione didn't even stop to contemplate that none of those present would have any clue as to what a hood ornament was. She tested the weight of the wand in her hand. It was heavier than her own. She gripped it tight and found that it took much more pressure on her part for it to flex even a bit. Hers had given when just the right amount of force was exerted. She whipped it to and fro, trying to get a good feel for it, but it felt wrong in her grasp although no one was blasted with uncontrollable sparks or emissions. Perhaps it was because it was Lucius Malfoys wand that it felt so alien.

She doubted very much it would do her bidding in the way that she needed it to. Snape must have thought so as well since there was a look of gleeful spite in those deep, dark depths. It would be an unequal match. They both knew it. Without a proper wand, Hermione was left at a hopeless disadvantage, but she would not back down. That was unthinkable! She'd rather bleed out on the ground than give this slimy git the satisfaction of giving up or giving in.

"Salute your opponent," Charlus intoned with authority. After they had done so, he continued, "Take your stance."

Hermione fell immediately into her fighting stance, as did Snape and she took a moment to admire his figure. He held his wand with confidence, determination written all over his face; he stood as battle-ready as she, and she couldn't help but wonder where he had learned such fine technique. She waited for the tingle of magic to flow through her fingertips, but it never came. The wand remained silent, refusing her admittance to its magic. Hermione was doomed.

"Open yourself up to the wand. It is as sentient as you are," a now familiar voice whispered in her head. "There is no need to attempt to bend it to your will. That will gain you nothing."

"Are you saying that I should ask the wand to assist me?" This greatly confused Hermione.

"I am saying, that if you invite the magic inside to mingle with your own without force, it will do so. The magic around your body is a closed circuit as is the magic in your body. They are two separate entities as is the magic in the wand. They must all work in tandem."

"How am I to do that," Hermione asked, perplexed.

"Relax your core." Hermione frowned. "Your magical core," the voice emphasized. "Focus your thoughts on the area above your navel and below the middle of your chest."

"I don't understand," Hermione huffed in frustration.

"Willful child!" The voice rebuked her. "Magic is not based on logic. It is a natural extension of who you are. Like breathing. There is no real thought behind the action of inhaling and exhaling, it is merely an automatic part of you and your body. Such is the case with magic."

"Interesting," Hermione mused. "I've never been taught such a thing. But, is not focusing the act of thinking through magic?"

"The focus comes first. Because you are not accustomed to accessing your magical core in this fashion, you must open your core and then the rest will follow. The use of a wand channels the natural magic surrounding you through its own core of magic. Hence the magic is released through the wand. When you open yourself up completely, you are embracing the magic and channeling it through yourself. You are one. Do you understand?"

"I would rather we had done this before I was facing Snape in a duel," Hermione said ruefully. "He's being unusually patient as we converse."

"In his mind and the mind of the others, not a second has passed. I have paused time for this discussion."

For a moment, Hermione was struck speechless, then she said haltingly, "Um, that's impressive." A million thoughts were running rampant in her head.

"There is no time to answer your questions. You must focus on your magical core and open yourself up to the magic."

Hermione closed her eyes and did as the voice requested. At first, she felt nothing, but then she felt a warmth growing in the area where she was concentrating, then a steady throbbing that was almost painful; her whole body began to vibrate and it was a very unusual feeling and if she were being honest, frightening as well.

"Do not fear! Pull the magic up through the soles of your feet, in through your fingertips and down through the crown of your head."

The pulsating in her limbs intensified. Even her hair felt as if it were throbbing. In her minds' eye, Hermione could actually see the magic being sucked into her body, pushing it until it looked like a mini-tornado just under her ribcage. The power rushing through her was exhilarating! Electricity crackled all around as the storm of magic grew and grew.

"I don't think I can handle this," she screamed above the roaring in her ears.

"You can," the voice insisted, and Hermione felt the great urgency, not simply heard it. "You must! Pull the magic inside you! Let it mingle with your magical core!"

Hermione hesitated, this all felt unnatural, and belatedly she realized she should have thought twice before trusting this cryptic voice in her head. Would she never learn?

"I can't… I can't do this," Hermione wailed even as she felt her magic crash against the foreign magic. Hermione doubled over, excruciating pain spreading out from her middle, where everything thrashed violently. She was spinning, dark hair flying straight up under the fury of the magical storm. "No, no, no… stop," she screamed.

"Do not falter," the voice commanded. "It is too late to turn back, you will be destroyed if you attempt to stop what is happening here! Embrace your destiny, daughter of Peverell!"

"I'm not her!" Hermione screeched, real fear clawing at her when she realized she was being lifted up off the ground from the sheer magnitude of power embracing her. It was suffocating! Squeezing the very air from her lungs! She was going to die here! Tears streamed down her face at the thought of never seeing Harry again. Never seeing all those she loved.

"I'm not her," she yelled again, voice hoarse from the shrieking she didn't even realize she was doing.

"You will be one! It must be so!"

Hermione felt as if every one of her limbs was being wrenched from her body, she was being torn this way and that, with no way to tell which end was up. "You're killing me," she whimpered, having no hope of being heard above this roaring madness.

"Embrace the power!" The voice urged. "It is the only way! Take what was also meant to be yours!"

Sobbing in earnest, Hermione gritted her teeth, inhaling the iridescent, swirling air from all around, pulling it in until she felt as if she could hold no more dreading that her lungs would burst if she tried. Through tear-riddled eyes, she realized that the congealed tempest was swelling with every breath that she took. Using her arms to shield her midriff, as if they could keep the riotous cyclone of magical intensity from escaping, Hermione yanked with all that she had and heard a victorious shout in her head.

"Well done! Now, release the power back from whence it came!"

In one grand sweep of her arms, Hermione thrust the veil of storm clouds and flickering mist out from her very being, releasing all that she had been holding prisoner inside. She felt the gale-force of the magic rush back down her limbs and head, and with a wild swoosh and fearsome cry, Hermione was set free, crumpling to the ground beneath.