Disclaimer: Anything you recognize from the Harry Potter books and/or movies is not mine.

A/N: Huh, well, I didn't think this story would be that great, but quite a few people seem to like it. I suppose the only thing to do is continue it, yeah? Funny really, as this was just a plot-bunny persuaded by a friend come to life. And yes Kersies, I did get the title from one of my favorite All-American Rejects songs. Anyways: I've joined writing forces with a friend of mine in real life. Her penname here is Rubber Ducky Loser, and we've already started a story on her account. I uploaded the third chapter for her just earlier, so yeah. She writes the plot, rough drafts, and storyline, while I write the actual story and fix it up a bit. If you want to read it, go to her profile, or type in Preternatural for the story title and you should find it. Or, just go to my profile and I have the link in there at the end. Here's a summary for it:

Harry Potter is sent into a world where he, literally, takes the roll of Neville Longbottom. He has his parents, although they reside in St. Mungo's, lives with Sirius, and is supposedly a clutz. How will Harry cope with this change of events? AU

Anyways, yeah. Enough said at the moment. Happy Reading! - Min

Thanks animerocksjapanrocks, LoveForRupertGrint, CrymsonTear, Saz-646, Ivory Black aka Torri-Chiobi, Reanne1102, Me, WhiteTwitch, Rubber Ducky Loser, Kill-All-Flamers, LunaLovegoss, HarryGinny4RonHermione4TonksLupin4ever, Kersies, and Viktor Krum's lazyllama101 for the wonderful reviews!

Hands are Meant to Hold

By: xScenex

a.k.a. Min

It had been two nights since the run in with the Marauders at the shop. Unsurprisingly, Hermione couldn't keep her mind off of them. She found herself slightly fascinated by them, knowing that she'd never get to meet the real Marauders if she were in her time still, but she also felt horrible about the whole factor. She wasn't supposed to be in that time era. She didn't belong there. Not to mention, she had met Harry's dad - even he hadn't know his dad. It wasn't fair in so many ways.

Hermione was putting away some books on a shelf, almost finished after closing the shop for the night. The day had been a long and tedious one, full of ignorant customers and foolish sells-men.

In her spare time that day, she searched through the old books in the back of the storage, dating almost a century old. She had been hoping to find out more information over her situation but hadn't found anything leading to the ritual spoken of in the old book she found in the forgotten church. She'd never heard of anything like it, and from all she'd learned in her youth, she had thought that time-travel was impossible except by the use of time-turners; and those objects only went back hours at a time.

But obviously, all she'd learned on the subject was wrong. Somehow, someone - or some people - had found a way through time without the usage of the hourglass objects. But her search had been in vain so far. Nothing she read had any information on the matter. She'd even gone as far as trying to look up the names of the people mentioned in the book - once again, it was futile.

She'd finally excepted the fact that she wouldn't be going home - but she still wouldn't give up trying to find a way.

A flash of light shown from the few windows around the shop and thunder boomed afterwards, rumbling quietly into the distance. The wind outside had been picking up slowly and the surrounding trees whipped about, scraping the roof and sides of the shop.

Sighing, Hermione pushed the last book onto the shelf between two large tomes before leaning back on her arms and breathing in deeply while trying not to sneeze at the same time. She wasn't feeling great, and the dust in the air wasn't helping the issue; and to add to the effect, the humidity in the air because of the weather made her groggy.

After a few moments, Hermione pushed herself off the floor and dusted her jeans off hastily just as someone opened the door. Hermione inwardly groaned as the bell jingled. She had hoped that she was done for the night and had also hoped the weather would make others stay away.

She opened her mouth to say the usual welcome until she saw who had walked into the store.

James Potter.

Too shocked to say anything, she watched as the boy looked around, spotted her, then went to stand next to her with an air of arrogance around him that oddly reminded her of Ron in some ways.

"Hey there," he grinned.

Finally pulling herself out of her stupor, she scowled at the messy haired boy. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at Hogwarts?"

"Well, yeah," he replied, running a hand through his hair. "But I wanted to come here and see you. I bet it gets lonely down here."

Blinking at the straightforwardness of the answer, she said slowly, "So you snuck out of the castle to see me? You know you'll get in loads of trouble?"

"No, I wont," he reassured her.

Hermione once again sighed, wishing nothing more than to be able to go to sleep in her nice, soft bed upstairs. She crossed her arms stubbornly across her chest. "You really shouldn't be here. Does anyone else know you're out of grounds?"

"No, no one knows I'm here. Are you trying to get rid of me?" James questioned innocently, but tauntingly at the same time.

"Yes, I am," she snapped, turning around and walking back across the room to her desk. "I was just getting ready to close the shop and go to sleep."

"Sleep, huh?" his eyebrows rose dramatically for effect as he spoke in a seductive voice.

Hermione grimaced, her stomach plummeting to the floor at the same time. She hadn't even known the guy for more than a few days and he was already saying things such as that. Worse of it all was he was, technically, twenty years older than her. At the mere thought, her stomach did another twist and for a moment, she thought she might vomit.

"Yes, sleep, so if you wouldn't mind, go back to Hogwarts."

"And leave you here by yourself? From the looks of it, a storms moving in. Do you like spending your time here, in this dark shop at night knowing that there are prowlers up and about that could break in at any given moment?" he said mockingly once more, leaving Hermione surprised that he hadn't run out of breath yet, "Wouldn't you like some company while the storm passes?"

"No," she stated dryly after taking in all he said. In truth, she was actually slightly unnerved by storms but would rather stay by herself than with Harry's father. She didn't know the teen at all, and with the way he had already been acting, she was a bit anxious to get rid of him.

"You're not scared of storms?"

She rolled her eyes in annoyance and stomped a foot childishly, "No, I'm not. Now please leave."

The boy in front of her pouted. "Aw, come on. If I left now, I'd just get soaked from the rain."

"It's not raining yet," Hermione pointed out, nodding towards one of the windows that lit up as a fork of lightening shot across the sky.

James whined in a boyish voice, "I might get hit by lightening."

"It would serve you right," the girl muttered and sat down behind her desk. She picked up a few receipt copies and flipped through them, desperately trying to ignore the boy in the shop.

"You're cruel," the Gryffindor boy pouted. "Most girls aren't so mean."

"I'm not 'most girls' as you like to put it."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"That's how it sounded," Hermione snapped at him for the second time that night. She was tired and extremely unhappy about the unexpected visitor. "What is it you want from me? No one just randomly comes into a book shop to talk to the employee's."

"Can't I just spend some time with a pretty girl, such as yourself?" He said while picking up her muggle stapler and examining it. "What's this supposed to be?"

Hermione bit back the sharp reply that threatened to slip out, "It's a stapler. It helps keep papers," she held up the receipts, "Together so that they don't get scattered."

"How does that work? Is it like a sticking charm?"

"No," she said slowly, "You stack the papers like this, then you stick them through the slot on the front and press down on the stapler. As you press down, it takes a metal staple and imbeds it into the papers."

"Oh, like this?" The boy took some scrap paper on the desk that were blank and stacked them, rather messily, on top of each other before slipping the paper into the slot.

Hermione watched in hidden amusement as the boy struggled with the paper and in the process, got his finger stuck inside it. He shook his hand, trying to get the contraption off but it didn't budge, and only succeeded in hitting himself on the chin with it.

"Hey!" he yelped just as he accidentally pressed down on the stapler, successfully lodging a staple into his index finger. "Oww!"

Forcing herself to keep her face straight, she stood up and pried the muggle stapler out of his hands and away from his already hurt finger.

The boy looked, in horrid fascination, at the metal staple imbedded into his fingertip as a small bead of blood trickled down from the tiny wounds.

"See what happens when you aren't careful?" Hermione found herself saying jokingly.

James looked up at her, his eyes shining with his own amusement, despite the fact he'd just gotten a metal staple stuck in his finger. "That thing's dangerous."

"Not really," she replied, sighing dramatically at his own stupidity. Really, who stapled their own finger on accident? "Let me see your hand."

He sniffed a bit in fake misery as he held his hand out to her. She rolled her eyes at him, clearly showing her annoyance which he only grinned at. As much as she hated to admit it, having him there was quite amusing.

Slowly, she examined his finger. "Well, this might hurt a bit," she warned, staring seriously at the boy.

"What might?" He asked, his voice showing interest.

Hermione smiled a bit, "I'm taking the staple out."

"Wait," he said slowly, horror dawning on his face. "You're taking it out? Will it hurt?"

"It might. You have to stand still."

"But, can't you just use a spell or something to get it out?" His voice rose slightly with sudden panic. Hermione blinked, surprised by his sudden relunctance.

"I could accio it out, but that would hurt more," she offered, reaching for her wand in her pocket.

"No!"

"Then I'll have to do it manually," she sighed.

James visibly gulped. "Fine."

Hermione grinned, deciding to at least get some enjoyment out of the situation. She dramatically rolled her sleeves up and then painstakingly slow, she got ready to pull the staple out. James watched, wide-eyed and tense.

"One," she began, "two, and.. THREE!"

And she pulled out the staple.

James blinked, Hermione flicked the metal piece at him, and the wind picked up, howling loudly through the surrounding trees.

"You liar!" James finally laughed, breaking the silence while grinning like mad. "You got me all worried for nothing!"

"Yeah, well," Hermione sat back down, glancing at the window where rain was now pelting against the pane. "you deserved it for coming here in the first place."

"You don't want me here?"

"No, I want you to leave so I can get some sleep. Unlike you, I have work tomorrow, whereas you get to sleep in for the weekend."

"It's not even eleven yet," James pouted, sitting on the edge of her desk and picking up a small paper weight.

Hermione groaned in frustration and wrenched the object out of his hands, "Are you only here to bother me?"

"For the most part, yeah. But I also want to get to know you."

"You're kidding right?" she snorted in disbelief. She'd never known someone as stubborn as him.

"No," he said, looking like he meant it. That fact scared Hermione just a bit. "So, what's your favorite color? Book? How about subject when you were at school?"

She blinked. "You're not kidding, are you?" He shook his head with a light grin. "If I answer you, will you leave?" she sighed.

"Maybe."

Hermione began to feel frustrated, but complied, "My favorite color is lavender, although baby-blue is another nice color. My favorite book is Hogwarts, A History, and my favorite subject at school was Arithmacy."

"Why do you like Hogwarts, A History? You never went to Hogwarts. I'm sure I'd have seen you - unless you're older than you look.." he noted suspiciously, his eyes flittering across her face.

She nearly kicked herself. She couldn't let anyone know she wasn't from that time - the Ministry would be in an uproar. She quickly thought up a cover for her mistake, "I've read it many times, and I've always thought Hogwarts would be a fascinating place to learn. At my old school, we never had an enchanted ceiling, or moving staircases. It really does sound fascinating."

"Maybe you should come visit sometime?" he winked.

"No, I think not," she said dryly, meaning that in more than one way. She'd never, ever get close to Dumbledore. He always had a way of knowing things about people.

"Well, you're no fun," James sighed. "Do you play Quidditch?"

"No, I hate flying," she told him.

"What!" he looked at her incredulously.

"I said," she began slowly, "I. Hate. Flying."

He stared at her as if she'd grown another head, "I heard that! But how could you hate flying?"

"Simply. I hate heights," Hermione said while rubbing her temples. James could be annoying. It was a miracle no one had hexed him to oblivion yet.

Hermione looked up at said boy, noticing he was deep in thought. She noticed how he looked just like Harry, except for his eyes, which were a dark hazel. He had the same glasses, albeit newer looking, and was a bit taller. For a few moments of her stupor, she thought Harry was sitting there next to her.

She was pulled out of her own thinking when James said loudly, "So what are your hobbies?"

She sighed once more, but smiled a bit. In all honestly, his company wasn't so bad. But she reasoned it to only be because he reminded her of Harry in some ways. "I like to read, study, and you know,sleep."

There was a moments silence. "You're a boring person."

Her eyebrows rose, "And you're not?"

"No, I'm not," James said indignantly, giving Hermione the idea that no one ever said that to him. "I'm an interesting person, if I do say so myself."

"Maybe in your opinion. In my opinion, you're just like all the other boys I've met," she teased slightly, although knowing what she said was a complete lie. Not all boys were like him.

He threw his hands in the air, "It's a wonder that you even know any boys!"

Hermione glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

James paled a bit, "I didn't mean that. It's just that you're so stubborn."

"So are you."

".. so I am."

Hermione couldn't help but crack a smile at the look of dawning that appeared on his face. He didn't realize her smile and continued to be horrified by the previous discovery.

"You learn something everyday," The girl stated with a hint of amusement.

The boy finally looked at her and cracked a half grin. "Too right you are."

A/N: Yes, it's way shorter than the first chapter, but I didn't really feel like continuing to write. I have other stories to update, and this is better than nothing, eh?