Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not seek to make profit off this work. Harry Potter and its characters belong to JKR and I am happy for her to have that title. I do not own Supernatural or its characters, Kripke does.

Author Note: Now, this oneshot and the following one, Wednesdays, have weird timelines that won't make sense for a while. So don't ask when it happened, because I will make a face and won't answer. The ending will make sense in a while, too.

Things became grim when Ron kissed her on the cheek, saying, "Budge up there, luv," as he opened the fridge.

"Er," Hermione said. She looked down at her finger. No ring. "Hello."

"Kids say you're mad again," he said as he took out a butterbeer, nudging the door closed with his elbow. He popped the top without looking away from the post in his hand. He glanced up at her when she didn't answer, blue eyes staring hard into her face. "Yep." His attention returned to the mail before he made it a step away from her.

"Well, that explained everything," she said to the empty kitchen. She heard giggling at the entrance-way and scowled. "Get in here, you two."

Albus and Lily entered the kitchen as one organism, covering their giggling mouths with their hands after one look at her face. Hermione narrowed her eyes at them and pointed to the table. "Sit." She made a fuss of plating their ice cream, banging bowls and cutlery, and appeared like the unhappiest waitress at Happy Clown's Family Restaurant when she put the bowls in front of them. As they only giggled further, Hermione figured in this timeline she wasn't especially happy—or she was so pathetic not even children took her seriously.

Neither option appealed.

Hermione snooped around the kitchen as the children ate—she found another reason not to have children: slurping; bad enough she had to listen to Gabriel do it, she reviled the thought of listening to children related to her slurping like they were apes with a log filled with bugs. She stopped rifling through the junk drawer, had a full body shudder, and resumed her search. She needed something with her name… was this even her house? She found many things with Ginny and Harry's names on them—aw, she'd missed the wedding. Wait. Hermione put down the coupon for free drinks at the Leaky Cauldron, hand on the counter as she tried to catch hold of the thought pshting in her ear.

She had been to Ginny and Harry's wedding. In fact, she had been the maid of honour. She'd ended up reconnecting with Viktor at the reception afterward. Why had she thought she missed it?

Alternate reality, she reminded herself, and nodded.

"No throwing," Hermione said absently as she made her way to the desk in the corner. The drawers were filled with spare quills, a orange post it, the odd unfolded Ministry inter-memo. She tapped the top with no discernible rhythm as she tried to think of another place she could look that would tell her the state of her and Ron's relationship.

Her eyes slid to the children.

A-ha.

"So." Hermione walked over to the table nonchalantly, and rested her hand on the back of a chair as she looked between the two. The hair, she couldn't get over the hair. She cleared her throat and fixed them with steely-eyed determination. "How do you like your ice cream?"

"'tis good," Albus said around a chunk as big as his tiny little fist. Hermione smiled, ruffled Lily's hair as she passed out of the kitchen. Lily shrieked, batting her hand away, but she was giggling. Hermione went into the sitting room, spent a moment tidying the floor in front of the wireless, where Lily and Albus had been playing quietly before. She glanced at her watch as she slid their toy chest back beside the fireplace. Ginny would soon be back from St. Mungo's with James. Such a mischievous boy, she didn't know how they handled him.

Wait. Hermione paused with a hand on the back of the sofa, staring into the hallway leading to the children's rooms and Harry's office. Something was wrong. Something big. Huge.

She put her hand against her forehead, pushing, trying, straining—

"Hermione?"

Hermione dropped her hand to see Ginny smiling tiredly at her as she let go of James' hand. He went dashing into the kitchen, screaming something about a dragon. Ginny called out a warning as she dusted off the soot from her robes before hanging them up.

"Didn't know they'd tire you out so fast?" Ginny asked her.

"Hermione's mad again," Ron said as he came out of Harry's office. "You mind telling Harry I'm taking the interview notes from the Higgins case? I'll bring 'em back tomorrow."

"Mad? What do you mean mad?" Hermione demanded.

Ron looked up, blinked at her. "Oh." He sent a confused glance Ginny's way. Hermione felt the same confusion—why did he say she was mad? And why did Ginny appear just as surprised as Ron?

"I'm not mad," she said.

Ron and Ginny shared a look before Ron stared hard into her face. "So you wouldn't mind snogging me."

She almost took a step back. If this was some Wheeze… she would kill George. "What?" Did he catch a curse from one of the magical artifacts in Harry's office? She eyed him in bewilderment. "I think your current flavour of the week would disapprove."

Ron and Ginny raised their eyebrows at each other. "Never went by so quick before," Ginny said. She patted Hermione's arm. "You should get back to work."

"Okay," Hermione said slowly. She wanted to question them further—did she regularly go mad?—but Ginny left for the kitchen and Hermione heard her voice rise a second later, scolding them about the ice cream on the floor, and Ron, distracted already, floo'd before remembering to say goodbye.

Hermione shook her head and called out a goodbye to the children. Wednesdays.

fin