When Hermione woke up, she felt confused. One minute, she had been fighting with Dolohov and then the next minute she was sure she'd seen Sirius Black and James Potter, which was enough to make her head spin. That would have meant that she had gone back in time decades. Which was impossible.
But now, she was in a dark room, with the rain softly pattering against the window, completely unsure of where she was. The bed was extremely comfortable and the room didn't feel sinister like Grimmauld Place did, but she also wasn't in the cheerful comfort of her room in Gryffindor. She groaned when she tried to move, feeling how sore her legs were.
Looking around, Hermione tried to find any clue to ascertain where she was. Her gaze fell on a boy with messy black hair and glasses sitting in the chair in a corner of the room.
Harry, she thought fondly.
"Oh, thank Merlin it's you!" Hermione said, breathing a sigh of relief. She was so happy to be back with her friends and she couldn't wait to hear what else had happened in the fight. Had everyone come out okay? "I was having the most bizarre dream. I'd broken a time turner and ended up years in the past. I am glad that it was all just a bad dream."
"Well, it's over now," he answered. "Back in good old 1977 then, Victoria."
Hermione's heart stopped when she heard the year. 1977?! Then it hadn't actually been a dream after all. And that meant the young man with messy black hair and round glasses wasn't Harry Potter at all.
"I'm James, by the way," he said, before using his wand to light some of the lamps in the room. "Pleased to meet you, Victoria."
Hermione's eyes slowly adjusted to the room, giving her some time to think. "Victoria? Why do you keep calling me that?" she asked, perplexed. She was trying to wrap her mind around what happened and it wasn't made any easier with how much James looked like Harry. Except, he did have hazel eyes.
He sat at the foot of her bed and cleared his throat. When he turned to face her, he was wearing a smirk on his face. "Well, that's the name on your, uh...brassiere," he said, not possessing the decency to blush. Instead, he just kept staring at her shocked face, wearing that devious look all the while. He wasn't embarrassed at all.
The witch could feel her face reddened. "You undressed me?" she asked, absolutely furious. Sitting up, the blanket dropped away from her, revealing the same white lace bra he'd clearly inspected earlier. Aghast, Hermione snatched the sheet back up.
She couldn't believe what an...an arrogant person Harry's father was, presuming to undress her! Oh, Merlin! Harry's dad had seen her in a bra! Twice!
"Well, no, it wasn't me. Mother did," he said, no longer so confident anymore. "What did you expect? You were covered with blood and rubbish."
Hermione frowned. She had forgotten about her rather ungraceful landing in the rubbish bins upon arrival in this time. Some of her ire dissipated, knowing that it was instead a woman that undressed her, and not a lascivious teenage boy. And she was rather grateful not to be covered in smelly garbage.
"We couldn't get you to let go of your necklace though, even though that is what's making your hand bleed," he added.
She looked down. There, clutched in her left hand, was the broken time turner. She removed it from her hand, holding the fragile gold sphere in her other palm. The sharp feeling of glass still embedded in her skin made her hiss in pain.
James moved to sit next to her, suddenly very serious. "Here, let me help you with that," he said, gently cradling her hand in his. He muttered a spell and Hermione watched in awe as shard after shard of glass came out of her skin and collected on the bedside table. Another wave of his wand stopped the bleeding and knitted her skin back together until only faint pink lines remained on her palm.
Reaching over, he grabbed some of the salve his mother had set out before taking a dab and rubbing it into her open palm. "It's made with essence of dittany, so hopefully you won't scar," he explained.
Hermione watched his face. He was concentrating very hard at his task, but feeling her watching him had made a slight blush blossom on his cheeks. The act was strangely intimate as his fingertips caressed her damaged skin with such care.
"James! It's time for dinner!" a female voice shouted from somewhere out in the hall.
James immediately dropped her hand.
"Um, mother left out a dress for you while the house elves are laundering your clothes," he explained, pointing towards a bit of fabric on the end of the bed. "When you are dressed, it's just to the right and down the stairs. You can't miss it."
Then he rushed out of the room, leaving Hermione by herself. She looked around the dimly lit room, wondering what on Earth she had gotten herself into.
She changed into the pale pink tea dress - which she thought would have looked much better on someone with Ginny's coloring - because she knew that she didn't have any other option. The fashion of the dress was something she never would have worn, with a tight bodice and a circle skirt. Looking at herself in the mirror, she thought that she came across as very young. Her scuffed up trainers looked out of place, but again were her only option. She hoped that it didn't seem too embarrassing, especially with the different fashion of the time period.
When she could wait no longer, Hermione stumbled down the stairs and walked into the dining room, only to find four people already seated around the table. There was a man who looked just like James and Harry, but with surprisingly blond hair. He offered her an awkward smile. The only woman was willowy and elegant, with the jet black hair that James and Harry had inherited. She kept her sharp eyes on Hermione.
"You must be Victoria," she said, sounding very unimpressed. "Come, sit. Eat."
Hermione nodded awkwardly before choosing the seat next to James and across from Sirius. Godric, she could really believe all the stories about him now. He was constantly sharing stories of his wild youth with the twins, Harry and Ron, focused mainly on his prowess with the ladies of Hogwarts. Hermione had always imagined that it was highly embellished, but seeing him in the fresh, she was certain each of his blush inducing stories was true.
He was tall, strong looking, with an excellent jawline. His grey eyes were piercing as ever, but some how more devastating now. His dark hair was luxurious and shaggy, with the hint of a wave. He looked so much younger and had so much vitality compared to the Sirius she knew.
"Hermione," she said quietly, once she'd found her place.
"Excuse me?" the woman asked, clearly annoyed.
"My name is Hermione," Hermione told her firmly, a blush on her cheeks. She still couldn't believe that Harry's dad had seen her in a bra! "Not Victoria."
The woman frowned, showing the first hints of wrinkles around her mouth and between her eyebrows. "Well, Hermione..." she trailed off, looking at Hermione expectantly.
"Granger, ma'am," Hermione provided.
"Yes, well, you may call me Dorea. This is my husband Charlus," she said, waving in the blond man's direction. "And you already know my son James." Dorea looked at her pointedly from across the table, making it clear that she did not approve - as though Hermione had stripped down naked in Diagon Alley and jumped into James's arms.
Hermione could barely look at him, his cheeks a bright pink.
"But I don't know if you've met Sirius," she said finally.
Sirius gave her a lazy smirk from across the table.
"Charmed to make your acquaintance," Hermione said, doing her best to smile at everyone at the table.
"What brought you to Diagon Alley today?" Charlus asked her. He seemed to find Hermione much more tolerable than his wife did.
"And in the rubbish no less," Dorea huffed.
"Yes, well," Hermione started, her mind whirring trying to come up with an acceptable answer of why she would have just appeared out of nowhere. For some reason, she didn't think that telling them the truth would be wise. Dorea would probably be calling St. Mungo's before she could finish her story!
"I was on the way to visit my great...great uncle and I am afraid I let go of the portkey a little too early," Hermione explained, her turn to blush. "Of course, it's my luck to end up in a rubbish bin!"
"And who is your uncle?" Dorea asked. "Someone we know?"
"Oh, you probably know him," Hermione said, hoping that this wouldn't end up being a terrible idea. She figured her best bet was to get to Hogwarts as soon as possible, where she was sure the Headmaster would believe her story with some convincing. Hopefully, he could get her back to her proper time, too. "My great-great uncle is Professor Albus Dumbledore."
They all seemed surprised.
"Dumbledore is your uncle?" Sirius asked, incredulous. "I didn't know he had any family."
Hermione gave him a saccharine smile. "Yes, well you know how magical family trees are. So many branches! Sometimes, it feels like everyone is related," Hermione quipped.
Dorea nodded, apparently quite familiar with her own family tree's many criss-crossing branches.
"In any case, I should probably get going to Hogwarts," Hermione added, pressing her hands to the table. "If I could just get my clothes back..."
"Nonsense! You will at least have dinner with us," Charlus said, leaving no room for argument. "Besides, it's so late at night. It's probably best to just floo over in the morning."
Silence fell over the room while Hermione cursed her luck at having such gracious hosts. In the distance, rumbling thunder could be heard. Before anyone could think of something else to say, a tawny owl swooped in, dropping off a hideous red letter into James's mashed potatoes.
James looked completely stricken.
Sirius, on the other hand, had a huge grin on his face. "Haha! James got himself a howler! Go on, then - open it!" he instructed. He loved getting into trouble with his friend, but having James face a consequence by himself seemed a much better prospect.
In the end, James didn't even have to open it. The letter transformed into a little mouth and an angry witch's voice filled the room.
"JAMES POTTER, YOU INSUFFERABLE TOERAG! I CAN'T BELIEVE I ACTUALLY THOUGHT YOU WERE BECOMING RESPONSIBLE! I WAITED IN DIAGON ALLEY FOR OVER TWO HOURS FOR YOU, ONLY TO FIND OUT FROM MARLENE THAT YOU WERE GALLIVANTING WITH SOME SLAG WITH SIRIUS! DON'T EVEN BOTHER TRYING TO TALK TO ME ON THE TRAIN! I HATE YOU!"
Then the letter exploded in his face.
James dropped his head to the plate. "Fuck, I completely forgot about Lily," he groaned.
"James! Language!" Dorea scolded her son, scandalized.
"I was just going to prove to her how responsible I was and then maybe she would have agreed to go out with me this year," James said, looking very distraught.
Sirius was doing a poor job of hiding his laughter behind a napkin. He did feel bad for James, especially with how pitiful he was acting, but a woeful James was so nihilistic. He didn't know how easy he had it.
"She is always telling me to grow up," James added.
"Don't worry too much, James," Hermione said, supportively, giving him a polite pat on the arm. "I am sure she will understand once you explain it to her." Lily had better talk to James at some point, Hermione thought, or else Harry wouldn't be waiting for her when she got back!
James looked at her with a hopeful smile. "Do you really think so?" he asked, ignoring Sirius's snort.
Hermione nodded.
Having been somewhat consoled by Hermione's reassurances that Lily would give him another chance if he gave her some time to cool off, James happily switched the conversation to Quidditch tactics that he hoped to implement that year as Captain. Charlus and Sirius were able to give insight, too, but Hermione sat there quietly, wishing she could just disappear from the room.
When the plates were cleared away, Hermione stood up awkwardly. "Thank you so much for your hospitality, but I really should be going," she said. "I don't want my uncle to worry about me. If you'd just give me my clothes back, I will be on my way."
Dorea bristled at her brusk manner. "Of course, we will give you your clothes back, though I can't imagine why you'd want to wear those baggy clothes again. Please keep the dress. If the jeans are indicative of the rest of your wardrobe, I'd say you need it far more than I do," she said, imperiously.
Hermione blushed, feeling somewhat annoyed. Surely her clothes weren't that atrocious. And, she found her jeans to be very comfortable. Still, she wasn't sure how long she'd be in this time, so it would be nice to have at least one other outfit.
Dorea finally called for a house elf to take Hermione back to her room to change. Hermione felt Sirius's eyes on her as she walked out the door, her circle skirt swishing around her legs as she walked.
Just when she was barely out of earshot, she heard Dorea's disdainful assessment of her. "What an odd girl," she said, without a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "James, if you ever raised a daughter to be like that, I'd disown you."
She could barely hear James's nervous chuckle in response.