The Return

Any recognisable part is not mine. Harry Potter is also not mine. I don't think JKR would write Harry Potter fanfics.

"Expelliarmus!" he yelled — except that his wasn't the only voice that shouted. There was a blast that made the door rattle on its hinges; Snape was lifted off his feet and slammed into the wall, then slid down it to the floor, a trickle of blood oozing from under his hair. He had been knocked out.

And then Harry screamed. A massive flux of memories, emotions, fears and thoughts flooded into the boy. He clutched at his head and screamed and screamed. Whatever had happened to him was not normal, Harry knew. But then again, when was his life normal?

As the flux receded, he felt another presence within him, a presence that seemed both foreign and familiar. It was the consciousness of the Harry of the future, of the world he had just destroyed.

Behind him, he heard the voice of an angel. It was a beautiful voice, one that he had craved to hear for quite some time now, and one that he was very much familiar with at the same time. That voice was currently shrill out of anger and worry. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?" Hermione shrieked at Black. "WHAT DID YOU DO?"

On his part Sirius was staring at his screaming godson in worry. What had happened to Harry? Did he have recurring bouts of migraines? Were his memories modified? Such headaches were sure signs of the blocks breaking down.

While all this drama was taking place, within Harry, there was a tumult as the two consciousnesses warred for control. Finally the physical Harry acquiesced to the older consciousness' command. "Stun Wormtail!" the other Harry ordered. "We have to free Sirius!" Harry duly stunned the writhing rat with a red bolt of magic.

"Cede control for some time, please!"

Harry did that. And then he levelled his wand at the prone form of Severus Snape. Harry was worried. Did Snape piggyback into the past by botching the ritual? Would he restart the war? Would he kill Neville all over again? He decided to take decisive action.

"AVADA – " he started, but was disarmed by Remus tackling him.

"Geroff Moony! That piece of shite killed Neville and helped kill Padfoot! He is Voldemort's man! Lemme kill him Moony!"

This tirade shocked everyone in the room into a stunned silence.

"Pup?" called Sirius cautiously, in his raspy voice.

Harry looked at him warily for a second, the two parallel tracks of thought warring within him, one unsure and one overflowing with guilt, sorrow and happiness at seeing the man. Then he flew at Sirius Black and wrapped him in the tightest hug possible. Turning around, he saw Ron lying on the bed, his leg broken. Hermione was looking at him with wide eyes. He then saw the rat lying on the ground, unmoving by Moony's feet. Unbidden the tears came.

"You are alive!" he rasped, shaking with sobs. "You are all alive!"

He first pointed his wand at Ron, though his hand was still shaking, and with a less-than-firm "Ferrula!" which caused Ron to hiss momentarily in pain and then look at his friend in shock, trussed up the redhead's leg. Then he gave the boy a (very manly) hug.

"You did it Ron! Even though you won't remember it, you bloody did it!" he yelled half in jubilation.

Ron exchanged a worried glance with Sirius Black of all people.

Harry was unmindful. He hugged Hermione very tightly instead, murmuring, "You are alive, my angel! You are alive, love, you're alive! You are alive, my beautiful Minnie!" as he refused to let go. Hermione couldn't understand where all this had come from, but his loving embrace was causing her to feel all sorts of tingly things up and down her spine and her stomach to perform somersaults. That was until he drew back, green eyes shining with tears.

For Harry, it was nearly a year since he had last seen the woman he loved alive and well. It was nearly a year since he had had to burn her undead body as she approached him as an inferius. He couldn't stop himself as he whispered, "Merlin! I missed you! Don't ever leave me again!" He had to stop himself from kissing her within an inch of her sanity.

On her part Hermione simply couldn't understand the depth of emotion Harry was showing. What had happened to him to make him so affectionate towards her?

Harry spied the skies darkening even as he turned away from Hermione with a sniffle. Years of taking several things on board simultaneously meant he was very well aware of the situation he was in. "Moony?" he called.

"Yes cub?"

"You haven't taken your potion today. Go. I'll handle things here. Stay in your office. Send a Patronus as soon as you reach there. Do not come onto the grounds. There will be lots of soul-sucking going on here."

Remus blanched and rushed off.

Sirius decided that he'd had enough. "Will someone tell me what exactly is going on here?"

Still staring at Harry, Hermione answered. "Believe me, Mr. Black, I am just as unsure as you are."

Presently, Harry decided to really handle the situation first. Returning the wand Sirius had questionably procured, he asked his godfather a favour. "Conjure a shackling chair, will you Padfoot? Our esteemed friends here need to be asked a few questions."

Sirius could make neither head nor tail of the situation, but decided to follow Harry's lead for the time being.

Settling Snape onto the chair, Harry first shackled him and bound him for good measure. It was only then that he revived the man.

Snape had barely been conscious for two moments when he sneered at the people in the room. "POTTER!" he shouted. "I'LL HAVE YOU EXPELLED FOR THIS, YOU LITTLE BRAT!"

His tirade was cut off as Harry (relieved by the fact that Snape had not regained those memories, if his first concern was getting Harry expelled) socked him in the jaw and then shook his hand almost involuntarily with a sound of disgust, muttering "Oily! So oily!"

"POTTER!" shouted Snape again.

"Oh, shut up Snivellus! You haven't realised, I think, that you are at my mercy, at the mercy of a Potter, once more in the Shrieking Shack as a Potter saves the skin of a Black! Learn to shut up for once!"

For all his traitorous faults, Snape was not a fool. He realised something – there really was something wrong with Potter.

"Now," Harry continued, "since these will be your last few hours on this plane of existence before you quite literally go to hell, you will answer my questions."

Severus was slightly shocked by Potter's presumption and cheek. There was a slight interruption as Remus' wolf informed them that he was secure.

"However, I know for a fact that you will not be so easy to break, so I shall take certain steps. Dobby!"

The enthusiastic house-elf materialised to Harry's side. "The Great Harry –"

"I am pleased to meet you too, Dobby, but right now, I need a little help," Harry commanded firmly.

"Yes sir, Harry Potter!" Dobby accepted shrilly with a military salute.

"Good! I need you to fetch the Sword of Gryffindor from wherever it currently is. Handle it carefully and remember to not touch the blade under any circumstances. Test that it is the correct sword by taking it near any spider – it will run away. After that, I need you to fetch the vial of Phoenix tears – no; make it two vials of Phoenix tears from the Potion Master's cabinet. Then go directly to Madam Pomfrey and fetch a pepper-up potion. Can you do that?"

"Yes sir." The elf promptly popped off.

"And now we wait," said Harry with a smile.

Three minutes later Dobby popped in with his cargo. "Thank you Dobby. You have been most kind. If I could bother you further, could you please summon Amelia Bones? Tell her that Harry Potter has the betrayer of the Potters with him, but not to bring along the dementors. She will also need a legal notarisation regarding exoneration. Also tell her expressly to not mention this to the Minister."

Dobby repeated his instructions and popped off again.

Harry retrieved the small bottle of the potion and handed it to Sirius after lacing it liberally with Phoenix tears – an entire vial, in fact. Sirius drank it without question. Whatever it was, the Pup was helping him, certainly.

"Now, Snivellus, tell me who you really serve."

Snape sneered at him. "You will regret this Potter!" he hissed.

"Wrong answer!" sang Harry, and nicked his hand with the blade. Immediately the place where Harry had cut him started turning black and blue as the poison started spreading.

"What have you done?" Snape asked in shock.

"Answer my question first, Snivellus."

By now, the man was losing the control of his tongue and knew that Potter would kill him with impunity. "Dha Dzaak Lol!"

"Hmm. I should let you die, but I have a few more questions to ask, so..." he placed a miniscule drop of Phoenix Tears on the nick and one on the man's tongue.

"YOU!"

"SHH!" Harry shushed him sharply. "You are going to die, Snape. I know what you really are. Next question. Tell me, did Voldemort tell you to guard something within the castle?"

"I won't tell y-AAAH!" Harry had nicked him again.

"Don't you learn, Death Eater?" Harry asked incredulously as Snape started losing muscle control again. When the man wouldn't answer, Harry flicked a drop of the Tears into each of his eyes, curing his eyesight, and depriving Snape of it simultaneously.

Severus had no respite. "Yeth!"

"Where is it?"

"Sheber o' seegets!"

"Is it now?" He withdrew another drop of Tears and put it tantalisingly close to Severus' wound. "Tell the truth Snivellus."

"Issh id da shebber dab id!"

Harry tilted the hand so that the tear flowed onto the wound healing it.

"Did you follow Ginny Weasley into the Chamber last year?"

"No." Severus was now answering without protest. "I wasn't sure whether I'd get out if I got in."

"Good answer. Now, goodbye." He pointed his wand at the Potions Master and stunned him. "I will not miss you when the Dementors accidentally kiss you later, Snivellus."

Harry happily turned to the others in the room.

Predictably, Hermione was the first to fire of her questions. "Harry what was that? Why were you crying? What is going on? Why are you going to have Snape accidentally kissed? Why did you hug Sirius Black? What is it with the rat?"

Harry was still amused with the way the girl who'd go on to be his wife spoke and with how much she could speak in one breath. "I will give you an overview. That rat is Peter Pettigrew. Next year, he and Bartemius Crouch Junior would put me into the Triwizard Tournament to use my blood to resurrect Voldemort. There was a very big war that started. We lost. We lost heavily. Sirius dies two years from now – Bellatrix killed him. This vermin here, Peter, killed mine and Ron's family, and Luna Lovegood, as well as Neville's kids. Snape killed Neville in 2014 and Dumbledore in 1998."

"Pup/Harry?" gasped Sirius, Ron and Hermione.

"You've travelled back in time?"

"Yes. One of me has."

"One of you?"

"This fucker here," he explained, pointing at Snape, "was one of the people Ron, Ginny and I had Imperiused to serve as sacrifice. He broke the Imperius – never was Gin's best spell by the way, but she does throw a mean Avada Kedavra, you know – and botched up the ritual Ron and I had found out. Somehow that sent that Harry's consciousness to me as well. The plan was to just send my memories." Harry blinked once he had offloaded that information. "Fuck. That's so twisted!"

"Language!" chastised Hermione automatically.

"I'd scold you too, pup," Sirius started and Harry completed, "but that would make you a hypocrite."

"That I'd be," Sirius replied with a grin. He felt lighter since he had been given the Tears.

"So, let me get this straight, you are from 2015 and from 1994," Ron summarised sceptically.

"Yep. Just so you could be convinced, I was told to tell you that you are still scared of the moment when the Egyptian Sphinx turned and looked at you."

"What? How'd you know that? I never told you!"

"Exactly! You told me that on the Autumnal Equinox day of 2015."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did we do that?"

Harry sobered up. "As I said, Peter led an army of Death Eaters into the Burrow. He killed our families and turned them all into Inferi. I had to burn my children's and wife's bodies, as had you. Then we had to burn the Inferi made from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's bodies, Gin's partner's body, Charlie's body...so fucking many. You, Ginny and I were the only ones left."

Ron's face turned ashen at that, but Hermione was still not convinced. "Nobody can travel back in time."

"So you aren't wearing a time turner on a necklace?" Harry asked innocently. Hermione only opened and closed her mouth like a fish.

"Fine!"

Harry just smirked.

They waited patiently for Dobby to turn up with Amelia Bones when they started to feel the cold.

"Dementors," Sirius hissed as he started shaking.

"Wuss!" Harry taunted, and summoned Prongs inside the room. As the stag pranced around, Harry rolled Severus Snape out into the grounds exposing him to the dementors while stunned. It was done with the full knowledge that the dementors would wine and dine on his soul. Harry watched the gruesome scene using a window charm. "So much for the treacherous bastard," he sighed.

"Harry!" Hermione rebuked when he returned. Well that was an understatement. "You basically murdered him!"

"I did. So? He murdered Neville, Hermione. They sent us his head, then his torso, then his limbs, one at a time. That is what Snape is. Or was. He was a murderer, plain and simple. I will not waste my morals on such things. You heard him now. He is Voldemort's man through and through. That, right there is one Death Eater less. You'll understand the true extent of the horrors when you see my memories. Then you will wish that it had been you that killed Snape."

Staring at her friend was all she could do. What had they done to him in the future?

Turning to the rat, Harry forced the snivelling piece of vermin into his human form and tied him into the chair after several stunners.

Ron could only goggle at the man that had lived as his pet. "We let him into Gin's room as a prank!"

"Don't worry. We checked in the future. He did nothing to her."

Ron could only sigh in relief.

At long last, Amelia came. Or to be precise, Dobby kidnapped her and set her in front of Pettigrew.

"That's Peter Pettigrew!" she exclaimed.

"We happen to know that, Your Grace," Padfoot said with a theatrical bow.

"Sirius Black!" Amelia automatically brought out her wand to bear.

"Expelliarmus!" was the firm rebuke from Harry as she was disarmed. Wagging a finger at her, he scolded, "You don't get to do that, Your Grace. You have failed in your duty to uphold justice. My innocent godfather got no trial. Now you will arrange a trial tomorrow for both of these people. This will be done at breakfast tomorrow. You will bring the Minister and your top Aurors, whom you shall test for their loyalties beforehand, tomorrow in a surprise visit. You will not let anyone know about it beforehand. The trial will not move out of Hogwarts. I shall be the executioner tomorrow for Peter Pettigrew, as is my right. Am I clear?"

"Mr. Potter..." Lady Bones started with a frown.

"Am I clear Madam? This is non-negotiable. You say no and I will personally ensure that the Ministry falls. The Blacks are an Ancient and Noble House in their own right, and I am not beneath using the Boy-Who-Lived card in this case."

"Is that a threat?"

"Take it as you will. Sirius has been denied justice, either wilfully or through neglect. You have placed yourself in a poor position through your lax attitude as well. It was your duty to ensure that the prisoners in Azkaban all had trials. You failed. You are just as big a failure as the morally and financially corrupt Cornelius Fudge," he sneered at her. The Susan he knew would have hammered him into oblivion for speaking to her aunt that way. "Don't worry. He won't be the Minister for long," he added.

"Very well. It will be as you say." Amelia couldn't protest. She had failed.

"Thank you, Your Grace. I can understand the precarious position I've put you in. However, you might not know that due to his dabbling in Necromancy, Voldemort is not dead."

Amelia turned her head so fast, she nearly had whiplash.

"Yes. I shall explain everything soon. There was also a real prophecy made to me by Sybil Trelawney today that a servant of his will set out to seek him. We have ensured Severus Snape has been kissed, and that Peter Pettigrew will die tomorrow at my hands. We shall speak at length soon."

In one of the rudest things he had ever had Dobby do, he ordered the elf to pop Amelia back to her home.

"Minnie, give me the time turner, will you? Got a feathered friend to save!"

Hermione numbly acquiesced. What was turning out to be yet another adventure had become so much more. Harry shifted to the time that Walden McNair was trudging up to Buckbeak.

As Walden McNair was about to swish the axe, a spell made the ground beneath him slippery. The axe slipped from his hand, and was invisibly levitated, before falling blade-first onto his head, cleaving it into two. He was instantly killed. He wasn't a big loss really – well, to Voldemort he might have been. He was into Veela trade, and had taken great pleasure in executing the half-breed Hagrid under Umbridge's orders. Hmm. She would have to be taken care of.

Leaving a blustering Cornelius and a flummoxed Dumbledore (Harry was grateful that he couldn't be seen. Over time he had come to realise that Dumbledore really had to look at the big picture. He no longer revered the man as he once did, but respect Albus Dumbledore he did. Dumbledore had been a massive loss) behind, Harry went forward in time to when he had left.

"There," he said jovially. "One Walden McNair is dead by his...own hands. And One Hippogriff is saved."

Ron goggled at his friend in horror and inched away from him. "Harry!" he rasped. "You just killed another man!"

"So what? He was a Death Eater! The sheer litany of his war crimes is enormous!"

"But killing?" Ron remonstrated weakly.

"You know, I really wish we could've brought you back as well. In the last year alone, we killed some seventy odd people between us."

"I killed?" Ron asked, even more horror-struck.

"Yes. I need ten to match you, I think, though that you'd probably say that going back in time to match you was unfair. Your final score was, I think, three hundred and seventy-ish. Somewhere in that range."

Not even Hermione could bring herself to scold Ron when he succinctly summarised his feelings as, "Fuck," eschewing his customary, "Bloody Hell!"

"It's like that for all of us. Hermione, Lavender Brown, Susan Bones all killed some fifty-sixty people, till we hid them because they were pregnant and they worked the intelligence, Luna Lovegood was better with healing and stuff though she killed some thirty people as well, and Ginny killed two hundred, then Neville killed fifty more than her. We were the core eight, the four Killer Couples. We'd broken off from the Order for a while because of differences with Dumbledore, but then there was only the Order and us eight left, and Voldemort kept winning. So we joined them back. Fred, George and Lee and you, Gin and I were the two best strike teams for our side. We killed and killed and killed." He snorted mirthlessly. "When reckoning comes, I am sure that I am going to hell."

"And we won't?" asked Hermione archly, unwilling to let Harry take all the blame.

"You aren't stained anymore, Minnie. I am. It's alright anyway. I'll go to hell if it means our families and the children can be kept safe."

"In that case it is them that will go to hell, Harry," Hermione said fiercely. He thanked her with a nod and a weak smile.

"I have a different problem," Sirius interjected. He was being strangely pragmatic. "Snivellus here botched the ritual. Do you know what exactly the other effects of that might be?"

This was bad. Not because of the idea of side-effects, merely. Sirius, a Marauder, was thinking of the consequences of something that Harry, with about as much experience with if not affinity for pranks, had done. It was just not done.

"I don't know, really," he answered in a small voice.

"And you couldn't think of asking that?"

"Bloody hell, man! I come back in time and you are giving me a bollocking about one tiny thing!" When Sirius merely raised an eyebrow...a very dirty eyebrow at that, Harry shut up.

"Well one of the side effects is that I reached about a year later. I was supposed to reach the 1st of September and catch Wormtail in time," Harry mused. "Snape had moved from his point, as had Ron who was going to drag Snivellus back to his spot." Frowning for a second, he concluded, "Snape didn't have the memories for sure."

"So, since Snape's dead, and Ron's alive, I think we should expect him to have some flashes," reasoned Hermione.

"Possibly..." accepted Sirius.

"That'd be good, you know. This Ron's okay," he said mock-dismissively, "That one was a pure killer."

"Hmm...It'll be useful won't it?" teased Hermione. "A better version of Ron..."

Ron protested with an "Oi!" and huffed.

They hadn't even realised that the dementors had left during the conversation. Harry couldn't have felt sorrow at that moment.

"There's another possible effect...one of the other sacrifices might have been given Snape's memories."

No dementor could've matched the impact of that statement. Harry paled horribly.

"Quick Ron, try and remember who those Death Eaters we used were!" Harry ordered, before slapping his forehead in exasperated and frustrated realisation. "Why was Severus Snape ever bloody born?" he yelled.

"You are seriously off your rocker, Harry!" Ron informed him with all the air of a pathologist telling the patient that he or she had a very terrible terminal illness.

"I think we should really talk about something else," Hermione declared amidst the disjointed conjecture and pronunciations which were becoming increasingly grim. "We have got a head start on things, so it's better to secure what we do know. And more importantly, we need to take Ron to the Hospital Wing."

Sirius looked suddenly sheepish. "Sorry about that, er Ron was it?"

Ron only gave an affected grimace.

"What about him though?" Sirius continued, jerking a thumb at Peter.

"Transfigure him into a ball, Padfoot. We can always bounce him along."

Sirius' grin at that was a mile wide. And so, limping boy, supporting friends (one of them bouncing a ball intermittently) and a big, black dog made their way to the school. Harry's cloak had been stowed away into Sirius' pocket.

Dumbledore was already there, sitting with a frown as he sat beside the practically dead potion master's bedside. When he saw the odd party trooping in, his face showed a tumult of expressions.

"Where, may I ask, have you all been?" he interrogated them.

"We were bringing Ron here, sir. He broke his leg. I trussed it up, but it's not very well done," younger-Harry explained, pointing at his friend.

Dumbledore had no doubt that it was an evasion. Harry usually had an end of the year adventure, and he had been waiting for it for quite some time.

"That doesn't answer my question, Mr. Potter."

"I know sir. I promise you that you will have more answers than you bargained for. I only ask you to wait I can tell you everything. It will be later tomorrow."

Dumbledore looked at his student with wide-eyes. "More than I bargained?"

"Much more, sir, much more than you bargained. I will drop you some hints if you stop with your Legillimency attempts."

The old man didn't look abashed in the slightest. "I hope you will understand the necessity. I have a teacher who was kissed, one Ministry Worker who died on the castle grounds, and what I can sense as two illegal animagi though I can only see one animal."

Inclining his head a touch, Harry decided to drop the old man a bone. "Bluntness suits you better than your secrets, sir."

Dumbledore's eyes grew wide in surprise. "What do you mean by that, my boy?"

"Another prophecy was made by Sybil Trelawney today, this one with me as the recipient, as you were for the first, as you told me." Dumbledore now held more than just surprise. How did the boy know? When did he tell Harry? "That was the first hint."

A thought wormed its way into Dumbledore's mind.

"The second is that you found out the way to cure my scar, and we now know the other seven things like the Diary, and the scar. It is a runic exorcism. We don't know the hiding places, though."

The worming thought became a full-fledged drill. Time. That was the answer: time. Fearing what he would hear next, he asked the man – for he now had no doubt that it wasn't a boy he was talking to, but a man – he asked, "The third?"

"I killed the Death Eaters Walden McNair and Severus Snape. Snape was a traitor. You now owe me a moral, if not a real, life debt."

"You killed?" Dumbledore rasped, even as he tried to get around the fact that Severus had murdered him in the future.

"Yes. You eventually agreed with that course of action, out of sheer desperation."

Deciding that Harry was giving Dumbledore a hint too many, Sirius transformed. "Do you really trust him, pup?"

"We have to Sirius. I lost the reverence I had for him, but not the respect and not all my trust. I have to trust him. He still is the one person who is strategically important – alive for us, and dead for them. I intend for as many people as can truly help us to know. And he is the only one I can trust to cleanse my scar – don't ask what that means, I'll tell you everything soon. The other important reason is that we really don't have time."

Dumbledore noticed the easy conversation between supposed mass-murderer and traitor, and the one he had supposedly betrayed, as well as the transition from 'we' to 'I'. He also realised, that Harry certainly knew about his reluctance to exorcise the scar soul-shard till he had seen fit to purge it. That had taken away the 'reverence' as he claimed. But he had not told anyone but him – and even then, indirectly – that he knew why Dumbledore had not removed the scar, or that he could have done so, before then. It was information that would put Sirius and Remus against him, without a doubt. So Harry too was seeing the bigger picture, in a way. He would throw his lot in completely with the boy – man. He had no choice anyway.

"One last question, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore started, far more courteously than he had ever spoken to any student. "Was it that horrible?"

"All in due time, Professor; I had hoped, though, that your inference would be explanation enough. Now that you know where I come from, perhaps you'd consent to a small drama tomorrow? My father's, godfather's and uncle Remus' legacy demands to be upheld."

A not too subtle way to tell him who the traitor was, Dumbledore mused. Eyes twinkling, he agreed. "Indeed, Harry. Such stellar legacies must be upheld."

"Thank you, sir. Just pretend to be afraid, will you?"

Dumbledore wanted to smile, but it only came out as a worried grimace. "Indeed." Then looking at the bedraggled Sirius and the now grimacing, injured Ron, he called out, "Poppy!"

The matron came in. Looking at Sirius, she shrieked, "It's Sirius Black!"

"Yes, I know, Poppy. I need you to trust me on this. Don't bother with Snape. Make sure that Sirius is comfortable. He is innocent." Harry had taken the first few steps. Albus decided to meet him halfway. Doffing his hat, he hurried out of the Hospital Wing, with a muttered, "Till tomorrow."

That move stunned all those present.

"Did Dumbledore essentially ask Poppy to let Snape die?" Sirius asked in wonder.

"As it so happens, yes, he did," the matron answered. "Severus is a lost cause anyway," she muttered, as she set about healing Ron and Sirius.

Harry and Hermione moved away to accord them all privacy. Harry transfigured a bed at the end of the ward into a strong solid steel cage, with a few holes to allow air to pass through. Placing the ball inside, he transfigured it back to Pettigrew, and stunned him again for good measure.

Harry and Hermione then sat beside the cage, with him casually placing an arm around her and drawing her into a hug. Hermione revelled in the contact.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Were we close in the future?"

"I cannot answer that question without infringing on your free will, Hermione." Actually, he could have. But the thought of a live Hermione, and the soothing contact with her had completely short-circuited his brain.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Harry sighed. This had been one of his biggest fears when he had returned. "In the future, you had fallen in love, you had married, and you had three wonderful children before you were murdered. I have already changed the timeline heavily within the first few hours itself. It is entirely possible that you won't even like the person you married then."

"Oh." Hermione was clearly thinking about it. "If I ask a question, will you answer it truthfully?"

"I will try. If I cannot, I will tell you so."

"Was it you?"

"Was I what?"

"Were you the person I married and had children with?"

Harry was quiet for a long moment as he erected a silencing ward around them. "You were always too clever," he said finally.

Hermione took that to mean a yes. "So you were."

Deciding that he couldn't – and even if he could, wouldn't – lie to her, he nodded to confirm her conclusion. Hermione looked like she was torn between happiness and hurt. Harry couldn't understand that at all.

"Then don't you like me anymore?" she asked a bit timidly.

This couldn't go uncorrected. "I don't just like you, Minnie. I love you. I love you so much that it was like dying a hundred times each minute, living without you. I told you, didn't I, that, I had to burn yours and our children's bodies? It killed me as a human, making me a bloodthirsty beast. I couldn't help myself when I saw you again. You know I cried, don't you? Have I ever cried before?"

Hermione could feel her heart swelling as Harry told her about their love in the future. Unfortunately, Harry put a damper on her joy, inadvertently.

"But now, I am nearly fourteen, and I am thirty five as well. Sometimes I'll be a bit too old for you, and sometimes I'll be the Harry you know. Don't you deserve better than someone like me, who is of this time, yet doesn't truly belong here?"

Narrowing her eyes in what Harry knew as anger, she stood and straddled Harry's outstretched legs, pinning him with a steely glare. Unmindful of the rather compromising position, she grabbed Harry's face and admonished him. "That is not your place to decide, Harry James Potter. You loved me. As the thirty five year old you did. Do you love me, as the nearly fourteen year old?"

"I think I do. You did cause biological boy-things to happen to me for the first time." Hermione started blushing at that. "But knowing the future we had now, I think I like you more than that too," Harry answered candidly. It was through practice that he had known that candour always cooled Hermione's temper. He hadn't needed to grow and marry her for that. He then added in a small voice, "But Big-me also feels it quite a bit creepy that he just physically snogged a fourteen year old girl."

"Is your body thirty five?" Hermione demanded. "And is little-you," she wrinkled her nose a bit at that terminology, "non-existent?"

Harry shook his head vigorously.

"Then let me decide whether or not I deserve better and whether or not it is creepy. As it stands, if you love me, I can think of nothing better, do you understand?"

"Yes Ma'am. But there remains a question."

"Yes?"

"Do you like me, or is this because I am your friend, and you feel obligated due to me telling you about the future?"

Hermione stared at her crush (not-so-secret, if her dorm-mates were to be asked) with not a little anger. "Do I look like someone who would feel obligated to anyone, Harry? If you think so then you don't know me at all. I was so disheartened when those Dursleys refused to sign that stupid Hogsmeade form!"

"Oh."

"'Oh' he says," Hermione taunted with an unladylike snort. "I was hoping that you might like me too."

"Of course I do! Big-me loves you. I think I'll settle for liking you, for now."

"Good." Then in a second they were kissing. Harry wondered why and how Hermione was suddenly being so forward, but couldn't really find it in himself to complain. Hormones were working faster than his mind. Hermione was revelling in the rather forbidden and mortifying, yet strangely delightful feeling of Harry wanting her in all ways, as the rather physical evidence that she happened to be sitting on confirmed. Harry was revelling in this renewed closeness with his wife, as the images of the thirty five year old woman that was his wife, and the nearly fifteen year old girl kissing him coalesced.

As the kiss started getting more passionate and hands started wandering, Harry broke off. Hermione pouted and assumed a very hurt expression.

"Hey! None of that now," protested Harry. "We have to be responsible. I can't push you into something I know you aren't ready for. And I think we should help Ron win his bet about when we finally get together and start dating in the right earnest. He was the one that got us together on Halloween 1996."

"I am not waiting for that long," Hermione declared with a huff, even as her traitorous body fought with her responsible mind regarding the validity of Harry's compunctions.

"We can get him to change his bet, Regina cor meum..." Harry placated with another searing kiss.

Hermione melted back into the kiss with a happy sigh.

Pulling back slightly the two stared into ech others' eyes again.

"You weren't this forward the last time, Minnie. What's different?"

Hermione concluded that Harry was trying to see how much he could get her to blush. "Did I tell you when I started to like you?"

"No, not really. We just started dating on Halloween '96. That day our date was broken early because someone passed a cursed object to Katie Bell. We then spent the rest of our date trying to arrange her transport to Hogwarts and then St. Mungo's. After that, it was war, a small break, war, more war, we got married just after a fight when you became Valkyrie-Hermione, and a small honeymoon to Sirius' island in the Carribeans, then more war, then children and war, death and war. So we really didn't get to just talk and be a young couple in love," Harry explained with a shrug. "I really would have liked to know more about you. Those would have been more things to love about you, you know."

"Did you practise your lines, Harry?"

"Only on you and for you, Hermione. Though I did briefly go astray and dated Cho Chang before we started dating," he informed her hesitantly. Then shying away from her gaze, he continued, "I am sorry."

Hermione felt a sharp pang of hurt when he told her about the Asian girl. But he was trying to be honest. "Are you likely to date her now?" she asked archly.

"Of course not," came the instant and vehement reply.

"Then don't try to say things that you think might dissuade me."

Harry smiled sheepishly and ducked his head. "So, when did you start liking me then?"

"Last year," Hermione declared. "I heard you when you used to come to talk to me. I thought it was very sweet of you. So I did have a crush on you already. But I didn't think you'd like a mousy little bookworm back. But when earlier you told me that..."

"You were my wife, and I loved you, you just decided to go with it," Harry completed. Hermione nodded. "That's good," Harry decided, as he claimed her lips again.

"Harry?" she asked sometime later. "Were we happy?"

"As much as we could be within a war," Harry replied without hesitation. "We had a family, and we were very much in love." He gathered her closer in an embrace. Suddenly he had a very devious idea.

"I love you, Hermione," he hissed into her ear in Parseltongue. "I love you so very much."

Hermione's breath hitched and she gave an involuntary moan. When she regained her senses, she moved away from Harry a bit. "Why, Mr. Potter, you seem to have some practice with that..."

Harry simply moved closer and whispered, "You have had alternate uses for Parseltongue on your dirty mind ever since you found out about my ability last year. I was shocked at all that you could imagine, you naughty girl."

Hermione turned redder than her Gryffindor tie.

As he moved away, younger-Harry came to the fore, and started blushing too, as the memories of all that he and Hermione had indulged in, in private, became prominent in his mind's eye. He muttered, "I can't believe I said that. Hell, I can't believe I did that."