A/N: I'd be curious to know what you think of this one, so let me know your impression afterward. As always, thank you so much for your wonderful reviews. Knowing that so many of you are enjoying this is really what keeps me going!

The Truth

The Invisibility Cloak's disappearance - theft - had so thrown Hermione that she missed any chance of intercepting Harry before he reached their common room and the safety of his own quarters. So she did the only thing she could do: retreat until a better opportunity to erase his memory presented itself.

That they shared a common room was particularly helpful. But if he left under the protection of his own Invisibility Cloak, it'd be extremely difficult for her to strike him in transit.

She could only hope that it wouldn't be too late.

He must have been preparing to enter the passageway if he'd been so close to it when she exited, she deduced. And if he was one of the very few people privy to the fact that Lucius Malfoy was in fact alive - privy to his location, even… it meant that Harry Evans had suddenly become a much more dangerous enemy than a brooding man with a grudge.

She felt ill by the time she dragged herself into the Head Girl's quarters. Pansy was curled in a plush accent chair by the long set of windows lining the western wall, nibbling on the edge of her braid, book in hand. A few weeks earlier, Hermione had shown her the many highly useful academic volumes she'd kept in the knapsack during the Trio's campaign against Voldemort, then hidden them on a small shelf next to the window, disillusioning it in case anyone else entered the room. Pansy had diligently begun to go through the collection, even though, with the House-Witch bond, she couldn't actually practice any of the spells inside.

She gave Hermione a cursory glance in greeting, then looked up at her again and swiftly put down her book. "Hermione? What's the matter?"

Hermione simply shook her head and walked over to the bed, collapsing face forward onto it. Every muscle in her body felt heavy with exhaustion. She'd promised Draco that she'd save him from the Weasleys. She'd promised herself that she'd find a way home. But the more she learned, the more she saw that the first vow was presenting itself to have near-impenetrable barriers. And now, if Harry Evans turned her in to the Sovereignty…

She'd fail at both.

She felt the bed shift, as if Pansy had sat down on it nearby. A hand gently touched her shoulder. "Hermione?"

Hermione mentally cursed and reminded herself to go to the Room of Requirement if something like this happened again, so she could recover without having to maintain at least half an appearance of control, for Pansy's sake… the woman who had to rely on Hermione for her very survival.

She closed her eyes and took a breath, wrestling down her panic.

Pull it together, Hermione. She's got it far worse than you do.

She steeled her nerves and her face, then pushed herself up. Moving to join Pansy at the edge of the bed, she said slowly, "We may have a… slight problem."

For a moment, Pansy's face fell - Hermione had learned that Pansy's expressive face was a clear gateway to her emotions, at least for the first several seconds during which she was feeling them - before she swallowed hard. "What is it?" she asked hesitantly.

Hermione pressed her lips together, her attention drawn out the window at breathtaking grounds on an unusually clear day… one of the few things that hadn't changed between worlds. "I needed to Obliviate someone and I missed my chance. But," she added more determinedly than she felt as Pansy's eyes widened in horror, "I'll get another opportunity soon."

"Who was it?"

Harry's cold wrath seared into her memory.

One day, Granger, I will kill you.

Her stomach clenched and the hair rose along the back of her neck at the thought of his words. She suppressed a shiver, her gaze returning to the sinking sun. As much as she didn't want to give Harry Evans any sort of power over her, she couldn't deny that receiving a direct death threat was unnerving; she had no idea how Harry Potter had lived with one for years, and from a Dark Lord, no less.

"Harry Evans," she bit out, her jaw tight.

For a moment, Pansy was silent. "Why?" she burst out.

Hermione figured it'd be safe enough to share the details of this with her - both Pansy's and her fate were essentially entwined, now - so she quickly relayed discovering Lucius Malfoy under the vampire statue. As she retold her encounter with Harry, and how much Harry inexplicably seemed to despise her, she found herself growing increasingly convinced - and panicked - that this time, he wouldn't let any blackmail she held over him keep him from completely buggering her over at the first chance he got.

"-and if I don't get to him in time, I've no doubt he'll run off and bring our mother and the full force of the entire Sovereignty down over our heads, and there's no way I can fight that, Pansy. I need more time." Time to read enough books to learn what it was that sent her to this cursed world in the first place and then get herself back where she was meant to be as quickly as possible.

That was it - she just needed to buy some time.

Survival surged through her veins. "Right. If he does retaliate, we can take the tunnels out of Hogwarts. At least one of them must still be open. Once we get to Hogsmeade-"

"Let me talk to him," Pansy said suddenly.

"-we can Apparate to…"

Hermione's monologue lurched to a stop. She blinked, backpedaling to process Pansy's interruption, and swiveled her head toward her. "What?"

Pansy's blue eyes widened, as if she herself was astonished at her own words. Quickly, she looked down at her lap, clasping her hands together tightly. "I-I mean, I… You'll... let me, won't you?"

Hermione stared at her in bewilderment. "Why?" At the multiple ways that could have been interpreted, she hastily added, "...would you want to, I mean?"

Determination suddenly crossed Pansy's face, the expression one Hermione had never seen the usually reticent woman wear. "Just let me talk to him. I might be able to - well - to fix it."

Hermione didn't see how that was at all possible, and a state of total confusion was one she was never pleased to occupy. Harry Evans was on an entirely different level of violence and personal issues. Pansy didn't even have magic to protect herself.

"Listen," she said cautiously, "I know you have just as much of a stake in all of this as I do, but that's really not a good idea."

Pansy bit her lip, but her eyes were wide and earnest. "Hermione, please, just - trust me."

Universe B Pansy often seemed more than a bit ingenuous, but her quiet strength, which occasionally bubbled to the surface, would usually be enough to remind Hermione that the witch wasn't as naive as she seemed. Now, though, she was beginning to seriously question that assumption. "Not until I know how you expect to 'fix it,' Pansy!"

Pansy just continued to stare at her pleadingly, anxiety scrawled across every inch of her face.

A very faint, sneaking suspicion began to tug at the back of Hermione's mind.

She frowned against it. No. That was certainly impossible. There was no evidence for it.

Except for the normally-timid Pansy suddenly begging to talk to Harry as though she thought she had a real chance to solve all of this. And Harry hating - not disliking, hating - My Granger with every breath in his body for something that had happened in the past few years.

And My having some unknown but all-powerful "blackmail" over Harry.

What if that blackmail wasn't something… but someone?

Still impossible, another part of her argued - other evidence in the form of everything she had ever seen of Harry Evans left her utterly unconvinced he had a shard of emotion in him, except for a murderous impulse to kill her and ignore everyone else.

Hermione closed her eyes, but the all-too-strong temptation to follow her instincts and better judgement lost regardless to the basic principle that she couldn't - wouldn't - let herself control Pansy's free will.

She let out a long breath.

"Alright," she said reluctantly, and the tension in Pansy's stiff shoulders suddenly sank. "But I'm coming with you," she added in case her new - and highly implausible - theory was incorrect. She pulled out her wand to emphasize this point.

The dark-haired woman smiled waveringly. "You have to. I can't walk through the door if you don't."

When Pansy took a deep breath and stood, Hermione took it to mean they were going now.

Wand at the ready, Harry Evans stepped into the Head common room as cautiously as a panther stalking its as-yet-unseen prey. After he found My Granger - he refused to think of her as an Evans - emerging from Lucius Malfoy's holding pen wearing a bleeding Invisibility Cloak and prepared to strike first, he knew he had to be cautious, that she could be a bigger threat than he realized.

But nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met his eyes.

My Granger and Pansy Parkinson were standing at the foot of the staircase leading up to his bedroom. Pansy had already begun to climb them, her hand on the railing a few steps up. Granger wasn't far behind.

He froze, every muscle in his body tightening. He must have made some kind of noise, however, because they spun toward him - only to freeze as well.

And for a minute… or maybe ten… all Harry could see was her face, her wide eyes boring into his.

No. This wasn't happening. Not again.

"Harry," she whispered.

He moved to cut her off before the sound of her voice could manifest the dread that threatened to overtake him, and leveled a deadly gaze on the woman standing below her.

"Don't you dare think you can intimidate me, Granger. There's nothing for it. I couldn't give less of a damn," he hissed, taking a step toward the stairs and lowering his his wand on her.

Before he reached them, Pansy rushed down the steps, her casually dressed form weaving alongside Granger's excessively tight uniformed one. "No, Harry, please. Listen to me." As if approaching a wild beast, she cautiously held out a hand. "This isn't like before. This is different."

As if; there was no bloody way he was about to believe those words hadn't been Ordered.

"I don't care what you have to say," he said coldly, resolutely ignoring her. "In fact, I don't care what happens to you at all."

Granger looked between them, a calculating, almost knowing expression on her face that made him grip his wand more tightly. In his long and twisted relationship with her, Granger hadn't been an idiot… not when it came to this. Mentally, he prepared himself to strike, in spite of his mentor's words in his head telling him to be cautious, to find out more, to play her game and bide his time.

That had been long before he'd known Granger was going to make good on her threat after all.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed Pansy turn toward Granger and shoot her a very pointed, pleading look, her gaze visibly defeated. The desperation and emotion in that single action lit something inside him he didn't know he still possessed.

In a heartbeat, his fury had boiled over. At least one thing he'd said was true - He just didn't care anymore.

"Get ready for hell, Granger," he hissed. "That's exactly where you're headed next." As Granger's eyes widened, he flung his wand at her face with every ounce of hatred he had.

Pansy started. "Harry, no!"

"Reducto!"

The spell hadn't even fully left his lips when Granger, shockingly, brandished her wand with the adroitness of a Quidditch star. A shimmering blue haze exploded out around both her and Pansy; the red light from his wand ricocheted off it into a chair, violently splintering the entire thing apart.

"Expelliarmus!" she shouted before the unexpected shield had even faded, ripping his wand from his hand.

A thick silence again descended upon the common room. Granger stepped back and stared at him evenly, holding his wand.

Harry's mind reeled.

My Granger had just conjured a powerful, nonverbal Shield Charm and disarmed him in the same breath. The majority of Sovereignty officials he knew couldn't even perform that spell correctly, let alone silently.

Ergo, there was no bloody way this was My Granger.

Despite his now-distinct disadvantage, Harry lifted his shoulders and advanced on her with all the authority his birth had bestowed upon him. "Do you know who I am, fool?" he spat. "If you're a Sovereignty agent, reveal yourself now. As Viceroy Evans' son, I order you to tell me immediately or face punitive action for your attack!"

Pansy and Granger exchanged another expression he didn't like one bit. His jaw tightened. "Tell me!"

"I'm not an agent," Granger said quickly.

He stepped right up to her, irregardless of who held both weapons. "What are you, then?"

She took a swift step backward up the stairs, her wand partially raised. "Perhaps if you'd actually listened to what Pansy was trying to tell you, you'd already have your answer."

He let out a snarl. "Lies you've fed her, you mean!" He grabbed the railing to launch himself up the stairs, and would have physically lunged at her then and there, had Pansy not suddenly shoved herself between them.

"Stop it! Both of you, just stop!"

Harry froze.

She turned toward him, intently staring up at his face. He could smell her from here, a combination of honeysuckle and jasmine, and this was not happening.

He set his jaw, wrestling in an unaccustomed rush of emotions before he could say or do something else that was inherently stupid and - and bloody Slytherin-like. But her suddenly determined gaze was unavoidable.

"Now, you need to listen to me, Harry Evans," she said firmly, her quiet voice gentle in spite of it. "You were right before - she isn't My. I can explain everything, but I - I don't want you to think it isn't true." She searched his face, her eyes abruptly glistening. "What can I do or say so you'll know she hasn't Ordered me?"

He gripped the banister, staring hard at the ground rather than at her. Between the time he'd stepped in the portrait hole and now, the world had turned on its head, and he suddenly had no bleeding idea which way was up or down or where or how to step without crashing to earth.

Steeling himself, he looked up at Granger - who'd remained shockingly quiet behind them - his eyes expressionless. "Give me her lead."

She and Pansy again looked at each other. His throat tightened. All their exchanged glances made him uneasy - was Pansy looking to Granger for direction? Orders?

But when Granger spoke, the word directed at Pansy, she oddly sounded as though she needed direction. "What's…?"

"The ruby bracelet. In the M box."

Granger's eyebrows raised, but she nodded shortly. Her eyes flicked over at him warily before she descended the stairs past him, her wand - and his - still gripped in her hand. He automatically tensed as she hurriedly brushed by and crossed the common room, until a light, cool pressure on the top of his hand caused his entire arm to jerk.

He stared down at Pansy's hand on his, then up at her face, which, despite everything that had happened and the time that had passed, still looked exactly the same. "Harry," she breathed, wrapping her hand fully around his.

Suddenly, he realized what was happening and yanked away his hand. "No."

So much pain filled her eyes that he had to look away. "You mean - You don't…?"

He whirled back toward her. "Of course I do!" he said tightly. "But if—"

He stopped speaking as My reappeared, practically racing down the steps. When she neared him, though, she slowed, approaching cautiously. She stopped several feet away and looked at Pansy. "You're sure about this."

When Pansy nodded, she sighed and held a thin red and gold bracelet out to Harry.

He had never been quite so astonished in all his life.

Numbly, he reached out and took it, but she continued to hold the top of the chain tightly. "Don't make me regret this."

Harry hadn't the slightest idea what that meant, so he simply scowled at her.

After a moment, she released it, holding up her hands. She looked extremely uncomfortable. "Alright, well, I'll just… I'll give you both some time, then."

And Granger actually left them together and walked away across the common room. Casually, she tilted her wand to shoot a jet of yellow light into the armchair that Harry's Reductor Curse had destroyed. She didn't give it a second glance to see the results as she continued on, but the splintered pieces swiftly reassembled themselves into a perfect match of what it had once been, as though the near-duel had never occurred.

For a man who prided himself in his ability to cover his emotions - well, except when he was furious - Harry couldn't keep his lips from parting slightly, dumbfounded, as she disappeared into her quarters. No explanation he'd come up with - and there'd been plenty - now seemed able to make absolutely any sense of anything at all.

"She's something, isn't she?" Pansy suddenly said quietly from his side.

He shut his mouth quickly and looked back at her. He'd thought about this moment more times than he could count, and had many more times forced himself to stop longing for what he objectively knew would surely never materialize. But now that it was actually here, he had no idea what to say, or do.

He only knew that every nerve in his body was suddenly buzzing as though he'd been Renervated while still conscious.

As if she sensed this - of course she did - she took the bracelet still hanging limply from his hand and closed his fingers around it. "Order me to tell you the truth."

His jaw tightened at the idea of Ordering her to do anything. But her hand, warm on his, clouded his ability to clearly rationalize a logical explanation or an appropriate course of action for the baffling turn of events.

"Pansy-" he gritted out.

"No. Please, Harry. It's alright. I want you to."

He had not felt this level of an emotion that was not hate or bitterness or no emotion at all since the war had ended, and he fought to contain it with every breath he had. "Tell me the truth," he finally said tonelessly.

She spoke immediately, her voice as reassuring as it had ever been. "I'm safe with My now. But she isn't My Granger anymore."

His attention was drawn to her swiftly. "She's Sovereignty?" he asked in a low voice, his brows narrowed.

Pansy shook her head. "No."

"Conservative?"

"Not quite."

He blinked. "Well, what is she?"

Pansy paused at that. "She's a friend; she's… well, there's an awful lot to say."

She sighed, then focused up on his face so intently he squeezed his eyes shut to ward off the force of her gaze. He still couldn't bring himself to accept that this wasn't a trick, that she was real, that this was anything other than some mad dream or ruse from which he would soon be rudely awakened. When her hands reached up to tenderly cradle both sides of his face, the air rushed from his lungs, and he began to breathe rapidly.

"Harry? Harry, look at me. Please?"

He steeled himself before he reopened his eyes, setting his jaw and his expression in a hard line.

Pansy gazed at him, her eyes shining with tears. Slowly, she stroked her thumbs over his cheeks before she whispered, "I have missed you more than life itself."

In a rush of pure emotion, his solemn expression shattered. He desperately searched her face, drinking in her every feature that he had forced himself to picture over and over again, so in all the days of his life he would never forget - the creamy curve of her neck where it met her shoulders, the smooth wisps of hair that had escaped her braid and now framed her beautiful face, the nearly-hidden dusting of freckles across her pale nose and cheeks, the way her nose wrinkled slightly whenever she laughed, the eternal glow of kindness in her clear blue eyes.

With a shaking hand, he reached out to touch her if only to reassure himself that she was really there, pushing a loose lock of hair behind her ear before entangling his fingers in the soft, smooth tresses. He forced himself to breathe, and inhaled the scent of spring.

"So have I," he croaked.

They kissed.

And nothing else in the last two miserable years of Harry Evans' life had ever felt more like the truth.