A/N: Thanks for your patience, everyone! It's been an absolutely mad week at work and home. That said, thank you SO much for sharing all your reactions to the last chapter! I was so pleased to hear from all of you! It seemed like Harry/Pansy was generally not expected, but not poorly received, either. I'm glad you liked the twist! You'll get to see more of them this chapter.

Questions and Answers

The sun sank closer to the horizon, and Pansy did not return. Though Hermione had strongly suspected after seeing their limited interaction, she had listened with an extendable ear long enough to know that the girl was as safe as she would ever be… and with Harry Evans, no less. A part of her still couldn't believe such a match was possible - though the roles were reversed, Harry and Pansy's personalities were the equivalent of a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff falling in love in her world, and Merlin knew the rarity of that - but what she had witnessed with her own eyes confirmed it.

She hoped this meant his death threat from that afternoon would be lifted.

But many questions still remained unanswered. Harry was clearly still walking free, so did this mean he was a Conservative spy? Would he really reject his seemingly plush life as son of Dumbledore's second-in-command for love? Pansy clearly trusted him with the knowledge of who Hermione was (or, more accurately, who she wasn't), but was he truly trustworthy? Or was his loyalty simply to Pansy?

Hermione sighed. The only thing she could do was wait to hear the answer from Pansy herself. She had just begun to systematically examine her Universe A knapsack storehouse of random Wheezes/war supplies to see if she may have missed anything, anything at all, that could aid her in Draco's rescue (any time not spent searching for answers was time ill spent) when the Slytherin finally reappeared.

"Hermione? Can you…?"

Hermione looked up quickly to find a visibly flushed Pansy standing just outside the partially-closed door, her now-loose hair falling, tousled, past her shoulders. She looked exactly like Angelina Johnson did whenever she and George Weasley had re-emerged from the stacks, and Hermione fought to hold back a still-incredulous expression. "Er - I've something I'd like you try, actually." She quickly replaced several jars of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder before fully focusing on Pansy. "Why don't you go ahead and walk yourself through?"

Pansy's brows knitted in confusion. "But… you know what happens."

"Just give it a go. Please."

Frowning, Pansy nodded and took a cautious step forward. As soon as she reached the doorframe, she was flung backward a few steps.

Hermione let out a frustrated grumble. "Sorry. I was hoping that would work. The other option's far more complicated. Hang on a bit." She glanced to her side, flipping through the pages of the open book of Ancient Runes on the long windowseat beside her. She ran her fingers down a page, muttering to herself, before she stood and approached the door, studying it calculatingly. It should work in theory, but she'd needed Pansy present to actually test it.

"What're you doing?"

"Trying to let you pass through the door unaided. Seeing as you might be wanting to make a few excursions to a different Head quarters now."

Pansy blushed, but after a moment her face fell. "That's, erm, well - That limitation's part of the bond, Hermione. I'm not certain that's something you can just undo."

"I'm not trying to undo it. I'm trying to get around it."

Kneeling on the ground, Hermione took a breath and produced a bottle of yarrow and mugwort from her robes pocket. She conjured a small dish, poured a handful of the herbs inside, and lit them. As they began to smolder, she pointed her wand at the side of the door… and a line of Elder Futhark runes began to trace themselves onto the wall. A minute later, she blew the smoke toward the runes, stood, and, narrowing her eyes in concentration, maneuvered her wand in an intricate motion before pointing it at the ancient text. "Animantus scriptum."

Brilliant white light exploded from the runes, followed swiftly by a faint white glow that steadily spread across the wall like icing on a cake, running across the entire east side of the room until it sank into the floor.

Slowly, the runes faded back to a dull charcoal.

Hermione looked back at Pansy. "Alright. Try again?"

Pansy gave her a doubtful expression, but stepped forward…

Into the bedroom.

The uncertain clench at Hermione's gut released itself in a rush of relief and satisfaction.

The dark-haired woman's mouth dropped. "How on earth did you…?"

Hermione gestured up at the runes. "It's an Old Norse enchantment. 'Breathing fire from the sun, melt these walls into one; with the power of amity and affection twofold, make these rooms a whole and this house a home.' The herbs act as an offering to anchor the spell."

When Pansy stared at her blankly, Hermione explained, "Runes hold the key to one of the most ancient forms of magic known to humankind. Legends have it Magic itself first dictated the Elder Futhark alphabet for people to find. But what most people don't know is that anyone with enough knowledge of Ancient Runes can actually bring them to life."

Pansy shook her head. "I'm sorry… what does that have to do with the bond?"

"You aren't allowed to walk from one room to another, right? So what I did is animate these runes." Hermione pointed at the lines of writing seared into the wall. "They in turn, well, melded these quarters and common room together at the level of the very field of Magic itself. So even though we still see walls, Magic recognizes the two rooms as one. So the restrictions of your bond haven't disappeared; they simply aren't applicable."

Pansy stared at her for several seconds before she blinked. "That's incredible," she breathed.

Hermione couldn't keep a small, pleased smile from touching her tips. "It's really quite useful, isn't it?"

"Did they teach you that in your universe?"

"Not to animate them, no. Dum— an old professor tipped me off about that. Most overlook the study of Ancient Runes; they consider them outdated and archaic. Often at their own peril, I've found." Hermione flicked her wand at the words to disillusion them, then looked over at Pansy apologetically. "Sorry, I've no idea why I didn't think to look into this before. I suppose with the whole world as mad as it is, I didn't expect there'd be anywhere else you'd want to go."

Pansy sighed, smiling halfheartedly. "I can't blame you for that assumption."

Hermione couldn't contain her curiosity any longer. "Pansy, why didn't you tell me you two were - you know…" Well, she wasn't quite sure what they were, but at the thought of all the complications that could have been avoided if she had known, she shoved a hand through her hair. "Merlin. I would have let you see him ages ago!"

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I should have, I know, I just…" Pansy scuffed at the floor. "I still wasn't quite sure. About you, I mean. No one - none of them knew about me and Harry. If they found out… Well, I just couldn't take the chance that that you weren't…"

Hermione held up a hand. "Say no more; I suppose I can't say I wouldn't have thought the same." In fact, she was honestly surprised Pansy had shared it with her at all, and she wondered what had changed her opinion. She hesitated. "Are you and he - are you - ?"

Luckily, Pansy was able to interpret her helpless gesture. "We were." She sank down onto the armrest of the sofa near the door, clasping her hands in her lap. "My found out, right near the very end of the war. But we were so careful, Hermione; I've no idea how she…" She briefly closed her eyes and shook her head. "She bought me, used it to blackmail Harry to do all sorts of things for her rather than telling his mum right off. Threatened my life if he ever tried to do anything to her, or to help me."

Bloody Morgana. No wonder Harry had hated her.

On that note, Hermione took the opening to voice the thought that had been on the tip of her tongue since before Pansy had even returned.

"So he's… on your side? Our side?" she asked cautiously.

Pansy nodded. "He is. He's… He's, well… Oh, I've no way of saying this without sounding conceited!"

"He's on whatever side you're on?" she guessed.

The other woman sighed and gave her a grateful expression. "That's what he's always told the few who knew. He's never given me any reason not to believe him. With Harry being… who he is, he and Tom - Tom Riddle - felt the best use for him would be as a spy, to feed our side information."

Hermione couldn't say the information surprised her. While it was true that Harry had seemed to especially hate My, he didn't seem to like anyone. Or anyone who was still around the school, that is. Hermione had no idea what caused him to dislike the Sovereignty so much in the first place, but if Pansy had offered his bleak world a ray of light, which, knowing the woman, Hermione suspected she had, it was almost hopelessly romantic that he'd actually forsaken everything he'd known to throw his loyalty behind it.

Her brows knitted together. "And when the war ended?"

Pansy shrugged. "He was never caught. Never even suspected, except for My. We haven't quite gotten to whether he's still… involved."

"If there's still anything and anyone to be involved with," Hermione pointed out. She regretted it instantly when the corners of Pansy's lips drooped slightly.

"Right," Pansy said quietly. She gave another heavy sigh. "Anyway, I explained everything about you to him."

At her new friend's clear dejection, Hermione, to her surprise, found herself reaching for a page from Draco's book. "Really? Seemed to me there wouldn't be much talking happening tonight," she said teasingly.

Pansy blushed. "I mean - well - yes. There was that. But then I told him."

As fast as it had appeared, Hermione felt her momentary lightness fade. "And he believed you?"

"I told him the Ordered truth. But you have to admit, it's all still rather incredible. Even the truth's going to be a bit hard for people to swallow." She bit her lip. "I think he… might still have some questions for you, actually. Perhaps we could all talk about them?"

Hermione frowned. She certainly had questions for him as well, but didn't feel particularly enthusiastic about having another Reductor Curse fired at her chest. "As long as he swears he won't try to kill me."

The dark-haired woman gave her a small, reassuring smile and stood. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he doesn't." After a momentary pause and an expression of disbelief toward the now-invisible runes, she disappeared back out the door. "Oh, erm—" she briefly ducked her head back inside, "be right back."

As soon as she left, Hermione sighed heavily and began to pace. She still remembered Harry's eyes burning into her, and didn't feel like taking his arrival sitting down.

As she neared her windows, she paused, staring off into the twilight at the large, barn-like structure she could just make out in the distance. It was called the Hangar, she knew, but beyond that, she hadn't had the opportunity to wander the Hogwarts grounds to explore it. (Pansy had told her that My hated spending time outdoors, except for sunbathing.)

She'd been tempted to visit it under the Invisibility Cloak at first, but then she'd learned from Ronáld's lunchtime bragging that the building was used for the Hunting and Trapping of Magical Creatures. The thought of such a barbaric class alone disgusted her, but more than she was afraid of what she'd find inside…

She was afraid that she wouldn't be able to do a single thing about it.

Not only would any action probably amount to very little damage in the grand scheme of things, it would jeopardize her chances of ever getting home.

And she hated, hated feeling so bloody helpless against such evil.

The sound of footsteps caused her to turn quickly. First Pansy, and then Harry entered her large Head quarters. Harry stared sharply between Pansy and Hermione's doorframe, until Pansy reached over to grab his hand, grinning. "We'll explain; don't worry."

She pulled him over to the sofa along the wall nearest the door and sat down. Harry continued to stand, his arms crossed, openly studying Hermione with narrowed eyes. Despite Pansy's reassurances, Hermione studied him just as cautiously. His scowling, self-assured frame screamed aristocratic confidence. Apparently, besides raging fury, he was an expert at shuttering his emotions.

He was so unlike the Harry Potter of her world.

The thought of her closest friend made her heart ache.

"I'd like my wand returned," Harry Evans finally said coolly.

"Do you plan to murder me with it?" she rejoined swiftly.

"If your - story - holds… no."

Though her own self-preservation instinct squirmed, Hermione reluctantly produced his wand and gingerly held it out to him. He cautiously snatched it from her hand, eyed her chambers, and cagily sat beside Pansy. She immediately smiled at him and interlaced her fingers with his, and for the briefest moments…

Harry's eyes and entire features softened to resemble the Harry that Hermione knew so well.

The action did something to solidify his allegiance in her mind enough to make Heremione relax slightly, enough to sit on the edge of the bed across from the couple. When Harry's gaze returned to her, however, his eyes hardened. He tilted his head at her calculatingly, leaning forward.

"Why don't you start by telling us exactly who you are," he said in a tone that left no room for disagreement.

Her brows tightened slightly in confusion. She glanced at Pansy. "I thought you—"

"Oh, she did," Harry interrupted. "The things you've told her. Doesn't make it the truth, does it? You're seriously asking us to believe that you're from another world? Just conveniently shoved into My Granger's body? D'you think we're all as mental as you are?"

Hermione was suddenly very tired of having to prove herself, even though she supposed she really hadn't had to do it that often yet. He'd also brought up a point that frustrated her: For as much postulation as there was about alternate dimensions and realities, she hadn't found any theories on interstellar body snatching. She had assumed My Granger had similarly taken up occupancy in her body in Universe A, but she hadn't allowed herself to dwell too much on the ramifications of that.

"It's isn't impossible," she pointed out. "There's plenty of theory on inter-dimensional travel."

"Well, it's not bloody well commonplace, either, is it?"

She briefly prayed for patience to whatever gods were listening and inhaled deeply, massaging her temples. Oh, she had a good idea of what she could pull out to make him believe her story, but she wasn't entirely eager for him to renege on his promise not to kill her. Finally, she sighed. There was nothing for it; it had to be done.

"Having trouble with your Marauders' Map lately?" she asked evenly.

Nothing changed except his eyes… and the glower in them darkened.

"What?" he asked in a barely-restrained growl.

"The Marauders' Map. Handy thing. Lets you see the location of every person and passageway and room in Hogwarts. Created by a Messrs. Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs - or, in more familiar terms, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, and your father, James Potter. Impossible to access unless one solemnly swears they're up to no good. That Marauders' Map."

For a moment, Harry only stared at her. Then his right eye twitched. Aside from that minute reaction, he seemingly calmly turned his head to look at Pansy. She swiftly shook her head. "I didn't tell her; she knew exactly what it was the moment she brought it in."

He blinked. "Brought it in?" he echoed, his voice amplifying as he swiveled his head back toward Hermione.

She quickly held up her hands, sorely regretting that she'd ever returned his wand. "If I'd had any idea you weren't the enemy, I wouldn't have needed to, and I certainly wouldn't have used those vague threats of blackmail against you to keep you from Pansy!"

"What did you do to it?" he demanded.

The jewelry box on her bedside stand suddenly became very interesting. "I, er… may have saboteged it."

A reddish tinge began to spread across his face from his nose to his ears. "You what?!"

"I can fix it, obviously!"

"'Obviously?' It isn't quite so obvious to some of us!"

Just then, Pansy put her right hand on his knee, stopping him mid-bellow. She soothingly began to massage it in circles, keeping her left hand firmly interlaced with his.

Harry briefly shut his eyes, inhaling deeply. When he spoke again, his voice sounded calmer, though only fractionally. "First, how in the bloody hell do you know anything about my map, and second, how in the bloody hell do you know enough about it to sabotage it?"

Hermione reached into the hem of her skirt and withdrew the Universe A Marauders' Map, tapping it with her wand to restore it to her normal size. She held it out to him. "Perhaps because I'm familiar with this."

He leaned forward and snatched it from her. "What the…" he muttered, flipping it over in his hands before pulling out his own version of the map. He compared them carefully, muttering a few spell diagnostic charms on both. "This can't be duplicated," he said, looking back up at her suspiciously. "No one can reproduce this map. What is this?"

"They are the Map - both of them." She gestured toward his left hand. "That one's from my world. The other one's from yours. That's the one I had to… modify because I couldn't have you seeing me running about the library." She crossed her arms. "Now do you believe I'm from an alternative universe?"

His eyes narrowed. "Why would there be another copy of the Marauders' Map in your universe?"

Hermione sighed. This was where the explanation became complicated, and, judging from their initial reactions, it wouldn't be any easier for them to swallow. "Because from what I can tell, my universe is a - a mirror of yours. Everything, everyone you see in this universe is also in mine. Except, well… like a reflection, many things here are almost the complete opposite of what they are in my world."

Pansy sat up abruptly. "What, do you mean… We're in your world? Or… versions of ourselves?"

Hermione glanced at her. "Yes."

Her mouth fell open. "I - Why didn't you tell me that?"

Hermione guessed the question was coming and groaned slightly, rubbing her face in her hands. "Believe me, it was already complicated enough as it was. I didn't want to have to try to explain that."

Harry stared at her steadily. "So who are you in this other world, exactly? That would allow you to be so familiar with my map?" His expression soured to one of horror. "Ruddy hell, you aren't me, are you?"

She almost laughed at the idea. "No, no, definitely not. I'm, er…" She hesitated, unsure of why she was suddenly so nervous to reveal the truth. What if… What if they were disappointed? "I'm myself. Hermione Granger," she finally forced herself to say, though the words were as bizarre to speak as she knew they must be to hear.

Harry's eyebrows raised slightly before he snorted in disbelief. "You sure as hell aren't."

She shook her head. "I told you, you're all different in my world, and so am I. In my world, I'm not My, not Lady Evans. I'm just… Hermione. And I'm not some blithering idiot there; I'm - " She broke off quickly before she revealed too much. She'd provided enough information to overwhelm any normal human being as it was.

Pansy leaned toward her, her expression openly curious. "Do you know us, then - in your world? What are we like?"

"Well, you, erm - I didn't know you very well, actually," Hermione said, trying to choose her words tactfully. "You were in Slytherin, but you were sometimes a bit… unfriendly. You're a much lovelier person in this world, to be honest." She hesitated, then glanced over at Harry. "You… You were…"

Her throat closed. How could she adequately express just what he had been to her? Even at the bleakest moments during the war, even when Ron had left, it had still been the two of them; it had always been her and Harry. Because of Harry, and Ron, never in her life had she had to endure any undertaking alone. And because of their unbreakable bond with each other, they had managed to overcome the impossible, time and time again.

"You were my best friend," she finally managed to whisper, her voice hoarse.

And I wish so badly you here were with me now so I wouldn't be fighting this all by myself.

He stiffened, his eyes subtly widening in alarm. "We weren't… dating."

He sounded as if the very thought disgusted him.

"No! Of course not; a man and a woman can just be friends, you know," Hermione said defensively, crossing her arms to ward off the sting of those three words, of that irked reaction to a wholly sacred friendship. "Anyway, we both had, erm, other interests in that department. But that's why I know about the Marauders' Map."

He regarded her again, this time for longer than before. Under his cold gaze, she felt the need to tear herself from the conversation immediately. She was too strongly attached to a version of him that wasn't sitting in front of her, and hoping against hope for him to turn into Harry Potter when he surely never would was rekindling a suffocating ache in her chest that was too deep and unbearable for her to endure much longer.

"It happened on the train, didn't it," he said suddenly.

She tensed. "What happened?"

"This - switch. Or… whatever this is. When you 'fell.' "

Hermione struggled for a moment. "Yes."

He nodded to himself, his stormy eyes pensive. She wondered if he was ruling out Polyjuice Potion, the Imperius Curse and other personality-altering spells, since it had happened right before his eyes. "Listen, I know it sounds mad—"

"You're bleeding right it does. St. Mungo's Ward for the Mentally Insane mad, which is where I'd say you belong if you weren't actually doing some good."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue... and then closed it swiftly. "What?" she asked dumbly.

"Pansy told me what you're doing for Malfoy, what you've done for her. I don't know why you're risking your own neck, and you and I will be having a long discussion very soon about your ability to subvert a piece of highly technical magic the Sovereign himself created to let her walk into and out of this room. But you certainly aren't hurting the situation either."

After the intensity of the interrogation, she was astonished to near-speechlessness at his unexpected reasonableness.

"Erm… I'd hope not to," she said awkwardly, her arsenal of defensive arguments suddenly inapplicable.

A long silence ensued. Hermione was about to fall back on any excuse to leave the room when Pansy frowned and turned toward Harry. "Why were you by the entrance to where they're keeping Draco's father?"

Harry hesitated, unhappily glancing toward Hermione.

She held her breath. She wanted to hear this answer, too.

She couldn't have been more relieved when Pansy squeezed his fingers. "It's okay, Harry. I've been living with her for a month. If it's up to anyone to believe her story, it's me. We have to give trust in order to get it, don't we?"

For a man who deflected Ginevra Weasley's constant attention with the skill of a professional Beater, Harry Evans apparently could not turn down a single request from Pansy Parkinson. Harry'd throw a fit if he had the slightest idea, Hermione thought with some amusement and another wave of homesickness… though this Pansy was, of course, a vast improvement over the Pansy that Harry Potter knew.

"You and I both know it's possible to trust too much," he said to Pansy so quietly Hermione almost didn't hear it.

Pansy shook her head. "Not when we need help and there isn't anyone left," she murmured back just as softy.

He visibly sighed, his lips pressed together tightly. When he spoke again, his voice was slightly louder, though it was clear he was mostly addressing Pansy rather than her. "I've been… helping him. Not - much, but… they keep him on strict rations. I'd bring him extra food, water under my Cloak, when I could. Keep his strength up." He shot Hermione a dark look. "Or, at least, I did until my map began to malfunction."

Hermione shifted under his scathing gaze, but she refused to feel intimidated or guilty. "What about the cameras?"

"My Invisibility Cloak's different than most. The cameras can't see through it. We have an… unspoken agreement. I disillusion the food and place it near him; he's careful about how he eats it so it won't be obvious to anyone watching. I never make contact with him directly, in case it comes up during his interrogations."

Pansy's eyes were wide. "But why did they tell everyone - Draco, his mum - that he's dead? And why keep him right here, at the school? Has he been here the whole time?"

Harry hesitated for several moments before he spoke. When he did, Hermione could tell he was choosing his words carefully. "Supposedly Lucius Malfoy… knows something. The problem is he had his memory wiped completely before they got to him. Some professors here have been researching various methods to extract his memories since then, so they needed him…" For a moment, he looked away from Pansy before ending vaguely, "closer."

Even at his ambiguity, Hermione instantly felt sick. She could only imagine how powerful an Obliviation charm must have been used on Malfoy if the memories couldn't even be extracted under years and years of whatever "methods" were being attempted. "What exactly did he know that they're so desperate to learn?"

Harry scowled. "What do I look like to you, a blasted walking encyclopedia? Not even I'm privy to that secret. You can go take it up with the Sovereign if you're interested; I'm sure he and my mother are the only two who know."

"Harry, darling, you're being awfully dramatic, aren't you?" Pansy said mildly.

The wheels of Hermione's mind had begun to turn. "It had to have been something incredibly important or they wouldn't've spent over a decade of time and energy trying to get it out of him." She could think of only two cases in which information would be that valuable: when it was key to someone or something's immortality… or their demise.

He gave her a long, measured look. "So you can understand why his breaking under interrogation is a concern."

A concern for whom?

Before Hermione could voice that question, Pansy asked quietly, "Did you know about Draco's father when we were still…?"

She trailed off, but Harry seemed to know exactly what she meant. He hesitated, and that was enough of an answer to cause a hurt expression to blossom across her face. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Harry shook his head. "The security on him's too strong. It wasn't worth it, risking your getting hurt from yet another threat you could have done nothing about."

"But Draco at least deserved to know! It was his father, Harry!"

"Exactly. It was his father. And Malfoy would have done something reckless and foolishly heroic that could have put your life in danger and jeopardized everything else. No, Pansy; I couldn't have said anything."

If the situation weren't so serious, Hermione would have laughed at the absurdity of hearing Harry of all people criticizing Draco Malfoy for behaving recklessly and foolishly heroically, even if it was the Harry of Universe B.

Harry leaned toward Pansy, brushing some long bangs out of her eyes. Hermione had never seen so much open emotion, vulnerability even, on his face as that which appeared now. "Lucius Malfoy doesn't even remember his own name, Liv. Certainly not his son. How'd you think Draco would have felt if he found out about that?"

Though they were still on the sofa, the pair had turned toward each other completely. Hermione had clearly been entirely shut out of the conversation, and she felt like a voyeur watching an unfolding intimacy that even included a term of endearment, whatever "Liv" referred to.

She stood abruptly.

"I'll, er - I think I'll just go connect the other head quarters to the commons as well," she said awkwardly.

Neither Harry nor Pansy took any notice.

She had just finished repeating the ancient runes ritual on Harry's door when she felt heat spread through her skirt pocket - a galleon to which she'd linked another and given it to Peia to signal when she was at the Head Common Room portrait hole. When the younger girl climbed through the entrance and greeted her cheerfully, Hermione held a finger up to her lips and simply let her know that Harry Evans was now a friend.

Peia brushed past her into the common room. "I wondered how long it would take him."

Hermione blinked, then turned toward her. "What?"

"Harry. To figure out you're a friend, too." Peia plopped down on one of the common room couches. She set her bookbag on the ground and fluffed out her hair. The Longbottoms had straightened it and dyed it brown before she returned for her second year, apparently, but the resourceful child had managed to find a countercharm that had not only made it curly but returned it to its original color - midnight black. "He's not so bad, you know."

She frowned. "I know now. But how do you know?"

"I can just tell. In his eyes." Peia poked at Hermione's rucksack. "What's in here?"

Hermione frowned at the response, then shook her head and sat down next to her, explaining her purpose for re-examining the bag's contents. When Hermione mentioned that it could help Draco, Peia instantly offered her assistance.

They'd removed a good pile of items when the girl collapsed into giggles.

Hermione glanced over at her. Her laughter was contagious, and she couldn't help but smile. "What've you found?"

Peia only shook her head and handed Hermione a small, rectangular box. "Do girls… really… use this when they grow up?" she asked between giggles.

Hermione squinted at the pink label scrawled in elegant script across the top of the black package and the tiny print beneath. She couldn't help but snort contemptuously after she read it. "No, they certainly don't. The only women who use this are either completely daft or completely…"

She trailed off suddenly. The muscles in her chest tightened.

For a moment, she couldn't breathe.

Peia sat up. "Completely what?"

As if all the disparate facts she'd been diligently gathering had been waiting for this very moment to activate, they suddenly laced together perfectly to form the ghost of a blueprint around a seemingly impossible scenario.

"Desperate," Hermione finally finished faintly.

She stood abruptly, clutching the box. "Peia, wait here, alright?"

Without even looking to Peia's response, she bolted for the stairs, barreling into her bedroom. "Sorry to interrupt your happy reunion snog, but there's something important we need to discuss."

Still on the sofa, Pansy and Harry tumbled off each other, Harry literally to the floor. He cursed, swiftly straightening himself and his uniform tie. "Are you normally this bloody annoying?"

"No, she's not. You need to listen to her!"

All three of them quickly turned to find Peia standing importantly next to Hermione. Well, so much for following directions, Hermione thought wryly, though she couldn't deny she respected the little girl's spunk.

Harry instantly stiffened, his eyes shooting daggers from Peia to Hermione. "Who is she and why is she in our private living space?" he growled.

Before Hermione could even respond, Peia put her hands on her hips. "I'm helping."

Harry scowled and shoved his finger toward the door. "Well, you can help yourself back to wherever you came from and never come here again."

Pansy elbowed him, a small, fond smile on her face. "Oh, don't be such a box; she's just a child."

"Blasted dwarf, more like it. How do we know we can trust it?"

"I'm not a dwarf, I'm a girl," Peia retorted. "And you can trust me because I've kept Draco's secret, I've kept Hermione and Pansy's secret, and now I'll keep yours, too."

If Pansy hasn't been holding him back, Harry looked as ready to advance on Peia as he had on Hermione on the staircase earlier that afternoon. "You will, will you?" he asked in a low voice. "When a Legilimens is staring you square in the eyes, you'll keep my secret?"

She shrugged, clearly not intimidated. "They have already. I just… block them from seeing."

Hermione swiftly looked at Harry and Pansy to see that they were already exchanging surprised glances.

The realization struck her quickly:

Cassiopeia Black-Lestrange-Longbottom was a natural Occlumens.

While Occlumency and Legilimency were learned skills, some people were more or less adept at them than others - Harry Potter being the prime example there. Very rarely had Hermione heard of this young an Occlemens prodigy, but she supposed it wasn't impossible. With a mother like Bellatrix, she wouldn't be surprised if the woman had practiced Legilimency on Peia as an infant to prepare her for moments like this.

Suddenly, the fact that Peia had remarkably managed to continue to see Draco for an entire year without getting caught didn't seem quite as far-fetched as it originally had.

Still, Hermione feared the topics she was about to bring up were well over the twelve-year-old's head. "Peia, darling, I appreciate your support, but you should probably go back downstairs. We're going to be discussing some adult things now."

Not surprisingly, Peia stood her ground. "More adult than losing my mum? Than seeing what's happened to all my friends, and what's been done to Draco? You can't leave me out when you're about to go save him!"

Instantly, the faint glow to Pansy's cheeks faded. "What's this?" she whispered.

Hermione briefly closed her eyes. This was not how she had imagined leading in to her argument.

"We're not saving anyone yet," she said firmly, giving Peia a stern sidelong glance before she met Harry's now-wary gaze. "But I need your help to answer a few questions."

"What, about 'saving Malfoy?' Then I have one answer for all of them: you're mad."

"Harry, please," Pansy said tightly.

Harry's jaw tightened. He visibly inhaled and looked back at Hermione. "Well then?" he snapped.

Hermione nodded, mentally organizing the order of her proposal. "Alright. Fred and George Weasley. What's—"

Pansy suddenly sucked in a small breath and turned deathly white.

Hermione didn't miss her reaction and uncertainly stopped speaking.

Before she could ask what was wrong, Harry immediately wrapped his arm around Pansy and pulled her close to him. She buried her face in his chest; he brushed her hair back with his hand, murmuring to her. Even Peia moved to sit on the other side of Pansy, wrapping her small arms around her waist, while Hermione looked on, feeling a mix of utter bafflement and gnawing guilt that this was somehow her fault.

After a minute, Harry glared up at Hermione. "What the hell's your problem?" he hissed.

She almost stepped back the the ferocity of the attack. "What? What do you mean, my problem?"

"Mentioning them," he spat.

Her mouth opened and closed in shock. "I — I don't understand…"

"Harry, it's alright," Pansy said faintly. She took a deep breath and put her hand on his chest, though she made no attempt to leave his embrace. "I'll be alright. See what… see what she wants to know. If it can help…"

When Harry's angry gaze seemed to give her permission to speak again, Hermione said cautiously, "I'm sorry, I - only want to know their profession here."

Harry clenched his jaw for several seconds before he responded. "The Twins. That's what they're called. They work out of the Phoenix, design tools that help… track, trap, and extract information. They're extremely twisted human beings. And that's all we'll be saying on that topic," he finished icily.

Oh Godric.

Hermione easily made the jump between the twins' new occupation and Pansy's horrified response. More guilt slammed into her. "Pansy, I'm so sorry; if I'd known-"

Pansy shook her head. "But you didn't. It's alright. If it helps Draco, it's alright."

A minute of silence passed before Hermione cleared her throat. "I just had to - well - there isn't any kind of, erm, joke shop in this universe, is there?"

Harry snorted acerbically. "There's one of those in yours?"

That was enough of an answer for her. It meant the item she now held in her hand wasn't commonplace, and that was exactly what she was banking on for this entire caper to have a remote chance of working.

"Alright, moving on quickly," she said briskly. "How easy is it to - buy and sell a House-Wizard?" From the few books she'd found on the topic, in theory, it seemed quite simple, but she needed an idea of whether it truly was in reality. "Does the sale need to be officiated, or can it be as informal as one likes as long as the necessary documents are exchanged?"

Harry frowned. "From what I've seen, the legal owner needs to willingly hand off the House-Wizard's official lead and deed - they can't do it under the force of magical influence, that is. And that's about as complicated as it gets. Saw one get gambled away over one too many Firewhiskeys in Diagon Alley, even." Pansy silently tensed beside him, her eyes anguished. Even his own lip curled slightly in disgust. "I assume any changes to the document are charmed to automatically reflect in the Hall of Records."

Hermione held back a grim smile. In her mind, her initial blueprints solidified into a feasible plan far better than any other she'd considered yet… as insane as it might be.

"Then tell me one more thing." She looked between Harry and Pansy, Peia silently watching the exchange from the latter's side. "What kind of betting man is Ronáld Weasley?"