Severus Snape was thinking about things he would change, if he had it all to do again, differently. He was often ruminating on his past, dwelling in his guilt and self-loathing. Through long and hard practice he'd given himself the magical equivalent of hyperthymesia—highly superior autobiographical memory. The ability to completely order his thoughts and memories was essential in his role as a spy against beings with supernatural insight into the sapient mind. But it meant that he never forgot a single thing he'd done wrong. No matter how hidden away from mental intrusion, he could always get to it.
At the moment, he was kicking himself over how mastery of his mind conflicted with that enhanced recall. He was, at once, perfectly able to control his fear response and perfectly able to remember the most terrifying moment of his life, long before he'd developed such shields against fear. He would always be that overconfident teen, finally about to find out what Potter's gang got up to in the Roaring Rampart. He could never forget the twisted and furious berserk form of Remus Lupin about to rend him limb from limb, before James Potter stepped in to save him.
He could never forget nor forgive.
It was there every time he interacted with Lupin, his pulse racing with the fear. The irony was that trying to control that fear was what had driven him so deeply into the study of occlumency, and yet it seemed to be the one thing it didn't allow him to control. Every sight of the man was a battle of his own will against his own unforgettable frailty. He was honestly slightly interested to see the new form that Lupin said he'd accidentally mutated himself into, necessitating the superior calming draughts. Perhaps it would be sufficiently different from the original screaming, warp-spasmed boy that his mind would be able to recategorize it among all the other horrors he'd experienced and compartmentalized as an adult.
What truly rankled was that Lupin was clearly brilliant. If he could put aside his fear and animosity, their collaboration might be magnificent. The man had gone back to Midgard to become its foremost authority on particle physics, and still found time to become expert in various aspects of biology, botany, and pharmacology to try to treat his condition on his own. While they hadn't worked to cure him, the theories that "Mr. Green" and "Mr. Blue" had worked out together in their correspondences were inspired.
Maybe he should track down this Mr. Blue, if he could never collaborate with Mr. Green due to his fear.
That musing was abruptly terminated by a sound that he could also never forget: Sybill Trelawney in the throes of true prophecy. He could barely make out the pieces of what she was saying, since it sounded like she was down the hall toward the infirmary, heading toward the ritual space from a different direction than he had come. But the sound of her voice overlaid with the Norns was unmistakable.
The last time he had heard it, it had begun the worst mistake of his life.
By the time he moved down the hallway to try to determine what new prophetic horrors the woman was going to unleash on the world, he was too late. He saw her toddling off, oblivious, toward the ritual room. And, in the other direction, he glimpsed two students quick-stepping their way to the closest exit to the grounds. Granger's bushy brown hair was easy enough to spot from the back, but he barely countenanced the identity of the boy with her. The unruly Potter hair was also iconic, even from a distance, but he'd just left the boy, seemingly deeply unconscious, in Lupin's office. Was that whole thing a performance? It seemed a long way to go just for him. What were they up to?
Passing unseen was easy enough for him, and he stalked them silently, eager to uncover what follies they were up to. To his great disappointment, James Potter's son rarely got up to mischief that could be punished: so often, his hijinx were fully orchestrated by one Albus Dumbledore and Severus was roundly prevented from stopping them. Or helping. Albus didn't think the boy would grow into the hero they needed without being challenged, and fully believed that the forces of fate would keep him safe enough until the final, ordained confrontation.
Severus disagreed, but could never convince the headmaster otherwise.
He was almost close enough to the two to overhear their quiet planning by the time they exited through the back entrance and onto the dark castle grounds. With a flicker of motion as of falling cloth, Potter disappeared and Snape caught his breath: of course the boy had the hated Potter heirloom that had so often allowed his father and his gang to catch Severus unawares. The girl, however, remained visible and began to stride purposefully toward the edge of the forest.
While it was possible she was also working part of a plan ultimately endorsed by Dumbledore, it would be harder for him to talk her out of punishment for being in the forest at all, much less after curfew. He might also wind up saving her life: she did not enjoy the dubious distinction that she would live long enough to be murdered by the Dark Lord.
Staying far enough behind her that there was no chance of her dim wandlight revealing him in the darkness, he ghosted along, eager to work out her plan. Of course, he should have known. As soon as she got near Hagrid's hut at the forest's edge, she began to shout for the other living person Severus hated most…
Sirius Black was having a pretty complicated relationship with time. He'd been through over a decade of mental torture that had simultaneously felt like forever and no time at all. Within weeks of his stealth escape—waiting for the portal to open and inter another inmate and slipping out as a dog that they'd never designed the wards to restrict—all of his lost time had caught up to him. Each week, another year of frailty had landed upon his body; hair growing, nails cracking, and clothes falling apart around him.
The people that say that your thirties are still the prime of your life haven't been suddenly thrust into them after being used to the health of a 22-year-old.
Living rough wasn't nearly as bad as a dog, even in the winters near Hogwarts. But spending so much time in his animagus form played even further hell with his sense of time. A doggy brain isn't really designed for precise autobiographical memory. He was pretty sure he was improving, after months of freedom, but not nearly as much as if he had been freed into a safe, warm home and the aid of a skilled therapist. Or had never been thrown into a hell dimension for a decade in the first place after one of the most traumatic events anyone could experience.
But he knew his sanity hadn't healed, not totally. Not yet. Maybe not ever. A sane person wouldn't continue to live like a hermit in a dangerous forest, hoping to have a chance at stopping a traitor who might be long gone. Anywhere would be safer for him. It would probably be safer for Harry as well, and everyone else that the Mindless Ones were willing to go through to get to Sirius. But as long as there was hope that he could still catch Peter, he'd wait for the opportunity.
And hadn't his quick thinking potentially also saved Hogsmeade? He was pretty sure the instances of food and warm clothing left out had increased dramatically in the weeks since. Or maybe he'd lost track of time again. He chose to believe he had been a hero, and the townsfolk were grateful.
He had no idea that particular night would give him an opportunity to be one again.
At first, he didn't hear his name being called. When his canine hearing picked it up, he initially decided it was the Ministry's warriors making another attempt to capture him. Ronan's guard had left him alone—even spotted him once and waved—but the blokes from out of town weren't so forgiving. Yet they did not have many that sounded like teen girls. Out of curiosity, he began to move in to check it out, and broke into a run through the dark woods as he realized it must be one of Harry's friends. Was Harry in trouble?
He quickly realized that the girl was in trouble. She didn't seem to be aware of the threat behind her as she stopped calling his name when she heard him pounding out of the forest. But he'd recognize that particular aroma of sweat and chemicals anywhere, even in the dark. "Snivellus!" he threatened, transforming into his human form in mid-leap from the shadows, landing in between his old nemesis and the girl.
"Black," Snape drawled, leveling a wand at him. A slight smirk indicated that the man thought he had Sirius dead to rights without a wand.
"What are you doing to the girl!?" he demanded.
"Possibly giving her detention for being out after curfew and consorting with a known criminal."
The girl—Hermione, if he was remembering a name correctly that was odd in a way uncommon for Vanaheim—said, "We don't have time for this! Professor Lupin found Peter Pettigrew and is chasing him outside. But I think the professor is going to get too angry. And more people are coming! You have to go keep him from hurting anyone."
Sirius locked eyes with Snape. What would the man do? This was all too similar to the nearly-deadly prank Sirius had played on him as a boy, that had turned their often-playful rivalry into one of true hatred. He could see the man's lip moving in the girl's wandlight as he decided, before finally announcing, "Let's go clean up another of your messes. And don't think I've forgotten you're owed detention, Granger!"
They both set off running together in the direction the girl had pointed, Sirius happy to discover that he was able to outpace the other man, even in human form. Sure enough, in the distance they could make out lit wands coming from the castle, casting the silhouette of two other men having a confrontation on the grass around a dim torch. Even over a decade later, he'd recognize the shapes of his two friends. Well, lost friend and false friend. And the girl was right, he could hear Remus raising his voice, which always presaged an episode. He had to keep him from hurting anyone. He had to catch the rat! As the lights reached the figures and cast them all into full color, he could see Harry and his friends in the distance—including, somehow, the girl who they'd just left behind now in front of them. But the tableau only lasted a moment, before, in a blink, suddenly missing was…
Peter Pettigrew was running out of time. The real problem was that he'd spent so long in his rat form that it was hard to set priorities in a human way. When he'd watched the titanic form of the Dark Lord brought low by whatever magic Lily Potter had summoned, he'd fled in panic. He knew there was no longer a protector for him. At least he'd faked his death; he'd been expecting to be taken off-world anyway, but it meant few people should be looking for him. But if anyone saw him… it could ruin everything.
Originally, he'd just inserted himself as Scabbers into the Weasley family to wait for the coast to be clear. He'd had a thought about gathering information, then maybe escaping into the Goblin Market, or even Midgard. But the food was good and life was so easy as a pet rat. Every plan his human mind made, his rat mind decided could be put off until later.
Even when the jig was almost up, and he realized that he needed to flee Hogwarts, he still had a good thing going in the castle kitchens. It was even easier than being a pet. Warm corners and unlimited food. It was easy enough to convince himself that he'd go when Sirius was captured and no longer hunting him. Maybe in the summer, when there would be so many fewer people to notice him? He'd delayed and delayed and delayed.
And then Remus had found him with that damned map. Chased him out of the castle. Been about to catch him, the map more than a match for his ability to hide in the grass. He really hadn't practiced sneaking anywhere but inside buildings in quite some time anyway.
So he tried negotiating, transforming back into a human. Remus had been far away from the worst of the war. And it had been so long. Maybe he could talk his way out. As soon as he was back in human form, his human sense caught up to all the dumb mistakes he'd made in the last decade, and especially the last year. He should have been long gone, and now he was playing for time.
Yet Remus seemed more invested than he'd expected, and not interested in letting him go. He was even getting angry about Peter's betrayal. Didn't he understand that everyone on Vanaheim only had a fifty-fifty chance, and anyone with sense would do whatever they needed to guarantee they'd be in the living half? The arrival of the children, though, that was Odin-sent. If Remus was angry, let him get angry.
Back in rat form and slipping away from the debacle, Peter tried to hold onto the certainty that he needed to get away, not go back to the castle. He heard Sirius shouting and racing up! Harry had been after him for months. He had one night of new moon to get free and clear. No more dumb, rat-brained decisions.
He'd just assured himself that he wouldn't get complacent when he realized he'd forgotten to pay attention to what he was running toward, only away from. "Total Petrification of Gleipnir!" a boy's voice chanted quietly from seemingly nowhere, and then he felt his rat body go stiff in the chains of the body-bind. A hand snatched him up out of the grass and then they were moving off, still away from the roaring and battle behind them. "You didn't think you'd get away, did you?" Harry Potter's voice asked him, presumably rhetorically.
They moved swiftly across the grounds, coming to a stop in the shadow of a building. Peter figured it must be Hagrid's hut—he'd been planning on hiding there for a moment to evaluate his options anyway. He might have had a bit of a snack, found a dark corner to take a nap– No! He had to stop letting rat brain take over.
"I got him," Harry whispered to someone. Peter thought he felt folds of cloth moving—ah, yes, the boy had the invisibility cloak; no wonder he hadn't seen him. Maybe they'd let the binding go long enough for him to negotiate. Harry would be pliable to old Uncle Peter, right? But as a wand lit up, he knew that he'd have a harder time playing on the boy's sympathies, because his partner in this caper was the much-more-logical…
Hermione Granger figured her time had finally come. She was on the big adventure with Harry! Their first year, she'd fought the troll with everybody, but completely dipped out on the trip through the convergence. Their second, she'd gotten tricked into wandering off before he went to Niflheim, and been in France while he had all kinds of interesting things happen over the summer. Sure, she'd fought a couple of mutated low-lifes over winter break, but so had Dean. Really, that was the part that rankled: Dean got to be there for most of the adventures, and even Ron and Neville probably technically had her beaten for involvement.
Did being in Gryffindor create a bizarre effect similar to Stockholm Syndrome that formerly-sensible Hermione Granger had begun seriously assessing her "adventures where we could have died" score as too low?
Well, that wasn't all there was to it. It was pretty clear that all of their friends, family, and even enemies expected Harry and Hermione to wind up together, romantically. And they'd both been fighting it. Hermione, herself, was keenly aware that virtually nobody married the person that they'd dated as a 14-year-old. But they did often maintain useful lifelong friendships with their schoolmates. Just like Harry and Dean had tried to tell them, it was only logical to not risk ruining their friendships with dating. And she hadn't even been that interested until Harry decided to eject from the whole process before she'd even gotten her turn. It was silly, and she realized it.
But, well…
In a lot of ways, it was like going to school with British royalty. Hermione had heard everything about Catherine Middleton over the winter holidays: the woman who would become England's princess because she'd fallen in love with Prince William in school. As much as he would never admit it, Harry was the most eligible bachelor at Hogwarts. He'd been heir to a sizable fortune on Vanaheim and carrying around celebrity there before it started to look like he could wind up as Tony Stark's heir as well. Being swept along with his life would alter her trajectory even more than learning that magic was real and that she could do it.
And, sure, assuming he didn't get himself killed on an adventure, that was already happening, whether or not they dated. She had spent the whole holiday with Tony Stark. She and her parents had been networked. SHIELD probably had her on their radar as someone that was competent (well, or at least as some kind of person of interest). And that was just the non-magical stuff. She was still gobsmacked that the Sorcerer Supreme had trusted her over any of the Hogwarts professors with one of the most powerful relics of Kamar-Taj. She'd been taught how to use it!
But all she could think about, involved in actual time travel, was that she had another shot at ending her dating trial with Harry on a high note.
God (Gods, she corrected herself), it wasn't like she was even that attracted to Harry. He was a little short for her, honestly. Well, maybe he put in enough effort in their exercise and fighting sessions that he had virtually every other boy at the school his age besides Dean beaten for muscle tone… but she was in charge of her hormones, thank you very much. She'd never let on that she and her roommates stayed up nights objectifying the boys as much as they were probably over in their room objectifying the girls. But, really, she mostly agreed with Lavender that, of all people, the swiftly-growing Ron Weasley might wind up the most fit of the third-year boys.
And if she could just convince herself that it was stupid to try to date her best friend—who she wasn't even that attracted too, damnit—maybe she could let this whole dating thing go and stop feeling like she was being mercenary about the whole situation. But there was just something about getting back an extra shot and making some kind of move before the deadline that wouldn't leave her brain…
"Thanks for letting me borrow your wand," Harry broke her out of her reverie, where she'd been waiting for him behind Hagrid's hut. He'd lit it and handed it over, and she managed to keep it lit as she took it back, their fingers touching with a thrill of passed magic. "I'm not sure it's a great match, but it helped me with the body-bind. You might want to recast it."
"But you got him?" she nodded, relieved, as he held out the gray rat, flickering in a teal glow of magical petrification. "Why don't we make sure we've gotten him?" She'd taken a large stone from around Hagrid's garden, and used her returned wand to transfigure it into a stone jar just big enough for the rat. "Slip him in there," she ordered Harry, and mentioned, "If he somehow breaks the binding, he should turn himself into soup if he tries to transform. And it will crush him if he somehow breaks the transfiguration." She added those last bits for Pettigrew's benefit.
"Nasty," Harry said appreciatively, slipping the rat into the purpose-created container. She waved her wand again to close up the lid, leaving only a hole wide enough for air but not for even a rat to squeeze out of. "Sounds like the fight is about to change. I better get into the woods. Can you go free Buckbeak and bring him?"
"Shouldn't we get the rat into the castle?" she checked.
"We didn't this early before," he shrugged.
"What if something goes wrong?"
"You've got this," he assured her. "Meet you by the lake after, hopefully, this all goes really well."
She smiled and nodded in agreement. If someone else told her to hang onto a murderer currently trapped as a rat in her arms, while freeing a dangerous magical beast to help a crazed but innocent convict, she'd think nobody could pull off such a stunt. But, well, it was…
Harry Potts was finally minutes ahead rather than hours behind in the face of a crisis. The feeling of actually having a plan (even an improvised one) rather than completely winging it in the face of danger was electric. Well, maybe that was the feeling of carrying around another of what he had to assume was a similar capital-S Stone to the orange and yellow ones he'd held the previous two years. He was growing increasingly worried that it was his fate to taste the whole rainbow of these things. And whatever energy from the orange one still lived in him seemed to like the green one only slightly better than the yellow one. At least this one was sealed off in a powerful relic most of the time. But if he needed its help to drive off the Mindless Ones, it might be an issue.
Not that he was getting ahead of himself, or anything.
He was, at least, glad he could rely on Hermione to handle the rat and the hippogriff. Though there was something going on with her that he wasn't sure was just nerves about time travel (13-year-old obliviousness could selectively blot out the sun). But as long as he didn't get dragged off to the Dark Dimension, he'd have time to figure it out. They had Pettigrew! As long as they didn't get blindsided, they'd turn him in to the Ministry, whatever prophecy Trelawney had spouted would be averted, and Sirius would be on his way to freedom.
Of course, knowing his life as well as he did, he was already musing vaguely, in the back of his head, on what he'd do if something tried to snatch the rat at the last second. Hopefully Hermione could handle it for a few minutes.
He was slightly ahead of his time-doppleganger, but was able to follow the trail Hagrid had shown him toward the lake. Wrapped in his invisibility cloak, the malaise of the Mindless Ones in the forest seemed less, though he still had to begin meditating to handle it. Hopefully he'd have more luck getting into the mindset than he had the first time through. The idea that he'd already done it was very reassuring.
Spotting the clearing with the pond up ahead, and outside the ring of red eyes, he figured there was no time like the present. He even thought he was on the same side he remembered seeing the "ghost" from earlier. He popped down in a clear-looking spot (for as little as he was able to see by the dim lights provided by everyone else). Get situated. Clear his head. Start opening chakras. And free his mind…
Do not get distracted while trying to meditate by old En Vogue songs of the same name and catchy chorus that Aunt Pepper enjoyed playing…
He was most of the way free by the time he could hear Sirius start creating obstacles to defend his past self and Lupin. Ah. There was one more chakra under the belly that he hadn't quite widened enough the last time. And then he was out of his own head.
Being a free-floating spirit was interesting. He'd have to compare notes with the draugr. He looked down at his own shimmering, translucent hand and saw that he was clothed the same. An idle wonder about whether he could control his astral appearance flickered across his thoughts, and he could see it spread like lightning under his skin. Perhaps there was something to existing as pure thought, unencumbered by the body, that was distinctly different and thus dangerous to the Mindless Ones.
In fact, he couldn't even feel their malaise.
"Hey!" he shouted, flying more than charging out of the woods onto the shore of the lake. "I order you to cease any and all supernatural activity and return forthwith to your place of origin, or to the next convenient parallel dimension!" Dean would be so proud at his Ghostbusters quote. Maybe Coulson too, if he could tell him about it. He'd gotten a vibe, having dinner after the New York library incident.
The glowing red eyes turned in his direction. He could see Sirius giving him a brilliant smile, though the adult glanced down at former-Harry, assuming he'd succeeded in astrally projecting. But rather than just immediately departing like the ones at the quidditch match, these Mindless Ones seemed to think they could take him. They began to move toward him, trying to surround him.
"Don't make me have to bring out the big guns!" he threatened, suddenly not sure what the big guns were. But then he glanced down at his spectral chest and saw that the Eye of Agamotto had transferred with him along with everything else he was wearing. "Can't be?" he asked, but then followed the somatic gestures that the Ancient One had shown Hermione. Sure enough, the amulet snapped open.
But the Stone was a physical thing, and was on his actual body several yards behind in the woods. So rather than a glowing green rock, he got a green spotlight. The open amulet on his physical body lanced out of its housing toward its mental copy, and, from there, spread out ahead of him very much like Tony's chest-mounted unibeam. Except rather than focused arc reactor electricity, he was blasting the Mindless Ones with pure time.
It was very effective.
He was sure he heard them wail in pain, for all that it wasn't clear whether they had mouths. As he strafed along the shore to play the emerald beam across them all, he saw timeless skin begin to wrinkle and red eyes start to dim. The two closest to him actually stumbled and began to disintegrate into motes of red dust before the rest of them decided to flee, once again unzipping themselves from physical reality.
In moments, there were just two rapidly-evaporating corpses and the fading sounds of escaping Dark Dimension entities. "She didn't show me how to close…" Harry began, but the Eye snapped shut on its own, dismissing the beam. "Nevermind. You okay?" he asked Sirius, who was wearing a triumphant grin.
"I don't know what you did, pup! But it worked. Get back in your body and let's go get that rat!" his godfather suggested, gesturing down at past-Harry's body.
"Um, this may take some explaining," he said. "Give me a minute." It actually only took a second. Getting back to his body wound up being basically as simple as unflexing a mental muscle and snapping back in. It probably had to do with the strength of the tension of having gotten further out, versus the difficulty he'd had waking up earlier that evening. He checked that he felt alright, and that the amulet was truly closed, before standing up and walking out of the trees. "Don't freak out!" he warned Sirius.
"Time travel?" his godfather realized, shockingly quickly.
"Well… yeah," Harry nodded, lamely, having been preparing a whole explanation.
"Your father and I never could manage to figure out how to pull a prank with time travel. But we always thought it was possible."
"Special circumstances," he gestured at the amulet he was wearing.
"Fair enough. Now about that rat?"
"Hermione's got him," Harry nodded. "In fact, Hermione!" he raised his voice.
"I was just waiting to see if you got them all," she called back, leading a horse with the face and wings of an eagle into the clearing. "Mr. Black. I have your ride." She also gestured at the stone cage she'd made a sling for and wore like a purse at her side, "And also your rat."
"He's in there?" Sirius asked, darkly.
"And we're giving him to the Ministry so you can go free," Harry stepped in between him and his prey. "It just may take a little while, because of dumb laws and the Dark Dimension."
"You've thought of everything, huh?" Sirius nodded, glancing back at the unconscious bodies of Lupin and the other Harry by the water. "You going to be alright over there?"
"I was the first time," he nodded. "Oh! But can I have my wand back?"
"Sure thing," Sirius tossed it to him and then bowed to Buckbeak, who regarded him for a moment and then bowed back. "Guess this is the fine fellow that I heard Hagrid crying over more than once this year?"
Hermione agreed, "The Malfoys convinced the Ministry to put him to death. We figured you and he could both lay low for a while."
"I have some ideas," Sirius agreed. "There are a few Black properties that are far from people, and likely warded enough the Mindless Ones couldn't get in if they tried. Harry, I'd offer to let you join me, but…"
"Yeah," Harry nodded, "my aunt takes good care of me. But maybe once you're cleared, I can visit you. You could visit us, on Earth?"
"I'd like that," Sirius grinned. "Oh, hey, is Miss Virginia still single? We're close enough in age now that I might have a shot?"
Harry smirked, "You missed your shot by less than a year."
"Then maybe I'll show up and make sure her beau treats her right," he nodded, not put off. Hesitantly, to make sure it was okay, he stepped forward and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Be seeing you."
"Get somewhere safe and write," Harry agreed, turning the clap into a manly one-armed hug. Not a close hug, because Sirius still smelled terrible. "And that has a bath."
"Hah. See you around Harry. Miss." He waved to both of them, mounted Buckbeak, and flew off out of the clearing.
Hermione had been thinking hard since Harry had mentioned Sirius missing his shot, and as they were exiting the trail onto the Hogwarts grounds she suggested, "We probably need to stay out of the way for a couple of hours."
"Oh, right," he nodded. "Can't go back in until it's tomorrow."
"Yeah. And it'll be Padma's turn."
"That's the second time you've mentioned that," he realized. "Do you…?"
"Yes. Maybe. I don't know," she said, barely visible in the starlight, turning to face him. "Can we… we just kind of skipped our whole month."
"I thought you didn't think we should, you know? That we shouldn't let everyone just expect us to be together?"
"Well… but what if they're right?" She asked, looking slightly down at him. He wasn't quite done growing and she almost was, so maybe they'd wind up about even. It was off putting, but she was committed.
"So do you want to?" he asked.
"Can we?"
He nodded, barely visible in the dark mostly by the glimmer of his glasses in the starlight. So she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him.
After an extremely long moment, she pulled away and blinked. "Um. Sorry, that was. Uh," trying to figure out what to say, she finally admitted, "Are you going to be mad if I say… it was kind of like kissing my dad?"
"Like my aunt," Harry nodded, relieved. Things might have been very complicated if she'd really liked it and he hadn't.
"So… um… right," she nodded, glancing embarrassed at the shadowy grounds and realizing she now had a couple of very awkward hours to kill until they could go back inside. "Friends, then?"
"Friends," Harry agreed. "So, why don't we find some place this rat can't get out until we can hand him over. And maybe we can talk about the new spells we saw tonight and how, you know, we're time travelers."
"I'd love to," she grinned, slightly wistfully, as they made their way back across the grounds.
Maybe just being the best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived wasn't so bad after all.
Sorry, Harry/Hermione fans. You're welcome, Harry/Hermione non-fans :) . In this fic, it was not to be, but I couldn't resist building toward the Cordelia/Wesley moment.