In the final weeks before the N.E.W.T.s, Hermione found herself spending more time with Harry than she had anticipated. It was strange, building a rapport with him again. She hadn't intended to, really. All she had done was offer to create a revision schedule, quizzing him on his Charms material or Transfiguration when he needed it. On the surface, everything seemed like old times—like she was the same Hermione Granger he had always known. But something had shifted, and it was subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone else but herself.
Perhaps it was the way she no longer tried to push him into studying, no longer bossed him around like she used to. Now, she simply offered help when asked, quietly making herself available if he sought her out. There was an unspoken understanding between them—a bond that seemed to form out of mutual respect rather than the old dynamic where she had been the one elbowing him forward.
It was... nice. Comfortable, even. And she could see it in Harry's eyes too—that something had changed. He no longer resisted her help like he once might have, instead accepting it with a sense of ease. And though it wasn't the same relationship she had shared with him in her original timeline, it was something new, and that was good.
Ginny, however, had seemed a bit jealous at first, watching them with narrowed eyes as they spent more time together. Hermione had noticed it, though she hadn't quite known how to address it without making things worse. Eventually, she had taken Ginny aside one day after lunch, offering her a small smile.
"Ginny," she had said gently, "I'm not interested in Harry like that. You don't have to worry."
Ginny had blinked in surprise, clearly caught off guard by the directness. "What? No, I wasn't—"
But Hermione had just smiled, cutting her off with a shake of her head. "You've got nothing to worry about. Trust me. I'm happy for you two."
Ginny's face had softened at that, and though there was still a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, she had nodded. "Thanks," she had murmured, the tension between them easing.
Hermione was genuinely happy for them. It was nice to see Harry and Ginny together without the weight of shared trauma hanging over their relationship. They had found each other naturally in this time, and Hermione was relieved that they had a chance to build something good, something that wasn't tainted by the horrors of war.
As for her and Harry, their connection was different now. It wasn't built on the same foundation of trust and shared experiences, but it was becoming something real, something honest. And though it would never quite be the same, it was enough.
The June 9th full moon loomed over Hermione's thoughts as she studied in the quiet of the library, her mind drifting away from her textbooks. The week before N.E.W.T.s was always nerve-wracking, but it was the upcoming full moon that weighed on her more than the exams. She'd been debating for days whether or not to ask Remus if she could join him during his transformation.
With the Wolfsbane Potion, it would be a different experience than what they had shared in the past. He would retain his human mind, fully aware of his surroundings, and it wouldn't be the harrowing, dangerous ordeal it once was. But would it be too forward to ask him? To offer to be there?
Hermione sighed, tapping her quill against the edge of her parchment. It wasn't as if she hadn't been with him during transformations before. But now… now things were different. They weren't fighting for survival anymore. They were navigating this new, strange world, and she didn't know where she fit into his life, especially with the ghosts of their past and his life with Tonks still hanging between them.
As the sun slowly began to set on the day before the full moon, she made up her mind. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she didn't at least ask. With a knot of nerves tightening in her stomach, Hermione made her way to Remus's office.
What Hermione hadn't expected was Remus's reaction to her offer—it was as if the simple question had caught him completely off guard. His cheeks flushed a light pink, and for a moment, he fumbled over his words, much like the younger version of him she had known. She hadn't meant to make him uncomfortable, but it became clear that the idea of her joining him in Animagus form felt... different.
"Thank you, Hermione, really, but there's no need," Remus had said gently, his voice soft but firm. "The Wolfsbane works well enough. I'm quite comfortable during the transformations now."
She tried not to let her disappointment show, though a part of her couldn't help but feel like this gap between them—this unspoken weight of time and age—was creeping in. Back in the past, they had shared so much during those full moons, but now... now things were different.
"Are you sure?" she had asked, trying to keep her voice light, though her heart ached a little. "I could come by after even. I mean, just to make sure you're okay."
Remus had smiled at her, but his response was the same. "Andi's coming by to help out, so I'm in good hands. You've got your exams coming up, you need your rest."
Hermione nodded, feeling a little awkward now. "Of course. I just—well, you know, I wanted to help if I could."
"I know," he said warmly, his eyes softening. "And I appreciate it. But really, I'm fine. Don't worry about me."
As she left him that day, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that things were subtly shifting between them. Remus had always been careful, considerate, but now she wondered if that caution extended to something deeper—an unspoken hesitation about their relationship. The age difference, the history between them, the complicated tangle of their past and present lives... it all seemed to loom larger now.
She tried to push the thoughts aside as she prepared for her N.E.W.T.s, but the unease lingered, a quiet weight on her chest.
The N.E.W.T.s were, quite frankly, laughably easy for Hermione. She breezed through each exam as though it were just another routine day of studying, her quill moving effortlessly across the parchment. It was almost amusing to her how simple everything felt, how the stress and pressure that had once weighed her down in her original timeline were absent this time around. The exams didn't seem daunting, nor did they hold the same importance as they once had. She was practically on autopilot.
When the last exam ended, she pointedly suppressed her old habit of second-guessing her answers. There was no need to spiral into doubt, not now. The worst that could happen was not making the top of the class—and she'd already experienced that once, back when Lily had beat her out for the top spot in their time together. She had survived then, and she'd survive now.
The Outstanding marks were all but a given, after all. She had years of experience, knowledge, and a completely different set of priorities than her classmates.
Draco, naturally, had noticed her air of calm after the exams and couldn't resist commenting on it. "I don't know what you're on," he drawled as they left the Great Hall together, "but I definitely want some. You've been acting like these exams are just a minor inconvenience, and I don't think I've ever seen you sweat once."
Hermione laughed lightly, the tension she usually carried around the exams completely absent. "Maybe I've just been over it all for a while now," she replied with a smirk.
Draco shook his head, still looking vaguely bewildered. "Well, whatever it is, Granger, you've got some kind of edge. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you already knew all the answers before they even asked the questions."
Hermione just smiled. If only he knew how close to the truth he actually was.
Hermione and Remus were sitting together in a quiet corner of the castle, their last little get-together before the Hogwarts Express would whisk her away into the great unknown. It was bittersweet. For the first time in what felt like forever, Hermione realised that while she was technically free to start her life afresh, she had no real plan—no place to go. Sure, she had her parents, but the thought of returning to them after everything that had happened made her stomach twist.
As they sat there, she hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Remus," she began, her voice a bit uncertain, "I've been thinking... I don't really have anywhere to go after this. I mean, my parents are still in Britain, but... things are different now. I was wondering if it would be possible for you to transfer back some of the funds I gave you. Just enough until I can get on my feet. I'll pay you back, of course, once I—"
Remus looked at her like she had lost her mind. He cut her off before she could finish. "First of all, that's your money. Of course, you can have it. And don't even start with that nonsense about paying me back." He shook his head, his expression both amused and exasperated. "Secondly, you know Sirius still has that old apartment. He is at Grimmauld now, but the flat's just sitting there unused. You could stay there if you want."
Hermione blinked, caught off guard by his easy solution. "I—I didn't even think about asking."
Remus raised an eyebrow. "Of course you didn't. You're too busy trying to handle everything on your own as usual." His voice softened then. "Why don't you want to stay with your parents, though? I know things are different, but wouldn't it be nice to spend some time with them?"
Hermione sighed, her heart heavy. She hadn't really told anyone about what she had done to her parents in her original timeline, not back in 1978, and not now. It felt like a painful secret she had carried with her, and maybe now was the time to explain. "In my original timeline," she began, her voice quieter, "I... I erased their memories. Made them forget I ever existed so they wouldn't be in danger. Sent them off to Australia."
Remus listened carefully, his expression growing serious as he realised the weight of what she was saying. "I did it because of Voldemort. I had to protect them. But now, I just don't know how to act around them. They aren't the same parents I left behind in that timeline. And I'm not the same Hermione. They'd definitely notice the change in me, and... I'm not quite comfortable with that."
Remus was silent for a moment, absorbing her words. He reached out, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I understand. But you don't have to figure it all out at once. Maybe some distance would help, and Sirius's flat is a good option. You're welcome to stay there as long as you need."
Hermione offered him a small, grateful smile. "Thank you."
"So... Mr Malfoy?" Remus said lightly, though she could sense the underlying tension in his voice. "You've been quite cosy with him these last few weeks."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm starting to think you want me to be with anyone but you."
"It's not that," he replied, his voice soft but firm. "I just don't want you to think that you have to be with me, alright? I don't want you to feel trapped."
Her heart ached at his words. He was still trying to protect her, even now, when she knew he wanted nothing more than to pull her close and never let go.
"You do realise," she began, her voice shaking slightly, "for me, only two months have passed since we were very much in love. I am still very much in love with you. But if you don't want that kind of relationship with me, just say so."
Remus's brow furrowed, and she could see the internal battle waging behind his eyes. "It's not that I don't want it," he said carefully. "I just don't think you quite realise that loving me back then, and loving me now, will not be exactly the same experience."
"Because of Tonks?" Hermione asked softly, bracing herself for the answer.
He shook his head. "No. Because of what everyone else will think of the relationship. Back then, we were classmates, it was a natural progression of things. Now, I'm your professor. People will talk."
"Merlin's beard..." Hermione muttered, her heart sinking as the full weight of his words crashed over her. "No, you're absolutely right. I didn't even think of that. I can't do this to you. In everyone's eyes, there's a nineteen-year difference, and you've taught me for seven of those years. I—" She faltered, her voice breaking. "I should probably just go." The words tasted bitter, but she couldn't deny the truth behind them.
Before she could move, Remus's hand found hers, his grip gentle but steady, anchoring her to the moment. "Don't," he said softly, his voice filled with quiet intensity. "I don't care what they'll say about me. I'm more concerned about you."
Hermione bit her lip, her mind racing. "I don't care what they'll say about me." But even as the words left her mouth, she winced internally, remembering the awful things the papers had written about her in her fourth year—how they had spun stories about her supposedly double-timing Harry and Viktor Krum. None of it had been true, but it had still hurt. And now? Technically, they would be right.
Of course, Remus noticed her hesitation. "See?" he said softly, his eyes full of understanding.
Hermione sighed, her resolve wavering. "If it comes to the worst, I'll reveal who I really am. I'd like to see them start throwing mud at the person who saved them all from Voldemort."
Remus shook his head, his expression grim. "I don't think it will quite have the effect you're hoping for. If anything, they'll come at you even harder, pick you apart as the national treasure who isn't so flawless after all."
She stayed quiet, the memories of all the things they wrote about Harry—the lies, the assumptions, the constant scrutiny—flashing through her mind. It had torn him apart, and he had been powerless to stop it. She wasn't sure she could go through that. She couldn't drag Remus through that.
"Just think it through," Remus said gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.
"There's nothing to think through," she insisted, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her inner turmoil. "I love you, and there isn't anyone I'd rather be with. As for the media, we'll get through it. The scandal will die down eventually."
Remus smiled sadly. "Maybe. But I want you to be sure, Hermione. This isn't just about us anymore. It's about how the world will perceive us. And I don't want you to sacrifice your future for me."
Hermione felt a lump rise in her throat. "I don't care about what they think, Remus. I care about you."
He pulled her into a gentle embrace, his chin resting on the top of her head. "I care about you too," he murmured. "Which is why I want you to be certain."
They stood there in silence, the weight of everything unsaid settling around them like a heavy fog. Hermione could feel the enormity of the moment pressing down on her. She knew Remus was right. The road ahead would be hard, but the thought of facing it together made it seem a little less daunting. Maybe, just maybe, they could weather the storm as long as they had each other.
"I'll think about it," she finally said, her voice quieter now. "But don't really expect my answer to change."
Remus smiled softly, that knowing smile of his that always seemed to disarm her. "Yes, I know how stubborn you are."
Hermione swatted at him lightly, the action more affectionate than annoyed. They shared a moment of quiet laughter, the tension easing slightly, though the weight of their conversation still lingered in the air.
After a beat, Hermione sighed, calming herself. "Will you write to Sirius for me? About the flat?"
Remus raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "That afraid to talk to him?"
"It's not that," she said, shaking her head. "I just don't want our first interaction after everything to be me seemingly demanding something of him. You know how he gets. He'll do the opposite just to get a rise out of me."
Remus chuckled softly. "You know he wouldn't."
Hermione shot him a look, her eyebrows raised in doubt.
"Not with this," he insisted. "Besides, he's grown up a bit."
"Somehow I doubt that," she muttered, her scepticism clear.
Remus's smile widened, a glint of fondness in his eyes. "Children tend to do that to you."
Hermione paused, her mind briefly drifting to the image of Sirius with his kids, the idea of him as a father still something she was trying to wrap her head around. It was strange to imagine, but... maybe Remus was right. Maybe Sirius had grown up—at least a little.
She glanced back at Remus, feeling a bit of warmth return to her chest. "Alright," she said softly. "You're right. But still, will you write to him? Just to smooth things over."
Remus nodded, his hand squeezing hers reassuringly. "I will. Don't worry, he'll be more than happy to help. And you'll see—things with Sirius aren't going to be as hard as you think."
Hermione gave him a small smile, still feeling the uncertainty of everything ahead, but with Remus by her side, she felt a little more grounded. "Thank you," she said quietly, her gratitude clear.
"Always," Remus replied, his voice gentle but filled with quiet certainty.
As the Hogwarts Express rattled along steadily towards London, Hermione sat by the window, watching the rolling hills and familiar countryside speed by in a blur. It was a bittersweet journey, her final ride on the train as a student. Her heart was heavy with thoughts of the uncertain future, but at the same time, she couldn't help but feel a glimmer of excitement for what lay ahead.
The train compartment was filled with the usual chatter of students eager for the summer holidays. But she, unlike them, wasn't just saying goodbye to another year at Hogwarts—she was saying goodbye to an entire chapter of her life. No longer the swotty bookworm, no longer Mina Delacour, she was now something else entirely, straddling two lives.
Draco sat across from her, his long legs stretched out, as he read through The Daily Prophet. Occasionally, he'd glance up at her, seemingly gauging her mood, but he didn't press her with questions. In the weeks since they'd grown closer, Draco had learned when to leave her in peace.
"Are you going to mope the entire trip?" Draco finally asked, about half-an-hour later, folding up the paper. "Or are you going to share what's on your mind?"
Hermione tore her gaze from the window, offering a small smile. "I'm not moping."
"Right, because sitting in silence, staring out the window, isn't the universal signal for deep introspective brooding," he said, smirking.
She rolled her eyes, but a faint smile tugged at her lips. "Just thinking about what's next. I don't have the same sense of closure everyone else does. It's... complicated."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Complicated? That's one way to put it. But if anyone can handle 'complicated,' it's you."
Hermione let out a soft laugh. "That's the nicest thing you've said all year."
"You're welcome," Draco quipped, his tone lighter, though there was something deeper in his expression, a sort of understanding they had developed over time.
The train gave a slight jolt as it sped around a bend, and for a moment, Hermione was lost again in the motion, in the sound of the wheels clacking rhythmically against the tracks. She thought of Remus, of their last conversation, and the life she had left behind in the past. Her future now was wide open, but that openness was equally daunting.
She could feel the weight of the letter from Lily tucked safely in her bag, a small anchor in the whirlwind of change. It wasn't just a letter—it was a reminder that she wasn't alone, that her old friends were waiting for her on the other side of this journey, ready to help her make sense of this new life.
The train rattled on, and Hermione felt the miles to London pass with a mix of nostalgia and anticipation.
When they stepped off the train, Hermione barely had time to gather her bearings before she spotted Narcissa Black approaching. The familiar tall, elegant figure of Draco's mother moved with purpose through the crowd. For a brief moment, Hermione tensed, instinctively expecting a sneer or an icy remark, but then remembered: in this timeline, things were different. Narcissa's face was calm, almost neutral, as if she had accepted Hermione as an equal, a worthy opponent for her son, despite her "unfortunate" parentage.
"Miss Granger," Narcissa greeted her, her voice smooth, devoid of its usual condescension. "or should I say... Head Girl? Congratulations on your final year. Draco has spoken highly of you."
Hermione blinked in surprise, quickly schooling her features into a polite smile. "Thank you, Miss Black. Your son has been a... capable counterpart as Head Boy."
Draco, standing beside Hermione, exchanged pleasantries with his mother, but Hermione couldn't help but notice the speculative glance Narcissa cast in her direction. It wasn't hostile—quite the opposite, really. It was as if she were... assessing her. Weighing something in her mind. A flicker of a memory surfaced from Hermione's past, or rather, Mina Delacour's past.
At the Malfoy wedding years ago, Narcissa had taken a subtle but pointed interest in Mina. There was something behind her sharp eyes now, a hint of recognition and perhaps—gratitude? It was unnerving, and Hermione didn't know what to make of it.
Could she have somehow put together the truth? The Blacks were known for their sharp instincts after all, and Narcissa wasn't a woman easily fooled. Though Hermione couldn't imagine how.
"Well," Narcissa continued, her eyes still flicking back to Hermione with a strange glint of curiosity, "I trust Draco will see you again before long. It seems you've been a positive influence on him."
Hermione simply nodded, her mind racing with possibilities, though she kept her expression calm. "I hope so. I've enjoyed our time together. Especially the spirited Potions debates."
Narcissa's lips curled into the faintest of smiles, but before either could say more, the conversation ended with a polite nod. She and Draco moved off into the crowd, but not before Hermione felt the weight of Narcissa's gaze lingering on her again, as if she were considering something more.
As they left, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that Narcissa knew more than she was letting on.
Before Hermione could process her interaction with Narcissa, she found herself suddenly engulfed in a tight, warm hug from Lily Potter. The force of it nearly knocked her off balance.
"Mum!" Harry exclaimed, completely dumbfounded as he watched the scene unfold, his eyes darting between his mother and Hermione. "What's going on?"
"It's so good to see you," Lily said softly, pulling back slightly but still holding onto Hermione's arms, her smile wide. The sight was so jarring for Hermione—seeing Lily as she was now, in her late 30s. All she had ever known, even from the few surviving photos, was the vibrant young woman in her early 20s, tragically frozen in time. It stirred an odd ache in Hermione's chest.
Harry, however, was utterly perplexed. "Will someone please tell me what is going on?" he asked again, this time with a mixture of frustration and confusion. He looked between his mother and father, both of whom were gazing at Hermione like she was some kind of miracle, their eyes filled with a strange mixture of joy and disbelief.
"Can we tell them?" Lily asked Hermione, her tone soft but excited. The implication was clear—Lily knew the magnitude of Hermione's secret, but she also knew that the secrecy vow would have prevented her from speaking a word without Hermione's express consent.
Hermione hesitated, her gaze flicking to Harry and his sister—her namesake, her heart heavy with the weight of the decision. She had already withheld so much from him, and while she wasn't sure how he would react, it didn't feel right to keep this hidden forever.
"Sure," she finally said, taking a deep breath, "just… maybe wait until you're home? And make sure they take the same vows."
"Anything you want," Lily agreed without a moment's hesitation, her trust in Hermione absolute. She didn't even consult James, but he didn't seem to mind. His eyes were soft with the same recognition and warmth, though his curiosity was clearly burning.
"We should get together sometime," Lily added warmly, already planning the reunion in her head.
Before Hermione could respond, Sirius Black came striding up, his signature grin plastered across his face. "Hiya, Minnie bean!" he greeted with his usual exuberance, and before Hermione could react, he was pulling her into another hug, the twins standing behind and not quite understanding what was going on either.
"Does the same offer apply to my crotch goblins as well?" he asked, gesturing to his children, who were staring at her curiously. "And you know Marlene'll be pissed if you leave her out. She's already going to have a fit that we never told her the full truth."
Harry, who had been watching the entire scene with mounting confusion, finally threw up his hands. "Why is everybody acting like you know Hermione?" he demanded, his frustration boiling over.
"We'll tell you everything when we're home, Harry," James said, placing a calming hand on his son's shoulder. His tone was gentle but firm. "Just have some patience."
Mina Potter, who had been standing off to the side with her arms crossed, piped up with a grin. "I feel like you're getting another sister, brother," she teased, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
Sirius, never one to let a teasing moment slip by, snorted and shook his head. "More like an aunt, really. Or maybe both," he corrected, but his amused smirk did nothing to make the situation any clearer for Harry.
Harry blinked, utterly lost. "Wait—what?!" His confusion deepened as he looked from his sister to Sirius, then to Hermione, hoping for some clarification. All he got in return was more cryptic smiles and knowing looks exchanged between his parents and their friends.
Mina laughed, clearly enjoying her brother's confusion. "Don't worry, Harry. I'm sure it'll all make sense soon enough."
Harry, on the other hand, was less than amused. "I swear, everyone's gone mad," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his messy hair as he tried to make sense of the bizarre situation unfolding in front of him.
Hermione caught Lily's eye once more, and the older woman gave her a reassuring smile. It was a smile that said everything without words—you're not alone in this. Hermione's chest tightened with emotion at the quiet promise, knowing that despite the whirlwind of confusion, Lily, and the others were there for her.
"Oh, before I forget," Sirius said, breaking through the moment as he rummaged around in the deep pockets of his leather jacket, a playful grin on his face. After a few seconds of exaggerated searching, he finally pulled out a set of keys, jingling them lightly before tossing them over to Hermione.
"Might be a bit dusty in there," he added with a shrug. "Been a while since I checked on it. But it's all yours if you still want it."
Hermione caught the keys with a quiet chuckle, the weight of them feeling oddly symbolic in her hand—a tangible connection to a past that wasn't hers anymore, but somehow still was. "Thanks, Sirius," she said softly, giving him a grateful smile.
Sirius winked. "No problem, Minnie. Just don't blame me if you find a few of my old socks lying around."
Harry's eyebrows shot up at that. "Wait, why are you giving Hermione a flat, Sirius? What's going on here? And why are you calling her Minnie? She hates nicknames!"
Sirius just waved a hand dismissively. "All will be revealed in time, Harry. Just you wait." His tone was breezy, but the underlying meaning was clear—be patient.
Harry let out a frustrated groan, clearly itching for answers, but Hermione could only laugh quietly. There was so much she wanted to explain, but for now, she was content to just hold on to the keys and the knowledge that she was finally finding her place in this new, yet familiar world.
Soon they made their farewells to each other, and Hermione walked toward the barrier to the Muggle side of King's Cross, the weight of her shrunken trunk in her pocket felt so much lighter than the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. The soft jingling of the keys Sirius had given her was a comforting sound, a reminder that she was slowly, finally, finding her place in this timeline—her place with these people.
But then she saw them.
Alice and Frank Longbottom, whole and healthy and sane, standing together as they collected Neville from the train. Hermione stopped in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat. Her heart clenched as she took in the sight—the way Frank's hand rested protectively on Alice's shoulder, the way Alice beamed at Neville, her eyes full of pride and joy.
It was a beautiful moment, one that shouldn't have felt so foreign to Hermione but did, painfully so. In her original timeline, Alice and Frank had never had this chance—they had been robbed of so many moments with their son, reduced to vacant expressions and empty candy wrappers. And Neville… he had grown up without them, had faced horrors without their guidance. Seeing them here, alive and well, was like watching a dream she had never dared hope for.
Tears pricked at her eyes, and she quickly wiped them away before they could fall. She wanted to cry—for Neville, for Alice and Frank, for all the families that had been torn apart in her old timeline. And maybe, just a little, for herself, for the strange feeling of knowing how different things could have been.
But this was the world she had helped create, the one where they had all been given a second chance. Hermione allowed herself a small smile, her heart swelling with gratitude that Neville had his parents, that he would grow up with them by his side.
Still, the sight tugged at her, a reminder of the sacrifices and choices that had led to this moment. She took a deep breath, pushing the flood of emotions down as best she could. This was a new world, and it was better for so many. That's what mattered.
With one last glance at the Longbottom family, she turned and walked through the barrier, stepping back into the Muggle world, ready to face whatever came next.