London, April 2395

Hermione propped her back against the rough bark of the tree and pulled out her PADD. Around her, students were spread out on the grass and under the trees, enjoying the warm, sunny day.

She decided to get started on her maths homework while she waited for Jack, who was still in chemistry.

She was in the middle of tackling a particularly challenging equation, when her classmate, Bruce Robertson, plopped down under the tree next to her. He unceremoniously tore the PADD from her hands and began typing on the touch screen.

"Hey!" Hermione said, her temper flaring. "What are you, twelve?"

"On a scale from one to ten? Yes."

The smug grin on his face only annoyed her more. And he sat far too close, violating her personal space.

She scooched away from him and held her hand out, palm up. "Give it back."

"Just a sec."

His smile grew as he finished typing and handed the device back to her.

She didn't want to read it, but it was impossible to delete the words without at least glancing at the screen. What he'd written wasn't as bad as Hermione had expected, but it wasn't anything she had any intention of agreeing to.

A swipe of her finger erased the invitation from her maths work.

"Very classy, Bruce." She rolled her eyes.

Annoying, too, since he'd erased some of her calculations in the process of trying to flirt with her.

"My answer is no."

The feigned crestfallen look on his face nearly made her laugh.

She didn't know what it was lately, but somehow, she seemed to be garnering more attention from the opposite sex. Spring in the air, maybe? In any case, she much rather preferred it when she was mostly ignored and left to her own devices—especially by the arrogant, self-centred, and incredibly forward types like Bruce Robertson. She wasn't looking for any romantic relationships at the moment, and she already had a friend.

"Come on," Robertson insisted. "Join me for dinner. Why is everyone so focused on their studies?"

Hermione turned her attention to the other students around her. Many of them seemed to be studying, but some just engaged in conversation. Some even appeared to be napping.

"That'd be because the exams are almost upon us."

"They're, like, a month away!" He gave her a 'Are you serious?' look and shook his head.

The school Hermione attended was considered one of the best on Earth, and most students took their studies very seriously. Clearly, Robertson wasn't in that category.

"What about going to the dance with me, then?" he said, slipping his hand into hers. "I could help you with maths if you say yes."

It was not only uncomfortably forward of him, but it was also preventing her from typing.

She slipped her hand from under his. "I would advise you to keep your hands to yourself," she warned.

Honestly. What's with this bloke who can't take no for an answer?

"I'm already going with someone else," she said. "And I don't need any help with maths."

And if that were ever to change, then she'd ask her best friend for help—not Robertson. Jack was rather brilliant at maths.

The school bell rang, and students began pouring out of the building. The noise level in their immediate vicinity went up a few decibels.

Hermione spotted Jack and waved her hand to get his attention. Jack began striding towards her, and his smile turned into a frown when his eyes fell upon Robertson seated beside her.

"You aren't going with him, are you?" Robertson asked snidely.

She didn't like his tone and the way he generally spoke about Jack. Not one bit.

"Watch it, Robertson," she said, warning in her voice. "That's my best friend you're talking about."

He raised his hands in a placating manner. "Hey, I'm just curious."

"You know what they say about curiosity and the cat, don't you?"

He let out a chuckle. "I honestly don't know how you are friends with him. You two seem very different."

"You don't know me, Robertson. At all."

"That's precisely my point! I want to get to know you better. That's why I'm inviting you!"

She fixed him with a look. The tone of his voice was beginning to grate on her nerves. It was as if he believed he was doing her a favour. As if he thought anyone would be lucky to attract his attention and crazy to refuse him.

Self-important git.

"Alright, fine then," Robertson said, throwing a scathing look at Jack, who drew closer. "Your loss."

I honestly don't think so, Hermione thought, her patience wearing thin.

He rose to his feet. "If you change your mind, you know how to contact me."

"Have a nice day, Bruce," Hermione said in dismissal and turned to Jack with a smile.

Jack removed his rucksack and sat beside her.

"What did he want?" he said, staring daggers at Robertson's retreating form.

"He came to invite me to dinner and the school dance."

"Oh, is that all?" Jack asked, retrieving his PADD from his rucksack. "I'm guessing by the look on his face, your answer was no?"

"Of course. He's vile. I would never go out with someone like that."

And Robertson was a bully. Hermione had witnessed his mistreatment of several students on multiple occasions. Honestly, in many ways, he reminded her of Draco Malfoy.

"But he's just so dreamy," Jack said with a roll of his eyes.

Yes, Hermione had overheard some girls talk about Robertson in that way. Apparently, Jack had, too.

Hermione giggled. "Is he? I haven't noticed."

Jack grinned and bumped her shoulder with his. "I was thinking. Since you told that tosser to get lost, and I don't really fancy spending the night in someone else's boring company—why don't you and I go to the dance together? As friends? Or not. Which would be fine, too. Totally fine. I just thought that—"

"Jack," she said, putting a stop to his rambling, "I'd be happy to go to the dance with you. But . . . I already said yes to someone else."

"Oh."

"Sorry."

"No, no. It's totally fine. As I already said."

Someone by the main building erupted into laughter, followed by cheers and whistles.

A group of students nearby began gathering up their things and yelling something about swimming practice at someone across the lawn.

"Who are you going with then?" Jack asked matter-of-factly.

"Damien Smith. He's my chemistry lab partner."

Jack nodded. "I know him. Tall guy. Dark, curly hair."

"Right. And he's nice. He reminds me of someone I used to go to school with."

Even though Damien looked nothing like Neville, he reminded her greatly of her timid Gryffindor classmate. Like Neville, Damien was raised by his grandmother. Like Neville, he was often the target of bullying by pompous gits like Robertson.

And just like Neville had asked her to the Yule Ball, Damien had asked her to the school dance.

Memories of the Yule Ball came to the forefront of her mind: the good, the bad. Everything.

She bit on her bottom lip and added absently, "And it didn't take him ages to figure out I was a girl."

Jack snorted. "He'd be pretty daft if he couldn't figure that out."

"Mm-hmm," she said, still lost in the memories.

The Yule Ball … It had only been a little over two years ago, and yet so far away. As if in another lifetime.

It was in another lifetime. The one that was now forever lost to her.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Jack placed a hand on her forearm and searched her gaze.

He really was attentive. Hardly anything slipped past his notice.

It wasn't that Hermione didn't trust him—she did. Very much so. She just wasn't ready to talk about her past yet. Some days, it was still hard enough to think about it without bursting into tears, let alone speak.

But as the saying went, time healed all wounds. And the more time passed, the easier things got. Jack played a big role in her adjusting to this world and getting over her loss.

She would tell him everything. Soon.

Just not today.

"No, no. It's nothing," Hermione reassured him, patting his hand. "Just thinking."

She turned to face him fully. "It's you we've got to think about now. Have you got anyone in mind you'd like to go with?"

"Not really. Maybe I'll pass." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not fond of school dances, you know that."

"But you made a promise to your mother."

"Yeah, there's that." Jack tapped his index finger on his chin. "Well, let's see here. I could ask Shelly Wright, from our English class."

"She seems nice."

"She does. Or Christine Owens, from my computer science. Neither of them treats me like a weirdo—"

"Because you're not a weirdo!"

"—assuming they're still available, of course."

"You better get a move on, then."

"Yeah, tomorrow," he said, picking up his PADD. "Have you started on the homework yet?"

"I was trying to. Before I was so rudely interrupted by Robertson."

Jack chuckled. "Minor setback, I'm sure. What do you want to do? Study at the library? Here? Common room?"

Something warm stirred in her chest. It was gratitude, she realized.

For a friend like Jack. For this life in a new universe.

After everything that had happened, she was lucky to be alive.

They ended up studying on the lawn, enjoying the warm weather and the sunshine. Somehow, by the time they got to their English homework, Jack ended up resting his head in Hermione's lap while she read to him.

"You didn't fall asleep, did you?" she asked when she finished reading and set the PADD aside.

"Not at all." He opened his eyes. "I was just picturing what you were reading."

She chuckled. "I'm sure you were."

"I was!"

She reached down and casually swept his hair out of his eyes. They fluttered shut.

"Do you have trouble sleeping?" she asked, her gaze zeroing in on the shadows under his eyes.

"Eh, just nightmares," he said nonchalantly as if it was no big deal.

"Do you … want to talk about it?" she asked carefully.

"There isn't much to talk about. Most of the time, I don't even remember what the nightmare was about. It's just snippets and this feeling … It lingers when I wake up. Of being a prisoner inside my own body. Of being out of control. Like my body is not my own. Like my mind is not my own. At least, not fully. And there's this big, faceless crowd, many voices blending into one indistinguishable racket, and I feel lost, and… Ugh, I don't even know if I'm explaining it right. I'm probably not making any sense."

Hermione contemplated his words. That, indeed, sounded terrifying. "Do you have them often? These nightmares?"

"I used to. According to my mother, when I was very little, they were so bad that I basically stopped sleeping. Because I was afraid of what I'd see if I did. I don't really remember that time. But it's nowhere near that bad now. In fact, prior to this, I can't remember the last time I had a nightmare. Probably sometime before I met you."

"Do you think it would be wise to let your mother know?"

Beverly Crusher was a doctor, after all. With many years of experience. If Jack's childhood nightmares were—for whatever reason—returning, then perhaps it would be a good idea to inform her.

"Nah," Jack said. "She'll just worry, and I don't want that."

Hermione bit on her bottom lip. "And what if the nightmares get worse?"

"Then I'll tell her. Till then, let's keep it between us, alright?"

"Alright."

She could always brew a Potion for Dreamless Sleep for him, if needed. It might be a good way to open up a conversation about her magic, too.

Hermione studied Jack's face while his eyes were closed. He looked so peaceful, as if he were sleeping. She wondered how she'd ever seen Harry when she looked at Jack. Outwardly, they were nothing alike. Harry had green eyes, while Jack's eyes were blue. Harry had dark hair, and Jack—nearly blond.

And yet, when they both smiled, there was something similar there.

Jack opened one eye and looked at her. "What?"

Startled out of her thoughts, she blinked.

"Nothing." She casually swept the stubborn hair out of Jack's eyes once more. "Your hair is getting long."

"I was thinking about growing it out. Do you think long hair would look good on me?"

"Not really."

"Harsh."

"But honest. You wouldn't look good with a braid."

"Who said anything about a braid? I was thinking more along the lines of a ponytail or a man bun."

Hermione burst out laughing. "I mean, it's your hair. You can do whatever you like."

"I know that. Still. My best friend's opinion is important to me."

They slipped into familiar banter, joking and teasing one another. That feeling of gratitude for her friendship with Jack filled her chest.

Yes, this wasn't the life she'd chosen, but it was the one she had. And she was determined to make the most of it.

A/n. First of all, Happy New Year! May it be amazing in every way!

Second of all, I apologize for missing a week of posting. I should be back to my regular schedule—at least for now.

Thanks for reading, and take care!