FicWad

Originally written for Samhain Smut 2014 on LJ. Thank you to stgulik for beta reading this for me.

The Samhain Shift

”Harry, be careful!”

Harry acknowledged her plea with a grim smile and a half-nod, but Hermione could see the determined set of his jaw and the steel in his eyes. She knew that if Harry had to die to eliminate Voldemort once and for all, he’d do so happily. He’d proven as much that very morning when he’d wandered into the forest alone, fully expecting to die. Hermione didn’t know how in Merlin’s name he’d survived, but she was deathly afraid that he’d used up any and all of his luck already.

Voldemort’s scarlet eyes gleamed in anger and anticipation as Harry deliberately stepped forward. If his reaction when Harry had taken off his father’s cloak and saved Mrs. Weasley was any indication, Riddle had been just as shocked by Harry’s survival as Hermione had been. Now he wanted to kill Harry once and for all with everyone still breathing from either side there to bear witness. Why else would he have erected these magical barriers to separate his followers from the Hogwarts defenders, ensuring none could interfere in this climactic showdown between the Dark Lord and the Chosen One who had been prophesied as the only one with the power to stop him?

“You’ve been a much bigger nuisance than I’d expected, Harry,” Voldemort admitted, something akin to respect in his voice. “But while part of me does admire your perseverance, it is past time for me to do away with you and begin rebuilding this world.”

“You’ve been trying for seventeen years, and I'm still here,” Harry said, his voice even and his wand hand steady as he continued to slowly approach Voldemort. If nothing else, she could see that he was not frightened. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Defiant to the end, I see,” Voldemort replied. “No matter. I will wipe that defiance out here and now, and your death will serve as a lesson to all who would think to oppose me.” The Dark Lord’s hand rose from his side, and his wand was now pointed squarely at Harry. From beyond the barrier, Hermione gripped her own vine and dragon heartstring wand futilely. She found herself in the unfamiliar position of not being able to help Harry, and didn’t like the feeling at all.

“Let’s finish it, Tom,” Harry said, and Voldemort predictably snarled in outrage at Harry’s casual use of his hated birth name. He practically shook with rage as he leveled his yew and phoenix feather wand straight at Harry’s heart. Hermione knew what was coming next, but as he knew the Dark Lord far better than she did, Harry obviously knew what to expect as well. With his quidditch-honed reflexes, he had ample time to dodge.

He made no attempt to do so, though. Harry's feet remained firmly planted in the exact same spot. He glared defiantly at Voldemort and slashed the air with the wand he’d taken from Draco. His execution of Snape’s Sectumsempra was perfect; blood immediately began spilling from deep slashes in Voldemort’s chest. The cuts were too deep, and the blood flowed too quickly for him to stem. In moments, Tom Riddle breathed his last desperate gasp and went still. His marked Death Eaters soon followed him to the Great Beyond thanks to a curse he’d worked into their marks to protect himself from betrayal.

Hermione neither knew nor cared about the deaths of the Dark Lord and his followers. From the moment she’d realized Harry had no intention of dodging, all she could do was stare at him in horror. Her mouth opened in a silent scream when the green light of the Killing Curse struck her best friend and his body fell to the floor of the Great Hall. With the barriers now gone, she immediately ran to his side and fell to her knees beside his head. Ron was just a step behind her, but she paid no heed to her other best friend.

Sobbing, Hermione cradled Harry’s head in her arms and pleaded with him to accomplish the impossible just one more time, but it was not to be. Harry’s green eyes, his best physical feature in Hermione’s opinion, stared unseeing up at the ceiling of the Great Hall. His face looked oddly peaceful in death. Perhaps he was happy to be reunited with his parents and Sirius, or maybe he was just relieved to no longer have to carry their world’s burdens on his shoulders. His entire life, all he’d ever wanted was to be normal, but the world never allowed it. He had at turns been hailed as a hero, vilified as a future Dark Lord, discredited as a liar and a cheat, and finally, relied upon as the only hope against the darkness. Yet he’d always done what he thought was right, right up until his last breath. Twice in one day, he’d willingly sacrificed his own life to try and stop Voldemort, and now he’d succeeded at last. If there was peace to be found in death, Harry had earned it several times over.

But that didn’t make it any easier for Hermione to handle. She was the one who now had to go through life without her best friend, the bravest and most loyal soul she’d ever known. She had to live in a world without Harry Potter, and she didn’t know if she was strong enough to do it.

Hermione buried her head against Harry’s still chest and wept bitter tears into the fabric of his dirty shirt. She was numb to all that happened around her: the Death Eaters collapsing one by one, the remnants of the Light trying to figure out what to do next, even Ron shaking her shoulder and trying to get her attention.

“Hermione! Hermione…Hermione?”

“Hermione? Can you hear me?”

Startled, Hermione Jean Granger realized that her assistant Martin had his hand on her shoulder and was looking at her in concern. She shook her head and took a shaky breath to calm herself. Not a day went by that she didn’t think of Harry, even though he’d been gone over five years now. Most days, she could think back on all of their adventures and good times with a fond smile. But there were certain days when she couldn’t help but dwell on the day she and Ron had lost their best friend forever. Halloween had always been one of those days, and this year was no exception.

“I’m sorry, Martin, I was lost in thought,” she explained truthfully. “Have you found anything?”

“It’s just like you thought, Hermione. The veil’s giving off more magic today than at any point since we entered the monitoring phase.”

That was no surprise. There were certain days each year where the forces of magic grew stronger and more evident. Samhain, more commonly known as Halloween in present times, was the strongest of them all. Even the Muggles could sense the latent magic in the air, hence the traditions and superstitions they’d developed over the years.

“That’s as expected, but thank you for confirming it. We should begin our experiment now.”

“As you say, ma’am,” Martin said enthusiastically. “I think we’re going to learn something groundbreaking, one way or the other.” His enthusiasm was infectious. Hermione felt a smile forming, and her bitter memories were pushed aside.

“I believe that as well,” she admitted. Studying this mysterious veil had been one of Hermione’s biggest ongoing projects since becoming an Unspeakable over three years earlier, and she was finally on the verge of a breakthrough. “I'll need some space to maneuver, so please back up. Keep your wand at the ready and be prepared to react if anything goes wrong.

“Understood.” Martin did as instructed, leaving Hermione plenty of room. She approached the veil, wand at the ready, and began her tests.

Immediately, she could sense that something was amiss. As soon as she began working, she could feel an overwhelming and unanticipated power coming from the veil. It was almost as if it was reaching out to her, or perhaps to her magic.

She didn’t even have time to scream before she was sucked into the veil and all went dark.

--The Samhain Shift--

There were two things Hermione took notice of at once: her entire body hurt like hell, and someone (Martin, perhaps?) was gently stroking her hair. She frowned at that thought. Martin was both a trusted colleague and a good friend, but their relationship was not such that he should be doing that. Her eyes slowly opened to a sight she hadn’t seen outside of her subconscious in five years. Harry was smiling down at her. Her vaunted brain quickly absorbed this impossible sight and reached the obvious conclusion.

The experiment backfired, and I’ve passed through the veil just as Sirius did. That's not something we anticipated, but I took the job understanding the inherent danger that comes with being an Unspeakable. I suppose I have nothing to complain about. I'll miss my friends, and Ron of course, but at least I can see Harry again.

“Thanks for coming to welcome me to the other side, Harry,” she said with a smile. “Maybe being dead won’t be so bad if you’re going to be around.” That seemed to confuse Harry, who frowned down at her and stopped stroking her hair.

“That must have been some nap, Hermione Jane,” he muttered. Harry moved his hand down slightly to press against her forehead. “Doesn’t feel like you’ve come down with anything, though, so I guess you were just exhausted.”

Now it was Hermione’s turn to be confused. “Harry, what are you talking about? Aren’t you here to welcome me to the afterlife?” As she stared up at him, she was surprised to note that his infamous lightning bolt scar was gone. Just one more thing to add to my state of confusion. What in the bloody hell is going on?

“Hopefully neither of us will be going on that adventure for some time,” Harry said dismissively, and then leaned down to casually kiss her on the lips. “No more experiments before bed, love. Now hurry and take a shower. We’re expected in about an hour, and Mum won’t be pleased if we’re late.”

--The Samhain Shift--

Hermione contemplated her bizarre situation while in the shower. She felt confident she’d at least partially pieced things together. The first thing she did was rule out the possibility that she was trapped in some kind of surreal dream. While it was true that reuniting with and/or saving Harry was a frequent focus of her dreams, her logical mind would never conjure such an outrageous scenario as this. She then considered the idea that this really was the afterlife as she’d originally believed, and Harry was just pranking her. She discarded that thought quickly, though. Even with five years of the Marauders’ bad influence, she couldn’t believe that Harry would greet her with anything but a warm hug after so long apart.

So she had indeed been sucked through the veil, but she hadn’t simply ceased to exist, despite all research indicating that as the end result when any living being passed through it. Instead, she had somehow been thrown into some sort of alternate world or parallel dimension, one in which certain things had turned out differently. Her brain struggled to accept that outlandish explanation, but it was the only possibility that fit with the information she currently possessed. She would think about the how and the why of what happened later, as well as what may have happened to the Hermione Granger native to this world. For the time being, she needed to concentrate on acclimating herself to this world and its deviations.

Harry’s mention of visiting his parents indicated one obvious difference. That, plus this version of Harry not having his famous scar, suggested to her that the conflict with Voldemort had gone differently. Either he hadn’t targeted Harry, hadn’t succeeded, or his rise to power had been cut off much sooner than in her world. She would need to look into that later.

At the moment, though, she was standing in the kitchen of James and Lily Potter, helping Lily and her daughters Rose and Iris prepare a special Halloween dinner. All of the Potters had given her a fond welcome, which set her nerves at ease a bit. Lily had appeared to be near tears when she and Harry first walked in, but she’d been nothing but friendly and personable all night. Harry had mentioned her “dream” and disorientation upon waking to his family, and Lily confirmed that she and Hermione had put in long hours of research together the previous day. The two of them had unwittingly given her an excellent excuse to stay quiet.

“That’s a lovely outfit, Hermione,” Lily said, smiling kindly. Hermione gave her a fleeting smile before shyly averting her eyes to the pumpkin pie they were baking. Her cheerleader costume was by no means indecent, but it did show more leg than anything she would normally wear. Apparently this world’s Hermione dressed somewhat less conservatively than she did.

“Thank you, Lily,” Hermione said, having quickly discovered that Harry’s mum and this world’s Hermione were on a first name basis. “Your doe costume looks great, too.” She followed up with a comment on what Rose and Iris were wearing, relieved to be on this safe topic. The four women chatted pleasantly for several minutes until Harry’s head poked in through the door.

“You guys almost done?” he asked, looking at his mother. “There’s something I wanted to show Hermione.”

“We’re not finished quite yet, but the three of us can manage. You have my permission to steal her away,” Lily declared with a warm smile. Hermione thought she detected a slight quaver in her voice, but the smile certainly looked genuine.

“If you’re sure,” Hermione said hesitantly. Lily nodded and shooed her away, so Hermione followed behind Harry as he guided her up the stairs. He took her hand and led her into a bedroom, closing the door with his other hand. The moment it closed, his lips crashed into hers with an intensity that stole the breath from her lungs. She stiffened but offered no resistance, allowing her best friend to slip his tongue into her mouth. When he began running his hands up her bare legs and towards the bottom of her skirt, she finally pulled away and backed up until she hit the door.

“Harry, what’re you doing? Your family could hear us.” That was far from the only reason she’d backed off, but the others would be considerably harder to explain.

“Well of course, ‘Mione,” Harry said slowly, cocking his head. “That’s why it’s such a turn on. Shagging you in my childhood bed, while my parents and sisters are right downstairs? It’s bloody exciting!” She automatically shook her head, and Harry sighed. “This was your idea, Hermione. You’ve been talking about it for weeks. Merlin, you’re really off today.”

You have no idea. “I’m sorry, Harry. You’re right. This has been a very strange day for me.” Her apology seemed to lighten Harry’s mood, judging by his smile.

“It’s fine, love,” he assured her. “We all have them. But I have to admit, I think I’ve been almost as excited about acting out this little fantasy of yours as you are. Or were, I guess.”

Harry's melancholic tone tugged at Hermione’s heartstrings, especially after having gone so long without hearing him speak to her outside of her dreams. She knew that if she didn’t follow through with this fantasy the alternate Hermione had constructed, Harry would be disappointed. Could she really deny him? Did she even want to?

She’d harbored a crush on Harry since their third year, though she successfully hid it from him. Now she was being presented with a golden opportunity to indulge her fantasy. But what about Ron? Their relationship wasn’t easy even in the best of times, but he meant a lot to her regardless. Would this even count as cheating, given that she’d been thrown into a universe where it was perfectly acceptable for Hermione Granger to shag Harry Potter? On the other hand, would she be allowing Harry to unknowingly cheat on his Hermione?

There were enough moral dilemmas in this situation to make Hermione’s head spin, but all it took to cut through everything was one look into those striking emerald eyes she’d missed so much.

“We’d better hurry. They’ll be done before long.” She stepped away from the door and towards Harry, and his eyes lit up.

Hiss beaming smile eased any lingering doubts she was feeling about going through with this. She opened her arms, and he pulled her into an embrace. His lips again found hers, and his hands went beneath her scarlet skirt to grope her bottom through her Gryffindor knickers. She moaned and shut her eyes to savor his kiss, but the moan morphed into one of disappointment when he broke away. When she opened her eyes to protest, she was treated to the stimulating sight of Harry kneeling on the carpet in front of her. His hands ran up her smooth legs towards her skirt, slipped underneath, and yanked her knickers down her legs in one tug. He tossed the knickers across the room and raised the skirt up so he could stare at her, and she shivered at the raw hunger she saw in his eyes. Her shivering increased tenfold when his finger ran down her slit.

“Looks like you’re not ready quite yet,” he said, his voice unusually gravelly. “Guess I’ll have to help you along.” He took his glasses off and set them aside, and she watched in breathless anticipation as he gripped her bare bum to hold her close so he could put his tongue to work.

It was obvious that Harry and the Hermione from this world had done this a fair bit, and Hermione was now the lucky recipient of his expertise. He licked, sucked and rubbed with a skill and fervor she had never felt in her life. If she hadn’t been tightly grabbing onto his hair with both hands, her legs may well have given out and sent her tumbling to the carpet.

Far too soon for her liking, Harry pulled away and stood back up. Her frustration must have shown on her face, because he quietly laughed before he scooped her up off her feet and into his arms.

“Sorry to cut you off, love, but we’re in a bit of a rush,” he said playfully as he carried her over to the bed. “To make it up to you, I’ll let you choose: do you wanna be on top or on bottom?”

“Top,” she immediately declared. “You might be dressed like a Quidditch player, but I’ll be doing the riding tonight.” Saying something like that would normally have her blushing like a timid virgin, but it felt almost liberating to let herself fall into the role of this alternate Hermione, a woman who wore shorter skirts and plotted sexual encounters where her boyfriend’s family was only a floor away.

“You’re the boss, cheerleader,” Harry said, smirking at her. He put her down on the bed, then flopped onto his back with his head resting on the same pillow he’d used as a child. His hand undid the zip on his trousers and lowered them just past his crotch. He’d gone without underwear, likely to make it easier for them to live out this fantasy. This gave Hermione her first good look at him, but she didn’t take much time to examine him. She had a job to do, and little time in which to do it.

Hermione took him into her hand and gave him a couple of pumps, but it was unnecessary; he was more than ready for her. Wasting no more time, she raised her hips, used her hand to hold him steady in the proper position, and dropped down onto him. She hit bottom soon enough, and took just a moment to revel in the sensation of having him inside of her for the very first time. He reached around to once again grab at her bare arse under her skirt, and Hermione decided it was about time for her to start moving. She placed her hands on Harry’s chest for support as she rode him, and found herself rubbing his muscular body through his shirt in appreciation. This was not the scrawny boy she’d grown up with. Perhaps her world’s Harry would have been similarly muscled if he’d received proper nutrition growing up instead of having to settle for the Dursleys’ scraps?

Harry gave her a playful double-handed smack on the bottom, and she returned her full focus to the task at hand. She rode him vigorously, and he thrust up to meet her every time she descended. She stared down at him all the while, transfixed and disbelieving. She’d never dreamed she’d get to feel, see and hear Harry in such a state, and wanted to commit every last bit of it to memory.

“Harry? Hermione? You guys up here?”

Hermione’s hips stilled immediately, and she had to bite her lip to keep from gasping aloud. She shot Harry a panicked look, but he remained calm. He gave her a reassuring smile and took charge of the situation.

“Yeah, Rose, we’re in my old room,” he called, and Hermione marveled at how casual he sounded even as she remained impaled on him. “I’m just showing Hermione some of mum’s old books.”

“You mean there were some she hadn’t read yet?” Rose said, giggling, and Harry humored her with a chuckle. Hermione just shook her head, not trusting herself to carry on a conversation without giving away some hint as to what they were up to behind the door. “Mum wanted me to tell you that the food will be ready in five or ten minutes.”

“OK, thanks for letting us know. We’ll be down in a few minutes,” he said, idly rubbing Hermione’s breasts through her cheerleader top even as he talked to his sister just outside the door.

They both listened to Rose’s footsteps as she went back down the stairs, and remained still and silent for several moments to be sure that the coast was clear. When no further noise could be heard, Hermione sighed in relief.

“Well, guess time’s running out,” Harry mused while running his hands through her bushy hair. “Think you can finish?”

“Yes,” she answered confidently. In fact, coming so close to getting caught had only made everything hotter. Maybe she and the other Hermione weren’t quite so different after all.

She started moving once more, this time eschewing the bouncing in favor of rocking her hips back and forth with Harry deep inside. She knew it wouldn’t be long now, and if she was reading Harry’s furrowed brows and tightly clenched jaw correctly, he wasn’t far off either. While continuing to grind, she leaned down to kiss him. She poured years of repressed and unresolved feelings into the kiss, and moaned into his mouth as she found her release.

Harry followed soon after, and they hurried to fix their clothing and remove any evidence of what they’d just done. In some distant part of her mind, Hermione acknowledged that she would probably feel guilty in the morning. For now, though, she would do her best to enjoy the company of her long-lost best friend and the loving family he’d been lucky enough to receive in this lifetime.

--The Samhain Shift--

Sure enough, Hermione was racked with guilt when she awoke the next morning courtesy of a tender kiss from Harry. He’d left in a hurry soon thereafter, explaining that Captain Turner would punish him mercilessly if he were late for Quidditch practice, even the morning after Halloween. She was sorry to see him go, but it did give her time to consider her situation.

During her chat with the Potter women the previous night, Hermione had gleaned that her alternate had been working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement before leaving a few months ago to work as a private researcher with Lily. Harry’s mum wasn’t expecting her until the afternoon, so she had an opportunity to visit Flourish & Blotts and look into certain details of this alternate world. Nothing would distract her from her personal turmoil like doing a bit of reading.

The first thing she researched was Voldemort, and her hypothesis had indeed been correct. He was barely a footnote in this world. All she’d found on him was a throwaway sentence in a Dumbledore biography that mentioned the part he’d played in sending a young wizard named Tom Riddle to Azkaban for the rest of his life. Dumbledore had cut him off before he could even spread his Voldemort moniker, much less gain any real power. If only the Dumbledore from her world had done the same.

With Voldemort a non-factor, a generation of witches and wizards had grown up in a very different world than the one she’d known. Hermione took comfort in that amidst all the changes.

She also looked into the veil specifically and theories on alternate worlds in general, but her research was less informative there. The bookstore had precious little on alternate or parallel worlds research, and absolutely nothing on the veil. Much to her dismay, she was no closer to figuring out why she’d wound up here and what might have happened to this world’s Hermione. Soon after, she left the bookstore to keep her appointment with Lily Potter.

The Potter residence looked much as it had the previous night, minus some of the Halloween decorations. Hermione brushed some soot from her shoulder as she stepped out of the Floo and ventured down to Lily’s basement lab. The redhead bolted up from her workspace at her entrance and rushed over to envelop the younger witch in a strong hug. Hermione gasped, stunned by the enthusiastic greeting. She gave Lily a few awkward pats on the back and waited for the embrace to end. Lily finally let go of the hug, but clutched her hands and kept her close.

“Oh, I was so nervous until you and Harry showed up last night, Hermione!” Lily said. “You should have seen me; I was hyperventilating!”

“Oh, uh, well…” she mumbled, nonplussed. If Lily was expecting a more eloquent response, she was out of luck.

“It was killing me to talk to you like everything was normal last night,” Lily continued. “Now that we’re alone, you have to tell me all about the ritual!”

Hermione froze. She’d made it through the previous day without giving herself up, but her chances of doing so in this situation looked slim. Lily was expecting information that Hermione simply couldn’t give.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Potter, but I don’t know anything about that,” Hermione finally replied. Lying and pretending wasn’t going to work anymore, so she did the only thing she could: tell Lily the truth, and hope that the woman didn’t decide she was a nutter and have her sent to St. Mungo’s.

Hermione explained her bizarre situation, leaving nothing out save her romp with Harry in his childhood bedroom. Lily listened patiently and never once interrupted. Hermione watched her closely as she spoke, and noted that Lily didn’t look nearly as surprised as she herself would have in her shoes. She nodded along at various points, and if anything, by the end of the explanation she looked like she had a better grasp of what had happened than Hermione herself did.

“I see. The ritual did work in a sense, but the results were not exactly what we’d expected,” Lily said, and Hermione perked up, realizing that her questions were about to be answered.

“Well, Mrs. Potter, it seems that you understand my situation better than I do,” Hermione remarked, and Lily nodded.

“Hermione—that is, our Hermione—left her job a few months ago to work with me. We told everyone that we were doing some private research on magical theory, and that wasn’t a lie. But we were researching a very specific subject.”

“Moving between parallel worlds?” Hermione posited, and Lily nodded in affirmation.

“We had nothing to go on at first aside from conjecture and tall tales, but I don’t think I’m boasting in saying that we’re two of the brightest witches alive. While we had no way to be sure, we came to believe that there was a realistic chance that parallel worlds or alternate dimensions did indeed exist. Between the two of us, we then concluded that if such worlds or dimensions did exist, it may be possible to offer up one’s body for habitation by an alternate world version of yourself.”

“And I assume that your Hermione attempted this on Halloween for the same reasons I was conducting my research that night?” Lily nodded once again, as Hermione expected. “Okay, first, I understand devoting the time and effort towards the theoretical part of this research. It’s fascinating, truly. But why would she willingly risk her own body to test it? The likelihood of death was exceedingly high. And even in what appears to be the best case scenario, the result is that I now occupy her body for a year, at least, before we can even attempt to recreate the ritual. Who’s to say it isn’t permanent, even?”

“Oh, she had every intention of this being permanent,” Lily said, catching Hermione off-guard. “She was dying, you see. That's why she rushed to do the ritual last night instead of putting in more time and research like she normally would have. She couldn't afford to research and experiment more thoroughly and wait until next Halloween, because she would have been dead long before then.” Hermione gasped and sputtered; that had been the last thing she’d expected to hear.

“What was wrong with her?” Hermione finally managed to ask.

“Her magical core had grown unstable. She was not a danger to anyone else, but it was only a matter of time before her core gave out and her body shut down,” Lily clinically explained, though Hermione could see the pain in the eyes of the older witch. “When she first came to me, we searched for some way to simply heal her. When we accepted that that wasn't going to be possible, we became more desperate, and that eventually led us to the parallel worlds theory. We theorized that if this ritual worked, your memories, feelings and personality would be joined with hers, and your core would stabilize hers, effectively merging the two of you. The former obviously didn’t happen, but now that we’re discussing it, I should check on the latter.”

“Please do,” Hermione said, and she held very still as Lily waved her wand and studied her closely. It would have been morbidly ironic to be reunited with Harry after five years, only to be faced with a death sentence herself. But judging by Lily’s exhale, that didn’t seem to be a concern.

“Your core is perfectly stable, so that part of the ritual went as we’d hoped,” she confirmed. “You’re no more likely to die than you were in your own world and your own body. As you’ve already realized, though, you won’t have the option of returning to your native world until next Halloween.”

“I’ll want to research this ritual myself, of course, but I have reservations about attempting it even then,” Hermione said. “Even if it works, I’ll just be dragging yet another alternate version of myself out of her own world.”

“I don’t think that would be an issue, Hermione. Our research led us to believe that this shift should only have been possible if your magical core left your own body behind voluntarily. That means that you likely wanted to leave your world behind and come here, at least on a subconscious level.”

Hermione opened her mouth to shoot that idea down on reflex, but promptly snapped it shut. How many sleepless nights had she spent wishing with all her being that Harry had never been taken from her? How empty had her life and her world seemed without him, even with Ron there beside her? She may not have consciously made the choice or even known it was happening, but the idea that her magic would instinctively leap at the chance for a reunion with Harry didn’t surprise her. She decided to shelve that topic and learn more about what had happened.

“The way you’ve described it, the two of you did all of the research. Who else knew about her condition? I’m assuming Harry was kept in the dark, based on his behavior around me.”

“He was,” Lily confirmed. “So was everyone else, aside from the mediwizard who initially diagnosed the problem. When the mediwizard told her there was no cure, she came to me because she knew that the two of us together would be a most formidable research duo. We kept it secret from everyone else. Hermione didn’t want anyone to worry, and certainly didn’t want anyone’s pity.”

“What about Harry, though?” Hermione pressed. “He was living with her. It seems deceitful to hide something of this magnitude from him.”

“She didn’t hide this from Harry out of malice. She did it to spare him. She was afraid that even the thought of losing her would break him, and I agreed. That’s also why she was desperate enough to devote herself wholly to this research in what would likely be her last months. As much as she wanted to just savor the little time she had left, he took precedence in her life, just as she did in his. Her hope was that this would all work out and he would never have to know how close he had come to losing her. She left copies of all her important memories in my care, so it’ll be possible for you to seamlessly integrate into what was her life. The choice of whether or not to tell Harry or anyone else is now yours.”

--The Samhain Shift--

Hermione paced back and forth outside the front door of the modest house she shared with Harry, biting her lip anxiously. It had been several hours since all had been revealed to her, and she’d been debating what to do about Harry ever since. She’d been stalling for time outside the door for several minutes now, but still had no idea what she’d say once she walked through that door.

The decision was taken out of her hands when the door opened from the inside, and she found herself face-to-face with Harry. A dripping wet Harry who was wearing only a towel tied loosely around his waist, no less.

“You passed through the wards five minutes ago, ‘Mione,” Harry said, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Why are you pacing in front of the door like a loon?”

“Oh, uh, I just, well, I just have a lot on my mind today,” she stammered. Her brain had been taxed enough, and then Harry had to go and flash his delicious, wet body at her. How the other Hermione had ever focused long enough to get anything done while living with him she had no clue.

“Ah, did you and my mum finally finish rewriting the laws of magic then?” he teased, causing Hermione to let out a nervous snort.

“Something like that,” she said, and slipped past him into the house. “Did you cook something? It smells heavenly in here,” she commented once she reached the kitchen, with Harry following close behind.

“Yeah, I whipped up some beef and potatoes before I hopped in the shower,” he answered. “I put a heating charm on it, so you can eat whenever you like.”

The food smelled great, and Hermione was hungry. Yet she could not bring herself to sit and eat, so fixated was she on staring at a wet, towel-clad Harry. He noticed her stare and smiled broadly.

“I was about to go finish drying off and put my clothes on, but I get the feeling you don’t want me to get dressed just yet,” he teased, and she could only shake her head. “That’s what I thought.”

Harry undid the loose knot and allowed the towel to drop to the kitchen floor. He stood perfectly still, hands held at his side, allowing Hermione to drink his nude body in. She licked her lips as she took a long look, then stepped forward to embrace him. She leaned in to capture his lips with her own, and her hands grabbed his muscular buttocks. His hands started to explore her body in turn, but she slapped his arms away and dropped to her knees on the tiled floor.

Hermione took his length in hand and gave it a few light tugs, and Harry groaned. Emboldened, she parted her lips and enveloped his tip in her mouth, giving it a few gentle sucks before taking more of him in. His groans got progressively louder as she worked her way further and further down, which spurred her to go deeper and suck harder. She could hear him panting and cursing unintelligibly, and it would have made her smile if her lips weren’t otherwise occupied. She gazed up at him from her knees, relishing the needy look in his green eyes. She had him at her mercy at that moment, but felt the urge to try something different. After pulling back to catch her breath, she placed his hands on top of her head and held perfectly still, encouraging him to take charge.

And take charge he did. He held her head in place and began urgently thrusting forward into her mouth. As he enthusiastically made use of her mouth and throat, she could feel her own arousal building. She was seeing a side of Harry she’d never imagined, and also discovering a submissive streak she’d never known she possessed.

Despite his obvious enjoyment, Harry evidently wanted more. He pulled out of her mouth and took her hands to help her up to her feet, then spun her around and hugged her back to his front. She sucked in ragged breaths while he nibbled at the side of her neck and roughly yanked her jeans and knickers down around her ankles. She could feel his hardness pressed against her bum, and wiggled against him in response.

“Bend over,” Harry said, and she felt a pleasant shiver run through her at his commanding tone. Wordlessly, she laid her hands on the edge of the kitchen table and bent at the waist. Playing the submissive had aroused her enough for him to slide right in, and he took full advantage. He had been worked into a frenzy, and wasted no time in going full-speed. He took her roughly, each thrust rocking her entire body forward. Hermione was sure that if there had been anything on the table before they started, it would have been knocked to the floor given the force with which he was taking her. They did not speak, but the animalistic grunts and groans, the slap of flesh meeting flesh, and the shaking of the table provided quite the soundtrack.

Harry’s hands pushed her shirt up so he could grab onto her breasts, but her bra was in the way. He growled in frustration, but rather than attempting to undo the offending cloth, he ripped it clean from her body. She gave her loudest groan yet in response, and gripped the table still tighter as she gave herself over to the pleasure. He pinched and squeezed her breasts, managed a few last forceful thrusts, and spent himself inside of her.

Harry pulled out and eased them both into a sitting position on the floor. Hermione leaned back into his arms and sighed. She still felt slightly guilty, but it was becoming a distant feeling. She loved Harry. She'd always loved him. And in this world, Harry loved her back. Even if she wasn’t the Hermione he’d known all his life, this was a situation of that Hermione’s doing, and for his benefit. For the next year, at least, she would savor this feeling, the feeling of Harry’s love.

--The Samhain Shift--

Days turned into weeks, which turned into months, and Hermione Jean Granger became more and more accustomed to her new world. As time passed, the line between the worlds receded in her mind. With each passing day, she grew more certain that this was where she truly belonged.

With time and distance, she could admit to herself that she would never have been truly happy in her original world, not after she’d lost Harry. She and Ron had remained a steady presence in each others' lives, but she knew now that they weren’t destined to spend their lives together. Their relationship paled in comparison to what she had now with Harry.

Between living with Harry and viewing the memories the original Hermione had left with Lily, she felt she knew this Harry at least as well as she’d known the one she grew up with. There were differences; for one, this Harry was much less socially stunted and more confident and open with his emotions, thanks to having grown up with a loving family. He also didn't have the old Harry's battle-honed instincts and skills. But at his core, he was still Harry. She’d grown to love him every bit as much as she’d loved Harry in her original world.

The more she’d come to know and love this Harry, though, the more the truth weighed on her. Several months after her Halloween arrival, she’d finally broken down and told him everything. He’d been understandably shocked and things had been awkward between them for awhile, but they’d discussed and worked through it together and their relationship was even stronger for it. The way they both saw it, Harry Potter belonged with Hermione Granger, and the fact that the Hermione of this world essentially rewrote the laws of magic in order to make it happen just proved it.

Their relationship wasn’t the only reason she felt at peace in her new surroundings. After the war with Voldemort had ended, she'd tracked her parents down in Australia in an effort to restore their memories. Unfortunately, the war had stretched on longer than she'd hoped, and too much time had passed for her to safely do so. She could have attempted it regardless, but it would have been risky. So she'd waved goodbye to Wendell and Monica Wilkins and left quickly, lest they wonder why the stranger who'd appeared on their doorstep suddenly burst into tears. Coming to this world hadn't just given her Harry back; she'd gotten her parents back too.

She could have never dreamed she'd be this happy after everything she'd been through, and she owed it all to the other Hermione—Hermione Jane, as she now referred to her. That's why she found herself once again standing near (though not directly in front of) the veil on the night of Halloween. She wasn't trying to go back. She was hoping to say thank you.

Sure enough, Hermione was soon looking at an ethereal otherworldly Doppelgänger of herself. The apparition smiled warmly at her, and she exhaled.

“I wasn't sure if this would actually work,” Hermione admitted.

“It wouldn't have for anyone else,” the specter said. “If you brought anyone else here with you, they wouldn't be able to see me or hear me.”

Hermione nodded and then drifted into silence, unsure what to say next. Thankfully, the spirit spoke up.

“Thank you for taking care of Harry. I check in from time to time, and I can see how happy you make him.”

“He makes me just as happy,” Hermione insisted. “I never realized what I was missing. As much as I cared for Ron, I know now that I never really would have been happy with anyone but Harry.”

“I can relate,” the spirit said with a smile. “So can Harry. So can your old world's Ron, actually. After you “died”, he was distraught. Then Luna Lovegood put him back together. The last time I checked, Ron and Luna were planning their wedding.”

“Just like they are in this world,” Hermione mused. So it wasn't just Harry and herself that seemed fated to be together. She was relieved to hear that Ron had been able to move on.

“Do you ever regret it?” Hermione asked, knowing she didn't need to elaborate. The apparition immediately shook her head.

“Never. I can't imagine what Harry's life would have been like if I hadn't done it, or if it hadn't worked. I don't want to imagine it. He's happy, and that's all that matters to me. I know you feel the same.” Hermione nodded. If their roles had been reversed, she probably would have made the same choice.

“Is there anything you'd like me to tell Harry, or anyone else?” Hermione asked. The spirit closed its eyes in thought for a moment, then looked at her with a smile.

“Give Harry my love, and make sure he knows that I'm so happy my hard work paid off and I was able to bring you here in my place. And thank Lily for all of her help, and tell her none of this would have been possible without her.”

“I will,” Hermione said, and turned to leave.

“Name a kid after me, would you? I think Jane Potter has a nice ring to it,” the spirit called after her. Hermione laughed and looked back over her shoulder at her.

“I will,” Hermione said through her laughter, and then turned serious. “Thank you,” she said, just as the spirit drifted back through the veil and out of sight.

Two years later, Jane Emilia Potter was born. Her parents and her Grandma Lily weren't the least bit surprised when she was delivered shortly after sunset on the 31st of October.