Held up at Wand Point
When the door opened, Hermione hadn’t exactly expected to see Harry’s twin—minus the eyes—staring back at her. Sure, she had heard from everyone around Harry that he bore a striking resemblance to his father, but this was excessive.
She could only imagine how she looked. Wild-eyed, slightly unhinged, and very much like someone who had just seen a ghost. Which, honestly, wasn’t too far off. If they had a peephole, he would have taken one look and pretended not to be home. Which to be fair, Hermione would do the same.
She had no idea what he saw in her expression, but apparently, it was enough for him to grab her by the arm and yank her inside before shutting the door.
Slamming the door behind them, he shoved Hermione against it, his wand aimed at her neck.
James didn't look too thrilled to be playing hostage-taker, and Hermione didn't blame him. After all, she was probably a stranger with questionable intentions and a terrible haircut.
Hermione tried to keep her breathing steady, but the adrenaline from her time-travel mishap had left her on edge. The sudden movement and the feel of a wand on her skin was too much, and she reacted out of instinct. She grabbed her own wand, pointing it at James and knocking his wand out of his hands.
A second later, there was a flurry of motion. Hermione felt something grab her arms and hold her back, and a wave of panic flooded her senses.
"Don't!", she screamed, struggling against the invisible force. "Please don't, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
James stood frozen, staring at her with a mixture of surprise and confusion. His gaze drifted down to his hand, still holding his wand, and realization flashed across his features.
He raised his wand, and the magic holding her vanished..
"I'm so sorry," Hermione gasped. Her hands shook as she lowered her wand, and she fought to steady her breathing. "I didn't mean to—I wasn't going to—"
"It's alright," James said. "You're safe."
"Are you sure?"
He nodded. "Yeah. I'm James."
Hermione swallowed. "Hermione," she answered weakly.
"Right. What are you doing here, Hermione?"
Hermione hesitated. How could she explain this? "I'm not sure," she admitted.
"What do you mean, you're not sure?"
"I mean I don't know."
"Okay..." James paused, clearly puzzled. "Well, did you break in?"
"Not exactly."
"Do you want to explain why you were creeping around outside my house at two o'clock in the morning?"
Hermione winced. She hadn't even realized it was so late.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I just... I saw the house, and I remembered what happened and... I couldn't leave."
James frowned. "What do you mean?"
Hermione sighed. "I can't tell you. It's complicated. I'm not... I'm not supposed to be here."
"I'm starting to get that feeling," James said.
"Listen," Hermione began, her tone pleading, "I just need to make sure you're okay.
"Why wouldn't I be okay?"
"Because," Hermione started, her voice cracking slightly. "Because you're dead."
There was a long pause.
James raised an eyebrow, and for a split second, his face morphed into the exact expression Harry always gave her when she had just said something absurdly stupid.
"Uh...no. Pretty sure I'm alive."
Hermione blinked. That didn't seem right. "But—but this is your house."
"Yeah. So?"
"So you're supposed to be dead!"
James gave her a skeptical look. "Did you hit your head or something?"
"I'm serious!"
"Uh-huh."
"You're James Potter!"
"Thanks for noticing."
Hermione threw her hands up in frustration. "Would you please stop being a sarcastic ass for five seconds and listen to me?!"
"Whoa," James said, raising his hands defensively. "Look, I don't know what you think you know, but I'm not dead."
"Then explain this!"
Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out the broken time-turner. She thrust it toward him, and he took it hesitantly.
"What's this supposed to be?"
"It's a time-turner."
"A time-turner."
"Yes."
"You want me to believe that this," James held the time-turner up, "is a time-turner."
"I'm not asking you to believe anything," Hermione said. "I'm just telling you what it is."
James stared at her.
"Oh, come on!" Hermione cried, throwing her hands in the air. "You don't actually think I'm crazy, do you?"
"Honestly? Right now, yeah, a little bit."
"You're impossible!"
"You're the one who came banging on my door at two o'clock in the morning and attacked me with your magic. Forgive me if I'm a little skeptical."
"I didn't attack you, I defended myself! And for the last time, I'm not supposed to be here!"
"You're not supposed to be here," James repeated. "That doesn't even make sense. Where are you supposed to be?"
"1998!"
James blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You're hearing me just fine," Hermione said.
"1998 is... 19 years away."
"Trust me, I know."
"And you're telling me you're from the future?"
"Yes."
James laughed incredulously. "You really are mental, aren't you?"
"I'm not mental!" Hermione yelled. "I'm not a lunatic, and I'm not lying, and I'm not imagining any of this! You're supposed to be dead, and your son is fighting a war, and if you don't believe me, I'll show you, and then we can both go to bed and forget this ever happened!"
James opened his mouth, but no words came out. He stood there until his wife appeared at the top of the stairs.
"James?" she called softly, her voice heavy with sleep. "Is everything okay?"
Hermione turned her head to see Lily, dressed in a pair of flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt, descending the stairs. Her eyes landed on Hermione, and a flicker of worry passed across her face.
"What's going on?" she asked.
James hesitated, and for a moment, Hermione thought he was going to tell her to leave.
"I'm not sure," James answered.
Lily came to stand beside her husband, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Who's this?"
"I'm Hermione," she said.
"She's... a little confused."
"I'm not confused!"
Lily raised an eyebrow. "What are you then?"
"Stranded," Hermione sighed.
Lily and James exchanged a look.
"Why don't we go sit down?" Lily suggested. "It looks like we have a lot to talk about."