Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Foreword: This is my 50th Harry Potter story since I started publishing on this website more than a year ago. I thought it was fitting I try to get a story in on the week of my favorite character's birthday. This two-shot is dedicated to all of my readers that enjoy what I write and giving me the confidence to keep posting more. Also, a thanks to my beta, Pax Humana, for being a great editor and sound board when I have ideas.

One Brief Step Forward

Part I: Things Are Becoming Jack Sirius

By Romantic Silence

Hermione Granger woke up in a fantastic mood. She didn't complain when Lavender took forever in the shower again. She didn't scold Parvati when the Indian witch kept tossing all her clothes onto the floor as she tried to find an outfit to wear in her wardrobe. She hardly paid any mind when Fay accidentally spilled ink on her uniform, making Hermione have to change again as even magic wouldn't remove the stain in time. Overall, there wasn't anything that would put a damper on her spirit today.

What would have caused such out-of-character behavior? Simple, it was September 19th, Hermione's seventeenth birthday. Not only was it another day celebrating her wondrous birth, but this particular one marked the date when she was considered an adult witch in the eyes of magical society. It was a momentous occasion! No longer was she forbidden to perform magic when she returned home over the holidays, Hermione was now an adult and no longer needed to concern herself with underage magic laws!

There were just so many things to do now that she was an adult witch! She could spend her holidays actually studying the practical portions of her upcoming NEWTs next year. And… and… well, that was the only thing she was looking forward to if she was honest. She would be excited for those other things that came to being seventeen on another occasion. For now, she was content to blissfully plan her study schedule for Christmas and summer.

"Good morning, boys!" Hermione greeted her two best friends cheerfully as she took her seat at the Gryffindor table.

"Morning, Hermione, running a bit late today?" Harry asked her with a smile, filling up a plate of Hermione's usual morning meal and passing it over to her.

Hermione returned her wonderful friend's smile and nodded gratefully, both for the warm greeting and the food. "I think I can afford to be a bit sluggish today. I think I've earned it."

"You're right about that," Ron agreed between bites. "Thursdays are terrible, being nothing more than a tease of Friday. I can't wait for the bloody weekend to finally arrive!"

Normally, Hermione would reprimand her red-haired best friend for his language, but she decided to make an exception today. She held her tongue and ignored his curse. Her stomach yearned for food and she greedily began devouring her breakfast (despite being ravenous, she still maintained proper table manners). From the corner of her vision, in the space between Harry and herself, Hermione spotted a small slice of pumpkin pie. Finding that no one was looking to want it—not even Harry, surprisingly—she decided to take it for herself. It was rare that such a treat could be found at breakfast, but she didn't care to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I just know today will be a good day." Hermione stated, her eyes sparkling happily.

Harry and Ron muttered their agreement and continued on with their conversation about quidditch. Hermione frowned, finding herself a bit irritated. Did they not know what today was? Honestly, she knew her best friends could be a thickheaded, but she thought she already drilled it into their heads when her birthday was! Especially her seventeenth birthday!

Let's calm down, Hermione. She told herself. It's still early. They're probably still asleep. Of course they know it's your birthday. They probably have something planned later!

Her optimism mollified her and she finished her breakfast. Her boys were still talking about quidditch—Ron was still insisting that the Chudley Cannons had a chance of the cup this season—and rather animatedly at that. Checking the time with the small watch her parents had given her as an early birthday present this summer, Hermione found that she had to leave now if she wanted to be on time for Arithmancy. Just because it was her birthday it didn't give her the excuse to slack off on her education. She could never afford that.

Making sure everything was in her bag, she rose from the table. "I'm heading to Arithmancy. I'll see you two later, okay?"

Ron made a noncommittal noise, too wrapped up in his own conversation. Meanwhile, Harry turned his head to her and gave her a small smile, telling her to have a good time. Although she frowned at Ron's dismissive gesture, Harry's attentiveness more than made up for it. Hermione could always rely on him for the small things in her life. She left the Great Hall to begin the day, a happy-go-lucky grin on her face.

Today will be the best birthday ever.

Today is the worst birthday ever.

The thought resonated in her head as she stomped out of Transfiguration, her last lesson of the day. Usually, class with Professor McGonagall was an enriching experience that never failed to bring her spirits up in academic bliss. The deputy headmistress was a wonderful teacher and she always learned so much about her favorite subject from her. But that was not the case this time.

Hermione was furious.

She had been waiting patiently all day for someone to wish her a happy birthday. Hermione did not expect most of her acquaintances to do so, but having made some casual friends in some of her classes, she had expected at least one of them to have known that she had just turned seventeen. But they didn't and Hermione was fine with that. Truthfully, she didn't know half of their birthdays either.

But Hermione had several lessons with her boys, her two best friends. She had thought that they would wish her a happy birthday. That was the least they could! But as the day went on, her patience was slowly being diminished. The final straw was in Transfiguration when she tried to subtly hint at Ron of what was so special about September 19th.

"What are you talking about, Hermione?" He had asked her when he was failing to turn his chair into a duck. "There really isn't anything special about today."

Ron had forgotten it was her birthday! But she didn't explode in rage then. Having known Ron for years, she knew that Ron wasn't exactly reliable when it came to remembering such dates. Ron had even forgotten Ginny's birthday over the summer as well and that was his sister! No, it wasn't Ron that had her enraged. It was Harry, the sweet, innocent boy whom she trusted to always be there for her.

"I have to agree with Ron. What is special about today?" Harry had turned to her when he said that, looking at her puzzled.

She was shocked. If it were not for the timely dismissal of the lesson by Professor McGonagall, she would have no doubt sent a flurry of hexes at both of her so-called best friends. No one remembered her birthday. Not her teachers, not her classmates, not her friends, and, most of all, not even Harry. To say that she was disappointed would be an understatement.

Although angered, Hermione managed to keep some modicum of control. And by that it meant that she no longer saw violence as an acceptable outlet of her frustration, opting instead to keep her terrifying glower and evoke a mini-earthquake each time she took a step. Needless to say, the other students and professors gave her a wide berth as soon as they laid eyes on her. Everyone knew not to mess with Hermione Granger when she was feeling foul. Everyone remembered when she broke Draco Malfoy's nose in third year—even with magic it took weeks for it to heal.

Hermione needed to be alone. She couldn't handle anything—people, to be exact—right now. There was only one place she knew of that could meet the requirements of her need for total privacy: The Room of Requirement. She could ensure that no person could enter the room and she could shape it to whatever she wanted. Hermione recalled a time when she was able to transform the room into a small lounge with a mini-library. It was true paradise.

She would go to the Room and relax; she needed to cool off lest her anger gets the better of her and she lashes out on someone that didn't deserve it. Once she was ready, she would return to the common room and complete her assignments—she would not help Harry and Ron with their homework. Hermione did consider just returning to her dorm, but she didn't want to deal with Lavender and Parvati's questioning her why she was angry. They would be more of a nuisance than help.

To her relief, the Room of Requirement was open for use when she arrived. Considering her rushed exit from Transfiguration, Hermione managed to claim it before anyone else did. She remembered Harry telling her that he sometimes caught people entering the Room with the Marauder's Map. He confessed that with the amount of people from the DA that knew of it, it was almost nearly impossible to enter it before curfew and even then it wasn't guaranteed.

Ugh, stop thinking about Harry right now! Hermione scolded herself. You're supposed to be angry with him!

Yet despite her thoughts, Hermione was unable to feel the fury that had fueled her just moments earlier. Gone was the anger directed at Harry and Ron for now. Replacing it was an unbearable ache in her heart and the overwhelming urge to cry. Hermione was beyond disappointed, she was heartbroken.

Though she wanted to, Hermione didn't allow tears to shed. She was stronger than that! She would not cry over something silly as a forgotten birthday! With a small sniff and quick wipe of her eyes with her robe's sleeve, she completed the ritual to enter the Room of Requirement and went in. The melancholic expression that settled on her face was slowly replaced with a small, grateful smile as she stepped into the Room; she had created her sanctuary.

"Perfect," muttered Hermione, her eyes shining with satisfaction.

The Room had transformed to be circular in shape, filling the outer circle with a few rows of bookshelves catering to Hermione's interests. In the very center of the small—in her opinion—library were several comfortable sofas and armchairs reminiscent to those found in the Gryffindor common room arranged in yet another circle with a small table in the center of it. However, it was the low, ambient lighting that engulfed the Room that captured the relaxing atmosphere she was hoping for.

Hermione placed her bag down on the center table and began making herself comfortable. She removed her heavy school robes, folding them neatly and leaving them atop the table beside her bag. However, that was not enough for Hermione. She further stripped down to only wearing her plain dress shirt, stockings, shoes, and skirt, even going as far as removing her prefect badge, unbuttoning the top two buttons of her shirt for comfort, and tying her hair up in a ponytail. It would be absolutely scandalous if anyone saw her like this.

She felt liberated. This was how she should have spent her birthday—a day to herself and herself alone. She wouldn't let the insensitivity of others bring her down. Right here in her sanctuary, she was simply Hermione. She wasn't Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of Her Age, Harry Potter's best friend, the mind behind the Golden Trio, Sixth Year Prefect, and next year's prime candidate for Head Girl. Hermione was now simply a teenage girl who loved her books.

But try as she might, her two friends asking why today was so special kept flashing in her mind.

Hermione shook her head and growled. "I'm going to read a book and I'm going to stop thinking of such nonsense. It's their fault that they didn't remember. You would think that after knowing someone whom you consider your best friend for years, you would at least remember when their date of birth is!"

Although if she was being honest and was a little more introspective in her reasoning, Hermione would realize that her feelings of hurt didn't stem from everyone forgetting her birthday, but from a certain someone forgetting her birthday. Hermione wouldn't dare follow that train of thought.

"Of course Ron would forget—he has the emotional range of a teaspoon," she spat, "but Harry… how could he forget…"

Ugh, there she was again! Hermione gritted her teeth (her parents would have a heart attack), she was very much aware of how much she dwelled on matters despite her best intentions of just letting it go. It was that trait that her mother had passed along to her and one that made her the primary worrywart for Harry's wellbeing—Molly Weasley didn't hold a candle to her when it came to that!

Hermione strode towards the shelves of books waiting for her to plunder. It would be a suitable distraction that was more than enough to calm her down. This was her mini-vacation and she was going to enjoy it. She began scouring through the many choices of books at her disposal, using her own filtering system.

Which classes was she struggling? She was doing fantastic in Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Transfiguration, and Charms. She didn't need books on those for now. With Professor Snape teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year, Hermione wasn't sure if he would be an effective teacher in that particular subject. He was biased against Gryffindor after all.

However, there was also Potions to be considered. Professor Slughorn appeared to be a competent-enough professor, but his blatant favoritism could be a problem. Sure she caught his eye on account of her association with Harry and on her merit of being the head of her year (and possibly all years), but Hermione would rather have him favor her for the latter than the former. Naturally, this meant that slacking off in her studies would be tantamount to suicide.

It was quite the dilemma and one she found herself in quite often in her pursuit of academic perfection.

With her mind busy in weighing her choices, Hermione was distracted from her running emotions. She finally settled on finding a book on Potions and began to absentmindedly run her fingers across the spines of the shelved tomes, filtering through the titles to find one that appeared related to her chosen subject.

Incredible Concoctions & Their Useful Misused Uses was the particular book that caught Hermione's attention. She remembered skimming through it not too long ago—a week ago to be exact—and found it fascinating. The author wrote about several potions over the centuries that were originally created for a specific purpose but were soon found to work better for another purpose. For example, the original cure of Dragon Pox created by Gunhilda of Gorsemoor was first intended to provide an energy boost in sick witches and wizards but had instead coincidentally eliminated Dragon Pox from their system.

Hermione had only gone as far as the introduction but that would change soon enough. With the excitement of finding an interesting read coursing through her, she eagerly reached out and placed her hand on the book's spine. She expected to feel the leather of the bound tome upon her touch, but she didn't. Unexpectedly, Hermione felt skin and found that it wasn't the book her hand had laid upon but another hand. Someone else had reached for Incredible Concoctions & Their Useful Misused Uses first.

That couldn't be right… no one else should be in the Room of Requirement…

The magnitude of that observation reached its apex, sending Hermione's mind on full alert. She reeled back her hand and shot her wand arm forward, her wand already pointed at the intruder, the owner of the hand she had laid on just moments ago. Without even a moment of hesitation, Hermione quickly cast the first spell that popped in her mind, "Depulso!"

Instead of the cry of surprise Hermione expected, she heard, "Protego!"

Her charm was neutralized! Her initial gambit failed, Hermione was ready to cast another spell but immediately stopped in her tracks as her brain registered just who it was that she was attacking. Although surrounded by a transparent blue magical shield, Hermione was able to make out the features of the intruder—especially if said intruder had uncontrollable black hair and piercing green eyes.

"Harry!" Hermione called his name admonishingly. "Who do you think you are sneaking up on me? Furthermore, how were you even able to get inside?"

Harry stared at her, confused; his wand still raised and pointed at her. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh for goodness' sake, don't play dumb with me," she sighed, exasperated. "Are you going to put down your wand or not?"

"Wait, what is go—"

Having had enough of Harry's nonsense, Hermione strode to him and plucked his wand while he remained confused.

"My wand!" he gasped.

"You should be more worried about yourself than your wand, Harry!" Hermione told him sharply. "Now answer my question: how were you able to get inside the Room of Requirement?"

Once again, Hermione found Harry staring at her with confusion. However, he was able to answer this time, "I… just walked in here after I did the usual thing…"

Hermione frowned. She questioned how that was even possible. Didn't she specifically make sure that no one could enter the Room but her? Had she somehow subconsciously granted Harry access in the hopes that he would come and apologize, wishing her a happy birthday and then showing that he had planned a surprise party all along? Typical of her—she hated that not even her subconscious could stay too angry at her best friend.

"Um," Harry's voice interrupted her thoughts, "who are you?"

Her eyes widened and flared in fury. "Oh? Not only did you forget my birthday but you forgot who your best friend is too? If this is your idea of a joke, it isn't funny, Harry Potter!"

"I'm not Harry Potter!" he shouted pleadingly. "I'm his son, Jack!"

"And I'm telling you again, you're not being funny!"

"Lady, you're insane! I'm not my father! He's over forty years old for Merlin's sake! Sure I may look a bit like him when he was younger but it's a bit much mistaking him for me don't you think?!"

Hermione's glare intensified, but, this time, she inspected the boy in front of her. There was no scar. Although this boy was as handsome as her best friend, he also looked significantly younger, being a good head shorter and with a face that was more rounded than defined. His nose was a bit different. His hair was a bit curlier than she remembered. However, it was the eyes that sold it—the idea that this person wasn't Harry. Whoever this person was, he didn't have the haunted look in his eyes that the Harry she knew sported. You could fake all those other things with magic, but you couldn't fake the windows to the soul.

"And you say you're his son?" Hermione asked, strangely calm.

The boy nodded. "Yes!"

"Oh, I see."

Hermione promptly fainted.

She had the oddest dream. Hermione dreamt of meeting Jack, the son of her best friend, Harry Potter (or so he claimed). But that wasn't the weirdest part of the dream. Oh no, it was the fact that she was still dreaming. Hermione could still hear him, rambling and raving, while she was lying down comfortably on the sofa of her wondrous sanctuary.

"This is not good… this is definitely not good!" she heard Jack say—he sounded so much like Harry.

"Calm down, mate! You're being barmier than my mum," said another voice that was quite familiar—it reminded her of Ron.

Finding that she still couldn't see anything, Hermione realized that her eyes were closed. So she opened them and what she saw nearly had her fainting again. Standing at the end of the sofa was Jack—whom she now noticed wore rectangular-framed glasses instead of the circular ones his father uses—and the owner of the other voice. Next to Jack was an identical copy of her good friend, Ron Weasley.

She frowned. This is too real to be a dream.

"Oh, look!" cried out the Ron clone, rudely pointing at her. "She's awake!"

Jack turned his head and stared fearfully at her. "Great, this just got worse."

"I take a bit offense to that. I'm sure my waking up isn't going to make the situation any worse." Hermione replied feeling strangely collected about this entire ordeal. "Perhaps it will be a little awkward, yes, but we aren't worse off."

Ron's doppelganger grinned. "She sounds exactly like her."

"Like who?"

"Hugh!" Jack reprimanded.

Hermione arched an eyebrow, staring at the redhead. "Hugh?"

Hugh smiled and crossed his arms as he boldly introduced himself, "Name's Hugo Ronald Weasley (If Hermione had been surprised, she didn't let it show) after me dad! Friends call me Hugh though and Jack here is my best mate."

"Hugh, you are just making everything worse! She isn't from our time! Do you have any idea of what could happen if you reveal future knowledge? You could very well have unraveled the fabric of space and time!" Jack exclaimed, exasperated.

"I'm sure we're fine," Hugh chuckled.

Jack simply placed his face into his palm and shook his head.

Hermione couldn't help but grin. She certainly liked Jack. If she had been in his situation, she probably would have said the exact same thing. She mulled over his words carefully, picking apart his statements. Biting her lower lip, Hermione began working things out logically. With a smile, she interrupted the two friends' bickering and said, "Well, I think we don't have to worry about the universe falling apart right now. It would have already happened if it was supposed to."

"Maybe," Jack sighed, "but it worries me."

"I'm sure," she agreed kindly. "Anyway, I'm Hermi—"

"Hermione Granger!" Hugh finished for her with a hearty laugh. "Who doesn't know you? You're a world-renowned war hero for your integral part of defeating Voldemort! The brightest witch of your age! The brain behind the Golden Trio! Wife of—"

"Hugh, that's enough! Honestly, are you trying to destroy our very reality?" Jack asked pointedly.

Hugh shrugged. "I don't see how it will."

"Well, think about it. If she knows what she knows now, then when she gets back to her time, she'll know what she isn't supposed to know. So if she knows what she knows, the things she does now may be something that will never happen!"

"Wait, what?" Hugh was thoroughly confused.

"It means no spoilers!"

Meanwhile, Hermione's mind was abuzz. She was very much aware of the impending wizarding war that was looming over her and her friends. Although she remained optimistic in regards to it, Hermione was also a realist. People were going to die and she, being a muggle-born and Harry Potter's best friend, was in more danger than almost everyone else in Hogwarts.

But to hear that not only was she going to survive the war, but that her two boys—especially Harry—was going to go on to live and raise a family (if Jack and Hugh were of any indication), the news laid to rest many worries she was having when Harry revealed to her and Ron about the prophecy. They were going to live. Her heart soared at the thought.

Wait, wife of whom? Hermione speculated as she caught Hugh's last bit. The thought of being married to someone sent her reeling! Of course, she knew she was going to eventually be married. Just because she wasn't like the rest of the girls in her dorm that were mostly concerned with fashion and gossip didn't mean she didn't muse over whom could be her future husband and what their wedding would be like.

Looking at Jack and Hugh, Hermione had to wonder if she was the mother of one of them. Of course, there was a possibility that she didn't marry one of her best friends. However, she found that doubtful. There was no denying that no other man would ever be as close to her as Harry and Ron—she knew that she would eventually marry one of them. Whom did she choose in the end? She was attracted to Ron, no doubt about that. But Harry… the two of them had something, but Hermione was still unsure what exactly that was.

But her speculation of who her future husband may have been was interrupted when she realized something from what Jack had said. "Wait, what do you mean my time?"

Jack opened his mouth to answer but stopped. A pensive look was on his face.

His best friend placed his hand on his shoulder and—something she never thought she would see in Ron's son—calmly said, "The least you can do is tell her the situation."

"You're right,"—Jack sighed—"it would help to let her know what happened."

"Let me guess," Hermione smirked, amused, "I'm not in my current time. Instead of Jack being the one trapped in my era, I was thrust into the future which is your present."

"Brilliant!" Hugh complimented Hermione, giving her a large grin.

Even Jack smiled when she made her conclusion, muttering, "Well, of course, Hugh, she is Hermione Granger."

"The solution is simple then. This is the Room of Requirement and whoever resides in the Room has control over it. So what we need to do is simply have you two walk out and I'll will the Room back to my current time. As much as I would like to chat with you two, I'm a bit afraid of unraveling the fabric of space-time to stay here any longer than necessary."

Hugh groaned. "That's no fun at all! Why couldn't you just stay a little and know about the future! It's pretty amazing."

"Honestly, Hugh, you know she's right. We can't risk her staying here. It's one of the fundamental rules of time-traveling!" Harry's son chastised Ron's son again.

"Bah, you're no fun, Jack!"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the two friends' antics, reminding her of her own two friends. Watching Jack and Hugh actually made her miss Harry and Ron. Although she was still disappointed that they had forgotten her birthday, Hermione wanted to see the two of them again and do something carefree together. She had to ask herself when was the last time they were able to just be friends without having to worry about Voldemort or the perils they will face.

"You know, Jack," Hermione began, addressing the Potter boy, "I don't think you haven't properly introduced yourself yet."

He gazed at her thoughtfully before he nodded, deciding to grant her subtle request. "Err… hullo, I'm Jack Potter and—"

"Wait," she interrupted. "Jackpot?"

An annoyed expression appeared on his face once Hermione caught the reference. Behind him, Hugh was doing his best to hold in his laughter by clasping his mouth with one hand. Jack sighed. "Yes, my mum thought it was a lovely name. I was born on the seventh day of the seventh month in the seventh year of the new millennium. Seven-seven-seven."

"Are you serious?" Hermione chortled.

"Actually, I'm Jack Sirius." He replied, grinning. This time, Hugh couldn't hold it in any longer and began howling with laughter. "I was also named after my father's late godfather, Sirius Black. As you can see, my parents thought it would be funny…"

Fortunately for Jack, Hermione had much more control than his best friend and avoided laughing, but it still didn't help the wide grin that split across her face when Jack explained his name. "I, for one, think it's a very lovely name, Jack."

Jack rolled his eyes and muttered, "Of course you would…"

"What was that?" Hermione asked, not having heard what he said.

"Nothing," he said with a forced smile. "Well, Hugh and I will be going now and let you get back to your own time. I think we already went too far with what we already told you…"—he glared briefly at Hugh who, thankfully, had the decency to chuckle sheepishly—"…but I think—or rather, hope—that things will turn out just fine."

She eyed him oddly, noticing his attempt at a façade, but didn't question him about it. "Alright then, I guess it is time I go. No pun intended."

"You sure you'll be alright? You did faint and all." Hugh questioned, a tinge of worry laced in his tone.

"I'm fine. It was more out of shock that I fainted."

"Come on, Hugh, let's go," Jack interjected, taking Hugh by the arm and dragging him away. He turned his head to look back at Hermione, sending her a boyish smile. "Also, it's not like I'm trying to get rid of you. I don't know exactly how this all happened and, frankly, I don't care to find out, but one thing I do know is that, well, you don't belong in this time."

"I understand. Goodness knows that I had already had a time-traveling fiasco in my third year." Hermione told him, grinning at the memory.

His green eyes twinkled and he remarked, "Yeah, dad told me that story."

And before Hermione could make another comment, Jack and Hugh were gone and she heard the shutting of the door not too long after. With a heavy sigh, Hermione fell backwards on the couch, once again lying down upon it. Whatever just happened felt unreal. Her scholarly side (a side that made up most of her) urged her to investigate this strange phenomenon further, but Hermione knew better. Time-traveling was risky. She had no idea what caused her present and the future to meld. Jack was in the right for being so worried. Her presence could have undone their reality…

"I really wonder who their mothers are," she stated with a wistful breath, curiosity taking her.

Even though their time together was brief, Hermione did see a glimpse of their personality. Hugh was, without a doubt, Ron's son. He looked just like Ron and was as laidback as his father. But unlike Ron, Hugo Ronald Weasley was far more patient and calmer than his namesake; he even seemed to easily accept the fact that she time-traveled. Honestly, couldn't he have been a bit more worried?

Jack Sirius Potter ("A fantastic name," said Hermione, grinning), on the other hand, seemed to have been the complete opposite of his friend. Of the pair, he was the more serious one. There were some traces of Harry in him, notably his subtle humor and his care for others—Hermione had a feeling that Jack was the reason why she felt some comfy when she awoke from her fainting spell. He was a bit of a worrywart and Hermione wondered who he inherited that from.

Now, now, Hermione, think about that later…

She was right; she could speculate all she wanted to later. For now, it was time to return home. Although Hermione knew not the exact method, her earlier conclusion derived from what little she did know suggested that if what she required was to return home, surely the Room of Requirement will fulfill her need. That was the only solution she could think of that was plausible enough to work.

Hermione closed her eyes and focused her thoughts onto returning home. I need to go back to my original time. I need to go back to my original time. She was chanting in her head.

She waited several seconds, wondering if something magical would occur that demonstrated that it worked. However, nothing had happened… or at least it didn't feel like anything. Opening her eyes, Hermione inspected the Room. It was still the same design she had created originally to hide away from everyone for a few hours. Maybe she simply had to step outside to see if something changed?

Finding no other way to determine whether or not she returned to 1996, Hermione rushed to the door; the same door she recalled that she had entered from and where Jack and Hugh exited. Flinging it open, her eyes widened when she took in the sight of Harry and Ron standing in front of her with the same look of surprise as she had.

She smiled weakly at them. "Harry? Ron?"

The two nervously chuckled.

"Sorry, it's still Jack and Hugh." Jack answered, biting the bottom of his lip as a troubled look marred his countenance.

Hermione sighed and did something that she rarely did: curse. "Oh, bugger."

She was still stuck in the future…

Afterword: It's quite a departure from the epilogue as you can plainly see. I hope everyone likes Jack Potter and Hugh Weasley; I spent a great deal of time trying to capture their character just right. However, be forewarned, these are just first impressions of the characters and that more things will be revealed in the second part. I'll have Part II up later on this week. I hope you enjoyed Part I!