Author Notes: Okay, guys, after struggling with adding to my WIP's this idea pops up while I'm editing my novel. I decided to share the insanity with you. I'm hoping to write a bit more in between edits. Publishing is the goal, and I'm shooting for around my birthday in November. However, I know you all are upset with my lack of fanfiction, so I will make efforts to multitask!

Summary: It all was entirely accidental. Hermione Granger was asked to meet Unspeakables in the Death Chamber, and when she got there, bodies laid on the ground. No one touched them. They were, after all her friends. Next thing she knew, she woke up as not herself, but… as Sirius Black. That's not all. Remus Lupin was in her body and Sirius… well, he was in Remus's. How does this happen, and how will they mend it?

Wolfstar+ the greatest witch alive.

Her heels struck on the tile at a quick pace as she was nearly sprinting to the Death Chamber. Not that Hermione Granger was much for that area of the ministry after the war, but this was urgent. Harry asked for her- there were bodies… that came out. He sounded shakily in his Patronus.

Her breath was escaping her as she stopped at the large door. Who could it be? Voldemort? Dumbledore? Someone that would make him sound like his pallor matched snow. The witch entered, and Harry was pacing the floor. When he noticed his best friend, he gasped and waved a hand at the Unspeakables surrounding the veil.

"Hermione! It's, I can't, why!" He expelled a panicked tone that reverberated off the chamber walls.

"Who is it, Harry? Is it him?"

The witch neared enough to see the bodies and her eyebrows rose.

"Identification spell confirmed identities, Sir," The Unspeakable known as Jim said.

Harry scrubbed his face, knocking his glasses askew. "Sirius and Remus. I don't know how. They aren't breathing."

Hermione touched his arm and rocked her head. "I'm sorry, Harry, but we have to do this."

"Go, I just can't."

The witch straightened her blazer and approached the group. "What are we looking at gentleman and witch?"

"Well, Ma'am, we have confirmed identities of bodies, we have checked for enchantments in the area, nothing seems out of place. It's like the veil just spit them out," Jim spoke with a pinched brow.

Hermione arched an eyebrow and squared her shoulders. "You're telling me there's nothing wrong with this? Two war heroes are just lying on the ground. Has anyone touched them or informed Kingsley?"

The Unspeakables all took a step back. All held a mirrored expression of wide eyes and open mouths. Spooked. No one wanted to touch this, and the witch could understand.

"Shacklebolt will be down within the hour, he is meeting with a prime minister of another country," Harry groaned from behind her.

Hermione strode toward the marauders, and Jim held up a hand. "No, Miss Granger, it's not safe. We don't know if it will do anything else unprecedented."

"You let me worry about that. My coworker doesn't need to relive this!" She hissed before pivoting on her heels. "Harry, go home. I'll send you an owl after I've secured them."

"It's alright. I can do it," Harry sighed.

"I said no. Go home, see your kids, kiss your wife. I have this handled," Hermione said.

Harry's face morphed to a twisted form of guilt and relief as he waved and left. The witch tutted to herself as she turned back toward the bodies resting on the ground. What was she going to do with them? Hermione bent down and gazed at the paled forms of her mentor and his best mate. It was a dark day to have to relive both of their absences.

"Did you know them well?" the other witch in the room asked.

Hermione viewed her in her Unspeakable uniform before nodding. "I did, but I handle grief far easier than Mr. Potter. He's done enough for us that he doesn't need to bury them again."

"Is that why he called you down instead of someone else from his department?" Jim questioned.

Hermione returned to her examination as she stared at their hands, lying close. "No, he called me because I'm acting on the Minster's behalf when he's occupied. I need you all to step to the other side of the chamber. I don't want any injuries aside from myself while I investigate further."

"Ma'am, I implore you to wait for Minister Shacklebolt," Jim requested.

The other four Unspeakables motioned agreement.

She dismissed them and pulled out her wand as her knees touched the stone floor. She was perched between them, her legs close to their shoulders. The Unspeakables shuffled toward the door, leaving the witch to do her work. A piece of parchment appeared from her pocket along with a quill that floated in the air near her.

"Both seem to be the same age as when deceased. Injuries are- bleeding," the revelation caused her to twist and glance behind her. "You said they were dead. They're bleeding!"

None of the Unspeakables moved, so she returned to her subjects. "Sirius, Remus, can you hear me?" She asked as she cast a spell nonverbally.

There was no heartbeat from either marauder as she checked for vitals with the spell. It didn't make sense. She put down her wand and touched their shoulders, glancing up at the curtain that swirled in front of her. It was silent. Their skin was cold. However, her hands ached, and she noted agitated red marks were appearing on the dorsal of her hand.

Pulling away, she landed on her behind as she panted and rubbed at the anomalies. A wicked sunburn. That was what it seemed as the intensity of the burning ceased. Hermione heard high-pitched ringing in her ears as if a spell hit her square in the face.

Her notes and quill swirled around her as almost to question her reaction. The words, 'laborious breathing,' followed her previous statement. Hermione focused on the parchment as she grounded herself- maybe she was a bit more on edge than usual.

'Audible gasping,' followed and she glanced over to see the marauders choking on air. The sound came back to her ears, and she realized that they were alive!

Hermione scrambled over to the new marauders, and her breath caught in her throat. "Remus? Sirius?" she croaked.

Sirius snagged her forearm and huffed. "Harry!"

Nothing else was heard. It was as if the world span, and she collapsed in a wave of overwhelmed emotion. The last thing she could remember was rocking and a calm voice of her memories asking if she was alright.

Hermione surfaced from slumber and felt the cruel punishment of a hangover. When was the last time she had more than a glass of wine? The witch refused to open her eyes as she scrubbed her face. That only made it worse. The pounding in her head was by far the worse comedown of a lifetime.

"Mr. Black seems one of your adoring family members snuck in a bottle of spirits. You know I don't allow that type of debauchery on my floor," a feminine voice hissed.

Hermione groaned, but somehow it came off far more profound than she was used to hearing. "Pads," she grumbled… not her voice.

That drew her attention. Her eyes shot open to see a long straight nose, large coarse hands, and tattoos. This was not her body. Ambling out of bed, she winced and huffed, touching the torso through the flimsy gown. "What, how?"

The teal dressed witch just shook her head before leaving. Clearly, she assumed he was jesting, but Hermione was far from it. What the fuck was she doing in Sirius Black's body! A shrill scream broke the silence of the room, and Hermione glanced over to see- well, to see herself screaming and touching her arms.

"What's it, Padfoot, what happened!" A version of her voice came from the doppelganger witch.

Hermione raced over to the bed across the room and pressed a finger to the rather thin lips of the body she was inhabiting. "Shush, wait, don't," she insisted while glancing around for the healers.

"Pads, what the fuck is going on? I have, it's not right!" She hissed while gesturing to her chest.

"Remus?" Hermione questioned.

The witch tilted her head as she caught her breath. "Sirius?"

"No, not Sirius, I'm definitely not a lecherous wizard with an appetite for liquor," Hermione sneered with distaste.

"Sticks and stones, love," The tired tones of Remus came from across the room.

"If you aren't Sirius, and I'm not a witch, then whose body is this?" The witch asked with a distorted expression.

"You're me, Hermione," Hermione clarified with a huff. "I don't even remember what happened after the Death Chamber. You're Remus?"

The witch moaned and rubbed her face with her palms. "How did this happen? We've been at St. Mungos for the last two days."

A stream of cries and grunts occurred, causing the two sitting together to glance at the end of the room. Remus was out of bed and glaring at his arms. "What the bloody fuck in the hell is this?"

"That's what I was saying," Hermione snapped.

The werewolf stomped over and yanked Hermione off the bed. Surprisingly enough, her body didn't sway or fall forward at the strength. "What the fuck are you doing in my body?"

"Padfoot, don't," The newly identified Remus waved as she stood.

"Hermione, love, this man is an imposter!"

"Pads, stop, I'm not Hermione," he attempted.

However, that didn't stop the enraged werewolf from punching Hermione square in the jaw, causing her to fall back on the bed. "Dammit, Sirius! Do you always have to be so bloody explosive?" She caressed the stubbled cheek that was of her borrowed body.

"Wait, Moony, you're," Sirius stopped and glanced at the mirror on the night table.

He made for the mirror, but the witch was faster and snagged it. "Don't. Please don't," her whimpering was pathetic.

The werewolf snorted and took the mirror, glancing at it. "Oh, wait, this is not me. Moony, you need to shave," he mused as he manipulated his face to observe the structure.

"You just punched Hermione. You should apologize," Remus huffed while sitting down next to the wounded animagus.

Sirius ran his fingers over his torso before glancing at his body. "You're Hermione. He's you, and I'm him? Am I following this now?"

"Yes," Hermione grumbled.

"Merlin, what the fuck happened?" Sirius questioned.

"She still needs an apology," Remus reminded him.

"Darlin' this is all sorts of buggered up. I'm sorry I hit you," Sirius responded as he touched the not so feminine cheek of his own body. "This is so wrong. Ugh," he shuddered and pulled away.

"So wrong for you?" Hermione asked with a narrowed glare. "I don't think it's a picnic waking up to a hangover I didn't cause."

"Okay, okay, that wasn't on purpose," Sirius answered while holding his hands up in submission.

It was a gesture she had seen done by Remus several times, but it somehow seemed so unfamiliar due to circumstance.

Remus cleared his throat as the color rose to her cheeks. "Hermione, I don't really know the first thing about, well," he didn't finish as the blossomed mortification was clear.

"I always said you were the woman in our relationship. Now it makes sense," Sirius teased with a wink.

"Hold up, there isn't going to be any jokes about that as long as he's in my body," Hermione demanded with an exhale.

Sirius bent toward them and pressed a finger to his lips. "A healer is coming. Unless we want to be sedated, we all should kindly shut our mouths," he whispered.

"They might be able to help," Hermione argued.

"Sirius is right. They may think we have all been scrambled by the veil. We can talk more about this when Harry comes," Remus insisted with a nod.

Hermione noted how her lips pursed after and tilted her head. "Do I look that pretentious after I make a decision?"

"I didn't say that," Sirius snickered.

Remus bristled and snorted. "Well, I'm working with what I have currently. I'm sorry if it gives you an identity crisis. I'm not doing well," He confessed.

"Back to bed, gentleman. Let's let Miss Granger rest. She's been unconscious since she was brought in," The healer announced her arrival as she shooed the marauder bodies away from the witch.

Hermione climbed from the bed and glanced back at the visibly shaken witch before returning to the bed she was in before. They were speaking in hushed tones as she crawled into bed and glanced over. Remus, the current resident of her body, seemed to be completely uneven. It was unusual to watch herself from another perspective.

"Don't worry, Harry will be here soon," Sirius conveyed.

"I don't know if we have long. I can't deal with your smoker's lungs," Hermione coughed and reached for a glass of water on the night table.

"Now, love, don't judge so harshly. We all have different ways of coping," Sirius snickered and turned toward her.

Hermione was doing her best to keep composed. This was not going at all how she visualized a return. A playful conversation that ended in being knackered that took place years ago occurred to her. Harry and her spoke about if Sirius ever came out of the veil. They both knew he was dead, but he disappeared before them. Their imagination of the day was entirely different. For one, she was not residing in his body. Secondly, and this was a big one, he wasn't towing someone else with him. This was all shades of insanity.

She closed her eyes and counted backward… preying that whatever happened, this was a dream she could wake up from. This wasn't at all humanly right nor plausible. Hermione missed her mundane days at the ministry more so now than she ever did before.