Nobody ever suspected how different, how painstakingly different, Hermione became after the war.

Ron, bless him, had even praised her for her constancy, telling her how happy he was that—as much as things were different—at least she had remained the same. Of course, Ron hadn't returned to Hogwarts with them. He hadn't seen her lack of enthusiasm while reading; how her academic excellence had started to come from a sense of duty rather than her characteristic passion for learning. Harry had been the only one who'd noticed how little she seemed to care anymore, had even tried to reassure her by telling her that Hogwarts felt different for him too. But he didn't really understand her, didn't see the dread that she'd come to feel during each lesson. Didn't see how much she had grown to procrastinate, how she hated learning magic now because every spell she learned was a spell she hadn't known, a spell she could have used to save somebody—a spell she hadn't been able to use to help.

Hermione Granger felt like such a failure.

Perhaps worse, Hermione Granger had grown incredibly paranoid. She had started to avoid crowded spaces, unknown people, new environments. She found that neither she nor Harry ever ate at the Great Hall anymore unless the place was almost empty. She was brilliant, of course—she had a nagging suspicion that she knew what was going on in her and Harry's heads—but she wanted so badly for things to go back to normal, she refused to think about it.

Hermione Granger did not, could not, have PTSD. She couldn't afford to.

Yet so many things came back to her the moment she heard Tom Riddle's spell in the Room of Requirement—so many dreadful things—and she couldn't help but scream and stiffle a sob and shake even as she ducked, even as she stole the wand from her other self's pocket, and it took her an immense effort to shout a spell back instead of cry. But she did.

Her spell almost hit Riddle square in the face, but he blocked it.

Hermione had anticipated that.

She pushed her other self out of the way—classmate of his or not, she was a Muggleborn—then unleashed curse after curse after curse, each one darker and more vicious than the next, some of which she might have never tried had Harry been awake, and of course he blocked them expertly with a steady hand and complex wand movements, even as he seemed somewhat surprised—but then it finally happened and she managed to throw him a curse he hadn't known, couldn't have known, because it had been invented in 1977.

"Sectusempra," Hermione thought as she lashed her wand in slicing motions, and even she was surprised by her own viciousness, worried about what Harry might think of her if he knew she had thrown that curse.

Tom Riddle's eyes widened in surprise and he moved away just in time, Hermione's curse slicing open the distant wall behind him a moment later. Hermione saw with some satisfaction how frightened he looked for a moment before he put back his mask and pointed his wand at her and he—

"STOP! Don't hurt him!"

It was Hermione's voice but it was not her voice. Hermione looked in astonishment as her body double ran and stood in between herself and Voldemort, arms extended, eyes determined and firm. It was clear she disapproved of her use of dark curses. Clearly. Hermione briefly thought she couldn't blame herself, but to protect Voldemort—

Well, she'd once done the same for Malfoy, hadn't she?

"I'm sorry," Hermione said even though she was unsure that she truly was. She felt numb. Disappointed that Voldemort was still alive. Frightened that she felt that way. "It's just… He's evil, you know? He hates us. Hates you for being Muggleborn. Did you know that?"

"I am aware that Riddle is a prejudiced prat, yes," the other Hermione said, looking back to glare at Riddle. He simply shrugged at her. "But dark curses are seriously dangerous. They are banned at the school, Miss"—she hesitated—"Granger. If he hadn't dodged it, you could have killed him!"

"He's tried to kill us," Hermione said bitterly.

The other Hermione's eyebrows raised, shocked and confused and—she turned to Riddle again. "Really. Why?"

Tom Riddle didn't have to be a Legimens to hear the hurt in her voice. "I would never try to kill you, Granger," he spoke quietly.

"He has," Hermione insisted. There was hatred in her voice. "Multiple times. Mainly Harry, but he almost killed Ginny when he reopened the Chamber of Secrets, and his damn horcrux made me want to kill myself every night. I still have nightmares about it."

"I don't even know what she's talking about," Riddle said. "My horcrux? How and why would I have a horcrux? I'm seventeen, for Merlin's sake. Clearly, Granger, this other version of you—"

Hermione wasn't listening to him. "The Chamber of Secrets?" she said quietly. There was disappointment in her voice. She turned to him again. "That was you?"

"He's the Heir of Slytherin," the other Hermione said bitterly, rolling her eyes.

Hermione took a deep breath. "We should talk about this later, Tom."

She sounded entirely disappointed.

"So what now?" the Hermione from this world asked, hand on her hip. Tom Riddle raised his eyebrows. He certainly recognized this bossy tone. "Can you let my friends go now? Also, clearly you don't belong here. Will you be returning to your world soon or will I have to notify the Headmistress? Can you even return? How did you get here? You know, Lord Voldemort here is kind of persona non grata, so if you're planning on staying I must warn you that I will have to notify the authorities."

The Hermione from Riddle's world started to play with her hair anxiously. Really, it was getting hard to tell them apart. He did notice that his world's Hermione seemed to be sleeping better than the other one, if the darkness under her eyes were anything to go by. But it was beginning to get frustrating having to think of them both as Hermione.

"I have no clue how we got here," Riddle's Hermione admitted, still fussing with her hair. It was getting noticeably fluffier. "Honestly, I don't understand much about the magic behind the Pensieve. Riddle and I were just starting to investigate it. Although, Tom—maybe you know more about it than you've let on."

"I thought I might have found a reliable method of time travel," Riddle admitted. "Not this, certainly—whatever this is. Although I assure you, Granger, we have no intent on staying."

"Granger-Weasley," the Hermione from this world said.

The other Hermione stared at her in disbelief. The way Riddle stared at her was indecipherable.

She blushed. "Erm—not yet. Although we are engaged. I just figured it might be easier to refer to me as Hermione Granger-Weasley so as to avoid confusion."

There was a moment of silence, broken by Riddle when he quietly asked with disgust and disbelief, "You're marrying Augustus Weasley?" Augustus Weasley was a particularly pimply, visibly sweaty, redheaded fourth year Gryffindor Hermione had helped tutor more than once.

"Erm—No," Hermione Granger-Weasley said bluntly. "Heavens, no. I'm marrying Ron—Ron Weasley. Augustus Weasley is his great-uncle, though, I believe. He never married."

Hermione Granger let out the breath she didn't notice she had been holding. Really, if her fate had been to marry Augustus—he was a nice enough fellow, but she really would have rather remained alone.

Riddle moved towards them, and with a flick of his wand Hermione Granger's wand was back in her hands. Hermione Granger-Weasley gasped. "Oh, shush, Granger-Weasley. I'm giving you your wand back. Here."

Harry's, Ginny's and her own wand were returned to Hermione's astonishment. Just like that? What did he want?

"What about first names?" Hermione Granger blurted out.

Riddle and Granger-Weasley looked at her. "What?"

"I don't like being called Granger all the time," Hermione said as if this were obvious. "We've already established last name differences between me and Granger-Weasley. Shouldn't we establish first name differences as well?"

"Well, I've always been called Hermione," Hermione Granger-Weasley said.

"Me too. But I guess I wouldn't mind it if my middle name was also used. So you can call me—"

"Hermione Jean," Riddle completed her sentence, smiling mischievously. "Nice to meet you."

"You can stick to calling me Granger," Hermione Jean said coldly.

"I much prefer it when we are on a first name basis, actually, Hermione Jean."

"This can't be happening," Hermione Granger-Weasley groaned, hands on her face.

When Ginny awoke, it took her a very long time to convince herself she wasn't dreaming.

Tom Riddle was here, looking handsome as ever, as he always did in her nightmares. But Harry was here, too—as were two Hermiones—and none of them were screaming in terror, and none of them were dead.

"So I call you Hermione Jean," she heard Harry say, pointing at one of the Hermiones and looking very confused, "and, Hermione, I call you Hermione? And Hermione Jean is from Voldemort's time, and she is his friend?"

"Classmates," Hermione Jean quickly corrected.

"Partners," Riddle re-corrected. Hermione Jean looked aggravated. Hermione looked sick. Harry's face hardened. "In the non-romantic sense," Riddle explained. "Although she's clearly attracted to me."

Hermione Jean scoffed. "I am what!?"

"I've seen the way you look at me," Riddle said, waving a hand dismissively.

Hermione Jean turned beet red. "I have to look at you, you self-centered git! You would have vanished a first year by now if it wasn't for me!"

"I only threatened to do that once and it was a Hufflepuff," Riddle said rolling his eyes, then looked at Harry and Hermione conspiratorially. "Hufflepuffs, am I right?"

"What is this," Ginny croaked, sitting up once she'd decided that this situation was too bizarre to be a nightmare.

"Ginny! You're awake!" Harry was over her immediately and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She heard Hermione explain to Hermione Jean and Voldemort (!?) that Ginny and Harry were dating.

This entire situation was too bizarre.

"So here is what we know," Hermione Granger-Weasley said. "Hermione Jean and Vol—and Riddle, came here through the Pensieve from some sort of universe in which Tom Riddle and I went to school."

"What a sick universe," Harry interjected.

"Excuse me?" Riddle said.

"Agreed," said Hermione Granger-Weasley, causing Riddle to look at Hermione Jean as if asking her to defend him. "Anyway, Riddle is still the same—on his merry way to becoming Dark Lord supreme—and I am still the same, from what we can tell. We need to send them back to their own universe, obviously, but the Pensieve here is without potion due to the Fiendfyre."

Hermione paused here, unnerved by her own allusion to Crabbe's death. Harry understood.

"We just need access to the library, really," Riddle began.

Hermione Jean interjected. "We will do no such thing. It's bad enough that three people have seen us. We don't know what could happen to this universe if we begin to interact with it."

"People might grow a bit suspicious if they meet a Hermione who doesn't know anybody, yeah," Harry agreed.

"But what are we going to do about Voldemort?" Ginny asked loudly. She could not believe how calmly everyone was considering this situation.

Hermione sighed. "He swears that he hasn't made a single horcrux and doesn't know what we're talking about when we mention all the horrible things he's done. We all know that's a load of bull, but since he's so determined in swearing innocence and Hermione Jean is here to be witness, I really don't think he would do anything. Besides, Hermione Jean swears she has experience in keeping him in line."

"I find it hard to believe you all think I can't hear you talking about me," Riddle stated.

"When I met Riddle in the Chamber, he didn't quite act like this," Harry said thoroughly ignoring Riddle. "It's weird. I think living with Hermione Jean's influence might have altered him, somehow."

"Well, when I wrote to him in the diary, he was precisely like this," Ginny said, looking at Riddle coldly. "Charming. Funny. Of course he wants to seem harmless, that's what makes him most dangerous."

Tom Riddle raised an eyebrow, looking shocked but completely innocent. Hermione Jean considered him.

"Don't worry," she told Ginny. "I know he's dangerous."