AN: Thanks to my first reviewers – Marissa, Eileen, sweet-tang-honney, PoisonLady, youmustcontinue! (Nice name! LOL) ClaireReno and harrypotterfan! You people totally made my day!

I apologize in advance for all historical inaccuracies related to 1940s London.

"May I help you?"

Hermione shook her head to clear off the lingering effects of her recent….well, she wasn't really sure what to call it. Seizure? Spasm? Stroke? It could have been anything. She would have to check some books when she got home.

She looked up at the boy who had offered her assistance. He was tall, with blonde hair and green eyes. His expression was slightly concerned but still detached.

"No thanks, I'm fine. I should go now."

He nodded and turned to leave when another boy came in. This one was dark, with heavy lidded hazel eyes and an air of overwhelming self importance. Hermione instantly disliked him. Her low opinion of him was confirmed when he didn't even bother to look at her and instead said to the first boy "We're getting late, Abaraxes."

Abaraxes nodded and the two of them left the compartment. Hermione checked her jeans' back pocket to make sure that her wand was still there and ran towards the compartment in which she had left her trunk. As she hurried through the train, she noticed that all the students had already left the train. The only exceptions were two giggling Ravenclaw girls that she didn't recognize.

She finally reached her compartment and looked around with a frown.

"That's odd," thought Hermione "I was sure I had left my trunk here. Oh well, Ron or Harry probably took it down to the station for me."

But still, she couldn't shake off a strange feeling that was coming over her. It wasn't really like either of her two best friends to be that considerate. It wasn't that they were unhelpful or selfish, they simply wouldn't have thought of doing something like taking her trunk down for her.

She jumped off the train onto the Platform 9 ¾. As usual the smoke billowing from the Hogwarts Express made it difficult to see the people standing on the station.

There! Hermione thought she caught a flash of red through the mist. She hurried towards it and then stopped short. It was a plump, redheaded Hufflepuff, who liked like she was in third year. Definitely not one of the Weasleys although her features looked oddly familiar.

She looked around her helplessly, wondering how to find her friends on the crowded platform. Finally Hermione decided to wait for them across the barrier, where at least there wasn't any smoke to add to the challenge. As she crossed the barrier, she heard a Muggle woman exclaim "The Underground! Preposterous! It an absolutely ridiculous plan and mark my words those fools will regret it"

Once more that strange feeling washed over her. Something just wasn't right here. But what?

As Hermione stepped out onto King's Cross Station her senses were on high alert. She noticed that some of the trains looked newer, their compartments gleaming in the sunlight. There were others that she had never even seen before. Perhaps there was some kind of exhibition of old trains or some such thing going on?

She took a step forward and collided with a girl.

"Sorry," said Hermione.

To her surprise, the girl didn't brush aside her apology and rush past her. Instead she smiled and said "It's alright. I wasn't watching my step either."

But the thing that left Hermione utterly astonished wasn't the girl's politeness, it was her dress.

She was wearing a skirt and a blouse, a pretty ordinary ensemble, but what made hers unique was the fact that it looked like something right out of one of those fancy coffee table books on vintage fashions.

Hermione thought that the girl was probably just into the Retro look but the second she turned around, her jaw dropped.

Everyone was dressed like the girl. Their dresses, hats and boots made them look like aliens to her. What the hell was going on here?

"Excuse me," called Hermione to the girl's retreating back "Is there a show going on here today?"

The girl gave a puzzled frown "A show? With the war most people barely have enough to get by. Who has the money left to pay to watch a show?"

War? Was this girl a witch after all? But the part about financial troubles didn't make any sense. As far as Hermione knew Gringotts was still safe so why would there be any lack of money?

Looking around nervously, Hermione decided to go outright and just ask her. Even if she wasn't a witch, the worst she could do was laugh.

"Err…Are you a witch?"

The girl looked at her in almost comical disbelief. Then she walked away muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like "…knew she was insane the minute she mentioned my dress…"

More confused than ever, Hermione looked around her, desperately hoping for some clue that would help her solve this strange mystery. Just then, a man crumpled up a newspaper mumbling "Get's worse day by day," and threw it in the dustbin.

Hermione looked at the headlines. War? What in the name of Merlin's boxers was going on here?

She suddenly caught sight of the date on the newspaper and froze. 1941.

"Okay, calm down, Hermione," she told herself. "This is probably just one of Fred and George's elaborate pranks."

She walked out of King's Cross Station in a daze, reassuring herself that her smiling parents and laughing friends would be waiting for her in the car park.

The car park was filled with classic cars she couldn't even recognize. But she vaguely remembered seeing some of them at a car show her father had taken her to when she was a small child.

Stunned she went on, out into the city. Hermione looked at London as she had never known it. Strange, puzzling, confusing. She got a few odd looks from people for her tight jeans and shirt but she didn't notice. Her mind was numb.

Finally she reached a deserted alley. The posters on the walls announced wartime rationing. There were newspapers on the ground, scattered and torn. She picked them up one by one. 1941. 1941. 1941…

Hermione sat down, not caring that the ground was dirtying her clothes. She had somehow just managed to travel half a century back in time. That took some time to sink in and when it finally did, she couldn't stay numb anymore. She started crying, sobbing her heart out.

Once that was done, Hermione felt much better. Now she could make a plan. The first thing to do was to contact someone she knew and trusted. Dumbledore? Yes, he was perfect. But the question was how? She didn't have either money or an owl. The Leaky Cauldron might be the perfect place to borrow an owl but how to get there? Hermione for all her cleverness had no sense of direction.

She looked up at the sky. The sun was setting. Even if she did have a vague idea of where The Leaky Cauldron was, there was no way she could get there before nightfall. The first thing to do was find shelter for the night. She checked the headlines again for inspiration. "Looks like Hitler is at the height of his power…"

She forced herself to concentrate, thinking about an old line she had once read in a survival guide Work with what you have

She had a terrible situation and a lost girl. There was just so much to work with.

Something clicked in her brain and she had an idea. War! This was the time in which refugees were fleeing from their home countries onto foriegn shores in search of new homes! She could pretend to be one of them. But would a shelter for the homeless just take her in? Or would they ask for some kind of identification? She needed some place where she would be accepted without too many questions asked.

Once more the metaphorical bulb lit over her head. An orphanage! Since she was 16, surely she was young enough to get into one? And with the war, there must be enough orphans for her to blend with.

Satisfied with her plan, she decided to put it into action. When she had walked out of King's Cross she hadn't really paid attention to her surroundings. Now she had no clue where she was in this totally unfamiliar city. But still, Hermione was undeterred.

She walked on, figuring that she would surely come across at least one orphanage if she did. Surely there were plenty of them in a big metropolitan city?

But soon, her 10 minute walk stretched on to 15, then 20. By the time 40 minutes had gone by Hermione was panting and her legs ached.

There! She saw a signboard, half hidden in the darkness. "The Young Ones Orphanage" There were directions written underneath. The signboard encouraged people to donate generously.

Well, thought Hermione wryly, she was going to donate herself so that could probably be counted as donating 'generously'

She walked on and crossed the street, then turned left. The orphanage was to her right. She pressed the doorbell and waited nervously.

"Yes?" A maid answered.

"Um…Could I please speak to whoever's in charge here?"

The maid's eyes narrowed "If you're sellin' somethin' we don't need nothing."

Refraining from pointing out the double negative, Hermione put on her most winning smile and said "Please? I really need to speak to her. I promise I'm not here to sell anything." Except a lot of unbelievable lies, she added silently.

The maid reluctantly let her enter and took her to a shabbily furnished room.

"Wait here."

Hermione nodded. A few minutes later a sharp featured woman entered. Hermione's heart sank. This woman might not be too easy to fool.

"I'm Mrs. Cole. You wanted to speak to me?"

"You are in charge here?"

The woman merely nodded.

"Then could you please…that is….I meant…"

"Yes?"

"Could you please take me in?" she blurted out.

Hermione was horrified. How could she have just blurted that out? Now she would have to sleep out on the streets. She felt like crying just thinking about it.

Unaware that Mrs. Cole was scrutinizing her closely, she stared at the wall. She could feel her eyes starting to moisten but she was determined not to cry.

Mrs. Cole observed the proud set of the girl's shoulders. Obviously she had been through a lot recently and wasn't ready to tell anyone about it yet. But still, she had courage and hadn't given up.

"Alright," said Mrs. Cole abruptly.

The girl looked up, eyes wide with disbelief "You'll take me?"

"As it happens, one of our boys took ill earlier today. You can have his space. You'll have to share the room with a boy but that can't be helped and I'll shift you as soon as possible to the girl's side. Not that that'll likely be anytime this week, so don't get your hopes up. Get your baggage and I'll show you your room."

Hermione blushed. In her hurry to get off the streets, she had forgotten how strange her lack of baggage must make her look.

"I haven't any."

With a resigned look in her eyes, Mrs. Cole said "We'll have to fit you out then I suppose. How they expect me to manage with these funds…"

It was lucky for Hermione that Mrs. Cole was too busy muttering to herself to take in her expression. Her mixture of relief and shock at having her lies so easily accepted showed clearly on her face.

"Merlin," thought Hermione, "Things must be really bad if she's actually used to people barging in, demanding to be taken in, without any clothes or money."

Mrs. Cole led her through a passage and said "We'll sort everything out in the morning. What's your name?"

Oh dear! What should she say? Using her real name would be too risky; she didn't want to end up changing anything in time.

"Ann," she said after a long pause "Ann Harrison."

Mrs. Cole looked a little suspicious but let the matter drop. She knocked on a door to her right and said "Tom! You have a new roommate!"

She pushed the door open to reveal a small room, with two beds and a cupboard. Over to the left, there was a small bathroom.

"This is one of the few rooms in the orphanage with a bathroom, so count yourself as lucky. Originally, this was just a landing but we converted it into a bedroom after the stairway leading to a small room above collapsed and we didn't have any funds to spare for its repair. Fortunately for you though, you won't have to race everyone to the toilet first thing every morning."

Hermione nodded absently, she was busy looking around the room.

"And this is your roommate, Tom." Mrs. Cole's voice had taken on a strange note of reluctance.

"Pleased to meet you," said a smooth, slightly bored voice.

Hermione looked up to the darkest blue eyes she had ever seen.

AN: Congrats to those people who figured out that the words on the flask were written backwards!

VERY IMPORTANT!

In CoS, it was RON and HARRY who went down to the Chamber, not Hermione. So Hermione doesn't know what Tom looks like. Of course she knows that Lord Voldemort's real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle but she isn't going to hang around suspecting EVERY guy named Tom she meets is a Dark Lord is she?