A/N. #1: To Kathryn Mason-Sykes, since this story includes a dearth of characters: main, secondary, tertiary and otherwise, it's difficult to include all of the important characters in each chapter. Rest assured that there is only the one plot line. To retell the story from different perspectives, while interesting, would take far too much work, and I am, at heart, a very lazy individual. However, there will continue to be chapters where either Greg or Hermione are not present and therefore do not interact, or perhaps some where neither is present. Believe me when I say such things are necessary, for setting if not plot, and I have a fairly good idea where the story is going. It's the sequel I'm not so sure of. Regarding your earlier question, as to whether Greg and Mione would be pursuing a romantic relationship with each other, I honestly don't know. I don't think so, at least not in this story ;-) Not because of the age difference, rather because they don't know each other that well, it hasn't even been a full day yet, and because Greg has quite a few inner demons to work out before he'd be fit for a real relationship, Hermione too, I suppose, and that's what I'd rather the two of them had. Still, it's never really in my hands, the characters take on lives of their own. Not to sound crazed, but sometimes I'm a little surprised at what comes out. Chapter Nine is a perfect example, in my head, it ended a lot happier than it did on paper.

A/N. #2: There is a fair amount of latin in this chapter, and I apologize profusely ahead of time for butchering the language. I highly doubt that any of the conjugation is correct, unfortunately I don't speak latin and can't fix the problem. Suspend you disbelief, and pretend that the spells, potions and charms I have invented actually do what they are supposed to.

A/N. #3: Just to let you know, I'm not this pretentious in real life, my friends will vouch for me, Rae? Trace? Andy? ... Guys? crickets chirp

(Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, CSI, nor anything else contained within these pages, no infringement is intended.)

Hermione felt cross, she always did after fighting with Ron. Having the argument follow after her spectacular failure to unearth a restorative for Professor Snape, made her feel even worse. As always, Hermione had continued the argument in her head, it usually went better when Ron wasn't around, 'but Ron should learn to control his temper. It's not like I was doing anything wrong, talking to Malfoy isn't a crime, is it?' Hermione asked herself. 'Well,' another part of Mione's subconscious reasoned gently, 'it is in Ron's eyes. Malfoy has never been his favourite person, and you can't expect Ron to change how he feels or acts towards Malfoy without giving him a reason.' 'I have the best possible reason,' Hermione returned hotly, 'I'm trying to save Snape's life.' The voice interrupted again, 'but Ron and Harry don't know that, do they? As far as they know, the only things at stake are a few extra credits for a class you already excel in.' Hermione's inner battle faltered momentarily at this but she rallied stubbornly and countered, 'I can't tell them what's really going on. They should trust my judgment by now.' 'And you should trust theirs,' her subconscious prodded gently, trying a different tack, 'are you sure that saving Snape is the only reason you are pursuing this so doggedly?' Refusing to respond, utterly cross and confused, Hermione didn't notice Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall until she barreled into them, rebounding into the floor. They too had had been occupied, in conversation, otherwise they would have seen Granger coming. In the fall, Hermione's book bag tore open emptying it's contents all over the stone floor. Eyes smarting with tears, Hermione looked up to find Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore staring down at her, radiating concern with faint lines of worry etched on their faces.

"Miss Granger, are you quite well?" Professor McGonagall enquired. Wiping away her tears, aware that she must look as horrid as she felt, Hermione responded, "Sorry, Professor, Headmaster. I wasn't paying attention, I'm ... was distracted," she finished lamely. "Understandable, given the circumstances, " said McGonagall, wincing, "though perhaps not the wisest course of action when one is running through corridors." While Hermione remained kneeling on the floor, repacking her bag for the third time this day, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall moved a few steps to give her privacy.

Regardless of the distance, their conversation filtered down to Hermione's ears. She could make out the worry in Professor McGonagall's voice, "and there's been no change in his condition?" Hermione' s body tensed when she realized they were talking about Snape. "Not as yet, no," Dumbledore replied sighing, "there is still hope." Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see McGonagall speaking through pursed her lips, "I still can't believe he's here. After all these years..." Dumbledore's response was pitched lower, and Hermione had to strain to make it out. "... don't judge him to harshly. If it had fallen to you, would you have turned your back ... is resolved, remember," his voice rose slightly, "at Hogwarts, help is always giving to those who require it. Ah, Miss Granger." Hermione jumped at the sound of her name, shouldered her bag and rose blushing, hoping they hadn't noticed her blatantly easedropping on their conversation. "Everything in it's place?" Headmaster Dumbledore asked calmly, his eyes betraying only the merest twinkle. "Er, yes," Hermione said, patting her bag weakly, wanting nothing more than to escape their scrutiny, "all better now." Blushing, Hermione nodded her head at both of them and quickly took her leave.

"Hmm, Albus," she admonished, "it might have been simpler just to tell Miss Granger where to go." Professor Dumbledore raised his eyebrow and querying, "you have so little faith in Hermione's intellect then?" "Of course not," said Minerva, mildly affronted, "but this has been trying for everyone ..." Dumbledore patted her shoulder. "All the more reason to have a little fun," he teased gently. Reaching the infirmary, Dumbledore opened the door ahead of them and gallantly gestured for Professor McGonagall to go through. The Headmaster followed after her, shutting the door firmly behind him. "You aren't at all worried?" McGonagall asked in hushed tones returning back to their original conversation. Dumbledore retook his seat at Professor Snape's bedside, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I have the utmost faith," he answered.

In another part of school, a flash of enlightenment erupted within Hermione's head causing her to exclaim suddenly, "of course! and why didn't I think of it before." Hermione took off at a dead run, her mind completely focused on her destination.

The door was locked. The fact that the door was already present when she arrived should have been a clue that the room was occupied, but Hermione was too anxious to notice trifles like that. 'Well, you're a witch, Hermione, you've opened locked doors before, ... and there was a giant three headed dog on the other side of it,' her subconscious mocked. 'That's enough out of you,' Hermione thought pushing that voice to the back of her mind. She squared her shoulders, and pointed her wand at the door knob, saying, "alohomora." The now familiar sparks shot out the tip of her wand yet the door remained unopened. 'I could knock,' Hermione thought hesitantly, 'and convince whomever it is to let me use the room instead, unless it's a Slytherin.' "Urg!" Hermione shouted as she kicked the door in frustration.

"Who's there?" called a voice from behind the door. Startled Hermione responded, "Hermione Granger, and you are?" A series of thumps followed, sounding suspiciously like someone banging their head softly against a hard surface. Then silence descended once more over the hallway. "Are you alright?" Hermione asked, concerned that perhaps the room's occupant had knocked themselves unconscious. 'It's not entirely outside the realm of possibilities,' she thought defensively. "Enter," called the voice from within the room. With a muffled click, the door unlocked itself and opened slightly. Filled with a sense of foreboding, Hermione gripped the handle tightly and jerked the door open and was astonished by what lay through the doorway.

The click of the door shutting behind her, reverberated in Hermione's mind, clouded by a fog of befuddlement and she dropped her bag to the floor. Hermione honestly couldn't remember walking into the room, 'I don't remember returning to Las Vegas either ...' she thought acerbically. The room she had entered was almost an exact replica of Greg's lab at the police station. 'The glass walls, surrounded by an impenetrable darkness, the stark white linoleum, the buzzing blue fluorescent lights,' Hermione looked around, 'it's all here.' The lack of scientific and investigative devices was the only difference, as far as Hermione could tell. In their place stood many boiling cauldrons, at various stages of readiness; racks of herbs and other unrecognizable plants; jars and sachets of creature parts: bezoars here, and unicorn's hair there; scores of vials and carafes filled with murky fluids; and books, innumerable in number surrounded by sheaves of loose paper festooned with tiny scribbles. And in the midst of the chaos, giving new definition to the term 'Mad Scientist', stood Greg, glaring at Hermione, eerily reminiscent of their previous encounter within these walls, half a world away.

Greg dropped his head to the counter once more, with a resounding thud. "I was doing fine,' he said addressing the counter, "I'll admit the research had stumped for a while. Working in his lab wasn't helping any, too many memories I guess; I couldn't focus. But then I came here and everything clicked. I was in the zone, I was getting it done, the way I always do, pulling miracles out of thin air, not that anyone else ever sees it that way. Then," Greg laughed humourlessly, "then old Dumbles decides to give me some help." He raised his head finally and stared at Hermione, bleary eyed with fatigue, "and he sent you, again. Are you the only student in this school?" Greg asked, his voice tinged with irritation. "What?" queried Hermione, unsure if Greg's question was rhetorical or not. "Are all the other students dead or evil and Dumbledore doesn't want me to know or what?" He enquired again, all the while scowling tiredly at Hermione. "I'm not sure I understand ..." Hermione said hesitantly unwilling to aggravate Greg further, and spark her own temper in return.

"That much is clear," Greg said harshly, "If I'm being forced to have an assistant, I'd prefer it were someone with half a brain, though I understand how limiting that stipulation would be at Hogwarts. Deluded, self-righteous Gryffindors need not apply." Greg finished sneering. "Do you remember what happened the last time you insulted me?" Hermione asked through clenched teeth. "Look," Greg said flushing at the memory of that insult and the events directly preceding it, 'arguing with her isn't going to help any,' Greg thought chastising himself. "There must be a student more suitable, a Ravenclaw? or someone with knowledge of herb lore?" he pleaded. "No one else knows you're here, besides," said Hermione partly teasing and partly boasting, "everyone says I'm the cleverest witch to come through Hogwarts in a very long while." She smirked up at him. Greg's hands balled into fists involuntarily, "Do you think this is a game?" he cried out, "Severus' life is at stake," raising his torment filled eyes to hers. Their eyes connected and Hermione felt her own anguish rise to the surface and shine out. "I need to help," was her heartfelt response. "Fine," Greg whispered, and turned away attempting to reign in his scattered emotions. Hermione felt momentarily bereft at the loss and fought to regain her composure

Greg moved silently around the lab gathering papers and other things as he went. "Put on the apron and the gloves, don't let anything touch your skin," Greg instructed impersonally. Once Hermione had complied, he handed her the notes he had gathered and continued her instruction, "all of the ingredients need to be prepared exactly as it's been written. And, I cannot stress this enough, they must not come into contact with each other, not even trace elements, so clean everything thoroughly after each item. Understood?" Shuffling through the papers in her hand, Hermione looked up at Greg, a puzzled expression fixed on her face. "Well," he said, teasing lightly, "you can read can't you?" Hermione glared back, bristling, "I can read perfectly well, I just don't recognize most of the plants..." Greg regarded her blankly, "so?" "So," she countered, "what do they look like? Where do they come from? How did you find them?"

Greg smiled faintly remembering Hermione's earlier curiosity, 'God, it feels like weeks ago... There are more things in heaven and earth Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,' his smiled faded and he spoke bruskly, "everything is clearly marked. I'm sorry we don't have time for twenty questions." Hermione, peeved by his dismissal of her interest, opened her mouth to speak again when Greg cut her off, 'I'm not your teacher," he snapped rashly, "and this isn't a learning experience. Do as you're told or get out of my way and I'll do it myself." "I was just going to ask," Hermione said coldly, "what to do with the ingredients when they are ready?" "Uh, right..." Greg said weakly, flustered, he pointed, "there should be specimen jars and evidence bags in that cupboard. Make sure everything is sealed and labeled." As an afterthought he added, "you should change your gloves after handling each item." "What happens if any gets mixed together?" Hermione asked concerned. "I have no idea," Greg admitted, "maybe nothing, possibly the cure we're looking for, or they could combine together to form an unstoppable deadly virus the likes of which neither Hogwarts nor the world has ever before seen. Isn't experimenting fun?"

Hermione snorted in response and Greg grinned at her unrepentantly for the first time since Hermione had announced her magical status. Eyes shining with mirth, Hermione relaxed, her headache long forgotten and started work immediately, pleased to be doing something productive. Greg watched her silently for a moment, still smiling, before shaking himself out of his stupor. 'Focus,' he reminded himself sternly, 'the incantation ...'

Hermione read the first item and the ensuing instructions carefully:

Agrimonia Eupatoria (Agrimony): Weave the stalks three times three neatly, then dry ... (burnt offering)

Pulling a pair of latex gloves from the box on the counter, Hermione began searching through the collections of plants in the room, since she had no idea what agrimony looked like. When she located it, Hermione cut nine stems of a similar length, with the help of a nearby pair of scissors. "Scourgify," Hermione whispered pointing her wand at the scissors before dropping them in her apron pocket. She immediately applied the magical cleaning process to the stalks and carried over to an empty workstation. Separating the stems into groups of three, Hermione whispered a charm to straighten them, "rectam facere," than another to braid each grouping separately, and repeated it to weave the groups together. "Spirae," she spoke quietly, left Hermione with a solid rope of agrimony.

Thankful she had followed her inclinations despite Ron's teasing, Hermione had read quite a few of Neville's herbology texts and though she had never attempted it before, she knew of a spell which should dry out the plant enough so that it would burn properly. With a swish of her wand, Hermione confidently whispered, "torrere aridum." She watched as all the moisture sealed within the plant evaporated, a process that would have normally taken weeks was completed within a few seconds. Hermione placed the braid of dried agrimony in a plastic bag and labeled before sealing it shut. Perusing the papers again Hermione noticed two other plants required as burnt offerings, 'angelica archangelica, and humulus lupulus, at least I recognize these,' Hermione thought, her curiosity only slightly dampened. Making sure to change her gloves, and clean the scissors, it was not long before the process was complete and two bags containing the ropes of angelica and hops, respectively, were placed next to the one of agrimony.

Enormously pleased with herself, Hermione hazarded a glance over at Greg. He was leaning back in his chair, his head resting on the back of the seat. Hermione was startled to see the vacant expression on his face, especially since his eyes were open. Even more puzzling, in this position, unaware and unfocused, Greg was writing, slowly and methodically filling the page before him. 'That's not natural,' Hermione thought unnerved. Though she was intrigued, Hermione resolved not to interrupt, instead promised herself that she would ask later exactly what he had been doing, and why. 'And whatever he did to keep the door barred against entry ... hopefully I can make him tell me.' Hermione mused having lost confidence in her researching skills. Pick up the list again, Hermione counted and then sighed, 'three done ... One and twenty to go. Right then, Myrica Cerifera (Bayberry)...'

A/N: Please Review