Hermione the younger, 1996
As Hermione slipped back into her bed, she resisted the urge to fling her water pitcher in the direction of the quietly-conversing pair in the corner. As soon as she'd turned around, a strange buzzing sound had filled her ears, ruining her hope of continuing to listen in on the conversation. She didn't know what the spell was, but it was clear that "Hermione senior" did not want her to be a part of their whisperings.
Shows what they know, she grumbled to herself. I just fought off a pack of Death Eaters, but oh no, that's not good enough to be considered anything other than a bothersome child! The pain of her recent injuries seemed to fade, pushed aside by the burning anger and embarrassment she felt. Hermione had just dismissed her like a nanny would a petulant child! She'd even called her "Miss Granger"...as though they weren't the same person! It was insulting, is what it was.
Well, if they didn't need her help, then she wouldn't offer it. No more carefully planned trips to Professor Snape's office, no more reading Potions journals in her free time so she'd be well versed should they strike up a conversation, no more defending his honor to all and sundry. No more "Be nice, Harry!" or "He is not a foul git, Ron!" from her, oh no. She would just have to fall out of love with her professor, that's all there was to it. Let "Hermione" (she couldn't help referring to her older self without sarcasm entering her tone, even in her head) make of that what she would!
Resolute, Hermione settled down into her bed, her arms crossed and a pugnacious expression on her face. She was glad the older girl looked so wretched. At least Hermione's hair was recently washed and presently somewhat contained in a plait, unlike the free-for-all the older girl had on display. Shameful, her inner Lavender whispered.
She straightened to a sitting position not fifteen minutes later as the older girl began to fade. Good. Now Professor Snape would come talk to her, and maybe he would be willing to explain a few things without "Hermione" around to stop him. Her mouth fell open in a horribly accurate imitation of a fish when the quickly-fading girl stood on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to Professor Snape's.
An ugly, all-consuming beast awoke and curled through her chest when she saw Professor Snape lean forward and kiss the older girl back. His immediate departure from the Hospital Wing right after only added fuel to her jealous fire.
A/N: I believe all my A/Ns today begin with "Poor [name]". And this one is no different - poor younger Hermione. How do you upstage yourself in front of the object of (both) your affections? Tricky, indeed. Not JK Rowling.
