Her first week in the castle passed fast. It was all blurry. She was torn between loathing Tom Riddle and his followers and feeling betrayed by Dumbledore yet unable to surpass her admiration of him. There were new friends, too. Ever composed Joseph, serious Celia and somewhat liberal Julianne who reminded her of Ginny. They were not the ancestors of people she knew in her time so it was refreshing getting to know people who didn't resemble anyone. She doubted she would be comfortable meeting someone who looked like Harry or Ron, even Julianne's Ginny-like behavior brought sad memories but since she was a brunette with hazel eyes Hermione was able to endure it.

She was relieved to find out that the students took so many subjects during their final year that due to the number they didn't have many classes with Slytherins. Ancient Runes was one of the only subjects she had with Riddle and this suited her perfectly. She still wasn't her old self, the Hermione Granger was lost somewhere in time.

She avoided the library. But as days passed and passed she could almost hear it calling to her. She remembered how she was constantly on the run and the only thought that was like a lullaby to her was her taking a book in the Hogwarts library and reading it in the small alcove behind the shelves.

But going to the library was like ascertaining the fact that she did travel in time to land in the epoca of one Tom Riddle who with time will kill her best friends. Going there was like resurrecting Hermione Granger and this just didn't feel right. Because Hermione Granger would and should kill Riddle while Jean Wells didn't have to.

It's not like she didn't contemplate this thought. He was so close now. It would take just one spell, one Avada Kedavra. Will she mean it for the spell to work? Sometimes the answer was yes, sometimes she wasn't so sure. She only killed people by disarming them and having heavy objects fall on them or by pushing them into the fire, water, off the cliff. It wasn't a cold-blooded murder, it was self-defense. So when she imagined grabbing a wand and casting the unforgivable…even in her head it didn't go as planned. And if it did, she would be hated for killing a brilliant orphan who did no harm and no one will know that she spared them of the vilest creature to grace the earth. And she would be thrown into Azkaban with dementors sucking her soul and her memories. The only thing she couldn't let go of. Well, not yet.

Living as Jean Wells was liberating but she knew that it was an illusion. Even with another name and living in another house, she would sometimes glance with longing at the Gryffindor table like now and would imagine all of them together laughing at some joke or going on about how Malfoy is a ferret. There would be Ron chewing something and Harry laughing, Ginny looking at him with tenderness, her hand in his, Neville red in the face at facing this display of affection, stealing glances at Luna…

"Jean, are you okay?" It was Celia and she was shaking her, worry written all over her face.

"What?" Hermione asked weakly.

"You are crying", she answered in a low voice.

Hermione raised her right hand to her face and it was wet with tears. She blinked trying to clear her head.

"I'm fine, Celia, I just need some fresh air", she answered and rose up hurriedly to leave.

She almost ran away into the frosty night air of the autumn. Tears left cold torrents on her face and she sobbed inhaling deep to calm down. She was slipping. She needed, had to get her act together.

Those were beautiful memories, she scorned at herself angrily. At some point in time, it was beautiful and if she cried for them it wasn't fair, it was out of selfishness. They were better off, she knew. Harry couldn't take it anymore and Ginny couldn't cope with his death. Ron felt he was a betrayer that he didn't die by Harry's side and she couldn't make him see the reason why they should go on living. Luna and Neville were tortured and killed during one of the raids, her hand was in his when they found them.

She was the only one who continued to stubbornly run. But she wanted them back. So badly. Even if death for them was redemption.

She didn't know how long it took for her to calm down. Maybe she had to cry? She didn't cry when she found Luna and Neville. Not after Ron, no. He was the last she cried for, with her hands wrapped around his now still body and shaking him, shaking him so hard her hands hurt.

Crying felt so good, she found. It was like taking medicine and feeling relieved. Relieved of pain if only for a little while. She wiped away the remaining tears and headed back to the castle. It was already dark outside, she saw. The curfew must be soon.

She doubled one of the corners only to run into someone.

"Well, who do we have here?" a lazy voice said above her. She looked up and saw a tall Slytherin towering above her. He reminded her of Marcus Flint but she didn't know his name. She quickly looked behind him, there were Nott and Dolohov and they were smirking.

"We saw you crying and thought we could comfort you", said Dolohov pleasantly.

Hermione grabbed the wand tighter.

"Why, Mudblood, you should appreciate the effort", Nott said with amusement noticing her movement. "But, alas…"

He was fast with his wand but she was faster. It wasn't a reflex, it was constant vigilance learnt in the battles neither Nott nor Dolohov faced in their life. For them the wand was an instrument, for her it was her inner being, her arm, her instinct, her magic. She shielded their spells and channelled all of her anger and frustration into the spells that were meant to hurt. She saw their confidence faltering, fear creeping on Nott's face. She smiled and felt a thirst for revenge, for blood. So she drew it, blood. She was stronger and she was better prepared. When she was sure they limped and stumbled and bleed, she sent a golden bird to get help. She forgot there were no members of the Order of Phoenix anymore so it was futile conjuring a Phoenix.

"What's going on here?" a voice asked from behind her. She turned around brusquely and saw Tom Riddle and a man who had to be Slughorn some steps behind him.

Hermione sighed and saw the Slytherins getting up off the floor. She turned and wanted to say that she was attacked but suddenly felt a searing pain in the back of her head.

"So much for constant vigilance", she thought with grim amusement before darkness consumed her.