Chapter 4

The next day, Minerva took Hermione to shop for school supplies and clothing. Hermione had to remind herself repeatedly that although the clothes from this time period felt ridiculous, she'd mostly be able to wear her school robes throughout the year. Besides, she scolded, since when have I been overly preoccupied with my clothing, of all things? I definitely have bigger things to worry about, even without the constant and immediate threats to Harry's life.

They carefully packed her things into a large trunk, and levitated it to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Good afternoon, Professor!" the painting greeted cheerfully before noticing the girl at the professor's side. "Why, who is this?"

"This is Miss Hermione Belanger, our newest addition to Gryffindor." Hermione noted that the pride Minerva had in her house was present even now. She wasn't surprised in the least, but it gave her a warm feeling to find small reflections of her own time in this one.

The Fat Lady offered her a bright smile. "Well then! Welcome to Hogwarts, Hermione."

"Thank you," Hermione replied sincerely and to the apparent satisfaction of the Fat Lady who then turned to Minerva patiently.

"Snargaluff Pod," recited her Head of House, and the portrait swung open, admitting them to the common room.

Hermione's mind reeled instantly as she stepped into the Common Room. It was terribly familiar—she'd grown up in it—and yet very different in all of the most important ways. The furniture was the same, but its arrangement had clearly changed over time. The noisy, chaotic ambiance was present, but was produced by people who, in her mind, didn't quite belong there. The fire was roaring, cutting through the chill of the early September evening, but unaccompanied by her friends it didn't warm her as it normally would have. She couldn't help but feel terribly lost in the place that used to be home but was now just a room full of strange people, and she wanted desperately to flee back to the Room of Requirement.

Minerva noticed the state of her newest protégé and, gesturing subtly to Lily, she gently led Hermione up the stairs to the dormitories.

Hermione only passively noted what was going on around her, and when the door to the dorms was closed, and her bed indicated to her, she dropped onto it weakly. Here, too, the similarities and differences contrasted starkly, causing discord in her mind. The beds were all canopied with the same crimson drapes, but they were more numerous she was used to. The windows were the same elegant, hinged arches, but there were three now, rather than two—clearly to make up for how much larger the room was in this time. The items that littered the floor, causing Lily's cheeks to flush as she dove for the mess, were all unusual to her. As Hermione sat on the bed that was just the same degree of plush firmness as the one she'd grown up with, it began to truly dawn on her that she was not in "Kansas" anymore.

The next half hour passed by in a surreal blur of reassurance, departures and arrivals, and introductions. Before she knew it, she and Lily were walking down to the Great Hall for dinner.

"You seem really nervous," Lily observed kindly. "It'll be alright, I'm sure you'll get along with everyone; our house is really wonderful." She carefully scrutinized the new girl. She seemed completely out of sorts—nervous didn't really cover it—and Lily found herself feeling a bit concerned, especially when she caught her curiosity wandering to the possible reasons for the girl's transfer. She couldn't quite forget the urgency with which Hermione had asked to see the Headmaster at their first meeting, either. She primly shoved her musings away. It's none of my business anyway.

Hermione glanced at a window as they passed, but the darkening sky caused it to throw back her horrendous reflection instead. Her hair was even worse than usual. Over the years it had begun to tame itself a bit, but today it seemed an outward expression of just how frazzled she was feeling. Lily heard the soft groan Hermione shot at her reflection.

"I can fix it for you," she said tentatively, not wanting to insult her, but desperate to help in whatever way possible. Hermione's face formed a dubious expression, and Lily laughed. "Honestly, it works, but," she paused, "you have to swear not to breathe a word to anyone…"

"Well, alright," Hermione replied reluctantly, coming to a stop, "but if it doesn't work… Well, don't feel too badly." Parvati had tried to charm her hair straight once, in fourth year, and it had been the enormous disappointment that drove Hermione to splurge on Sleak Eze's for the ball.

An almost devious grin spread across Lily's face as she flourished her wand confidently, muttering words beneath her breath— low enough that Hermione couldn't quite make them out, though she tried. A slight tingle spread across her scalp and Hermione turned, slightly hopeful, toward the window.

"Oh!" In place of the frizzy bush that had been attacking her face moments before, her hair now fell past her shoulders in thick, glossy curls of darkest toffee. She swayed her head back and forth experimentally, watching them gently bounce. "How did you do that?" Hermione asked, awed.

Lily's smug look dissolved under a bright blush. "Magic?" she replied lamely.

"But I've never—" she froze mid-sentence. Hadn't she always heard that Lily had been amazing in charms? "You invented it, didn't you?" she breathed in astonishment. Lily's blush deepened in response. She invented this in school? Before sixth? "That's amazing. You must be fantastic at charms!"

Lily nodded a bit bashfully. "I love charms—casting them, altering them, making new ones. It's what I'm going to do after Hogwarts. Only, you know, not silly things like hair charms. I want to work for the Ministry and design charms that really make a difference in people's lives!"

The passion and confidence in her voice was heartbreaking, for Hermione knew that she hadn't gone on to a career of charms genius; the war had consumed her few post-Hogwarts years, and then… well, the wizarding world knew the rest. But not this time, she thought with fierce conviction, as she looked at the girl walking once more beside her, a pleased glow still resting on her unguarded face. This time, you'll get your future. I promise.

All too soon, they were paused in the corridor outside the Great Hall.

"Well, this is it," Lily said softly. "You ready?"

Hermione closed her eyes, breathing deeply. I've walked through this door a thousand times—she purposefully prevented her brain from calculating a more accurate number—I can do this… Just imagine this is any other day, that Harry and Ron will be sitting at the table, waiting for me to surface from the library. She let herself sink carefully into her visualization, allowing it to slowly boost her confidence and calm her mind. Just as Lily was about to ask her if she was quite alright, Hermione opened her eyes and nodded decisively. With a brusque, "Let's go," she strode through the doorway, Lily walking just as confidently beside her. Hermione resisted the mad urge to search the table for those who wouldn't—couldn't—be there, and bit back the melancholy that threatened to rise. She would do this properly.

She had just taken a seat with Lily and her dorm mates when two vaguely familiar, and irrefutably attractive, boys approached. The first Hermione easily identified as James Potter, and she fought fiercely to ignore the Harry-related pang in her heart.

"If it isn't the lovely Miss. Evans!" he announced with more than a trace of flirtation in his voice.

"Why indeed it is!" exclaimed his companion grandly. His gaze fell on Hermione and his jovial expression turned instantly serious. "And who might you be?" he inquired, catching her eyes with his own warm, grey ones. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized who it must be. Sirius! was her brief, coherent thought before a boy's soft laughter cut through her shock. Remus, she realized, recognizing his younger self from an old Order photograph. She returned her eyes to a smirking Sirius. "I have that effect on a lot of girls," he said smoothly, winking at Lily's group of friends, several of whom blushed furiously.

"Sadly," Remus interjected dryly, "he's not even just being cocky."

Lily, apparently immune to Sirius' charm, tossed a disapproving glance at the girls before turning to Hermione. "Hermione, meet Remus, Sirius, and Pot— er, James."

Hermione suppressed her amusement at Lily's apparent disgust for James, and at the grin displaying James' evident pleasure at Lily having been forced to say his first name. Harry had confided in her, eventually, the realities of his parents' relationship, but seeing it first-hand was another thing entirely. She turned to the Marauders. "I'm Hermione Belanger." The name still felt strange on her tongue, but she'd practised it hundreds of time, and it rolled off smoothly.

"You're new then?" James asked.

"No, she's been here for the past 5 years," Sirius deadpanned. "Our Jamesie—doesn't miss a thing," he stage-whispered to Hermione.

"Screw you, Sirius," growled James good-naturedly.

"Later," he replied flippantly.

Remus caught Hermione's amused gaze and rolled his eyes at his friends' exchange. Hermione smiled warmly back. Just as she opened her mouth toward the youthful version of a man she deeply respected, Hermione noticed a pudgy boy with watery blue eyes approach. Pettigrew. She hadn't yet decided what to do about the boy that had betrayed her best friend's parents to their deaths. Did he deserve to be saved? Was she even capable of setting aside her loathing long enough to try? She seriously doubted it. Luckily though, just as her body began to tense up, food appeared on the house tables and the boys headed for their seats with a hasty farewell.

Hermione had to force her gaze to rest on her plate, rather than avidly watching the younger versions of the Marauders. In spite of her best efforts though, she couldn't help but pick up pieces of their boisterous conversation, which resumed several minutes into the meal. She was struck by their strong resemblance to Fred and George—always laughing and teasing, occasionally dropping their voices momentarily to soft whispers, instantly alerting everyone in their general area to be wary of some future prank.

The sounds of the Great Hall rushed around her, and for a moment she felt entirely out of place. Then Minerva caught her eye, smiling comfortingly, and Hermione quickly pulled herself back together. It was time to be strong, she reminded herself forcefully, dragging a smile onto her face. She called her attention to the conversation Lily was having with the other Gryffindor girls, mostly listening as she ate, but occasionally throwing in a comment here and there. The majority of their conversation was about people she didn't know, and she began to sink into the role she had become used to as dorm mate to Lavender and Parvati. Just like home, she thought wryly.

By the time Hermione reached her bed after dinner, she was completely drained, and with a mumbled "Goodnight," to her dorm mates, she enveloped herself in the cozy warmness of an immensely familiar comforter and fell fast asleep.

xXx

The Marauders were absent from breakfast the next morning and it seemed to Hermione that everyone but herself was much more concerned by this fact than by their pending classes; admittedly, though, it was everyone else's second week. She herself was a distracted mess of nerves and listened to Lily's irritated explanation about schemes and "last time" with only the barest of her attentions.

"—and the prats didn't pull anything all last week, so everyone's been on edge as it is!"

"That was nice of them," Hermione mused, recalling, strangely wistfully, the periods of reprieve which Fred and George had thoughtfully and occasionally bestowed upon them. Lily looked at her, aghast, and Hermione pulled herself from her worried preoccupation. "To give everyone time to settle in, I mean. It's considerate of them—giving you all a period of grace. I expect the first years benefit especially."

Lily blinked in surprise. "I— Well, you know—" Her brow furrowed and she sank into silence, evidently now as preoccupied as Hermione who, after a brief moment of amusement, returned to her inner monologue.

Just relax. This is only Hogwarts. You've done this plenty of times before. You just need to relax…

Sooner than she could account for, the girls around her were rising from their seats. "C'mon, Hermione. Mel has potions with us—I introduced her to you yesterday, remember?" Hermione gathered her confidence and smiled at the girls standing beside Lily—only vaguely recognizing them as her dormmates. The smile slipped off her face a split-second later as she reached for a bag that wasn't there.

"Oh no!" she said, dropping her head onto the table. The girls laughed softly.

"Don't worry about it," Mel said reassuringly. "There's plenty of time; Lils can take you to get your bag and I'll save you seats."

Lily was nodding her agreement. "Better go quick though."

The girls arrived in potions at the same time as Slughorn, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief just as Lily groaned. "You've got to be kidding me," the red-head muttered.

Hermione scanned the room quickly, her eyes flitting from the empty seat by the extremely apologetic-looking Mel, to the one other empty seat located next to a black-haired boy who couldn't possibly be any other than Severus Snape.

"I'm supposing this means you'd like for me to take the seat next to that guy over there?" Hermione asked, recalling the memory Harry had seen in the pensieve.

"Oh, please," Lily implored. "I can't possibly sit with him." She seemed to contemplate the idea for a moment, then shook her head defiantly. "Nope. No way. Do you mind?"

Hermione laughed lightly at the look of desperation. "It's fine. But," she whispered, feeling a little devious, "I think you owe me an explanation."

"Anything!" Lily whispered loudly back as they headed to their seats.

"What I wouldn't do for a promise like that," came James' smooth, low voice, closely followed by Sirius' and Remus' appreciative chuckles, and a deep flush on Lily's face.

"Alright, alright, Mr. Potter, let's bring a halt to the overtures before they begin this morning, shall we?"

"Is that what we're calling them, Professor? I was of the impression that they were mere misplaced dramatics," Lily said coolly.

"Point," Remus proclaimed in an undertone, laughter written across his face. Beside him, James didn't look remotely put-out, in fact he seemed quite satisfied by the exchange. Hermione glanced almost reflexively to Lily, who looked much the same—only the barest trace of frustration on her face.

Soon, she realized. The pattern is so normal to them; it's almost comforting. Lily's own denial is probably the only thing keeping them apart. Hermione pulled herself from the revelation, shoved back her wishes for Harry, and turned to her seating partner.

"I'm Hermione Belanger," she began bravely.

"Yes," he replied, glancing at her with disdain. "The new girl."

Hermione inwardly rolled her eyes. "Very astute," she said sarcastically. "You're Severus Snape?"

"Equally insightful," he sneered.

"Glad you feel we're on an equal footing."

Severus looked at her in smirking amusement. "Hardly."

The rest of the lesson progressed in silence between the two and, to Hermione's surprise, she was finished long before Snape was. Just as she was wondering whether perhaps it was because he'd never brewed it before, whereas she had only months previous, he looked sneeringly into her potion.

"Sub-par," he pronounced so arrogantly that she half-expected him to vanish it and deduct points.

"It's exactly as described in the text!"

His expression became amused. "Indeed."

Hermione bristled and an image of Harry's bloody potions book flitted through her mind. "Well then, what's wrong with it?" she demanded hotly.

"It's not a potion."

Hermione looked at him dumbfounded. "Which makes it… what, precisely?"

"Nothing more than an amateur equation."

Hermione ignored his scathing tone. "But that's what a potion is—a series of calculations that produce an end result."

Severus scoffed. "Potion making is an art, not a science. You cannot equate a potion to a mathematical product."

She thought back to when he'd taught her as her professor—both subjects taught with such passion. Could Severus Snape be a romantic? "How so?" she challenged.

"Why would I bother explaining it to you?"

"Judging by your general demeanour, I suppose it's safe to guess you won't be doing it solely to fulfill some innate need to do good?" A single eyebrow rose in response. She swallowed a grin. "No? Then how about on the off-chance that it will improve my potion-making skills, thus saving you from having to endure my slaughtering of a field you are so obviously passionate about?"

His eyes narrowed. "Slytherins are not passionate."

Hermione raised her own eyebrows in scepticism. "No?" He opened his mouth to retort and she cut him off. "Oh come on. What could it possibly hurt to prove me wrong? You're not just going to present an argument and then fail to support it, are you?"

His eyes shot daggers at her. "It is not something that can be explained or taught."

Hermione glanced at the clock. "Well, you've got half an hour to try." When he merely ignored her she decided some incitement was clearly in order and promptly launched into an argument about measurements and stir counts; about numerology's application in potions; about Gopallot's laws. Finally, 25 minutes into her spiel, Severus decided he'd had enough.

"Look into your cauldron," he interrupted.

Hermione shut her mouth in triumph and looked down.

"What do you see?"

"Er, the Draught of Living Death?" she supplied uncertainly.

He sighed in irritation. "Yes. You see your potion. Where are the ingredients?"

"… In my potion?" Hermione replied, unsure of what point he was trying to make.

Severus' brow furrowed briefly in thought before sliding her potions book to her. "Show me. Any one of the ingredients on the list—point it out in your cauldron."

A glimmer of his meaning filtered through. "Well, I can't of course; they've mixed together."

Severus nodded decisively. "The potion is not equal to the sum of its parts; it is different than the sum of its parts."

"But that's no different than a mathematical equation!" Hermione protested. She hastily wrote "1+1=2" on a piece of spare parchment. "Show me where the ones are in the numeral '2'."

But Severus sneered at her. "You're not thinking." He snatched up her quill and drew a circle, "One," he drew another one, "Plus one," then he circled them, "Is two." He set the quill down definitively. "Numerals are merely representations of values, not objects themselves. But, regardless—"

"Hermione?" Lily was standing in the doorway of the classroom. "Class is over."

"Oh! Sorry, just give me a sec!" Hermione turned back to Severus, flushing slightly. "This is definitely not over."

Severus just smirked and began to tidy up his things. Arrogant prick, Hermione thought with a trace of amusement.