As It Was

by Taelr

Hermione (queen of following the rules) is actually really bad at following rules when the people she loves are in danger. Or really good at breaking them, however you'd like to look at it. And as usual when the rules of time are meddled with, some level of chaos ensues. That much, she expected. She didn't expect . . . everything else.

3. She Cried Power

It's not the waking, it's the rising

It is the grounding of her foot, uncompromising

It's not forgoing of the lie

It's not the opening of eyes

It's not the waking, it's the rising.

It's not the shade, we should be past it

It's the light and it's the obstacle that casts it

It's the heat that drives the light,

It's the fire it ignites

It's not the waking, it's the rising.

It's not the song, it is the singing

It's the heaven of the human spirit ringing

It is the bringing of the line

It is the bearing of the rhyme

It's not the waking, it's the rising.

And I could cry,

Power, power, power

Nina Cried Power ~ Hozier (2019)

Severus walked quickly toward the library, trying not to appear too rushed and resisting the urge to glance around or back over his shoulder. If she was out and about then he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of noting that he was keeping an eye out for her. He'd left class the very instant they were dismissed and had been attempting to maintain a casual yet speedy pace toward the library ever since. He hadn't glanced her way before leaving the classroom but was confident that she must have departed sometime after himself, giving him plenty of time to arrive at his intended destination. He slowed his pace as he entered the library, cognizant of Madam Pince's watchful eyes even through the haze of victory overtaking him. Convinced this was his moment, he slowed even further and strolled confidently toward his window seat study –

And stopped short as all the smug bluster which had previously expanded his chest suddenly left him.

One Miss Granger sat comfortably in his spot, not only in his window seat but also on the very side he always sat on. Not only that, but she was leaning back into the corner with her legs pulled up on the seat as well, reclining and reading one book while several others sat waiting, spread casually around her. Not only had she arrived before Severus, but she had clearly done so with enough time to make herself at home.

Cursing under his breath, Severus moved to take his place on the opposite end of the space beside the window, resisting the urge to glower at her in favor of ignoring her very existence. The library was practically empty as most students were still in their final classes for the day and those who had finished were still meandering here or back to their dormitories. It didn't make any sense for Granger to have been here before him, and yet here she was. He dropped his bag next to him – establishing a solid wall on the seat between himself and her feet, which were stretched out a bit too close to his side for his liking – and jerked it open, withdrawing his own book and opening it sourly. This was the eighth time she'd made it here first, and the eighth day since she'd arrived at Hogwarts. He had never wanted to murder anyone so quickly after meeting them in his life. Not even James Potter held that title. And worse yet, he knew she didn't enjoy spending time studying near him. This was all some sick game to her, stealing his favorite seat.

He'd hoped it would be a one-time occurrence after he found her there on her first day. But there she'd sat every single day since, no matter which routes he took to the library after class and regardless of how much he rushed. And without fail she was already seated when he arrived, already comfortable and already surrounded by whatever study materials she'd brought with her on a given day. It didn't seem to matter whether their last class of the day had been in the dungeons or the tallest, most obscure tower in the castle, she always found a way here before Severus. It was too much.

He turned to her suddenly, venomous. "How do you get here so quickly?"

She didn't look up from her book, turning a page very, very slowly. Her chin was tilted downward to read and much of her profile was obscured behind a veritable forest of amber curls, but he could just make out the corner of her mouth quirking up. Damn. He'd been trying so hard to deny her the satisfaction of knowing that she was bothering him.

"I know of a few shortcuts."

Severus straightened, surprised and annoyed in equal parts. "You arrived only a week ago," he pointed out. "I don't see how that's enough time for anyone-"

"I'm more familiar with Hogwarts than you give me credit for." Now she was looking at him, chin lifted high enough to give her a very defiant look.

He stared at her, waiting for a further explanation, but she just stared right back in silence. Clearly it was not her desire to reveal any of her secrets. And she had many, he was sure of it. She'd arrived very near the end of the school year out of nowhere, had showed up in his spot in the library, and had since slid into the routine of her classes and life in Hogwarts as if she'd lived there forever. She never asked for directions, always arrived early or on time to her various obligations and destinations, and seemed to know her way around just as well as she claimed. He'd been watching her carefully and had noted her skill with everything from charms to potions to keeping professors happy. She performed in her classes as if she'd studied under Flitwick and McGonagall and Slughorn for all of her years in school and not the past week. She knew – or seemed to know, anyways – their quirks and expectations, as well as how to get top marks in each of their courses. It seemed like every day that she performed some trick or asked a pertinent question and had one professor or another complimenting her skill and interest in learning.

"Staring is rude." She said mockingly. The pauses weren't the same, but he knew she was imitating what he'd said at their first encounter. He snapped back to the present, realizing that several seconds had passed. She was now invested in her book again.

He clenched his jaw, annoyed, and looked back down at the book in his own lap. There was one way in which he'd noticed she didn't just fit in as if she'd always been a student at Hogwarts; the social aspect. She was as talkative in class as any professor would like – that is, only when answering a question or when asking her own question was allowed – but she was a loner. The rest of the Gryffindor house were, as a rule, boisterous and loud and painfully social. They met in groups, traveled in groups, ate in groups, studied in groups, and probably slept and bathed in groups as well for all Severus knew. They moved in small packs of at least two to five individuals, particularly now that the school was under the strain of the continued rise of The Dark Lord. Small scuffles and duels often broke out between Slytherin and Gryffindor students in the halls, and it was useful to have at least one fellow student to watch your back. But Granger had no one.

She shied away from other students regardless of house and kept to herself even at mealtimes, when she had no option but to sit shoulder to shoulder with the rest of her house at their large table. She was polite and kind, but never accepted offers to spend time or study with anyone who asked. Severus had spoken to Lily little in the past weeks, but had seen her speaking with Granger on multiple occasions and trying to convince her to join in on some Gryffindor group adventure or gathering. And even she had been turned down. About the only student Granger spent any time with on a regular basis was Severus, and that was only because she was hell bent on ruining his day every day, as far as he could tell. There was no longer such thing as a peaceful afternoon alone in the library after class, and she was making sure of it.

He stared hard at the book in front of him, realizing he'd been reading one sentence over and over, and sighed, sitting up straighter and slamming the book closed. She looked up at him suddenly at the noise, frowning. "You seem particularly unhappy today. No sunshine in the dungeon dormitories?"

"How is it that you know so much about this school?" he snapped.

She shrugged. "Maybe I've read Hogwarts: A History one too many times."

He narrowed his eyes. "I read that book cover to cover for years before I ever got my Hogwarts letter. There is nothing in it which I have not read or do not know."

She only smiled. It was small, but genuine and full of mischief. He never saw her smile unless she was stuck talking to someone and politely declining an invitation to an event, or making small talk until she was able to get away. Severus was quite putt off that it was at his expense.

She was careful. Maybe friends would make her feel better, but friends weren't what she needed right now. Hermione wanted – needed – to get back to her own time so she could help Harry. She had to leave most of that up to Dumbledore, but distracting herself with a vibrant social life in the meantime wasn't going to make anything easier when she inevitably went home. And so she kept herself politely distant, declining to study or spend time with anyone no matter how tempting the offer. Even Lily, sweet and unassuming as she was, hadn't succeeded at convincing Hermione to spend less time alone. Though the first time she'd heard Lily's name Hermione had felt all of the air sucked right out of her lungs. She worked hard at balancing the act of maintaining her polite, appreciative Gryffindor guise while also avoiding Harry's parents and their close friends as much as she possibly could.

She had a rough go of it – they were all either in her year or one year below her – and all aching to know who she was and where she came from and how she'd been sorted into Gryffindor since she arrived so late in the year. Had the sorting hat been involved? Had she just chosen a house? What was the transferring in process like? Where had she been educated previously, or by whom? Did she have magical family? Had she known about Hogwarts growing up? Why had she chosen Hogwarts now? Did she worry about the unrest in the magical world? Did her family worry? Did she have any siblings and if she did, would they be coming to Hogwarts, too?

It was exhausting. She threw herself into her classes and re-acclimating herself to studying for her OWLs and kept her head down. Her preferred location to spend her free time was the library, and after the look on Snape's face when she took his spot by the window – and even better, the look on his face when she'd revealed she knew his name – it was too tempting to keep taking his seat and annoying him. Maybe it was petty, but she considered it due revenge for the way he had treated her when he was a professor. Perhaps the timeline of vengeance was a bit skewed and backward, but she didn't let that stop her. He'd been snarky and problematic enough at their first meeting since she'd arrived in this time to dissolve any qualms she may have developed about causing him any duress whatsoever.

Originally she'd only wanted to annoy him once or twice, but his reaction to finding her in his window seat the second time was just too good , and so it became a daily pastime of hers. She feigned indifference but knew she was getting to him. Snape was acting jumpier and more anxious near the end of every day's classes, and all but sprinting to the library at this point. She had the invisibility cloak and her knowledge of Hogwarts to thank for her continued ability to beat him here, but was beginning to cut it close. She'd only just had time this afternoon to take a seat and haphazardly spread a few books around herself before Snape arrived. But his reaction – however outwardly subdued – was entirely worth it.

Irking him this way made her think of Harry and Ron, who she knew would be thrilled by her antics. And there was nothing like a little healthy competition to keep her on her toes. As for his questions, she was equal parts interested in keeping Snape guessing and intent on keeping her own secrets quite secret, so she kept her answers as vague and open-ended as possible. And it was clearly driving him crazy. Not only did he seem reluctant to ask her questions or show any interest in her whatsoever, but when he did ask, her answers left him with nothing but more questions.

She bit back her smile, reminding herself that she didn't want to take it too far and make an actual enemy out of him. As far as she could tell they remained casual but resolute competitors in an unspoken game, though there was no actual ill will between the two of them. Not that he knew of, anyway. Only she was privy to the way he'd treated her in her younger years at school. "If I told everyone who asked what my methods for finding my way around are, those methods wouldn't be nearly as useful, would they?"

Snape grunted, glowering at her. "You wouldn't even tell your friends?" He paused, for effect. "Oh, forgive me. I forgot that you don't seem to have many." He made a thoughtful noise. "Or any, for that matter."

She had looked away before he spoke but now tilted her head to glance at him sideways, unbothered. "By choice." She, too, paused for effect. "Your corner of the library here doesn't exactly seem to be bustling with friends, either."

He scoffed. "Also by choice." He looked at her pointedly. "And it would be considerably emptier if I had any say in the matter."

Now it was Hermione's turn to make the thoughtful noise. "Hm. You don't."

He narrowed his eyes and she gave him her best smile, enjoying this verbal game of cat and mouse more than she cared to admit to herself. He reacted to her smile just as anticipated, with an acidic glare followed by total stop to conversation as he chose to ignore her existence.

She let her smile drop but continued to look at him, studying. Snape was, bizarrely, the only link to her own time which she wasn't terrified of interacting with. Dumbledore was younger but still imperious and seemingly all-knowing, though she now understood that he couldn't know as much as he made it seem or he'd have reacted to her willful use of the invisibility cloak days ago. McGonagall was notably younger and perhaps less severe, but equally less endeared to Hermione because she did not know her as the McGonagall in her own time did. The very thought of interacting with the Marauders scared Hermione to death, terrified she'd do something which might result in the unbirth of her very best friend. And the other professors she was familiar with were all very unfamiliar with her and interested only in her academic capabilities. She took little joy in interacting with Snape himself, but found that studying him or speaking to him didn't leave her worried that time was actually going to stop or start moving sideways.

He was younger than the professor she was accustomed to. Obviously. But also remarkably less severe. He had perfected the art of scaring away younger students and even some of the older ones from houses other than his own, but was nowhere near as intimidating or frightening as the older version of himself whose snark she had grown up with. He spoke slowly and concisely just like his older self, and certainly had a flourish for dramatic pauses and speech. But he spoke more, and slightly faster. Then again, perhaps Professor Snape spoke more when he was around peers and Hermione just didn't know it. There was probably much she didn't know about the man. With a shudder, she resolved to keep it that way. But the younger version sitting near her . . . it didn't seem harmful to study him from time to time. He was as different now from his older self as Lupin and Serius were, though she sensed that Snape had already weathered his fair share of difficulties in life. Or he was just born as an antisocial git. She couldn't be sure.

And so it was. Weeks passed and the silent competition waged on, with her always one step ahead simply because she could somehow always find her way to the library before he could. The first week of June approached, and with it, their OWLs. Severus was not nearly as hell bent on arriving to the library first any longer, though he still made a good show of trying. He couldn't dedicate so much energy to getting there before Granger if he wanted any hope of passing his OWLs, so he was spending more time studying and less time fretting over her continued – and still quite irksome – presence. Today he planned to ignore her for the most part and focus entirely on his potions homework. It was his best class and he had no desire to achieve less than stellar marks on his end-of-year exam.

He got to the library and walked to his – unwillingly shared – corner window, his nose already in his potions book. But when he stopped to set down his bag and looked up, he froze. The window seat was empty. She'd not missed a single day in the library, had beaten him here every time, even on weekends. But she wasn't here. Not yet, he told himself. She would likely walk in at any moment. And when she did, he didn't want to be standing here dumbly, waiting. So he set his bag down and took his seat, busying himself with looking as comfortable and leisurely as possible. The clock chimed and he made note of the time, smug in his victory. Finally.

But she didn't show. And his smugness diminished with each passing minute. Where was the joy in being here first if she never arrived second? And time kept passing. The minutes turned into a quarter of an hour, and then half of one. He had no luck focusing on his studies at all, looking up at every noise or movement on the edge of his vision. The library was bustling as it always did before major exams, but his corner remained relatively secluded and quiet. No one wanted to bother him. Lily hadn't studied with him since before Granger arrived, and he'd seen her on the other side of the library with a small group of female Gryffindors.

Finally, after nearly an hour, she walked in.

His head snapped up to watch her approach and he opened his mouth to ask her where she'd been. It was nearly time for the evening meal in the Great Hall. But as she got nearer he noted her face. Flushed and splotchy, eyes puffy, and quite reminiscent of the way she'd looked the first time he'd seen her. She'd been crying. Before he could alter his course and make a snide comment, she spoke first.

"I see you saved me my seat." And she took it, leaning back into the corner she'd been occupying for the past month.

Severus closed his mouth so quickly his teeth clicked. She was right. He had taken his seat when he arrived first, but he'd taken the one that had been his only since she'd stolen the original one. He hadn't even thought about it. He didn't know what to say, so he remained silent for a few seconds, trying to regain all of the confidence and bravado he'd felt just moments before. "You're late," he snapped eventually, mostly because he had no idea what else he could say to defend himself.

She sniffed, though it seemed as if she'd finished crying some time ago. "What brilliant observational skills you have."

He frowned, unsure how to ask her what had happened without being that obvious. Also, why should he care? He shouldn't. "Generally," he murmured eventually, settling for a non-answer rather than silence.

She was staring at him, he could feel it. He gazed down at the unopened book his lap, wondering how the potent victory of arriving before she did could have twisted itself into such a bizarre and unprecedented situation. "Why did you sit there instead of here? Isn't this spot what you've been after since I got here?"

Frankly, he was as confused as she was. But it wouldn't do to let her see that. So he put the book back in his bag, scrubbing his hand over his face. "It's nearly time for dinner, Granger," was all he said. A glance at her face confirmed that she wasn't satisfied with this, and that her frown had deepened. He stood up, snatching the strap of his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Wouldn't want to be late for that," she sad dryly.

He walked away, listening as she gathered herself up to follow at some distance. And, damn her, she was in her seat at the Gryffindor table when he got into the Great Hall. How?

The following day she was back in her seat when he walked into the library and made his way to the corner. It was as if nothing had ever happened, and she'd never been late. Severus wondered what had upset her so much and caused her to miss the opportunity to bother him, which prompted him to wonder what had been the matter the first day he met her. Not that he was deeply invested or would ever ask.

OWLs came and went, and with their completion most of the students went, too. McGonagall offered to put her up for the summer but Hermione politely refused, having already asked Dumbledore if she could spend the few months before school started again here at Hogwarts. He'd considered it quietly and then granted his permission, though he cautioned her to be careful. "Some staff remain, but the school will be quite empty. The castle will maintain itself, of course."

She took this as his way of pretending that a small army of house elves weren't the ones keeping everything running in the school, but chose not to comment. Staying at Hogwarts had the major advantages of access to the library as well as close proximity with Hogsmeade, where she intended to seek employment for the summer as well as get more information on the state of things in the muggle world. Word of The Dark Lord's expanding presence and influence had rippled through the student body in the past month and a half, and Hermione did not intend to stay anywhere – Diagon Alley or otherwise – that her status as a muggleborn might place her at risk of attack. People were being taken from their homes, and some students even had personal stories about members of their families and close friends who either "turned" and began serving Voldemort, or vanished, only to have their bodies found later. Hermione was not about to become the next victim.

Staying within Hogwarts had the perk of an empty dormitory, as well. She was the only student in Gryffindor who was remaining for the summer months, and she craved the privacy it would afford her even for those few short months. She did enjoy stretching her legs out on the window seat without Snape to take up any space, though it was admittedly strange without him, particularly for the first few weeks. She had grown to expect his snarky comments and snide remarks and her corner of the library felt quiet without him. It was quite peaceful, of course, but being the only student in the school – and perhaps the only student who had politely but fastidiously refused to make any friends during the schoolyear – was lonely. She really missed Harry and Ron, and any number of her previous fellow students whom she'd socialized with in her own time.

Working in Hogsmeade helped. She managed deliveries and packaging goods in Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop in the evenings and worked in Madame Puddifoot's tea shop on the weekends. She very occasionally ventured into Honeyduke's, but found that candy seemed far less enjoyable without Harry and Ron to share it with. McGonagall had kindly helped her pay for everything she needed to settle in during their first visit to Diagon Alley shortly after Hermione's arrival, but "everything she needed" was the bare minimum. She had two sets of robes for school, one set of semi-formal robes, and the single set of muggle clothing she'd been wearing when she jumped too far back in time. Her cauldrons for potions, required school books for various classes, and various other odds and ends had been useful during the schoolyear but now sat gathering dust over the summer. Things like a new sweater, new shoes, or any other clothing would have to wait until she had made enough to afford those things herself. She hoped to acquire one set of casual robes and one truly formal set eventually, and often spent her breaks from work across the road in Gladrags Wizardwear, browsing their selection of clothing and watching for surprise discounts.

There was a soft brown muggle sweater there with a tag declaring it, "Not so muggle after all," and advising that it was enchanted to keep the wearer's upper body comfortable no matter the weather. Hermione, who was almost perpetually cold, found the very idea delightful. The price tag however, not so much. She never tried anything on, contented to look around and occasionally touch the various fabrics and materials, always promising the storekeeper that she would be back eventually to make her big purchase. Saving what she earned was easy without anyone to accompany her to the Three Broomsticks for a drink or drag her through Honeydukes for a bag of sweets. She didn't make much, but it would be enough to replace her shoes and purchase a new pair of robes. The magical sweater would just have wait. Occasionally she went into Gladrags just to be sure no one else had purchased it yet.

When she wasn't working, she was studying. McGonagall had granted her access to most books from the restricted section, and she was learning more about time travel than ever before. She also sought information on pensieves and memory magic, wondering if one might aid her in noticing things in her own memories which she'd failed to see in the moment. Even twenty years ahead of time, she was still trying to find ways to solve Harry's Goblet of Fire problems and help keep him safe during the tournament. She stubbornly refused to acknowledge the fact that there were no documented instances of a witch or wizard going forward in time, only backwards. She was going to get back to her own time and she was going to see Harry and Ron again, or so she told herself. There were no alternatives. At least, there weren't any that she would consider.

She knew the professors would know which books she borrowed and read from the restricted section, and she knew they'd note all of the time-related tomes. But she had the genuine excuse – for McGonagall and Dumbledore, at least – that she wanted to get home as badly as they wanted to send her back to her own time so that they could stop worrying over their one out of place student. As for the pensieves and other subjects – such as the light foray into the dark arts that the restricted section offered – She would simply tell them that it pertained to her time, and the things they'd forbidden her from telling anyone in this time.

Other students, particularly her fellow Gryffindors, hadn't stopped inviting her to their gatherings just because she'd always refused. She saw some of them occasionally in Hogsmeade, usually visiting with their families. Still, she politely declined. She could tell they expected no less at this point, and heard more then one murmur to a confused family member that, "She's never been very social, that one. Nice, but always keeps to herself. That's just the way she is."

While not thrilled with this opinion of her, it did help her to know that at least she wasn't disappointing anyone by continuing to refuse their attempts to include her. At least they had realistic expectations and she wasn't hurting anyone's feelings.

The season changed slowly, with summer rolling lazily into autumn. She continued working fastidiously and whiled away much of her time exploring the school more thoroughly than her previous residence in it had allowed. It was a bit strange not to encounter Filch and Mrs. Norris on her excursions, but she didn't often go creeping about in the middle of the night anyways. She began taking casual note of the portraits displayed in the school during this time as well as the ghosts who were present. The differences between this time and her own were not always so stark and notable, but there were small details which she did not miss.

The few remaining staff members acknowledged her in passing but were not overly social and she took most meals in her dormitory or alone in the great hall, so her time remained quiet and unbothered.

And then came the end of August and with it, the end of her solitude. She put in her notice at both places of employment and counted her savings, and was able to replace her shoes and purchase a new set of casual robes – and an additional pair of muggle clothing – as well as mail order the required supplies for the upcoming year from various shops in Diagon Alley. Some funds remained, and she stored them away for later use. Staff trickled in throughout the month and settled back into their routines, and then it was September first.

Hermione made sure she was prepared for the sudden resurgence of student populace. She'd been keeping a journal since her mistaken arrival in this time but now checked and rechecked the charms on it to be sure it would remain disguised and unreadable should it fall into the wrong hands. She reorganized her space in the girl's dormitory and dusted off her cauldron in anticipation of the coming classes. She had chosen her solitude but that didn't mean she thoroughly enjoyed it; the idea of other young people being around – even just to talk to about the weather or upcoming exams – warmed her.

For Severus, the summer could not pass quickly enough. Time spent in his father's house – for that's what it was, without his mother there – was never pleasant, and no amount of studying quietly in his room or completing his chores while the man was out was ever enough to please him. He took the trip to Diagon Alley by himself, as usual, and brushed past Lily in Flourish and Blott's. But she just smiled small at him in passing and continued on her way without even stopping to say hello. It stung, but they had been distant for a portion of the school year prior and hadn't exchanged letters or even seen each other over the summer, so he couldn't be surprised.

He loathed the journey on The Hogwarts Express more than words could express, and approximately ninety percent of that loathing came from being in an enclosed space with Potter and his cronies. The ride to Hogwarts had always been enjoyable for some and tense for others, but the goings on in the world – what with family members and friends disappearing or turning against those they loved – made everything more intense. Cars on the train seemed almost color-coordinated, with Hufflepuffs consorting only with Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws huddling together, Gryffindors clustering in various cubicles and halls to whisper – and giggle – conspiratorially, and Slytherins moping about among their own. The casual intermingling of years past felt distant and unachievable this time.

Severus spent the time in a corner, pretending to stare out the window but subtly watching the reflection lest another student try something foolish. Nothing notable happened in his car, though, and they all got into Hogwarts in one piece.

Dinner in the Great Hall came and he found his eyes automatically seeking Lily, who this time didn't even deign to give him a smile, just looked right through him and went back to her conversation. She was surrounded by her usual cluster of Gryffindor girls her age, and nearby were Potter and his group of idiots. Severus scanned the remainder of the Gryffindor table, realizing too late who he was looking for and dropping his eyes to his empty plate. What did he care if the damn Granger girl was back this year or not? He knew she hadn't flunked her OWLs at the end of the previous semester, but one could hope. He looked again, nurturing the faint idea that his corner of the library might be empty this year . . .

And there she was, surrounded by other students wearing red and gold and politely but distantly socializing with all of them. Damn her, of course she was there. He noted with a start that she was looking back at him, and they exchanged an awkward nod before both of them looked away.

The first year students were herded down the middle of the room and everyone's attention was diverted as the Sorting Hat was brought out and set upon its customary stool. He caught a flash of wild curls as Granger turned to look at the Headmaster, and kicked himself for letting her catch him looking. She would comment on it later, he was certain. After the summer he'd had, he almost looked forward to the anticipated verbal sparring session with her. The thought was more than a little disquieting.