Chapter 17: Clever Girl


Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."
—Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, J.K. Rowling


The melodrama of Sirius's misinterpretation might have been almost comical… if it hadn't left me beet red and utterly mortified. Naturally, as my abysmal luck would have it, there wasn't time to rectify the situation before three of the witnesses to my shame had to rush off—James and Lily to their Monday night Heads meeting and Remus to tutor a group of third years struggling in Charms. James didn't spare a word before leaving and Remus offered little more than an apologetic shrug

"Sorry," Lily mouthed over her shoulder before she followed the two wizards up the marble staircase.

"Don't worry about it," said Gideon, clasping my shoulder briefly. "You'll be able to straighten it out later. I'll see you in class tomorrow."

He flashed me an encouraging smile before heading into the Great Hall.

I was left standing open-mouthed in the Entrance Hall, quite alone except for a few students milling about after leaving dinner. A dry laugh escaped my throat before I could suppress it.

Where exactly had I gone wrong this time?


Both physically and mentally exhausted from this long, arduous start of the week, I chose to skive off dinner and head straight to bed. My appetite had all but vanished, and honestly, I didn't see any point in drawing out this bollocks of a Monday. I trudged sullenly up the spiral staircase to the girls dormitory, finding it mercifully empty when I arrived.

"Thank Merlin," I sighed into the deserted room. I changed into my pajamas and performed my nightly routine hastily. Though it was still quite early, I hoped to be long asleep before anyone else returned. Recalling my most recent nightmare, I quickly drained a vial of Dreamless Sleep draught before closing the hangings around my bed.

I'll find Sirius tomorrow and clear the air, I thought as I pulled back the blankets and flopped unceremoniously into my four-poster. If Lily doesn't get a chance to first.


"James was positively insufferable last night," Lily complained as we walked down to breakfast together the next morning.

It didn't escape my notice that she'd called him James rather than Potter. I mentally cheered.

One step closer to the birth of my best friend.

I quickly suppressed all thoughts of Harry and the smile that came along with them as I tried to focus on Lily's continued griping.

"—surly prat the entire meeting," she went on grumpily. "I tried to explain that it was all just a big misunderstanding, but he wasn't having it. I swear, he can be such a stubborn git when it comes to Black."

Lily and I had departed the dormitory together without Mary and Alice, who had still been dressing for the day. Both girls had been understanding, yet likely still unconvinced when I revealed that Fabian was not, in fact, my boyfriend. Marlene, however, was a different story. The moment I pulled back my hangings, she slipped out of the room without so much as a 'Good morning'. I didn't quite know what to make of her atypical silence, but I doubted it boded well for me.

I refused to let it affect me too much, though. I'd awoken this morning with a fresh perspective, as if my sleeping brain had been mulling over it throughout the night. Honestly, I was growing annoyed. This whole situation seemed rather petty. What did frivolous squabbles such as this matter when war lay on the horizon?

And yet—why did the possibility of Sirius hating me leave me feeling light-headed and mildly queasy?

"I just can't believe Sirius," I groused, worriedly smoothing my hair as I spoke. It was even more unruly than usual this morning. "I can't believe he'd think that of me."

"It was an awful thing for him to say," agreed Lily, "but then again, he's always been a hot-headed prat."

"I guess I can't blame him," I said with a resigned sigh. "I've only been here a week. He doesn't really know me."

"True, but that still doesn't give him a pass to basically call you a two-timing slag," Lily countered. She fell silent for a moment before humming thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen him this worked up about a girl. He's usually the one doing the ditching."

"I didn't ditch him," I retorted hotly.

"Cool your heels," said Lily with a small chuckle. "I know it's just a huge mix-up." She then frowned slightly and added, "It did look a bit incriminating, though. Why were you out with Professor Prewett last night?"

I reached into the front pocket of my school bag and retrieved the magically-laminated square of parchment issued by the Department of Magical Transportation. The Ministry for Magic endorsement shone gold next to my signature—Hermione Jean Ariana Granger-Dumbledore. I held it out for her to see.

"He took me to the Ministry for my Apparition license. I didn't have an opportunity to take the test here before the start of term, and he didn't approve of me Apparating illegally. He was just doing his duty as an Auror."

"Well that's a perfectly reasonable explanation," said Lily, looking surprisingly relieved as I tucked my new license back into my bag.

What had she thought I'd been doing with our professor?

"Yeah, well I guess we'll see if Sirius thinks the same," I replied as we entered the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling above us was a dull shade of rain-cloud gray, mirroring my gloomy mood.

As Lily and I slid onto the bench at the Gryffindor table a few spaces away from Remus and Peter, James shot me a contemptible scowl, Remus smiled grimly, and Peter looked distinctly uncomfortable. Sirius, however, seemed completely unfazed by my arrival. He didn't spare a single glance in my direction, and when James turned back to him, Sirius continued discussing their most recent prank loudly and enthusiastically.

"Caterpillars for eyebrows. Bloody brilliant!"

It was as if I didn't exist.

It was going to be a very long day.


Remus, at least, granted the courtesy of allowing me to explain as he joined Lily and me on our way to Arithmancy after our free period.

"The Prophet is shite," said Remus immediately after I finished. "Dorcas and I were discussing it yesterday. It used to be a reputable source of news, but lately it's become sensational journalism at its worst."

"I thought everyone knew that," I said, my spirits rising, "but then why wouldn't Sirius give me a chance to explain?"

"Sirius has this maddening habit of always jumping to the worst conclusions." He frowned sympathetically. "I'll try to talk to him, but don't get your hopes up. Trying to reason with Sirius Black can be like talking to a brick wall."

"Lovely," I sighed as we entered Professor Vector's classroom.

Merlin, give me strength.


I might as well have been Disillusioned for all of the notice Sirius paid me for the remainder of the day. The only time I saw him so much as look in my direction was after the bell rang to signal the end of Defense Against the Dark Arts. As I began to collect my things, Gideon caught my eye and jerked his head toward the front of the room. I raised my eyebrows in question, but it struck me almost immediately that he wanted me to stick around to discuss our extra practice sessions. I gave Gideon a short nod before glancing around the room to see how many students remained.

Of course Sirius was last to leave; he had paused near the doorway of classroom, his jaw clenched as he fixed his gaze on me. The palms of my hands tingled uncomfortably as I locked eyes with him, and the savage gleam I briefly saw there was comparable to a Basilisk. Seconds later, however, his face slid into an expressionless mask and he stalked out the room.

"So he's still in a strop?" Gideon asked with raised eyebrows once we were alone.

I rolled my eyes and gave him a small shrug. "The stupid prat won't let me explain, and I refuse to beg. I didn't do anything wrong."

"Sounds like classic Sirius Black," Gideon replied as he used his wand to straighten the scrolls of parchment he'd collected at the end of the lesson. "He was one of the second-string beaters during my last two years on the Gryffindor house team. On and off the Quidditch pitch, he had only two settings: hilarious or infuriated." He paused briefly, the corners of his mouth quirked upward in a teasing manner. "Seems like he may fancy you a bit."

My cheeks flushed with embarrassed heat. "I don't think so," I replied, my mind involuntarily traveling back to the deserted Hogsmeade alleyway, to the taste of spearmint—friends though we may be, there was absolutely no way I was going to tell Gideon about that.

I'd grown so accustomed to lying lately that I wasn't exactly sure who I was intending to deceive: everyone else or myself.

"And if he does, I'm sure I'm just one of many," I finished, averting my gaze. "I think he's just sulking because I'm not falling over myself to snog him. When it comes to women, he isn't exactly accustomed to being rebuffed."

"Did you know him well?" asked Gideon. "You know—" He lowered his voice and shot a glance at the classroom door, ensuring it was closed. "In your future?"

I frowned, silent for a moment as I considered my answer carefully.

"Very few people knew Sirius Black well," I responded vaguely.

because he was imprisoned for twelve years.

That specific part of my former life wasn't a pleasant tale, and certainly not one that could be shared briefly before lunch. I smiled appreciatively when Gideon didn't press the matter further.

"Well he'll come to his senses eventually. Don't let it get to you too much."

"Oh trust me, I won't. I've lived through a war, Gid. Adolescent feuds lose their appeal after—" My voice died away and my head began to spin uncomfortably.

After dueling the most dangerous of Voldemort's followers. After destroying a Horcrux. After successfully performing the Killing Curse—

'Don't forget the best part, my dear Hermione,' the intrusive Tom Riddle-esque voice reminded me softly.

after facing the Dark Lord himself.

I swallowed heavily. "Well, after you've done the sort of things I have."

Gideon paused to stare at me for a moment, his lips pressed together in a hard line. From the troubled look he gave me, I could tell that he understood. The more I considered it, Gideon seemed to be exceptionally adept at interpreting what I left unsaid.

He shook his head as if to clear it and gave me a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"'Atta girl," he said, lightening the moment before changing the subject. "So I was thinking we'd meet on Thursday evening, say around nine o'clock? I'd prefer you not be out after hours, but I also don't want your housemates to question you too much either."

"Sounds great," I agreed. "Meet here?"

"Yeah, but I'm going to be on the lookout for somewhere better to practice. I've been skimming through training manuals from my first year at the Academy to get a loose idea of what to cover. I think we'll be more productive somewhere with ample space to move around."

I grinned at him.

"I think I might know just the place."


I reckoned that my most reasonable course of action would be to keep to myself for the next few days—not necessarily out of embarrassment, but rather because I didn't have it in me to continue justifying something that was entirely innocent. Truthfully, I had to acknowledge that Sirius might actually be doing me a favor. I had a much higher purpose here after all, and my mission would certainly be easier to accomplish if I avoided all likely distractions. With that in mind, I decided to take a leaf out of Harry's book—ignore, ignore, ignore.

This ended up being a surprisingly difficult task. Whenever I'd wanted to isolate myself during my first six years at Hogwarts, all I'd had to do was set up camp in the library. However, a few of my new friends appeared to be a bit more persistent than Harry or Ron.

Early Wednesday morning, I snuck out of the dormitory before anyone else had awoken. Not only was I keen to dodge any awkward confrontations, but I'd also been neglecting my research. I'd been in this decade—fuck, I doubt I'll ever get used to that—for a week already, yet I hadn't opened a single book relating to time travel. I mentally scolded myself over and over as I shuffled tiredly down the corridor toward the library. It was about an hour until breakfast began when I pushed opened the library doors. This was when I liked the library best—the moment Madam Pince arrived, completely deserted and quiet.

Unsurprisingly, the Hogwarts Library had a stupidly small section relating to temporal magic. I sighed, half-heartedly cursing the Department of Mysteries and the whole bloody Ministry under my breath as I snatched up a few thin volumes that seemed mildly promising and sank into a stiff armchair near one of the windows facing the Great Lake. I opened the book at the top of the pile and began to read. I grew frustrated with the rudimentary data after only a few pages, but I continued reading just in case something useful presented itself—but of course, I had been foolishly optimistic. I tossed it onto the table with a groan before picking up the next book. The sun was rising beautifully over the lake now, flooding the room with brilliant shades of red and orange and briefly distracting me from the copy of The Essentials of Time in my lap. My eyelids fluttered closed as I soaked up the comforting warmth of dawn, and it wasn't long before I began to doze.

"Hermione?"

A female voice broke into my sleepy serenity.

"What's up, Gin?" I replied, my eyes squeezed tightly shut as I yawned widely.

"Er, it's Lily. Remus said you'd be in the library."

Lily?

My eyes snapped open and my hand moved instinctively to grasp the handle of my wand.

"I brought you breakfast?" she said a little apprehensively, holding out a stack of toast.

"Oh," I said rather stupidly as I accepted her offering.

Will I ever get used to my new reality?

"I'd eat it quickly before Madam Pince notices," she whispered as she sat in the seat next to me. "I think crumbs are on the same level as Unforgivables in her book."

"Right," I said before eating half a slice of buttered toast in one bite. I'd skipped dinner again last night, which I now realized was probably not the smartest idea. "Thanks, Lily."

"No problem. I reckoned you might be avoiding the Great Hall, and toast is better than nothing at all."

I hastily swallowed the large chunk I'd just shoved into my mouth, nearly choking. "Not necessarily avoiding it," I said through a cough. She raised her eyebrows skeptically. "Well fine, maybe. But only because I'm not in the mood to deal with James Potter's evil eye this early in the morning."

James really did have one hell of a glare, something Harry hadn't inherited whatsoever. Harry had certainly been the moody-broody type, but his glowers had usually been reserved for the world in general. Understandable, considering his circumstances.

Lily laughed. "Don't blame you. His dirty looks could compete with my sister's, which is a pretty impressive feat."

Ah, dear Aunt Petunia. I couldn't suppress a frown as I recalled the neglect and abuse she and her awful husband had inflicted upon my best friend. Harry had preferred not to discuss his homelife before Hogwarts if he could help it, but I'd read between the lines enough to know that it was by no means pleasant. I'll never forget the horror I felt when he let the phrase 'locked in that bloody cupboard again' slip one evening during a casual conversation in front of the common room fire.

I quickly attempted to rearrange my face into something resembling mild curiosity before saying, "You have siblings?"

It was now Lily's turn to frown. "Just one sister. Petunia. She's only two years older than me." She had a far away look in her eyes as if recalling bittersweet memories. "We were once quite close actually, but she's a Muggle. Not that it mattered to me, of course," she said, likely noticing me freeze halfway through another bite of toast. "Things were just never the same between us after Sev told me that I'm a witch."

My eyebrows shot up so quickly, I was surprised they didn't fly right off my forehead. "Sev was the one that told you about magic?" I asked, utterly astonished at this new bit of information. "As in Severus Snape?"

She shifted awkwardly in her seat and looked as if she regretted her carelessness. "I told you that we were once friends," she replied, shrugging. "We both grew up in Cokeworth. He saw me using magic in the park when we were kids, just silly little things I knew would drive Tuney mad. He popped out of nowhere and flat out said 'You're a witch.'" She smiled faintly. "At first I thought he was just doing a poor job of insulting me, but it didn't take long to realize he was right. We became fast friends—" Her sentence died away and she averted her eyes to the window, a frown returning to her face as she gazed out at the grounds.

I knew I was likely pressing my luck, but my mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. "What changed?" I asked her quietly.

She actually snorted as she turned back to me. "He's a Slytherin and I'm a Muggle-born Gryffindor," she said flatly. "Nothing had to change. One day he made it painfully clear that he believed the same bigoted rubbish as his housemates."

The scars on my forearm seemed to prickle uncomfortably. "Wait, he didn't call you—"

"Yup," she interrupted, "in our fifth year. In front of everyone." She stood up suddenly and smoothed her robes primly. "Come on, we'll be late for Charms if we don't hurry."

I followed her wordlessly out of the library, dumping my unread stack of books onto the reshelve pile as we passed. My brain seemed to be in overdrive as I attempted to fit this news into the scattered memories of my former life. As I hiked my heavy school bag higher onto my shoulder, the memory hit me suddenly—a distraught Harry, his glasses slightly askew and eyes puffy, his fingers intertwined with Ginny's as he spoke to a solemn audience in the hospital wing after Dumbledore's death.

'He didn't think my mother was worth a damn either because she was Muggle-born. Mudblood, he called her…'


On Wednesday evening, Peter caught me in the kitchens, whether intentionally or by chance, I couldn't be sure. I'd decided to grab a late meal from Mipsy rather than face the Great Hall again. Mipsy was thrilled to see me, and just as I was finishing up my shepherd's pie, Peter plopped down onto the bench across from me, a bowl of sticky toffee pudding clutched in his hands.

"Didn't see you at dinner," he said through his first mouthful of pudding, his eyebrows raised questioningly.

I shrugged silently, unsure of how to react. Not only was I uncertain of how Peter felt about me at the moment, but—as much as I hated to admit it—I still felt uncomfortable in Peter's presence. Although his appearance and behavior were both unnervingly different than the twitchy bit of vermin I had met, it was still difficult to see his warm smile and not remember the revolting sensation of his clammy hands clawing at my ankles, clutching at the hems of my robes as he pleaded for his life.

'Sweet girl, clever girl… You won't let them… Help me…'

My mouth went dry. I took a long swig from my glass of water.

"Don't worry, Remus told me the whole story," he said with a smile that was likely meant to be reassuring, but mostly just came off as timid. "Sirius and James will cool off eventually. You haven't been here long, but this is pretty typical behavior for them both."

I gave him a small smile as I swung my legs over the wooden bench. "Thanks Peter, but I'm not very worried. I have far more important things on my plate at the moment."

I stood and swiftly left the kitchens, but not before taking note of Peter's thoroughly bewildered expression.


I once prided myself for my consistent punctuality—and by punctuality, I mean at least ten minutes early for everything. However, on Thursday morning, I lingered in the dormitory far after everyone else had departed, waving off Lily's questions and completely avoiding breakfast once again. As I pulled on my school robes, I noticed that they seemed to be a bit more roomy than when I'd purchased them a week ago. I grimaced, imaging the scolding Ron would give me if he knew how little I'd bothered with meals over the past few days.

'You're nothing but skin and bones…'

The memory felt hot and heavy behind my eyes as I slowly buttoned my robes.


1 January 1998 — First Strand of Time


It was only a few nights after our disastrous trip to Xeno Lovegood's—the first of the new year, actually. Halfway through my turn keeping watch, red hair preceded Ron through the flap of the tent, two mugs of steaming tea clutched in his hands and a thick quilt thrown over his arm—the lovely scarlet and gold patchwork quilt I had found folded neatly at the foot of my camp bed a few days before Bill and Fleur's wedding. A small scrap of parchment had been pinned to it with 'Happy 18th Birthday, Hermione. We love you.' written in Mrs. Weasley's loopy script.

Wordlessly, Ron draped the still folded quilt over my knees and sank onto the pebbled ground beside me, leaning back against the canvas wall of the tent—too close, far too close. He extend a freckled hand, offering me one of the mugs. I breathed in the scent of bergamot—Earl Grey.

My favorite.

I didn't know where he'd gotten it, but we certainly hadn't had any before he'd returned.

Though the warm beverage looked heavenly compared to the frigid January air, I ignored the offer. My fingers curled into fists in my lap, resisting the urge to accept the cup of tea, resisting the urge to throw my arms around his neck and snog him until—

I didn't said a word, instead choosing to gaze out at the rocky beach before us. I had no idea where were were. Ron had chosen our last Apparition point. After a moment, he set the tea down onto the ground in front of me and cast a nonverbal warming charm over the mug. We sat in heavy silence for a while, watching small waves crash against the nearby shore.

"I know you prefer a bit of milk," he said finally. "Sorry we haven't got any."

He took a sip of his own tea, a cup I was certain contained at least two sugars, possibly three depending on his mood. I tilted my head upward and was struck by how clear the sky was that night. The stars twinkled brilliantly down at us, and I smiled faintly as I followed Orion's belt to the left and spotted the brightest star in the sky—Sirius.

"You'll never know how sorry I am, Hermione," Ron whispered so quietly, I almost missed it.

Tears flooded my eyes instantly and I hastily snatched up my cup of tea, praying he hadn't noticed my ridiculous display of emotion. Since my outburst the night he returned, I'd been trying to be an impassive rock, feelings be damned. I took a long sip, the warm tea joining the burning sob lurking near the back of my throat.

"I—I missed you," he continued quietly. "I missed you so fucking much. Every second I was gone. I wanted to come back the moment I Disapparated. I heard you calling my name… God, that sound fucking haunted every dream I had—" he choked over his words, and I knew that if I were to look over at him, I would see unshed tears clouding his cornflower blue eyes. He cleared his throat, likely in an effort to maintain some sort of manly dignity. "But you already know that, or at least, I hope you do. I know I've said it so many times—"

His voice died away. We both took another sip of tea. His long fingers brushed softly against my arm, the many layers of woolen jumpers bunching together at his touch.

"I know I fucked up," he murmured eventually. "I fucked up so badly. I'll never forgive myself, so I damn well know I don't deserve forgiveness from you. I know how much I've ruined…" He swallowed heavily. "But—fuck, Hermione. You're my best friend. I can't—" his voice cracked. "I can't live without you."

Yep, that'll do it.

Tears splashed silently down my cheeks as I set my cup of tea onto the ground beside me. I grasped the quilt in my lap and unfolded it slowly, laying it out to cover both of our legs. He stiffened momentarily, but once he realized what I was doing, he quickly ditched his own mug and helped me spread the quilt across us. Once it engulfed us both, I scooted over until the side of my body was pressed firmly against his. I turned my head to face him, stretching my neck so that my lips were inches from his ear.

"I've already forgiven you, you great bloody prat."

Something between a gasp and a raspy whoop came from his throat and he threw his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him and squeezing me tightly around the middle. I giggled rather uncharacteristically and buried my face into the crook of his neck.

"You really mean it?" he said hoarsely, as if not quite daring to believe what he'd just heard.

"We all fuck up sometimes, Ron," I replied, my wind-chapped lips feather-light against the milky skin of his neck as I spoke. "Your fuck ups just tend to be, well, monumentally huge." I felt him shake with subdued laughter as I snaked my arms around his waist and whispered, "But I don't think I could live without you, either."

His arms encircled me even more securely and I could practically feel him beaming. After a beat, he said, "Hang on a moment, did you just say fuck? Twice?"

I snorted, pulling away slightly to look him full in the face. "I've decided that you were right. Swearing is rather therapeutic."

"Damn right it is," he said through a grin.

"Don't tell Harry I forgave you so easily," I added, biting my lip to restrain my own grin. "I have a reputation to uphold, you know."

"Our secret, promise," he laughed quietly. "I don't think easy is quite the word for it, though."

I nuzzled into his chest, and we sat that way for a long while. I'd never felt more content in my life. I closed my eyes, knowing I should probably go inside the tent and rest, but hating the idea of leaving him. I'd just decided that I was far more comfortable here than I could ever be in my bunk when he whispered in my ear, "It's my turn to keep lookout now."

I hummed quietly in agreement, eyes still closed.

He ran a hand slowly up my arm. "Merlin, you're nothing but skin and bones… Fuck." I felt him shake his head. "Mum's going to do her nut when she sees how thin we've gotten. She was always trying to fatten Harry up anyway." He chuckled softly to himself, his fingers still caressing my upper arm. "You know, once this whole goddamn thing is over, I'm going to take you out for a nice dinner," he continued, likely thinking I was already asleep. "When You-Know-Who is dead and gone, I'll ask you out on a proper date, I promise."

I smiled against his chest, his warmth more soothing than any lullaby. Teetering on the precipice of sleep, I couldn't be completely certain—maybe it was just my tired brain's wishful thinking—but just before sleep overtook me, I could have sworn I heard him breathe into my hair, "Happy New Year, Hermione. I love you."


8 September 1977 — Current Strand of Time


I stood alone in the dormitory, staring blankly at the stone wall, fighting off tears.

They're nothing but memories now, Hermione. Lovely memories, memories you'll always cherish…

I took a deep breath, then strangely… smiled.

I had loved Ron, and he had loved me. It was an incredible thing, really, to love someone so fully. Even though any chance to explore our feelings had been stolen from us, I knew he would always remain close to my heart. Terribly cliché? Yes, but still very true. My love for him would never completely disappear, but I was strong enough to move on from it—to fold it up neatly, like Mrs. Weasley's quilt, and lock it inside a box, only to be taken out and perused when necessary.

Still smiling, I wiped my watery eyes with the sleeve of my robes.

The clock on Lily's bedside table chirped loudly. I glanced over—five minutes until class began. Trust Lily to have alarms set right until the last moment, just in case. I left the dormitory at full speed, sprinting the familiar path down to the dungeons, arriving in the Potions classroom out of breath and with hair laughably windswept.

The room was full when I arrived—there seemed to be far more students taking N.E.W.T. Potions than there had been in my sixth year. Nearly all of my fellow classmates were already seated, two to a table, and were taking out their scales and potion kits. Avoiding eye contact with everyone there, my eyes quickly darted around the room, searching for the closest empty seat.

When I spotted the only vacant chair, I actually snorted out loud at my perpetually rotten luck.

At a small table on the very front row, Severus Snape was bent low over his copy of Advanced Potion Making, curtains of greasy hair concealing his face as he scribbled a few notes in the margins. I heaved a weary sigh as I crossed the room. No one would be fighting to intervene today. Snape glanced up when I set my bag down onto his table with a heavy thunk. The corners of his mouth curled upward into something between a smirk and a sneer.

"Granger," he said with a curt nod. "Nice to see you're good for more than just wand-waving. Or at least—" he repeated the same once over he'd given me in Defense Against the Dark Arts. "I hope you will be, if you intend to be my partner."

"Oh, Severus," I sighed flippantly as I took the seat next to him. "Once again you underestimate me."

I gave him a sly smile—because I had a secret.

Well, another secret.

One of many secrets.

What Severus didn't know—what no one knew, not even Harry—was that I had read the entirety of the Half-Blood Prince's copy of Advanced Potion Making.

My stomach squirmed as the whispered voice of Tom Riddle inside my head hissed his approval of my deception.

—yeah, uh, no. I didn't need my unwelcome delusion of Tom-fucking-Riddle to remind me of my hypocrisy. I was very aware of it.

One of my many faults has always been my inability to stifle my burning curiosity when it comes to the unknown, and for me, that shabby, annotated textbook was the epitome of unknown for half of my sixth year. I'd desperately tried to suppress my compulsive interest in the suspicious book, but as I lay awake late one night in early December of our sixth year, I finally gave in to my obsession.

Silent as a ghost, I'd shrugged on my dressing gown and guiltily crept into the boys' dormitory. After making sure all five wizards were soundly asleep, I'd carefully slipped the Potions textbook from Harry's ragged leather school bag. I'd wound up staying awake the entire night, cross-legged on the hearth in front of the common room fire with Crookshanks snoozing in my lap as I eagerly deciphered and absorbed every inch of the Prince's scrawled notes. A few minutes before dawn, I'd returned the book to Harry's bag, the sound of my tiptoed footsteps masked by Ron and Neville's snores.

Throughout the rest of the year, my conscience would not allow me to use any of the information I'd garnered through snooping to advance myself in class. However, I was now in 1977. All previous moral qualms regarding this matter had disappeared with the obliterated Time Turner.

—and to be honest, I'd be damned if I let Snape best me in Potions.

'Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all.'

This phrase echoed inside my head as Snape gave me a skeptical look, and I silently prayed that my well-trained memorization skills wouldn't fail me now.

"Welcome to your final year of Potions," Professor Slughorn greeted robustly as he entered the classroom. He wasn't quite as rotund as he had been the first time I saw him in 1996, but the buttons of his robes were certainly straining across his enormous belly. "At the end of this year, you will be sitting your N.E.W.T. in this subject, an exam that might very well determine the course of your future." He paused when he reached the front of the room to stand in front of an already simmering cauldron, his eyes roaming over each student before he clapped his hands together. "Which means we have no time to waste! We shall be diving right in. I trust you remember this potion from your very first lesson last year?"

A colorless, odorless liquid was bubbling away inside the cauldron—very obviously a batch of Veritaserum.

Truth Potion.

Fuck me.

I ground my teeth and breathed deeply through my nose as Lily identified the potion. I didn't like this at all. My truths were mine and mine alone to share, and an entire classroom of students brewing Veritaserum made my stomach clench with worry.

—but I also knew there was nothing I could do about it.

Live your life, Hermione.

I closed my eyes as Slughorn continued, silently attempting to recall Snape's corrected instructions for Veritaserum.

Pour only half of the vial of Ptolemy into the cauldron in a clockwise motion. Allow to simmer for thirty seconds, then add the remainder, pouring in an anti-clockwise direction—

"—an immensely complex potion and very easy to get wrong, which is why our first attempt will be a trial run," boomed Slughorn. "Does anyone know the sole reason why any attempt we begin today will be impossible to finish to completion?"

My hand shot into the air reflexively. My cheeks grew pink as Severus gave me a sideways glance.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" said Slughorn, voice full of unconcealed delight. Of course he already knew my name. The hopeful look on his broad face made it very obvious that he expected great things from the long-lost Dumbledore.

I give it a month before he attempts to recruit me to the bloody Slug Club again.

"Veritaserum is a syzygetic potion, sir," I replied, voice steady, acutely aware that every eye in the room was fixed on me. "It requires one full lunar cycle to mature, and the brewing processes must be initiated on the first day of the new moon. If begun on any other day of the month, the resultant product will be nothing more than pure water."

"Excellent!" said Slughorn happily. "Now, not only is Veritaserum a syzygetic potion, but it is also—" Slughorn beamed at me when he saw my goddamned hand in the air once again.

Knock it off, you bloody stubborn appendage, I thought angrily.

"Ah, I trust Miss Granger can tell us!"

I flushed deeply. "It's also a biphasic potion, sir. The first phase consists of the actual brewing process, while the second phase requires the potion to remain in a cool, dark place throughout the lunar cycle. The only light it should be allowed to absorb during this time is the light of the full moon."

I sensed someone shift in the seat behind me. Five galleons on it being Remus.

"Couldn't have said it better myself!" said Slughorn, obviously impressed. "I see you've inherited your uncle's brilliance. Take ten well-earned points to Gryffindor."

I gave him a pleased smile. Honestly, sometimes I just couldn't help myself.

Old habits die hard.

"As I said, today will be merely practice. At the next new moon, I expect you and your partner to use one of the practice dungeons to brew the first phase again, this time on your own. You will be marked as if it were the practical portion of your N.E.W.T.," continued Slughorn, his voice becoming uncharacteristically stern. "All final products of satisfactory quality will be provided for use by the Ministry for Magic. Bartemius Crouch, one of my former students, you know, and Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, will be absolutely thrilled to receive a few extra vials in these troubled times."

I zoned out for a bit as Slughorn continued to drone on. So I was now required to spend time with Severus outside of normal lessons. Was this a good turn of events or bad?

I wasn't quite sure.

"I'll gather the ingredients, you start the cauldron, yeah?" Severus said quietly. I looked up to see him inches away from me, eyebrows raised expectantly. Slughorn had finished speaking, and the sound of wooden chairs scraping against stone filled the room.

"Sure, of course," I muttered as Severus left for the supplies cupboard.


"Not bad, Granger. Not bad at all," Severus said softly as we cleaned up our area and packed our bags to leave. "I honestly wouldn't have considered fluffing the Jobberknoll feathers before adding them, but I've never seen such a pure shade of silver at that stage before."

I raised my eyebrows. "So you've brewed Veritaserum before, have you?"

He smirked at me, but didn't respond.

Fucking typical.

I rolled my eyes and said playfully, "I trust you won't underestimate my abilities again, Severus."

That lovely grin he'd given me in Defense Against the Dark Arts flashed across his face again. "I think you've proven yourself, Granger. At least for—"

"It's Hermione," I interrupted. He raised his dark eyebrows at me. "Not Granger, not—" I lowered my voice to a whisper, "not Dumbledore. Just Hermione, okay?"

His eyes widened for a moment, but his face slid back into his typical impassive expression quickly. "Okay, then. Hermione it is."

Before I could say anything else, Severus grabbed his threadbare bag and turned to leave. He was almost past the doorway of the classroom when he glanced back at me. I smiled at him from where I still sat, and his mouth opened for a moment before his lips slowly formed another small smile. I grinned into my lap once he was gone.

Right place, right time.

Maybe I was actually making a difference.


(A/N): Yep, I know. It's been an absolutely unacceptable amount of time since the last update. I've got a ton of reasons, but they all sound like excuses, so I won't bore you with them. I will say that I'm terribly, terribly sorry and I hope to never leave you guys hanging for that long ever again. I hope you can forgive me?

Alright, now that we've gotten that out of the way…

This chapter is a bit weird, I know. There's very little Sirius/Hermione interaction and we've got this huge Ron bit in the middle. To some people it may seem a little out of place, but I just didn't feel comfortable posting this chapter without it. You may have noticed from previous chapters that even though I'm writing a Sirimione fic, I'm still a huge fan of Ron/Hermione. Like really, by far my favorite pairing. What can I say, I'm a sucker for all things canon. I'm trying to keep my Hermione decently in character and close to canon (albeit with far more colorful language), and canon Hermione was absolutely head-over-heels in love with Ronald Weasley. Our time-traveling Hermione needed a moment to realize that she could let him go while still continuing to love him.

Secondly, I feel as if Hermione could be seen as a little Mary-Sue-ish in this chapter. I mean, stealing the Prince's book? Yep, just another way to make her look better. However, I maintain that it's so, so very Hermione-ish to refuse to let something like that remain a mystery. So, view it how you may.

Aaaaaand lastly, I've been building a Spotify playlist entitled Wizarding Wireless Network: GTTN consisting of songs relating to the fic and songs that are just fun to write to. If you guys have any suggestions, PLEASE send them my way in a review.

Thank you so much for sticking around and reading the update! Please, please take a moment to review and let me know what you think :)

(sorry for the long author's note, I hate them too)
-liz


and the terror, and the horror
gotta wonder why we bother? (whoa, whoa-oh)
all the glamour, and the trauma
and the fucking melodrama (whoa, whoa-oh)
Sober II (Melodrama) – Lorde