A/N: XD I'm a crazy git! And muchus muchas gracias to the anonymous
reviewer, who totally brightened up my day. Thank you! I now have....
Around seven readers. It's a great start!
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The game itself was rather dull, as it lasted a maximum of thirty minutes and both teams were moving sluggishly slow. Our Heroine attempted to see past the façade, though, and kept herself tense and ready for basically anything.
'I'm paranoid,' she decided when everybody stood up to leave. She did as well, intending to head directly back towards the hospital wing.
She was still extremely suspicious as more potions than seemed needed were stuffed down her throat, and nibbled on some food.
Just as she was beginning to wish she had a nice book with her, there was a commotion at the door, and then Madame Pomfrey came in, dragging two students, ranting nonstop.
Hermione watched, amused, as they two boys were force-fed some pois - fed some potion and sent back out again. There was a momentary silence.
"Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione asked, "can I have some more of that sleeping stuff?"
"Oh, well of course, dear, but wouldn't you like to go to dinner and see your friends?"
"My friends haven't been born yet," she reminded the healer, just in case.
"No, but you still ought to have friends, by now. What about that Evens girl? She has a habit of befriending everything that moves."
"I'd rather avoid her. And those four trouble makers, too, please."
"Oh, alright," Pomfrey paused, then pursed her lips. "I've spoken to the headmaster. He wants you to return to classes tomorrow. And you will. But I want you here at breakfast, lunch, dinner, and bedtime anyway, is that understood? You'll be sleeping in your dormitory again." She looked rather unhappy at the thought.
So was Hermione.
"But, what if the aftermath affects me like that again, and I blurt everything out?" she insisted.
"That's why you'll be coming to me at every meal."
"Oh. Erm, can I speak to the headmaster?"
"Not right now. Perhaps if you run into him tomorrow. Now, here you are, drink it."
She shoved a goblet half full into the teen's hands, and Hermione took it unhappily. This was just great.
Harry and Ron were probably really worried by now. They would have told Dumbledore. Yeah. He would realize what had happened, and then they would find a way to bring her back...
Or. Wait a minute! Was she affecting their memories right now? As in, Sirius, Peter, Remus, the teachers, were they right now in her timeline teaching and remembering her from over twenty years ago, and realizing that she had fallen into the past?
Or were they not, by any chance?
The library. The library had all of the answers to life. She'd have to check tomorrow.
'I will,' Hermione decided, bringing the goblet to her lips and carefully sipping its contents.
"Nah, don't drink that, then you'll go to sleep!" a voice remarked from her left, causing Hermione to jump and spill most of the sleeping draught down her front. She glanced at a grinning Sirius, gave an exasperated sigh, and promptly swallowed what was left, putting the goblet on the bedside table.
"Aw, great," he put his elbows on her bed and rested his head in his hands. "Guess I'll have to make this quick, huh?"
"Please, by all means," Hermione muttered, flopping back and staring up at the ceiling. It would take a moment for the draught to start taking affect, she didn't belong in this timeline after all...
"Okay. First of all, Hermione Granger, I know you aren't a trade student. And I know you aren't from some other school, either. you avoid everybody, and you don't seem like one to be anti-social. I don't think you're eating right, and if you aren't in the library, you're in here. You're using this place as an excuse to cut classes, and again, that doesn't seem right for your personality. I want to know what's going on."
"I'll have you know," Hermione began thickly, "that I always act that way. And I am a trade student. From Durmstrang."
The potion began taking affect, and she let her eyes drift halfway shut.
"Don't lie. You're a terrible liar, you know. That wasn't you in potions, that much is obvious. Who are you, Hermione?"
"I'm Hermione," then, after a struggled moment of thought, "I'm a mudblood, too. So you can just go off and do whatever you like. I don't care."
"I'll know where you are at all times, and as soon as you're alone, which you always are, I'm going to confront you, again and again and again until you break down and tell me the truth."
"It'd be so much more easier getting that truth potion what's-it-called," she mumbled, eyes closing completely.
He must have changed positions, because next his voice was almost dangerously soft in her ear. "You'd better count on it. Be careful what you drink." He pushed her hair off her face, then left.
It was still a moment longer before Hermione slipped off.
.
The next morning, after her "medication" as Pomfrey put it, she forced herself to go downstairs, grab something off the table (didn't bother with a napkin), then slipped into the prefects' bathroom. There were a couple there, but seeing as they were still believing that she was a trade student grading the school in general, they left her be.
After a quick shower, in which enough conditioner to make even the largest tangles simply fall out was used, Hermione tied her hair back behind her head at the base of her neck in a tight ponytail. She threw on her robes, ignoring the fact that they were soiled (whereas she wasn't) and grabbed her borrowed bag filled with borrowed stuff.
She went through classes dully, not bothering to do the assignments of things she already knew. This was pointless. Today was Thursday, which meant she'd been in the other timeline around a week. Hermione wasn't quite sure of the exact day she had fallen, so she could only guess.
The only classes that she had with one or more of the five were what worried her, but somehow she managed to avoid them, talking to them at least. When the last class was over, and Hermione had had her potions and run in and out of the great hall, grabbing a little something to eat, she headed at top speed toward the library.
There, she discovered sadly that, because she didn't belong in this timeline, and also because she was so far back, those in her own timeline wouldn't remember her. She wasn't changing their lives in the least. But she could still mess things up completely.
She made her way to the hospital wing, obediently took her potions, then went in search of the headmaster.
Shockingly enough, she found him.
"Miss Granger," he said brightly. "How are you?"
"Miserable," Hermione said truthfully. "I can't find a way to get back, have you?"
"I'm afraid not, Hermione. I'm sorry you're having a bit of a hard time. But I have discovered that only somebody from your timeline will be able to bring you back. Surely, by now, they have noticed you missing, and if I've a brain over twenty years in the future, you ought to be home in no time. Remember what I said about lying low, and don't cut classes. You're still going to get an education."
"I already know everything. At least in my classes, anyway."
"Ah. Should I put you with the sixth years, then? Perhaps their classes would be a bit more challenging."
Hermione considered it.
"Yeah, okay. I'll have to switch books and stuff, and you'd have to tell my new teachers and write out a schedule for me..."
"Excellent." He beamed. "I'll have the head girl bring you your weekly schedule and books. You can return your borrowed things to their respective classrooms, and start your new classes tomorrow. Think you're up to it?"
"Until I'm rescued. When I get back in my own time, though, I bet I'll be going through withdrawal without the aftermath affects potions."
He laughed.
"Never you worry. You won't develop a dependency on them. Now off you trot!"
Back in the common room, Hermione found her shadowed corner, and waited patiently for her new schedule and books. When they didn't come fifteen minutes later and the marauders had stepped inside, she decided to return her borrowed books. Grabbing her borrowed bag with its borrowed things (she would never get over the *borrowed* part of her current state), Hermione rushed past them out of the portrait hole, brushing against Sirius' shoulder.
~
"She's a very strange one," Remus remarked, watching the brown-haired girl rush off. "She's avoiding us."
"Nah, I think she's avoiding Padfoot. I understand you gave her quite a fright the other day in the hospital wing?" James put in, flopping down into an armchair after shoving the first year occupying it off.
Sirius shrugged, tearing his eyes away from the spot Hermione had disappeared. "I only informed her that I would find out the truth about her. But see, this whole trade student façade, the teachers are believing it, and I have reason to believe that our Oh-So-Wonderfully-Wise Headmaster thought the idea up. She hasn't been here before, that's obvious enough. I need to know where she's from. I swear I'll let it drop after that."
"You don't /need/ to know, you /want/ to know." Remus said, rolling his eyes.
"Ooooooohhh!" Peter squealed. "Do you think she's /cute/?"
They all laughed.
"Yup, you like her, mate, I know you do."
"No, I don't. I just want to know why she's lying, and why it's so important that the headmaster would- "
"SIRIUS AND GRANGER, SITTING IN A TREE! K I S S I N G!"
"Shut up!" he hissed.
"That's okay. We'll help you!"
"Yeah, who's got the map?"
"Right here," James whipped it out, grinned, then shot up the staircase and into their dormitory. The other three followed, closing the door behind them and crowding around on a bed, each leaning in over the map.
"There she is," Peter pointed, the first to see the little pink dot labeled 'H. Granger'.
"Well, at least we know her name is right,"
"Shush! What's she doing?"
"I don't know... giving her books back? Does she plan on leaving?"
"Shush! Lower your voice, will you? Now, see, look, she's coming back. Alright, I have an idea. Seeing as it's up to the three of us to help our dear friend with his would-be-love-life, I'd suggest you listen."
"I'm not interested in her /sexually/ you gits."
"Well, how are you interested in her? Because we know you are. Academic? Homicidal?"
"I just want to know why she and Dumbledore are lying and all of that stuff."
"Mysteriously."
"That is called a crush, my dear boy."
"I do NOT have a crush on-"
"Sshhh!"
~
.
.
.
The game itself was rather dull, as it lasted a maximum of thirty minutes and both teams were moving sluggishly slow. Our Heroine attempted to see past the façade, though, and kept herself tense and ready for basically anything.
'I'm paranoid,' she decided when everybody stood up to leave. She did as well, intending to head directly back towards the hospital wing.
She was still extremely suspicious as more potions than seemed needed were stuffed down her throat, and nibbled on some food.
Just as she was beginning to wish she had a nice book with her, there was a commotion at the door, and then Madame Pomfrey came in, dragging two students, ranting nonstop.
Hermione watched, amused, as they two boys were force-fed some pois - fed some potion and sent back out again. There was a momentary silence.
"Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione asked, "can I have some more of that sleeping stuff?"
"Oh, well of course, dear, but wouldn't you like to go to dinner and see your friends?"
"My friends haven't been born yet," she reminded the healer, just in case.
"No, but you still ought to have friends, by now. What about that Evens girl? She has a habit of befriending everything that moves."
"I'd rather avoid her. And those four trouble makers, too, please."
"Oh, alright," Pomfrey paused, then pursed her lips. "I've spoken to the headmaster. He wants you to return to classes tomorrow. And you will. But I want you here at breakfast, lunch, dinner, and bedtime anyway, is that understood? You'll be sleeping in your dormitory again." She looked rather unhappy at the thought.
So was Hermione.
"But, what if the aftermath affects me like that again, and I blurt everything out?" she insisted.
"That's why you'll be coming to me at every meal."
"Oh. Erm, can I speak to the headmaster?"
"Not right now. Perhaps if you run into him tomorrow. Now, here you are, drink it."
She shoved a goblet half full into the teen's hands, and Hermione took it unhappily. This was just great.
Harry and Ron were probably really worried by now. They would have told Dumbledore. Yeah. He would realize what had happened, and then they would find a way to bring her back...
Or. Wait a minute! Was she affecting their memories right now? As in, Sirius, Peter, Remus, the teachers, were they right now in her timeline teaching and remembering her from over twenty years ago, and realizing that she had fallen into the past?
Or were they not, by any chance?
The library. The library had all of the answers to life. She'd have to check tomorrow.
'I will,' Hermione decided, bringing the goblet to her lips and carefully sipping its contents.
"Nah, don't drink that, then you'll go to sleep!" a voice remarked from her left, causing Hermione to jump and spill most of the sleeping draught down her front. She glanced at a grinning Sirius, gave an exasperated sigh, and promptly swallowed what was left, putting the goblet on the bedside table.
"Aw, great," he put his elbows on her bed and rested his head in his hands. "Guess I'll have to make this quick, huh?"
"Please, by all means," Hermione muttered, flopping back and staring up at the ceiling. It would take a moment for the draught to start taking affect, she didn't belong in this timeline after all...
"Okay. First of all, Hermione Granger, I know you aren't a trade student. And I know you aren't from some other school, either. you avoid everybody, and you don't seem like one to be anti-social. I don't think you're eating right, and if you aren't in the library, you're in here. You're using this place as an excuse to cut classes, and again, that doesn't seem right for your personality. I want to know what's going on."
"I'll have you know," Hermione began thickly, "that I always act that way. And I am a trade student. From Durmstrang."
The potion began taking affect, and she let her eyes drift halfway shut.
"Don't lie. You're a terrible liar, you know. That wasn't you in potions, that much is obvious. Who are you, Hermione?"
"I'm Hermione," then, after a struggled moment of thought, "I'm a mudblood, too. So you can just go off and do whatever you like. I don't care."
"I'll know where you are at all times, and as soon as you're alone, which you always are, I'm going to confront you, again and again and again until you break down and tell me the truth."
"It'd be so much more easier getting that truth potion what's-it-called," she mumbled, eyes closing completely.
He must have changed positions, because next his voice was almost dangerously soft in her ear. "You'd better count on it. Be careful what you drink." He pushed her hair off her face, then left.
It was still a moment longer before Hermione slipped off.
.
The next morning, after her "medication" as Pomfrey put it, she forced herself to go downstairs, grab something off the table (didn't bother with a napkin), then slipped into the prefects' bathroom. There were a couple there, but seeing as they were still believing that she was a trade student grading the school in general, they left her be.
After a quick shower, in which enough conditioner to make even the largest tangles simply fall out was used, Hermione tied her hair back behind her head at the base of her neck in a tight ponytail. She threw on her robes, ignoring the fact that they were soiled (whereas she wasn't) and grabbed her borrowed bag filled with borrowed stuff.
She went through classes dully, not bothering to do the assignments of things she already knew. This was pointless. Today was Thursday, which meant she'd been in the other timeline around a week. Hermione wasn't quite sure of the exact day she had fallen, so she could only guess.
The only classes that she had with one or more of the five were what worried her, but somehow she managed to avoid them, talking to them at least. When the last class was over, and Hermione had had her potions and run in and out of the great hall, grabbing a little something to eat, she headed at top speed toward the library.
There, she discovered sadly that, because she didn't belong in this timeline, and also because she was so far back, those in her own timeline wouldn't remember her. She wasn't changing their lives in the least. But she could still mess things up completely.
She made her way to the hospital wing, obediently took her potions, then went in search of the headmaster.
Shockingly enough, she found him.
"Miss Granger," he said brightly. "How are you?"
"Miserable," Hermione said truthfully. "I can't find a way to get back, have you?"
"I'm afraid not, Hermione. I'm sorry you're having a bit of a hard time. But I have discovered that only somebody from your timeline will be able to bring you back. Surely, by now, they have noticed you missing, and if I've a brain over twenty years in the future, you ought to be home in no time. Remember what I said about lying low, and don't cut classes. You're still going to get an education."
"I already know everything. At least in my classes, anyway."
"Ah. Should I put you with the sixth years, then? Perhaps their classes would be a bit more challenging."
Hermione considered it.
"Yeah, okay. I'll have to switch books and stuff, and you'd have to tell my new teachers and write out a schedule for me..."
"Excellent." He beamed. "I'll have the head girl bring you your weekly schedule and books. You can return your borrowed things to their respective classrooms, and start your new classes tomorrow. Think you're up to it?"
"Until I'm rescued. When I get back in my own time, though, I bet I'll be going through withdrawal without the aftermath affects potions."
He laughed.
"Never you worry. You won't develop a dependency on them. Now off you trot!"
Back in the common room, Hermione found her shadowed corner, and waited patiently for her new schedule and books. When they didn't come fifteen minutes later and the marauders had stepped inside, she decided to return her borrowed books. Grabbing her borrowed bag with its borrowed things (she would never get over the *borrowed* part of her current state), Hermione rushed past them out of the portrait hole, brushing against Sirius' shoulder.
~
"She's a very strange one," Remus remarked, watching the brown-haired girl rush off. "She's avoiding us."
"Nah, I think she's avoiding Padfoot. I understand you gave her quite a fright the other day in the hospital wing?" James put in, flopping down into an armchair after shoving the first year occupying it off.
Sirius shrugged, tearing his eyes away from the spot Hermione had disappeared. "I only informed her that I would find out the truth about her. But see, this whole trade student façade, the teachers are believing it, and I have reason to believe that our Oh-So-Wonderfully-Wise Headmaster thought the idea up. She hasn't been here before, that's obvious enough. I need to know where she's from. I swear I'll let it drop after that."
"You don't /need/ to know, you /want/ to know." Remus said, rolling his eyes.
"Ooooooohhh!" Peter squealed. "Do you think she's /cute/?"
They all laughed.
"Yup, you like her, mate, I know you do."
"No, I don't. I just want to know why she's lying, and why it's so important that the headmaster would- "
"SIRIUS AND GRANGER, SITTING IN A TREE! K I S S I N G!"
"Shut up!" he hissed.
"That's okay. We'll help you!"
"Yeah, who's got the map?"
"Right here," James whipped it out, grinned, then shot up the staircase and into their dormitory. The other three followed, closing the door behind them and crowding around on a bed, each leaning in over the map.
"There she is," Peter pointed, the first to see the little pink dot labeled 'H. Granger'.
"Well, at least we know her name is right,"
"Shush! What's she doing?"
"I don't know... giving her books back? Does she plan on leaving?"
"Shush! Lower your voice, will you? Now, see, look, she's coming back. Alright, I have an idea. Seeing as it's up to the three of us to help our dear friend with his would-be-love-life, I'd suggest you listen."
"I'm not interested in her /sexually/ you gits."
"Well, how are you interested in her? Because we know you are. Academic? Homicidal?"
"I just want to know why she and Dumbledore are lying and all of that stuff."
"Mysteriously."
"That is called a crush, my dear boy."
"I do NOT have a crush on-"
"Sshhh!"
~