Chapter 2

Hermione woke up late the next day. Grumbling, she sat up, yawned and stretched, and glanced at her bedside clock.

"7:30!?" She exclaimed, jumping out of bed. She quickly brushed her teeth, tried to tame her hair a little, grabbed her bag, and rushed to the Great Hall, with no time to realize what she saw in the mirror...

Hm, I wonder what Harry and Ron are thinking... I'm not usually late, Hermione thought as she practically ran into the Great Hall. I wonder why they didn't wait for me...

She caught sight of Ron and Harry, talking heatedly about something, most likely Quidditch. Her heart sunk slightly as she saw that they didn't save a seat for her, but she pushed it away as she approached them

"Hey, sorry I'm late, guys," Hermione said, breathing heavily. "I woke up late... why didn't you wait for me? And why didn't you save me a seat?"

They looked up at her in confusion.

"What?" She asked, looking from one to the other.

"What are you talking about?" Ron spat.

She opened my mouth in anger. "What do you mean -?" And that's when she realized that she was looking at the eleven-year-old versions of Harry and Ron. "Damn, I forgot..." She cursed herself angrily.

"What are saying?" Harry narrowed his eyes.

She thought back to before she became friends with those two. What would she say...?

She glared at them. "Nothing that concerns you." She turned on her heel and stomped out of the Hall, although not in time to miss Ron mutter angrily to Harry, "What is wrong with her?" She would bet everything she owned that Harry had been wondering the same thing.

She sat down in a dark corner, brought her knees up to her chest, and sat there for what seemed like hours. She didn't cry; she just sat there, thinking...

What was going on? How in the world had she gone back in time to the body of her eleven-year-old self? And why hadn't Harry and Ron come to save her?

That same thought kept drifting in and out of her mind and she pondered it. No conclusion came to mind.

"What are you doing here, Mudblood?" A sneering female voice spoke from somewhere above her. Hermione looked up to see the eleven-year-old Pansy Parkinson.

"Shove it, Parkinson," Hermione growled.

"Aww," Pansy taunted. "Is the wittle Mudblood sad about the ebil troll from yesterday? That you had no friends to save you? Isn't that why you were in the bathroom anyway, crying because you have no friends? That's what Brown and Patil are telling everyone." She smirked.

"Whatever, Parkinson," Hermione snarled, and got up, pushing Pansy out of her way as she grabbed her bag to her first class.

"You know why you have no friends, right, Mudblood?" Pansy yelled after her, snickering. Hermione heard her walk away. She fell back against the wall and sniffed. Why don't I have any friends? She thought miserably.

She took a shaky breath to regain herself and set off for Transfiguration.

Halfway so the Transfiguration classroom, she realized that she was back in first year, and Transfiguration wasn't her class right now. Let's see... Ugh! I don't even know what day of the week is it!

She slipped quietly back into the Great Hall, waited in the shadows until a first year Gryffindor got up and went to their class. To her great displeasure, the first ones to get up were none other that Ron and Harry.

They passed her, not acknowledging her in the least, and she followed them a few paces behind. She tried to look casual, like she knew where she was going, but it was quite difficult.

It was right then that she realized that her book bag was considerably lighter. Confused, she checked it to make sure she had everything. She had her Transfiguration book and her Potions book. She sighed. That was the classes that she had before lunch in her sixth year. She had the wrong books now.

"Are you following us?" Asked an abrupt voice rudely.

Hermione looked up, startled, into the annoyed faces of Harry and Ron. "No," Hermione snapped. "I was-,"

"Following us," Harry supplied.

Hermione sighed in annoyance. "I do have the same classes as you, ya know."

Ron and Harry exchanged looks. "Our first class is Potions." Harry said.

"And...?"

"We're not on our way to classes now. We're going to the Gryffindor Tower." Ron snorted. "You say that you're going to classes, except that you're going to complete wrong way."

Hermione turned an instant red color. "Oh. Well, it's just – I had the wrong books."

Harry walked over and looked in her bag. "Well you have your Potions books."

Hermione made a sound of annoyance. "Well, what about my other subject?"

"We don't have any other classes after Potions," Ron told her. "It's Double Potions, and then the afternoon off."

"Oh, right. Well, I was just taking my Transfiguration book back." Hermione rambled, realizing how stupid and obvious she was sounding.

Harry and Ron exchanged looks again. "Right," Ron said.

They started walking towards the dungeon as Hermione dashed to her dormitory to drop off her Transfiguration book. She then ran to the dungeons so that she wasn't late.

She reached the classroom, flushed and panting for breath, just as the bell rang.

"Tisk, tisk, Miss Granger," Snape said icily. "Ten points from Gryffindor for your tardiness. Now take a seat before I make it fifty."

Hermione slowly took a seat in the very back, isolated from everyone else. She worked alone for the whole two hours, and towards the end of class, she heard some snickering. She looked over to see Harry and Ron, bent over, telling Dean and Seamus something. They all looked over at her, but then quickly looked away. Hermione saw that Harry's face showed the slightest trace of guilt as Hermione's face flashed with hurt, but she didn't care. She hated him. She hated both of them. She hated everyone. If she ever got back to her own time, she would make sure that they never speak again.

After class, Hermione gathered her stuff, skipped lunch, ran to her dormitory, and cried into her pillow.