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Hermione's Troubles:

Chapter Seventeen:

"Miss Granger." Professor Snape said icily. "You would do well to pay closer attention in my class. 20 points from Gryffindor." The Gryffindors looked at him furiously, their normally bright faces warped into masks of hatred. "Now, now, Gryffindors, unless you wipe those furious glares off your faces, it will be another 50 points." He said silkily.

"She wasn't even doing anything!" Ron whispered furiously to Harry. Unfortunately, his angry whisper was audible in the silent room.

"Mr. Weasley? You feel you have something to contribute to the class? Please, go on." Snape said dangerously.

"I said, Hermione hasn't even done anything. She's been working well, just like every other Potions lesson, and you keep picking on her, and taking points from Gryffindor!" There was a decisive murmur among the students, and the Slytherins looked gleeful.

"Detention, Weasley. If you can't speak civilly to your betters, then you shall just have to scrub until you learn some respect. And, oh dear, another 50 points from Gryffindor for your impudence." Snape responded.

"Normally, Professor Snape, Ron does speak politely to his betters, and so do I." Harry said angrily, standing up. "There just doesn't seem to be any around at the moment." He looked directly into Snape's dark, mysterious eyes.

"Go Harry!" Seamus Finnigan said, standing up as well. Dean followed suit, folding his arms across his chest.

"Potter. Detention. One hundred points from Gryffindor!" Snape spat. "Go see the Headmaster, the two of you. Immediately!" Seamus and Dean sat sunk into their chairs like rocks in water; fast. The Head of Slytherin surveyed the rest of the Gryffindors, who were staring defiantly at him with hatred and loathing burning in their eyes. "As for the rest of you, get to work." He said dangerously. Harry and Ron stood, cramming their stuff into their bags as violently as they could, as if their Potions textbooks were Snape's head, which they were slamming into a cliff face. Then they stomped noisily out of the dungeon. "Miss Granger," Snape continued silkily, "Since you were the one that started all this, I won't give you detention, but you may leave now, and go to your next lesson. Defense Against the Dark Arts, I believe." Hermione paled. "That is not an offer, nor is it a request. That is an order. Go." He added venomously. "I'm sure Professor Lupin will love to see you." Hermione looked resentfully at the Potions Master, who had dismissed her and turned his attention to Draco, who had asked a question. Biting her lip, she crammed her belongings away, careful to pick up the purple velvet bag, and walked out of the classroom, nearly blinded by tears.

She was only a few corridors away from the Defense classroom, when she remembered that she'd been given that lesson off. Smiling wistfully, she headed up to the Library.

"Alright, class dismissed. You've worked very well today Gryffindors. Enjoy your weekend." Professor Lupin's voice rang out pleasantly across the classroom. As quick as she could, Hermione crammed her numerous books into her bag. Impatiently waiting behind most of her class, who were slowly filing out of the room, she stared determinedly away from where her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was sitting, leafing idly through a book.

Glancing up, Remus's grey eyes connected with one of his favourite students, tying only to Harry Potter, the child of his best friend, and the red-head he'd loved.

"Miss Granger, please stay behind. I have some things to discuss about your last essay." He said mildly, meeting her gaze. Hermione's stomach dropped as she slung her bag onto a desk.

"Yes Professor." She said quietly, still avoiding his gaze. The rest of the class vacated the classroom.

"Ron, Harry, you don't need to wait. You too, Miss Esprit." Remus said, seeing them waiting by the door. Vanessa glanced at Hermione, her sharp eyes brimming with concern.

"Yup." Harry shrugged. He walked off, pulling Ron after him. With one last, calculating look at her friend, Vanessa walked off down the hall.

"Please, sit." Remus offered, summoning chair in front of his desk. He sighed heavily, brushing a few strands of hair away from his eyes. Hermione sat in the chair, fingertips trembling as she surveyed the man in front of her. "Hermione, I didn't really need to talk to you about your last essay." He admitted. "As usual, it was perfect, highly surpassing all the others." An icy gust of wind swirled in through an open window, and the door swung shut. "I wanted to talk. I get the feeling you've been avoiding me." He stated simply. "And also, Dumbledore sent me a letter. Most unusual considering he could just speak to me in person." Rummaging through the pile of books on his desk he passed over a letter. "It has a note for you on it." He pointed out. Hermione looked down. On the envelope, written in thin, spidery writing, read

'Remus Lupin.

Speak with Hermione before you read this.

Hermione, this explains everything.'

The bushy haired girl flipped the letter over. The seal, Hogwarts crest, was untouched.

"I-" Hermione began in shock. Remus held up a hand and she quieted.

"So. Is there anything you wish to tell me?" Remus smiled. "I can't even count the number of times Dumbledore said that to me, James, and Sirius." He added. Hermione shrugged.

"I-" She began again, then failed. "Remus, there's plenty of things I'd like to tell you, none of which I can." She thought sadly. "Well, Professor," She spoke, "I think I know what that letter may be about." She explained, hoping desperately that she was right. "Do you remember when you told me about the Hermione you knew in your 7th year?" She inquired.

"Yes." Her teacher replied carefully.

"Well… She was me. I mean, I'm her. We're the same person." Remus just looked at her.

"But, Hermione, that's impossible." He said incredulously.

"Honestly, I'm telling you the truth. Read the letter. The reason you can't remember her last name is because Dumbledore memory charmed you, knowing how dangerous it would be if we met in the future." His face carefully blank, Remus broke the seal on the envelope, and unfolded the letter.

Reading down the parchment, Hermione watched him fearfully. Remus finished the letter, laying it down on the desk with trembling hands.

"Hermione, it's not – you can't be…" He looked at her, face as white as the snow swirling outside. Hermione shrugged, close to tears.

"It's true." She whispered. "I'm her. Hermione. Me. I've just spent over a month in your past. In your 7th year." She added sadly. "Two days ago I talked to Lily, James, Sirius, Peter, Angelica, and Peter. As well as arguing with Renae. I would have argued with Zoe, but she left before me." Remus just stared at her, stricken.

"You couldn't possibly know that…" He gasped. Glancing down at the letter again, he skimmed it quickly. "How can you possibly…" His light voice trailed off. "Fine. Who was the girl who switched from Ravenclaw to Gryffindor?" He asked, his normally wry mouth forming a hard line.

"Vanessa. In fact, the very same Vanessa who has only just joined your classes." Her Professor was ashen. "I brought her with me. Can't tell you why, but it was Dumbledore's idea. She was shocked when she realized that you and Professor McGonagall were now older, and that Professor Natikoshi was no longer teaching." Hermione replied smoothly.

Remus would have gone even whiter, if it were possible. Eyes wide he lifted one trembling hand to his mouth.

"Hermione…" He began, shaking his head in shock, "I-" Hermione felt overwhelmed by the sadness and despair welling up inside her.

"Fine, you want proof that I'm her? Look!" Stalking over to her bag, she picked up the purple velvet bag Dumbledore had given her, and strode back to her chair. "You gave me these. On Valentines Day. February the 14th, 1987. We were in your hidden alcove room." She said angrily, thrusting her hand into the bag. Pulling out the golden butterfly, and the silver shimmering necklace, she placed them gently on the desk, looking at Remus with eyes that glimmered with tears.

"Oh my gosh." He whispered, staring at his grief riddled student.

"Now do you see?" Quietly she picked up her jewelry, placing it back into the bag.

"Hermione." He breathed, eyes lighting up brightly.

"I'm Hermione. Both now, and then. And nothing has changed."

"Uh, Hermione, I mean, Miss Granger, I…" His voice failed, quavering. "Please, go. For now. I need to come to terms with this." He stated quietly in his courteous voice, grey eyes never looking away from hers. "This… I… we were…" He looked at her, pain marring his normally open features. "Back then, everything was… now… Hermione… we were 17… you're still 17… I'm 35…" He stammered. "Please, just… go." He shook his head, running his fingers in his light brown hair in exasperation.

Picking up her stuff, Hermione fled the room, tears coursing down her cheeks, while her now 35 year old Professor stared out a window into the flurry of snow swirling outside. Tears slid down his face, dropping of the tip of his nose to splatter the parchment lying on his desk.