The farewell feast was a bittersweet affair. Hermione was given a surprising number of back pats and hugs, welcome backs and concerned questions. She answered them with aplomb, thanking them for their concern and assuring them that yes, she was quite alright. While Hermione wasn't the most famous student of the generation, like Harry, or an outgoing quiddich fan, like Ron, she had made her share of friends throughout the years (and a few more, as time went on, but they wouldn't know her yet). She nodded to Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones at the Hufflepuff table, who used to study Ancient Runes with her on occasion. She smiled sadly, they had been best friends from the beginning. She would not let something like the Massacre at the Ministry happen again.
She caught Blaise Zabini's eye at the Slytherin table, and he gave her a customary sneer. She knew to look beyond the mask and see his eyes soften; he was actually happy she was alright. Not that he'd ever admit it. Inevitably her eyes wandered to Draco, and she had to keep herself from reacting. She occluded her emotions for all she was worth, looking at him blankly.
Oddly, he held her gaze and looked at her consideringly; not the outright hatred she expected from younger Draco, but a softer, more questioning look. She looked away quickly, unable to maintain it any longer. Draco had taught her occlumency and some gray, borderline dark magic after the Massacre. To focus her mind on other things, she looked up at the head table. Remus had already left in the time she was unconscious, Minerva was looking stern as usual – her face seemed younger than she remembered, and she realized just how much those last seven years (or next seven years) had aged her. Minerva, as usual, sat next to an ever-cheerful Dumbledore. His presence jarred her, reminded her of exactly how long she had gone back in time. This was real, she was here, and she would change everything that had befallen these people.
She gazed along the rows of professors; every single one had a role in the war, and everyone – that survived – had been instrumental in keeping the Resistance alive. She saw Professors Babbling and Sinestra, who gave their lives in the Second Voldemort War; Vector and Flitwick, who had become hardened strategiests for the Resistance, were cheerfully sipping wine and chatting.
Finally, her eyes settled on Snape.
Severus Snape, the dowdy man who had lived a double life for over twenty years, who had acted with questionable morality for as long as she knew him, and who had ultimately sacrificed everything to win the war. She didn't know quite what to make of him, as he scowled down at the Ravenclaw table.
He had chosen the side of the light, in the end, but she didn't know if his heart was in it for the cause or for his own sense of self righteousness. He was downright cruel as a professor, but he had to balance his double life where all the little death-eaters-in-training could see him.
She would have to keep an eye on all of the professors, but especially Severus Snape.
The relationships she had lost with Minerva, Poppy, and Septima would be sorely missed, but she knew it would be worth it.
Harry was quiet for much of the feast, and Ron seemed to notice the pensive atmosphere his friends shared. He may have commented on it, if he hadn't been stuffing increasing amounts of turkey and pudding in his mouth.
All too soon, the feast was ending, and the Gryffindors all trampled up to their common room.
Hermione stayed in her seat, waving the boys on. They seemed concerned, but not willing to push her after her breakdown in the common room (grand displays of emotion seemed to have a desirable affect on them).
Either way, she was unable to stand the huge crowd for too long, and wanted to take the opportunity to do some snooping. The Great Hall was emptying fast, and soon she was alone at the Gryffindor table. A few Hufflepuffs and what looked like the entire graduating class of Slytherin remained. Hermione silently cast a quick listening spell: Allomoteros! and directed her attention not to the students, but to the professors.
"Why, Albus, do you insist on letting her keep the Time Turner in the first place?" She heard in the distinctive Scottish burr of Minerva. "And you are the one to send her on that… that-"
"I have my reasons, Minerva." Albus said softly. "It is dangerous, true, but she has shown herself to be marvelous at handling the magic of the Time Turner. Poppy talked to her, and if she does not see signs of fatigue – magical or physical – I see no reason to limit it's use."
"But Albus, she is only fourteen. And what do you mean limit it's use? Surely- "
Dumbledore cut her off. "I have made my decision, Minerva. I have faith that Miss Granger and her time turner will accomplish some remarkable things. Now about that recommendation for a Transfiguration mastery – you said Miss Clearwater and Mr Falkin wanted to apply for apprenticeships?"
Hermione let the spell cancel as the words washed over her. So Dumbledore very much wanted her to have the Time Turner, enough to override his deputy's decision.
Hermione had been approached by Professor McGonagall in her original third year, and she was very quick to advise Hermione to give it up. What about her collapsing after the trip made him change his mind?
Hermione was one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but she wasn't about to stick around for Minerva to try and convince her again. She needed that Time Turner.
She gave one last look at the Great Hall before heading up to the common room. Despite having been unconscious for six days, she needed a good night's sleep. Climbing up Hogwart's familiar passageways made Hermione realize exactly how much she missed being a student. For the next four years, she would have to pretend to be "normal," keeping her true age and past away from everyone. It was almost refreshing. She was no longer seen as a dangerous, mudblood outcast by half the population. The resistance had seen her as a leader, someone to learn from and look up to.
Here, she was just Hermione. All she was expected to do was take classes and learn magic. Everyone knew her as a slightly swottish know-it-all, who they could copy off of in a pinch. The lack of expectation was refreshing, and she was going to take full advantage of it.
She scrambled up the girls staircase, wanting to avoid any other classmates asking why she stayed in the hospital for so long. To her relief, her dormmates didn't ask her either.
"It's good to have you back, Hermione," Lavender said, making eye contact through her vanity's mirror. "I'm really glad you're alright."
Hermione smiled at the girl, trying to hide her slightly morose reminiscing – Lavender had been an excellent spellsmith, before she passed – and replied much more cheerfully.
"Thanks, Lav. I'm going to miss you guys, even though living with you is bad for my self-esteem." She pulled at her hair, self-deprecatingly indicating her lack of style. "I can't match your fashion or makeup skills, and being stuck in bed all week made me awfully pale."
In the future, Lavender was a very dedicated Resistance member, and Hermione had learned how to talk to her in just the right way to talk to the girl. While fashion and appearance were so far down on her list of priorities they may as well be nonexistent, she wanted to connect to her roommates. Her twenty-one year old mind had a much clearer vision of how to accomplish this than her younger self.
Lavender blushed, and said quickly, "Oh Hermione, you're beautiful too – it just gets hidden by your hair sometimes-" And without pause, they went into an intense regimen of magical beauty products. Pavarti added in a few bits of advice, including a few spells Hermione had never heard of. She let herself be a teenage girl for the first time in, well, ever.
"Thanks for all the advice. I wish I had asked you before!" She stuffed the guilt of manipulating the girls behind her occlummency shields. She needed their friendship, both for the upcoming battles and for her own peace of mind in their dormitory. And with the mixture of camaraderie and guilt battling for dominance in her mind, she fell asleep.
AN: Wow, thank you all for your support and reviews! Shoutouts to Red Phoenix Dragon for your support over the years, Duj for letting me know when I needed to fix things, and leonix2009 and paulaa90 for reviewing. You all asked some very good questions, and unfortunately the answer is that you'll have to wait and see.
Spells Created: "Allomoteros" is adapted from the Ancient Greek word for sound or hear. "Redite Praeterito" is Latin for (roughly) "return us to the past."