A/N: Just wanted to let you all know that I'm planning on updating weekly on Sundays. Enjoy. :)
"Ah, you must be Ms. Prewett," a familiar voice said behind Hermione. Hermione turned around to see Professor Slughorn making her way behind her. They were standing in the hallway on the way to the dungeon. "My name is Professor Slughorn, I believe you are on your way to my Potions class. Allow me to show you the way."
"Oh, thank you Professor," Hermione responded politely.
"I'm sure you must know Anastasia Prewett?" Slughorn inquired. "We are old friends, of course, from Hogwarts."
"Oh, yes." Hermione recognized her name as her new aunt. "My aunt. She has been really wonderful since the death of my parents." Hermione didn't have to put on a sad expression as she thought of her own parents, because although they were alive and well in Australia fifty-five years from now, they were also blissfully ignorant of their only daughter.
"Of course, of course," Slughorn paused for a few seconds before continuing, "You know she was awarded Order of Merlin, First Class, for her work with brewing antidotes…" Slughorn continued, but Hermione had stopped listening, realizing that they would both be late to her first class. "Dear me, look at the time! We better hurry. We'll talk more later. I have a gathering of students every few weeks. I'll hope to see you there."
"Of course, Professor," Hermione replied, trying to sound enthusiastic. It would be a good opportunity to spend some quality time with Voldemort, at least. My favorite activity.
As they entered the room, Hermione noticed that as in her year, there weren't very many students who had moved on to NEWT-level Potions. The room hadn't changed much, either; there were three seats at each table. The table closest to her was filled with Slytherins, including the one she suspected was Tom Riddle, sitting with a sullen-looking girl and a handsome blond wizard Hermione had to imagine was a Malfoy due to the strong family resemblance. An extremely strong family resemblance, actually… they had the same hair, the same jaw, the same face, almost. There were only two discernible differences between them: this Slytherin was much tanner, and his eyes were deep blue instead of gray like Draco's.
Voldemort's intense gaze interrupted her thoughts. She quickly broke eye contact with him and continued scanning the room while trying to avoid openly staring at the blond boy. The next table had two Ravenclaw girls and a Hufflepuff boy who looked rather smug. That left two tables: the one by the window, filled with Gryffindors, and the only one that had an empty seat- two, in fact- currently occupied only by a beautiful but rather disheveled looking girl adorned in blue and bronze who Hermione didn't recognize from the feast. Hermione took the available seat, and as she did the girl jumped up, as though startled, and looked up at Hermione accusingly. "Who are you?" The Ravenclaw demanded.
"My name is Hermione Prewett." Hermione held out her hand. "I'm a transfer student."
The girl looked at Hermione's hand and quickly shook it, as though ripping off a band-aid. "We don't have transfer students." The girl didn't bother to give Hermione her name, and Slughorn dove into his lesson before Hermione could ask.
"Today," began Slughorn, "we will be brewing Polyjuice Potion. Can anyone tell me what Polyjuice Potion does?"
Hermione felt her hand shoot up automatically. Slughorn looked pleased. "Yes, Ms. Prewett?"
"Polyjuice Potion allows the user to assume the appearance of another, though only temporarily. It's a tricky potion, and takes about a month to complete. You need something from the person you are trying to become in order to take their form."
"Very good, Ms. Prewett." Slughorn launched into the required preparation before brewing, and Hermione felt a pair of eyes staring at her again.
"Lyra, we have to go, or we'll be late for Herbology." Hermione prodded Lyra, who was sitting next to her in the Great Hall in body if not in spirit.
"Oh, yes, all right. I do love Herbology, although there are so many healing properties of plants they don't teach you here." Lyra followed behind as Hermione rushed to the classroom; she didn't want last pick of the seats again, especially because Herbology, like Potions, involved a lot of group work.
"You know the castle very well," Lyra observed, no accusation in her voice. "I never take this passageway."
"I got here a week early, and I spent it exploring the castle," Hermione lied easily.
"Take care. Dippet keeps baby dragons somewhere in the castle." Hermione had to stifle a laugh at Lyra's comment, and felt comforted knowing the strangeness of the Lovegoods went back decades. She also thought of Norbert- or Norberta, really- and had to smile.
As Hermione and Lyra walked into the greenhouse, it was empty save a few Slytherins and the strange girl from earlier. Voldemort sat with the Draco-look-alike again, and a boy she had seen next to him at the Great Hall the night before. In the next table was the girl who sat with them earlier, and a boy who had the same nearly-ill look about him as she did. Behind them was the girl who Hermione sat next to in Potions and a Slytherin boy who had his arm around her.
Lyra and Hermione sat on the opposite side of the room. "Who is that girl?" Hermione asked Lyra in a low voice, trying to subtly gesture.
"Who?" Lyra completely missed who Hermione was indicating, staring intently at the desk and not bothering to lower her voice.
"The Ravenclaw girl."
"Oh. That's Olive Hornby. She's a bit strange." Normally Hermione would laugh at hearing a Lovegood call someone else strange, but in this case it was true. "She's been going with Almus Dippet since third year." Hermione assumed that must be the Slytherin boy next to her.
"Dippet? That's the Headmaster's son?"
"No, they're distant relations. I don't think the Headmaster likes him very much," Lyra replied matter-of-factly.
As Lyra and Hermione talked, more students shuffled in, and a red-faced Hufflepuff boy looked nervously at Hermione as he took the seat next to her.
"Hi, Todd," Luna greeted him, without looking up.
"I'm Hermione," Hermione supplied.
"I know. I mean, I'm Todd. Todd Newcastle." He held out his hand, and Hermione shook it. His hands were clammy.
"It's nice to meet you."
"Todd usually sits with me," Lyra interjected, "so I suppose you're in his seat."
Hermione smiled at Todd awkwardly. "I do hope that's alright with you."
"Y-yes. Of course." Todd replied, knocking over the ink he had pulled out of his bag.
Hermione couldn't help but let out a sigh. This was going to be a long year.
Tom smirked to himself as he assessed the new Head Girl out of the corner of his eye. First Olive, now Lyra and Todd- certainly an interesting choice of friends. Olive barely had two brain cells to rub together, but used to get by off of a combination of Almus and charm. Even her charm, though, had dwindled ever since she found the greasy first-year dead in the bathroom. Lyra was an outcast, and Todd was the pathetic mudblood who followed her around. What he couldn't understand is why Dippet would allow such an ordinary girl become Head Girl, and why Hogwarts was suddenly accepting transfer students. It seems there wasn't much competition to size up, but he was curious about why this girl suddenly popped up.
"The new girl is obsessed with you, Malfoy," came Lestrange's voice, interrupting Tom's train of thought.
Tom looked over to Malfoy, who winked, laughing a little bit. "Not exactly my type," he replied. Tom glanced back at the new girl, whose sleeve was now covered in ink. She was focused on Todd right now, clearly irritated, but she had been staring at Malfoy all through Potions this morning with a faraway expression on her face. Class started and her hand shot up again. Tom made a mental note on her seeming crush on Malfoy. It might be useful if she turns out to be more interesting- or more competition- than he originally thought.
After a long first day of classes where Hermione tried to avoid drawing attention to herself, she made her way back up to her common room, too exhausted to hope for anything but cuddling up with Crookshanks. Saving the world would have to wait.
Unfortunately, the common room didn't give her that option. As she stepped through the portrait, she found an unwelcome presence in her favorite brown armchair.
"Hello," the boy in the armchair said in a smooth, velvety voice. The voice would probably be seductive to most people, but it sent the wrong kind of chill down Hermione's spine. "My name is Tom Riddle. You must be the new Head Girl. I've been looking forward to meeting you." His eyes glinted red momentarily, and Hermione had to focus to keep standing up straight while her heart raced inside her chest. So he's really going to pretend he doesn't know me, despite the fact that we've had classes together all day and he's stared a hole through my head.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Hermione Prewett." Hermione tried to inject as much sweetness as she could into her voice, but couldn't help thinking it probably sounded more fake than his. "I've just transferred here." She knew the polite thing to do would be to shake his hand, but her fingernails were digging into her copy of New Theory of Numerology instead.
"From Beauxbatons, oiu?" His expression remained the same, but Hermione couldn't help but feel as though he were looking at her like an insect under a microscope. It's been just over twenty-four hours and he's already suspicious of me.
Hermione's mind raced. Although she was a quick learner, she didn't want to get into a conversation in French after having only spent a week on it. "Yes," she replied, thinking on her feet, "I hope you don't mind, but I really don't want to speak French. My mom taught it to me, and she passed away recently. I can't speak it without- without"-Hermione paused and channeled her exhaustion and panic into shedding a tear-"thinking of her."
She saw a flash of annoyance on Voldemort's smooth face before he twisted it into an expression of sympathy. "I apologize. I thought speaking French might be a comfort, but I will of course avoid the language if you prefer. I wanted to meet to go over our patrol schedules, but I see now might be a bad time. Perhaps before breakfast tomorrow. Eight o'clock." It wasn't a question.
Hermione nodded, trying to look as pathetic as possible. "I really appreciate it, Tom." She forced herself to use his name, but saw no reaction from him. "Shall I meet you in here?"
"Excellent. I hope you have pleasant dreams." And with that, her first meeting with Voldemort was over as quickly as it has begun as he turned around and made his way to his own room. That wasn't so bad. Now I just have to gain his trust, his Horcruxes, and his life.
It was the same room that she kept returning to. She didn't want to go inside, but felt her feet leading there again, over the marble floor, approaching the gray stone in the center. She knew what lay underneath.
"I'll be outside, Ms. Granger." His voice was far away, and she could hear his footsteps receding.
As though another person was moving her body for her, she watched as her hands slid over the stone, pushing it aside. It was the same image she had seen hours before, but then at least she knew it was a boggart. "I'm sorry. He's gone." Dumbledore's words echoed in her head as she stared down at the beautiful face she had grown to love, even paler now than she was accustomed to. She stroked his hair, crying, and wished his often-teasing gray eyes would stare up at her, but never again.
Hermione awoke with a start. Judging from the inky color of the sky outside, it was the middle of the night. She had fallen asleep in the armchair. Crookshanks looked up at her from her lap, nudging her gently. Hermione pulled Crookshanks into a tight hug as she fought off the memories that she had dreamt about every night. She resolved to talk to Dumbledore about Dreamless Sleep Potion as she headed up to bed. Hermione knew she needed to focus; she needed this war to end eventually. It had already taken too much from her.
Fifty-five years later, Draco Malfoy was sitting in Hestia Jones' living room with his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, also hoping for an end to the war.
"Draco, stop sulking," Narcissa gently chided him. "I'm sure you will hear from your friend soon."
"She's not my friend," Draco said through gritted teeth. Narcissa didn't respond, instead returning to her Witch Weekly. Though more tolerant than his now-deceased father, his mother had a difficult time accepting that Draco was dating a Muggle-born, despite the fact that Hermione and him had been openly together for well over a year, or as openly together as anyone could be while in hiding.
"Draco, you know she's on an important mission for the Order," Hestia interjected.
"That's what everyone keeps telling me," Draco muttered. While Hermione had been at Hogwarts last year, he received long letters from her frequently, and even last summer she had managed to find ways to update him every few days. The two weeks of complete silence- and possibility of months, according to Hestia- was becoming increasingly difficult to bear. Hermione, what have you gotten yourself into now?