A/N: Thank you to FrancineHibiscus for reviewing the chapters so far :) I love feedback! She also noticed something very curious about Hermione's wand...

The New Hogwarts

As Hermione had suspected when Voldemort's presence had become more overt during the summer, Gryffindor house had suffered a definite reduction in numbers, particularly among the younger years. As the students piled into the great hall for dinner, all four tables were less full than in years past. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had been hit the worst, but there were still students missing from the Ravenclaw table. The only house that seemed close to its usual numbers was Slytherin.

Hermione watched from her seat near the end of the table as the Slytherin first years strode over to the table, smirking and bumping fists with the older kids. It was as if they had been initiated into a very private club that they had been entitled to at birth. She couldn't help the downturn of her lips as she observed them.

"Earth to Hermione!" A sharp prod to the side, and Hermione turned to glare at the redhead next to her.

"What?"

"See something you like?" Ginny joked, nodding her head at the sea of green ties. "You certainly seem interested in something."

"Not like that, Gin. I was thinking… Slytherin outweighs the rest of the houses, now."

Her companion shrugged, but her face was sad. "You should have seen the sorting 'Mione, it was as if students were actually asking to be put in Slytherin, with the amount that joined."

"I guess it's the safest place to be right now," Neville added from his space opposite her.

"That… actually makes sense."

The rest of the meal was spent quietly, with Neville and Ginny directing questions about Hermione's time on the run, and her mostly avoiding answering them.

If she thought dinner was bad, the rest of the evening was spent in the Gryffindor common room, fending off questions from every year group. They ranged from "How is Harry?" to "What's Harry up to?" to "Is Harry going to kill Voldemort?". It wasn't until nearly 10 o'clock that people started to ask why she had chosen to come back for her NEWTs, and if she would still be taking the same subjects as before. She begged off of their questions quickly, telling them that she was tired from her journey; as they presumed that she had returned earlier that day, it was easy to do.

As she lay in her familiar bed, in the dorm that she had shared with Parvati and Lavender for the last six years, she sighed. Everything in the room was the same, from Lavender's posters of 'sexy' wizards, to the incense that Parvati liked to burn. The holder had been a gift from her late grandmother, a woman who Parvati always spoke of reverently, even though she had never known of her granddaughters'' abilities.

The sight made her heart ache. At the foot of her bed sat an unfamiliar chest, filled with school things that weren't her own, and a humble amount of items that were hers, but unfamiliar. She had sent off for a few items via mail order, all of which were muggle. Her small gringotts account had been recently closed by the ministry, a sure sign of the changes that were occurring all around her. While Dumbledore remained headmaster of Hogwarts, he had none of his old sway in regards to politicians or much of the wizarding public. As fear grew, so did Voldemort's power. Instead, she had bought items online, using a computer at a nearby library. Professor McGonagall had escorted her, and had been kind enough to collect the packages from the post office they were delivered to, asking no questions about the contents inside.

She longed for her small beaded bag. She had felt so prepared holding it, knowing that no matter what she needed, she had it at hand. Months had gone into the preparation of her 'survival kit' containing hundreds of items from the sentimental to the rare and the practical. As hopeful as she had been, it contained items of Harry's and Ron's - the people that she had thought would be fighting beside her, always.

And now… now she was so very much alone. She rolled over on her side, and tried her best to cry silently as she heard her doormates enter in a flurry of giggles.

The next day, she showered and dressed before they woke. The starched uniform was rough against her skin, and her face worn and gaunt where it had once been soft and full of life. She looked nothing like her old self, and it was difficult to remember how little time had really passed. Her hair was coarse and thin, laying flatter than it had in years past. It was held back with a plain black band, making her look older than her years as it bared her face.

Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to care.

She grabbed a mug of coffee and a small plate of breakfast foods from the great hall, and went to find a bench by the lake. It was still cold, and the grounds were still covered in snow, but she dried a bench, cast a warming spell over her robes with the replacement wand that Dumbledore had procured on her behalf, and lit a small fire in front of her. With more safety and comfort than she had felt since leaving the school 6 months earlier, she luxuriated in the crisp feel of nature, and the knowledge that it was very unlikely anyone would disturb her for a good few hours. Hopefully, by then, she would be on her way to her first class of her seventh year at Hogwarts.

She couldn't draw together her usual enthusiasm, but she felt a glimmer of something as she reached into a black bookbag by her feet and pulled out her textbooks. They were slightly worn, and held none of her personal notations, but had all of the knowledge that she would need to refresh nonetheless. A few of the textbooks were even different to those that she had previously been studying.

She frowned as she pulled out the slim volume of Rudimentary Dark Arts from her bag. It was a small volume with a very nondescript cover, and the only one of the textbooks that was new. It hadn't been on the syllabus previously, that she knew. As she opened it to the first page, and took a long sip of her hot drink, she pondered the meaning of the revised curriculum held in her hand.

By the end of her second reading, her mind buzzed with questions. Were they being better prepared to defend themselves? It did seem in keeping with Snape's philosophy of pushing his students constantly to do better. But, she realised, she hadn't seen Professor Slughorn during her stay at the school so far. Just who would be teaching potions if Professor Snape was still in charge of Defence?

These thoughts were still plaguing her as the clock rang out, indicating loudly the first class of the day. She hurried back up to the castle, and found herself immediately pulled into the throng of students exiting the great hall. With her timetable memorised already, she hastily made her way to the dungeons, where she knew at least one of her questions would be answered.

The dungeons were mostly empty when she arrived, and Hermione took a seat at the back of the room. For the first time in her academic life, she felt too unsure to take a seat at the front. She was behind schedule by a whole term, and she didn't have Harry or Ron beside her to boost her confidence. She was now the only Gryffindor in 7th year potions class, and the thought made her heart twinge.

Quickly thinking through the class numbers, Hermione realised that this very small group was likely all that would be attending, and with a sigh, she rose and began to make her way forward to one of the workstations near the front. As she was almost at her seat, a large "bang!" sounded, and she startled.

"10 points from Gryffindor, miss Granger. Now, do you think you could find your seat?"

Heat rose to the girl's cheeks, and Snape rose an eyebrow as he waited for her to finally sit herself down. She didn't have the energy to rush, and instead carried on to seat herself and bring out her textbook and quill at her own pace.

This at least answered one question, and yet produced many, many more.

She felt his eyes on her throughout the class, and her skin prickled in response. She sighed, and a stray hair lifted from one cheek. She knew she looked like shit; but she also knew that Snape wasn't exactly a looker either. Her teeth ground together as he made his way towards her desk.

He leaned forward, staring into the cauldron that she had just brought to boiling. She bit her lip, and continued to grind her Occamy eggshell.

"Why are you preparing the shell at this point in the potion, miss Granger?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm giving the cauldron slightly longer to heat, by preparing the other ingredients while the ashwinder egg and horseradish fuse together. A common mistake of felix felicis is that the ingredients are liable to separate at the next stage. Contrary to popular belief," she added, with a eyebrow raise to challenge his own, "the squill bulb is as useful to stabilise the potion as much as it is useful for its other properties. If I allow the initial base to start fusing now, the squill juice will retain more of its potency in the solution."

To her surprise, he nodded.

"How did you come to this conclusion, miss Granger?"

"Muggles use squill to manufacture cough syrups. They give a smooth texture that soothes the throat. In the case of felix felicis, this tendency needs to be balanced with the need for this to continue past the throat - it can't be completely consumed in the consistency. Part of the felix felicis is that it needs to be able to override human thoughts and assumptions that would lead the 'luck' astray. No one would want to use a potion that only has a fifty percent success rate, Professor."

He gave her a dark, contemplative gaze, considering her. "10 points from Gryffindor, miss Granger, for failing to follow instructions. And I expect 12 inches of parchment fully explaining this process on my desk by Wednesday morning."

As he swept away, Hermione couldn't help but notice the glances she was receiving from two ravenclaws. It seemed, as they looked to their own cauldrons and then back to their books again, that they were unsure what to make of her alteration, and to Professor Snape's response.

Having completed her potion, and placed it into a side-room that she'd never seen before, Hermione continued to ponder the complexity of felix as she made her way to the library. The potion now had to simmer for six months… surely, if she were incorrect, Professor Snape would allow her to return this week and start over? She didn't want to miss out on the testing and evaluating of the potion after all…

She heard a scream from the Defence classroom as she went on her way, but thought nothing of it until after 3rd period, by which time her mood had lifted with the weight of 4 inches of her assignment complete, and a good number of resources to back up the rest.

"Hey Ginny."

Ginny looked up from her rather loaded plate, and patted the spot beside her. "Hermione! How's your day going?"

"Reasonably well, thanks. Of course, I've only had Potions so far, and I'm not sure I did a good job in that class - Professor Snape removed 20 points from me during the lesson, and then took me to task for not following the book exactly, but I was doing a fair amount of reading while I was in Slughorn's class and-"

"It's Snape," Neville interjected. "Only 20 points? I lost 4 times that in my first Defence class."

Hermione somehow managed to find a glimmer of shock inside of herself. "You lost eighty points in one class?!"

He shrugged. "Well, it's a class with a Carrow."

"A Carrow?"

"Yeah," He slipped a bit of apple into his mouth. "Brother and sister. They teach Muggle Studies and Dark Arts. Always need to watch it with those two."

Ginny muttered something that sounded very much like 'asshole death eaters'.

"Miss Weasley," a familiar honeyed voice spoke from behind them. "Is there a comment you wish to address to the staff?"

She almost spat out her mouthful of sandwich. "No, Professor Snape."

"Good. Five points from Gryffindor."

With that, he swept up to the staff table, boots thudding and robes billowing.

"Only five points?" Hermione grumbled. "He must have taken a liking to you, Ginny."

Neville snorted. "Nah, I think he just hates them as much as we do, Death Eater or not."

She had nothing to say to that, so Hermione returned to silence and picked at her food. She never seemed to feel truly hungry anymore.

She had Herbology for fourth and fifth, and with nice, quiet Neville concentrating beside her, she felt that the greenhouses could easily become a refuge. As she had in sixth year, she entered the class to find Venomous Tentaculas. Where she was acceptable in handling them, Neville was truly gifted, and saved her from several injuries throughout with only a small smile each time as the both attempted to harvest parts of the plant for experimentation. As seventh years, they wouldn't be able to experiment on the plants themselves, but they would be making observations and writing reports on the behaviours and characteristics of the parts they harvested, along with their own theories of potential uses. The experimentation at Hogwarts was generally undertaken by staff, with only rare cases of students co-publishing a paper with a teacher, if they had an idea that was noteworthy, and would be advisable careerwise to both the student and staff member. Hogwarts was fairly unique in this, and it helped to give the school such a reputable standing. While other schools encouraged research as part of their Newt equivalent, the standard of work that was produced at Hogwarts was generally better, likely due to the smaller amount of published works.

By the end of the class the January sun was beginning to set, and Hermione's list of neat, precise notes was smaller than Neville's. While many of their observations were the same, the difference was made in the annotations and question marks that adorned his parchment.

They left the greenhouse to a chilly breeze, and both of them wrapped their cloaks tighter as they made their way up to the castle.

"You're really talented with plants, Neville."

He blushed, and Hermione almost smiled at the pink tips of his ears. "That's what Professor Sprout says. I just, like them. I find it absolutely fascinating! Ever since that book that fake Moody gave me in fourth year, I've completely got the bug. I have- I have some books if you would like to read them…" he trailed off, and Hermione perked her lips up into a smile for him.

"That sounds wonderful Neville! I'll take any help that you're willing to give - I could definitely use it."

The boy blushed into a deeper shade of scarlet. "I mean, you're really good at all your subjects anyway, and I know you've probably got a lot of resources anyway."

She placed a hand on his arm. "Neville, I am nowhere near as good at Herbology as you are. NEWTs are so much more about intuition, you know? And we can help each other with Charms and Defence as well, if you'd like?"

"I wouldn't like to take up too much of your schedule."

"You wouldn't be." She said firmly. "I like spending time with you, Neville. You've been my friend longer than anyone at Hogwarts. Unless you want to spend time with me-"

"No!"

She laughed, and he grinned.

"Any help you're offering, I am definitely taking."

And with that, they went up to the common room to exchange books before supper. For a full forty five minutes, she could almost pretend that she'd never left Hogwarts at all, that everything that had happened in the last few months hadn't been real. She was able to push it all aside until one specific plant came up.

Murtlap.

Just like that, she remembered using murtlap essence on Harry's hand after Umbridge had tortured him. Just like that, she remembered those hands hitting her. She remembered them violating her.

She sent Neville down to supper alone, claiming that she needed rest. She put on her pyjamas, drew her curtains, and cast a silencing spell. She took a small vial out of her bedside drawer.

She only had three left.