a/n: Head over to the AO3 version of this fic (under the same title, username without hyphen or space) for an added treat in Dumbledore's letter ;)
The next morning, Hermione wakes up remembering that finding her way back home is not the least of her worries. She has no change of clothes. She jumps out of bed, about to put on her robes from yesterday and rush to Dumbledore's office to report her dilemma, when something stops her short: a trunk at the foot of her bed.
Hope lifts Hermione spirits. She can feel herself starting to smile when she lifts the top of her trunk and peers inside. Her stomach drops and the smile freezes. She is not back in her time, and these are not her possessions in the trunk. The trunk is barely half-full; a few spare robes have been neatly packed on one side while beside some rolls of parchment are a few quills and a bottle of ink. On top of it all, a neatly-folded letter sits like a bow. Hermione picks it up and unfolds it.
Miss Granger,
Your trunk does not appear to have found its way to us as efficiently as you have. I have therefore taken the liberty of having spare robes and materials sent up until you contact your parents and can have your own possessions forwarded to you.
Regarding the matter of textbooks, I have consulted with our librarian, Madam Irma Pince, and she has graciously consented to grant you temporary permission to borrow the extra copies in the library.
She has requested of me, however, to emphasize the ephemeral nature of this loan and of the dire consequences to ensue if the textbooks were to be returned in anything less than the pristine condition in which they were entrusted to you.
On that note, Miss Granger, I urge you to acquire your own copies of the textbooks with the utmost speed.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin, First Class, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, etc...
Seeing Dumbledore's handwriting is strangely reassuring. At least he's the same considerate Headmaster Hermione knows. Despite knowing that House Elves must have been sent it up in the middle of the night, when they should have been resting, Hermione is glad for the trunk and the supplies inside, and for Madam Pince bending the rules and allowing Hermione to borrow her cherished textbooks. If she ends up being here for longer than a week, Hermione thinks she'll make it her personal mission to make Madam Pince trust her now just as much as she does in Hermione's present. Hermione must be the only student in the whole school that Madam Pince doesn't scout like a hawk when she's holding a book. The thought cheers her up considerably. She may be in a different time period, but at least she has some familiarity to cling to.
Hermione carefully folds the letter up again and places it on her bed while she gets out a clean robe and everything she'll need for class. Underneath all the material, she finds a rather beat up carrying bag, probably one an older student forgot or left behind when they left school for good. Hermione gets dressed and arranges everything carefully in her bag.
The pendulum clock in the room shows that it's nearing 7:00 o'clock. Despite the early time, Hermione notices that three out of the five beds have the curtains open and the beds made. Hermione doesn't know which bed is Lily's, but she takes her bag and leaves the dorm anyway. It can't be too suspicious that she can find her way to the Great Hall, seeing as she was there the previous evening, can it?
The common room is sparsely populated at this time of the day. The students who aren't still lounging in bed trying to grasp at those extra few minutes of sleep are either showering or heading to the Great Hall for breakfast.
Hermione doesn't linger herself. The few students in the common room look up when they hear her coming and don't look away. Their curious gazes make Hermione nervous and she just crosses the room to the Fat Lady's portrait as quickly as she can. She doesn't lower her head, but doesn't try to make eye contact either. It's like she's in second year all over again and no one can quite believe that Harry Potter of all people is hanging out with her, the annoying know-it-all. Hermione knows what people say about her, even now, and she's never really cared.
But it's different now, because people are looking at her for all the wrong reasons. She finds herself wishing they were thinking she's an overly-studious, obnoxious girl. Because at least they would be judging her on who she is – or who they think she is based on her grades. Now, though, they're looking at her with interest and some awe. They think she's some exotic French foreign exchange student.
Hermione is just about to pull open the portrait when it suddenly swings forward. Hermione barely has time to duck to avoid getting smacked in the face. It's a heavy portrait made out of solid wood.
"Oh, I'm sorry, are you all right?"
Hermione looks up quickly at the familiar voice. It's Professor Lupin standing in front of her. Except he's young and not a professor, yet. Hermione's first thought is that he looks tired and beat up. His robes look two sizes too big on him and there's a big tear on his left sleeve. He has dark bags under his eyes and his hair is all askew. There's something about the pinched look on his face that makes Hermione thinks he's in pain.
He looks like his older self did at Hogwarts after a full moon.
Hermione's arm twitches; she wants to reach out and hug him and tells him that she knows. But doing so would be catastrophically stupid. If there's one thing Hermione avoids being at all costs, it's catastrophically stupid.
"You're Gabrielle Granger, right? The new student. I'm Remus Lupin. Pleased to meet you."
"Yes, Gabrielle, Hi." Hermione stumbles over her words, trying desperately to act naturally. "Nice to meet you too, Rem… Lupin." Young or not, Hermione can't shake the older version of her professor from her mind and addressing Remus on a first-name basis feels just too strange aloud.
"Are you headed to the Great Hall? I just came back to wake Sirius up and grab my bag. If you want to wait, we can accompany you there. These hallways can be a bit tricky. One change of stairs and you're set back a good dozen minutes in your trajectory."
Sirius and Remus accompanying her? Making small talk? Asking her questions? "No!" Hermione blurts. "I mean, that's really nice of you to offer, but, ah, Lily is already waiting for me. I'm late enough as it is and I think I remember how to get there, from last night. Thank you so much though for your offer. Very kind. Maybe we'll see each other again soon," Hermione's already walking toward the opening of the common room; the portrait hadn't closed again after Remus walked in and the Fat Lady actually seemed interested in their conversation and didn't bark at them to move out of the way. "Bye for now!"
Hermione turns and leaves the common room in a hurry. She's practically jogging down the hallway until she realizes that Remus isn't going to chase her down. She feels like a fool for having panicked and even worse for having been so rude to Remus.
Still, it's for the best, she tells herself. She can't afford to get close. If she does, it'll make losing them even harder when she leaves.
Hermione sees Lily right away when she takes the last set of stairs down to the Great Hall. She's standing near the entrance, talking to someone. To James Potter. Hermione doesn't know much about James and Lily other than that they were part of the Order of the Phoenix, but it suddenly strikes her that this must be the year they started dating, or maybe they've already started.
Not wanting to interrupt their conversation, Hermione tries to pass by unnoticed. Of course, though, that's easier said than done when the hall is deserted and she's passing not even ten feet away from them. She knows she's been caught when Lily calls her name – well, Gabrielle's name – and Hermione is forced to turn around, smile like she's thrilled to see her, and make her way over to them.
She keeps her eyes on Lily, but she can feel James looking at her.
"Oh, hi, Lily," Hermione says, like she hadn't recognized her right away.
"Did you find your way all right? I was going to wait for you in the common room, but it's so dreary there at this time of day. I was going to come and wake you up if you didn't show up soon."
"You're the mysterious girl from the train," James says and Hermione is forced to turn and look at him.
James' resemblance to Harry hits her again as soon as she looks at him, but after a few seconds she can look past the similarities and start seeing how they don't look exactly the same. James' nose is slightly longer, and he has hazel eyes; there's also something of a sparkle In them that Harry doesn't have but that Hermione knows she's seen somewhere before. Fred and George. The names pop into her head like a revelation. James has some kind of twinkle in his eyes like the twins, this mischievous grin of the eyes like they're happy to be alive, ready to seize the day and conquer it, others in their way be damned. Harry mostly just looks tired, and defeated, and in pain.
Hermione wonders if Harry would have looked like this if his parents hadn't died, if Tom Riddle had been stopped before he became Lord Voldemort. It's a heartbreaking thought to have, because she'll never know the answer.
"You've already met Gabrielle?" Lily asks, surprise hitching the last vowel on Hermione's alias, thankfully excusing Hermione from answering James' not-question.
"Not really. Aren't you going to introduce me to your gorgeous friend, Evans?" James directs the question at Lily but he doesn't turn to look at her.
Hermione glances at Lily, but she rolls her eyes. She looks annoyed more than jealous at James having called her gorgeous. Hermione feels her face heat up. Has anyone ever called her gorgeous before? She honestly can't think of a single time. Not even her Muggle friends whom she still hangs out with every summer.
"Gabrielle Granger, meet Royal Pain in My Side, James Potter. Seriously, Potter, don't you have two goons to go drag out of bed?"
"Yeah," James says, but it's a distracted reply, like he didn't even hear a single word.
"Nice to meet you," Hermione says. James is still looking at her, although thankfully his mouthy grin has subdued into a smaller half-smile. But he's still staring at her and Hermione is quite frankly unnerved. She turns to Lily for help. "Erm..."
Lily sighs, exasperation and irritation evident in the loud exhale. "Come on, Gabrielle, let's get some breakfast and then we'll head to class."
She takes Hermione's arm and guides her into the Great Hall. Hermione follows willingly, but it's not until they're finally entering the hall that she turns her head and stops looking at James, whose eyes have followed her every move.
"Be seeing you, Granger," he calls after her, once she's looked away.
"Don't mind him." The Great Hall is still relatively empty at this hour, though in a hall this size, anything less than full capacity makes it look sparse. "He's so full of himself, he thinks every girl should fall at his feet and worship his good looks and amazing Quidditch skills." She's rolling her eyes as she sits, but Hermione wonders if this is jealousy disguised as annoyance.
Lily doesn't offer any more advice and Hermione doesn't press her for more details; she's never been one to gossip about boys or love, and she's not about to start now when she's already told herself she wouldn't be meddling. She's already had more interactions with all of them than she's comfortable with.
"It's all right, I know how to deal with boys full of themselves." Hermione fills her plate and her cup up generously with pumpkin juice. "I need to get to the library before class, actually. Madam Pince has agreed to lend me the textbooks I need for class until I can get my own."
Lily stares at her slack-jawed for a few moments. "Dumbledore must really have forced Madam Pince's hand," she says. "Madam Pince hates lending her books. For good reason, though. Most students are so careless I think she's right in being so strict."
Hermione almost says, "I know, right?" because it's not every day you meet a fellow sympathizer of Madam Pince's war against the irresponsible average Hogwarts student, but remembers just in time to bite her tongue. Instead, she says, "Yes, I did get the impression that Madam Pince is rather strict, from Dumbledore's letter. So do you think you can show me to the library after breakfast?"
"Of course!"
They spend breakfast making small talk. Lily wants to know all about Beauxbatons and Hermione's friends and Hermione stumbles through the questions, trying not to create too many lies but trying to avoid all details of her real life that could sound familiar to Lily later on and influence her decision-making. It's nerve-wracking and despite her best efforts to steer the conversation back to Lily and Hogwarts, Lily manages to deter the questions. By the end of breakfast, Hermione can feel a massive headache coming on.
"Beauxbatons is a beautiful school," Hermione finds herself saying as she and Lily exit the Great Hall. "It's very open with large windows so there's always a lot of light," like she has any idea, "but it still is nothing like Hogwarts. There's something about this place that just has magic stamped all over it. Beauxbatons just looks like any lovely building, really."
"Not many students know this, but to Muggles Hogwarts looks like an old ruin with a sign saying 'Danger, Do not Enter, Unsafe.'"
"Oh, really?" Hermione tries her best to look surprised. "Wouldn't that incite some of the more rebellious to actually enter?"
Lily laughs. "Maybe, but I don't think many Muggles actually come out this way, to be honest. We are located in the middle of nowhere. I mean, even if the place didn't also have all sorts of Muggle-repelling charms set up."
Hermione grins. So Lily's read Hogwarts: A History as well. She's always thought she was the only student in the history of Hogwarts to actually be interested in this sort of knowledge. She knew she wasn't, of course, but it's strangely comforting to actually be talking a similar student in person, even if Hermione can't reveal the fact that she knows all of this as well, and even if the other student does happen to be her best friend's sixteen-year-old mother.
At the library, Madam Pince hands Hermione the books with her most intimidating look: lips drawn thin and eyes narrowed into mean little slits that look like daggers that'll stab Hermione if she doesn't look less than eternally grateful for the favor Madam Pince is doing her.
"I'll protect these books from harm with my life," she assures Madam Pince. She feels like she should bow to her, or something ridiculous, to assure her that she's being serious.
"Yes, see to it that you do," Madam Pince replies, tone dripping with mistrust.
"We better get to class, Gabrielle," Lily says, a hand on Hermione's arm. They escape the library and Lily erupts in a fit of giggles. Hermione can't help but laugh along, the surreal situation finally catching up with her.
"See to it that you do," Lily imitates breathlessly, between giggles, in her best-worst imitation of Madam Pince, sending them both into another fit of laugher.
They arrive to class out of breath and grinning like fools. It feels strange, laughing with a girl like this. Hermione has never really had a close girlfriend. Even her Muggle friends tend to be boys, and with Ron and Harry as friends it's not like Hermione's had time to expand her circle. Well, she supposes there is Ginny and Luna, but it feels more like they've been drawn together by circumstance and association rather than affinity or common interests.
With Lily, though… Hermione feels like there's a kindred spirit waiting to be awakened. She tells herself to snap out of it, to remember to place some distance between them because this is Harry's mother for goodness sake. But it's only been half a day since Hermione's been at Hogwarts and she's having a hard time thinking of Lily as Harry's mother instead of just Lily. And when Hermione announces after classes that day that she's going to head to the library for some studying before dinner Lily beams at her.
"Really? That's great, I'll accompany you. The library is such a nice place to study, but my friends always insist that I study in the common room and then proceed to distract me with their talk of boys and the latest rumors."
Hermione should be disappointed. After all, with Lily around she doubts she'll be able to read up on time-travelling without arousing her suspicions. Still, just because Hermione is planning on leaving this time period soon doesn't mean she's about to neglect her studying. And it feels nice to have a serious study buddy for once.
When they head down to dinner a few hours later, all studied-out and feeling very satisfied with themselves for the work they got done, Hermione can feel the professors' eyes on her from the front of the room. All day Hermione's felt as though the professors have been looking at her strangely. She knows that McGonagall doesn't believe her story and no doubt the word has gone around the staffroom and many others must doubt her credibility as well. Hermione's index finger absently stabs her thumb as she and Lily take a seat at the Gryffindor table and she builds up her courage for the only show of authenticity that she knows.
Hermione sees Dumbledore enter the Great Hall and before she can second-guess herself or lose her courage Hermione shoots up to her feet. She remembers how all the Beauxbatons students had done this during their visit to Hogwarts and how so many students had laughed at them. Hermione knows how they felt now, as a few surprised chuckles escapes some students and how everyone else too polite to laugh outright are whispering excitedly to each other. Hermione is thankful that at least it's dinnertime; she and Lily had been out of the Hall before Dumbledore arrived that morning and at lunch he was already seated when they'd shown up. Hermione doesn't think she could have endured a whole day, or even half a day, of students laughing at her for this.
Hermione feels her cheeks burn with embarrassment, but she doesn't sit down, not even when Lily leans over and whispers, "Gabrielle, we don't do that here," does Hermione give up and sit down. Instead, she looks over at the long table at the front of the room where the professors are looking at her, some surprised, others smiling at her sympathetically. She looks at Dumbledore, who stopped on his way to his chair when he saw her stand.
Instead of motioning her to sit, Dumbledore makes his way to his chair and sits down. Then, he looks up at Hermione and their eyes meet. There's something in his eyes… It's not recognition but maybe it's comprehension. But what is it an understanding of? That Hermione is so desperate to make herself believed that her cause must be a noble one? That he believes her Beauxbatons story? All he would need to do is contact the current Headmistress of the school and Hermione's front would be shattered that easily.
Dumbledore smiles at her and nods. It is Hermione's cue that she can sit. Hermione collapses back onto her bench. She doesn't feel humiliated, but her body burns like she's embarrassed and she can't bring herself to look at anyone, not even Lily. She can feel everyone's eyes on her and she knows all their whispers are about her. She knows why she feels so hot, too; it's anger. Anger that she has to justify herself in this world all over again. Anger that she has to prove herself to professors and a Headmaster who trusts her implicitly in her time.
She wishes she knew a spell so that the ground beneath her would open up and swallow her. She wouldn't mind hanging out with the House Elves for a few hours.
Hermione doesn't see or hear James, Sirius, Remus and Peter arriving late for dinner. It's only Sirius letting his school books land loudly on the table that jolts her back to her painful reality.
James is looking curiously at the students still chuckling and whispering, some looking at Hermione. James follows their gaze down to her.
"What did you do?" The nasal voice sends shivers of disgust down Hermione's arms; she can actually feel the hairs there stand up on end. Peter.
Thankfully, she's spared interaction with the vermin. "Drop it, Peter," James says as he takes a seat by Hermione.
"Hey!" he suddenly barks at a Slytherin who has been pointing over at her from across the Hall and laughing louder than the rest. "Why don't you mind that your boyfriend's greasy hair doesn't drip onto your plate?"
Hermione wants nothing more than to get up and call it an early night, but she can't lose face in front of the whole school. Besides, it's ephemeral culture shock. More than half of these students have never gone abroad, much less actually met a student from Beauxbatons. 'The Wizarding world can be so narrow-minded,' Hermione thinks.
Her eyes meet James' and he winks at her before turning his attention to the delicious meal on the table. Hermione smiles to herself. No, she thinks, there are worse things than being laughed at for being different. She glances uneasily at Sirius and Peter. For one, being in her current predicament.