A/N I don't really have anything to say expect please review and tell me what you think :)

Chapter 4

This time when Hermione came to she was not stuck in a hazy delirium. Her mind immediately started going at light speed, thinking of a believable backstory to ward off any suspicion. She had already given herself a good base with the lie she had fed Dippet.

She frowned slightly at how painfully easy it was to trick the old Headmaster. 'No wonder Voldemort got away with so much while he was at Hogwarts.' Dippet was trusting without having any reason to be, and always looked for the good in people even if that blinded him from someone's true nature. He was nothing like Dumbledore.

'Dumbledore!' she thought. How had she not thought of him before? Surely he would be able to help her. But suddenly, her train of thought stopped as she thought of Rita Skeeter's book on the powerful wizard, and how Harry had confirmed some of the stories to be true. Dumbledore was ambitious and somewhat power-hungry in his youth, and untrustworthy. She knew she was important, coming from the future. One seeking power would not hesitate to manipulate her to their own advantage.

No, she had to figure this out on her own. She had to do this alone. Alone. The word echoed through her head as she thought of the battle she had come from just hours before. Alone. That's what she would be if she went back to the future. Harry was dead. Ron was dead. Her parents were missing. She had no doubt that many, if not all of those who fought for the Light in the final battle would either be dead or enslaved.

'What's the point of going back at all?' she thought to herself. She would be killed or enslaved. And for the first time in her life, Hermione Granger had no idea what to do. She didn't have a plan, or a purpose.

She was lost.

Her mind was going into a chaotic mess because of the vivid and gory memories of the battle, to the point where she was forced to block it all out. She had become a tightly sealed vessel, trying desperately to hold everything in.

She decided to give herself some time. She was Hermione Granger, after all. She would eventually think of a plan, she just needed time. Just a couple of days, maybe a week. She needed time to get herself under control. For right now, her goal was to fly under the radar and not attract any unwanted attention.

"My lord, she's awake," said a short and slightly chubby boy, bowing deeply.

Tom looked up and quickly closed the book he had been reading and began taking long strides down the corridor, soon leaving behind Crabbe. He finally reached the hospital wing and opened the doors, only to be met by a pair of large, amber eyes.

Tom was surprised by how good of an eye Abraxas seemed to have. It was clear that many would find that Miss Granger was not unattractive. He was slightly impressed that Abraxas could see her good looks even in the battle-worn state she was in when they found her. The battle clearly affected her, though. She had deep and dark circles under her eyes that largely contrasted her light, creamy skin. Her collarbones were sticking out from under her shirt as a sign of the malnourishment she had experienced. Her hair was thick and wild with curls that fell just below the collarbone.

She looked older than her age, and the light that was normally lit in teenagers eyes were extinguished. Just like his. He smirked as he noticed that her face was carefully blank. 'Clever girl, it's a shame you are too late.'

"Ah, Tom, you're here just in time. Hermione has finally woken up, and seems in a much better condition than we found her in. She may even be able to start classes in a few day!"

"Professor," the girl said respectfully, "As I was explaining before, I would like to start my studies as soon as possible. I would like to start them by tomorrow."

The way she said it seemed like a request, but it was clear that she was not going to take no for an answer.

"If you insist, dear. We just need to get you sorted then. Tom, if you'd please help Miss Granger up and assist her to my office."

"Of course, Professor," Tom said gliding up to Hermione and offering his hand, as she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

She pushed his hand away hastily and pushed herself up to prove to him that she was not weak. Unfortunately, she had gotten up too fast and found herself swaying slightly as spots clouded her vision. Tom quickly caught her, "Don't you think you've fainted enough for one day?" He whispered into her ear.

Chills were sent down her spine as she felt his cool breath on the outer edge of her ear, as she quickly took a step away from her and followed Dippet to his office.

"Please sit, Miss Granger," Dippet said offering her a worn out wooden chair.

She quietly took a seat and eyed Tom as he leaned against the wall, with a shadow falling over him. After some clanking and badly covered up curses, Dippet finally recovered the old tattered hat, and placed it on Hermione's head.

"Miss Granger, it's nice to see you again. Although, unfortunately I see it is not in the best circumstances. Yes, you have been through much since I last sorted you. That has darkened you quite a bit. You have done many things, my dear, things that Godric Gryffindor would not be proud of, but something that one Salazar Slytherin would enjoy."

She huffed, frustrated, "It was a war, I did what I had to do. I'm not proud of it."

She did not notice the dark figure in the corner raise his eyebrow at the remark she was not even aware she said aloud.

"My dear, you have misunderstood me. I am not pointing any fingers here, just noting the changes. I see you're a bit lost, do not worry, your path will become clear to you soon. The path you will embark on is a dangerous one, and I wish you all the best of luck. Only you can accomplish this, and for that I am thankful that you truly are a-"

"GRYFINNDOR!"The hat shouted.

She breathed out a breath of relief, she had thought for a moment the hat was going to sort her into Slytherin. Yet her mind pondered on what the hat had said to her. It seems that she did have a path after all, but she frankly wasn't ready to begin the hike. She was too worn out from the war she had just come from not even a day ago. She needed a break. She needed some 'sleep' she thought wearily.

As if on cue, Dippet took the hat off with a huge smile on his face, "Well Tom, would you mind showing Miss Granger to the Gryffindor common room?" He looked merrily at her schedule that had appeared after he muttered a spell, and handed it to her, "It looks like Mr. Riddle has almost all of the same classes as you do. Tom, if you don't mind, perhaps you could be the one to escort Miss Granger to her classes and show her around a bit? I would normally ask this of the Miss Augusta Prewett since she is both a Gryffindor and Head Girl, but since you two already know each other, this arrangement seems a bit better convenience, does it not?"

Hermione immediately recognized the name Augusta Prewett as Neville's grandmother and began to open her mouth to sway Dippet to let Augusta show her around, only to be cut off by a silky voice saying, "I would be happy to, Professor." He turned to her and smiled, gloating at her, enjoying the panic that settled on her face.

"Follow me, Miss Granger," he said swiftly turning around and walking out the door.

Hermione took a deep breath before following him, and attempted to keep a considerable amount of distance between them.

He turned to her and sighed dramatically with a smirk playing on his lips, "Do try to keep up, just because you were in a battle does not mean I will tolerate laziness."

Her eyebrows drew down into a light scowl, as she let out an angry breath and stomped up to him, attempting to fall in step with his long strides. They walked in silence for the rest of the way. Tom continued to glance down at her, enjoying the redness to her face. Finally, they reached the Fat Lady and Tom turned to face her.

"The password is Lemon Drops, you will find your room down the left hallway, second door on the right. Your roommate have already been informed of your arrival, and you will find an empty bed, and your school robes, as well as other necessities for you there. You are to meet me here at 7:30 sharp. Do not be late. Until that time, I suggest you get some rest," he eyed her up and down passively, "and shower."

She raised her eyebrows at him in offense and crossed her arms, yet remained silent.

"Goodnight, Miss Granger," he said turning around and walking off.

She turned towards the portrait to say the password and heard, "Do not forget 7:30!" being called from down the corridor. She quickly whispered the password and slipped inside. She kept her head downcast, not ready for the emotions and nostalgia she knew the familiar common room would force out of her. She fumbled with the doorknob to her room, finally unlocking it, and throwing her small bag she had carried all throughout her travels down on her bed. She scurried into the bathroom and ripped off her clothes and quickly jumped into the ice cold shower that had not yet heated up.

She washed away the remaining dirt, and dried blood that had not been cleaned off during her time in the hospital wing. She took her time. She started with her feet, rubbing away the countless times she had had to run for her life, then to her ankles which she had sprained once while escaping what was supposed to be a simple mission for the Order. She moved to her legs, tracing the spider web-like scar that went around her left knee. And although she knew she couldn't wash away the scar, she knew she could wash away the memory of how she got it. So she washed away the night her, Harry, and Ron had to run from Snatchers, she washed away how she got hit with a dark curse and had to be half-dragged away by Ron. She moved up her body and did that with every scar she could find that she had gotten during the war. She washed her shoulders, forgetting how Tonks had clung onto them as she died, making her promise to always remind Teddy of how his parents will always love him. Her fingers traced the inside of her left arm, lightly outlining the harsh and pink scar that roughly spelled out 'Mudblood'. She took the washcloth, and scrubbed as hard as she could, until the skin was red and burning.

Once she was sufficiently clean of the dirt and horrible memories. She stepped out of the shower, put on her pajamas and curled up into the fetal position in her bed. Her mind fell into a dark slumber, allowing her one good night's sleep, before it would begin torturing her with nightmares.