Author Note: This is probably the chapter I'm most nervous about in terms of things. I've yet to write a narrative completely from Hermione's point of view. And while she (along Severus) is one of my absolute favorite characters from the series, I just hope I can do her justice. I'm also trying to set up certain deliberate parallels between them here. Hopefully it works. Constructive criticism would be great here, because I really want to do her justice, and have admittedly much lesser experience with Hermione than Snape. Apologies in advance for any Lavender Brown fans. Kinda portraying her to Hermione what James is to Severus here. xD

As a few technical points, yes, I realize that canonically Hermione didn't have a time turner outside of third year, but that's a plot-critical detail, so a necessary deviation from established canon. Also the scene itself obviously didn't occur in quite this manner in the HBP, and there's nothing in established canon (that I know of at least) for what would happen if one were to break a time turner (or if such a thing is even possible). Sorry, inner canon-nazi wanted me to clarify all that. Otherwise it's HBP-compliant up until this point.

Hun – Thanks for the comments. ^_^

RawenclawBabe – Thank you as well for the review. Yeah, I agree. Well, Dumbledore is a rather … complex character. Not really "evil"; at least, not after his falling out with Grindelwald, arguably; but not necessarily "good" in the purest sense either. More the archetypical "chessmaster" if anything. Since he's more than willing to sacrifice Harry, manipulate Severus's love for Lily rather harshly, etc. to accomplish his goal. But he's also more than willing to die himself in the process of outwitting the Dark Lord, so ehh… I'll withhold judgment on his overall moral character. I guess that's sort of the strength of the series. Almost none of the characters are neatly purely "good" or "evil". All have some degree or another of complicating factors, and Albus Dumbledore is certainly among them.

But yeah, in essence, I think at this point, canonically, Severus would HATE Dumbledore. Since he hated the Marauders and thus saw the administration of the school as incompetent or complicit with them, which, either way he'd despise. Add to that Dumbledore being outspoken against the Dark Lord, whom at this point Snape idolized.

And then most critically of all, the Shrieking Shack incident. To his credit, I think Dumbledore was just trying to protect Remus (who wasn't really at fault personally, since he couldn't exactly help the transformation; Sirius was mainly to blame there) in making Severus tell no one (and while it's not explicitly stated in the canon just how, I can imagine only something as severe as threat of being expelled would be sufficient to stop Severus from telling others at this point). But letting Sirius/James/Peter get off basically unpunished…. _ THAT part I have trouble reconciling with his character. But yeah, as far as Snape's POV is concerned, Dumbledore is basically evil incarnate at this point. xD

Ecch, obscenely long AN, sorry. _ For reference, I'll try to update this story every other day or so, but fall term is starting at my university this coming Monday, and I have no real means of gauging how busy I'll be until it starts. So we'll see. Should be updated at least 2-3 times a week though, time permitting.

December, 1996

She'd seen it. She was seething. Ronald Weasely and Lavender Brown kissing in the corridor. Right in front of the Fat Lady. For anyone in Hogwarts to see. No shame in the act. No regard for who might see, who might have been watching. It'd taken nearly every fiber of her resolve to keep from smacking both of them right in the face. In front of the Fat Lady and all. If they could be that public, that uncaring about it all, then why couldn't she?

It wasn't even Lavender that Hermione really loathed. Well, of course she did, but Lavender was just … just a pawn in all of this. Just an idiot, an ignorant bimbo, a… She couldn't even think of it. Brown was probably too stupid, too ignorant to even realize that she might as well have torn out her dorm-mate's heart, stomped it into the ground a few times and shoved it back in every time she and Ron…

No. Get that horrid image out of your head… She was nauseous at the very thought.

A tear had nearly formed in her eye as she stood leaning against the other side of the Fat Lady, after having nearly screamed the password. Just anything to get away from that. The worst part of it all, Ron had seen her too. She was sure of it. His eyes had been disgustingly locked on Lavender's the whole time, but… Hermione had walked by. Well, of course she had, she thought crossly. She had to. It was like he'd planned it deliberately. To be standing there, in front of the Fat Lady. Waiting for her to come by to enter the Gryffindor Dormitory – the one place in the world that had until recently seemed the safest on earth for Hermione – and then tear her heart out. Publicly. In front of everyone.

Her normally kind, warm brown eyes had burned with indignation, hatred, but worst of all pain. They'd met Ron's for at least an instant. She was sure of that much. And she hoped, hoped beyond anything else that he'd seen the first two without the last.

She couldn't believe it. Simply couldn't believe that Ronald Weasely. Someone she'd thought, believed, trusted to be her friend could do this to her. Knowingly betraying her love like that. Cold, uncaring. Almost proud of it. And why…? Sure they'd had fights over the years – what friends didn't – but until now… until this… Hermione had always thought that she, Harry, and Ron would always be inseparable. Would always have each others' backs. Ever since they took down that troll together as first years, defeated the wizard's chess board, solved Snape's riddle… No. She couldn't think about it. It was just too painful right now.

Tears were forming now in her eyes. Angrily she wiped them away, steadying herself. She'd have to walk through the Gryffindor Common Room. See all her "friends". Almost all of them on his side. Her stomach churned. She wasn't going to show them weakness if she could at all help it. She counted down from ten in her head, somehow finally summoning enough willpower to walk in. After all, if she could walk through there, she could get to her dorm. She could be alone there – hopefully. All she wanted now was to be alone. Away from Lavender and Ron. And anyone and anything that could remind her of either of them. It was so unfair, so bloody unfair. She'd been his friend for years, they'd done everything for one another. Saved each other's lives more than most adults could honestly say. And yet, despite all that… Despite all that, he hated her enough to do … this…

She'd nearly made it to the stairs leading up to the Girls' Dormitories, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Hermione whirled around, almost angrily. Only to see the third member of the infamous Trio standing there, expectantly.

"Hermione, there you are." Harry had said, brightly. Too brightly. At least for now. He was happy. Or at least content, or… She was fuming inside…"So I was going over the essay for History of Magic tomorrow. But I'm still a good four inches short. And I thought maybe you could help with the last bit."

"Do I look like an encyclopedia to you?" she'd nearly screamed in sudden exasperation. At this, nearly everyone's eyes in the Common Room looked up… uncomfortably… at her… As if they were boring into her.

"Sorry, I …" Harry had stammered, somewhat bewildered at Hermione's sudden hostility. "I just mean, I thought you'd already agreed to help me with this and…" He frowned at the end. "Hermione, what's wrong…?"

Hermione looked down for a minute. Harry was right. She had promised she would help him tonight – he'd been bothering her about it all week. That'd been why she was coming up to the Common Room in the first place before running into… "I…" her lower lip quivered a bit, speaking softly. "Ron, he…"

At this, Harry sighed in exasperation. This sort of cold war between Hermione and Ron had been playing all sorts of havoc in his head. And most of all he just didn't want to take a "side." He didn't want to get involved if he could absolutely help it. "Hermione, I don't care, alright. Let's just talk about the essay…"

It'd been the wrong thing to say. With a frustrated scream, Hermione went running up the stairs to her dorm. Even Harry! Even Harry, her other supposed closest friend was on his side! She just couldn't take it anymore. The room was empty for now. Good. She could finally vent. She needed to vent.

How could things have gone so terribly wrong…? Her two closest friends in the world – until recently at least – seemed almost to hate her. To not even care how much pain they were putting her through. To not even realize that she lo-…

No, she thought angrily. She wouldn't admit it… to him, or herself if she could at all help it. The emotions swirled around in her head. Frustration, rage, nausea, hatred, rejection, pain. The nearest book she could find went flying against the wall with a thud. Then another and another. In a minute or so, she'd ran out of them. But she needed more. It was still as painful, still as frustrating as ever.

Her journal, filled with Merlin how many tearful confessions of her unspoken love; a love that now looked like it would never materialize. She'd ran for it. Tore the cover off it. Started shredding page after page, until her bed was absolutely strewn with crinkled fragments of papers. Hot teardrops landing on a few. When even that failed her, her hand reached over her heart. Her physical heart. It literally felt as if someone had stabbed her there.

Her hand grasped over the more or less spherical golden orb there. And, unthinkingly, enraged, threw it at the nearby wall with as much force as she could muster.

That had been a mistake. In an instant, the timer turner hit the wall, the hourglass shattering, the sand seeming to pour out in a sort of cyclone that spun around rapidly. Hermione's eyes, still dripping with tears suddenly flashed wide in terror as the sandstorm engulfed her.

Then. Then there was nothing. She was back on her bed. In her dorm. Alone again. Seemed she was alright after all. Hermione collapsed against the pillow, sobbing weakly. But that was when she remembered. Her journal – or what was left of it – had been on the pillow. And now it was… gone. The fragments, they'd been everywhere. The books she'd thrown. None of it there.

Her heart began to beat. Anxiety kicked in. The more attention she paid to detail, the more alien "her" dormitory seemed. The beds and desks were still there in more or less the same arrangements, but. The tapestries were different, less faded. None of her things were there. It… it wasn't possible. It wasn't rational. Hermione closed her eyes hard for a good five seconds before opening them. But the scene before her was just as alien as before.

She was starting to become frightened. Just what had happened? Frightened enough that she momentarily almost forgot about what Ron had just done; frightened enough to forgive Harry his earlier remark, enough to at least find him, try to figure this out together.

She'd ran down the stairs, only to find the Common Room… empty. Absolutely empty. But … how? Not five minutes ago, at least half a dozen people had witnessed her and Harry's exchange and… She stopped mid-thought. A sudden, painful theory coming to mind. Hermione … thought she knew what might have happened. It was insane, crazy. She'd never heard of it happening before like this but… it was the only thing that could even begin to reasonably make sense of what just happened.

Trembling, she ran over to one of the bookshelves in the Common Room. Flipping through book after book. Most of them familiar, if newer-looking than normal. But… increasingly horrifyingly… none of the books she could find; none of the editions seemed to be any later than the mid seventies… H-how could that even be…? Surely there had to be some mistake. There had to be some other, more reasonable explanation for what had happened. Maybe she'd hit her head, was having some hallucination. She'd wake up in Madam Pomfrey's in a few minutes and this whole horrible affair would be over. Yeah, that could be it. Maybe… Hopefully… It had to be, she thought desperately…

Because, if the logical, rational explanation – the one that had first popped into her mind, however unlikely – was true. If Hermione was really where, or more aptly, when she thought she was. Then, not only would Lavender have Ron, and Harry take his side. But… she'd never see them again. Not until she was practically old enough to be their parents.

However angry she'd been, however much she hated what Ron – and even Harry – had just done to her, that seemed … unbearable.

"This… This can't be!" she'd whimpered, kneeling down by the bookshelf.

There was no Harry, no Ron to help her here. She was on her own. Truly on her own. And that was … terrifying.

She'd knelt there sobbing softly for… she didn't know how long, when another thought occurred. Even if it was … however many years in the past… Surely there'd still be students here. Other Gryffindors. Even if she didn't recognize any of them, they'd still be here, wouldn't they…?

Unless… it was summer? Or a holiday of some sort. She supposed there was no real reason to expect that just because she'd come from early December that there was any reason that she'd be in the same time of year. She stood up, trembling. She could be alone – for months – before anyone even came. No one could possibly even know to come looking for her. She wouldn't even be born for at least another five years or so… depending on when she actually was…

It was her first, last, and only instinct. She'd find Dumbledore. Somehow, she'd find him. He'd always helped in the past when things seemed darkest, most impossible. He… he wouldn't even recognize her. But… but… she'd explain it, he'd have to understand. He'd have to…

She'd sprinted from the Common Room to the corridor, past the Fat Lady – now dressed rather differently than she was used to – who'd yelled at her angrily for waking her up, before accusingly informing Hermione that there shouldn't even be students at Hogwarts until tomorrow, and saying that she'd never even seen her before.

Hermione had sprinted away again, as fast as her legs could take her. So, it was the day before term started now…? August 31st, right? But… what year? Her thoughts were racing as she finally arrived, gasping for breath at the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office. The day before term started. He'd… have to be there… wouldn't he…?

Then another thought occurred, her heart sinking. She'd need a password. And since she didn't even know the year she was in, how could she possibly put forth the most basic guess…?

Tears of frustration threatened to well up again as she called out anything she could think of related to Dumbledore, but the gargoyle stood silent and unmoving.

Then, in an instant, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Startled, almost scared, she whipped around, only to find herself staring into a slightly different, but instantly recognizable face. His hair was a bit darker grey, he had a few less wrinkles, his beard was almost the same. It was Dumbledore. Hermione had to suppress the urge to hug him out of relief.

For his part Dumbledore stood there looking at her rather curiously. "Are you quite alright, Miss…?" he'd asked, "Looks like you're giving my poor gargoyle quite a fright…"

"Granger…" Hermione looked down. "Hermione Granger." It was so strange, so surreal, seeing Dumbledore, recognizing him, and yet him not knowing who she was? Well, how could he? She wouldn't even be born at this point, her parents were muggles. Her name wasn't even on the list, she…

"Ahh, Miss Hermione Granger." Dumbledore repeated with a kindly smile in his eyes. "So then, Miss Granger, how is it that you came to be here outside my office…?"

"I-I… don't know…" she admitted, the words now flowing out. "I know this is all going to sound really strange and… I don't know if you'll even believe me and…" She sighed. "I don't even know the year…"

"1976." Dumbledore had replied with a slow nod, not questioning her earlier statements.

At this, Hermione's eyes widened with bewilderment. She'd already deduced some time around the mid to late seventies but… actually hearing it. Hearing it from a noticeably younger Dumbledore. It somehow made it seem even more real.

"Professor, I…" she frowned, not really sure how to explain it all, where to even begin. "There's something I need to know. Is it… would it be alright if I talk to you in your office for a bit…? I mean, I know this is probably very out of the ordinary… Certainly never happened before that I heard of… I didn't even know it was theoretically possible until…" Like it or not, Hermione had a bit of a tendency to be quite wordy when she was nervous. Well, not as if she wasn't at other times as well…

"Well now, this does sound interesting…" Dumbledore had replied. "I think I might indulge my curiosity yes, Miss Granger." Turning for a moment to the Gargoyle, he'd uttered "Peppermint Toads", and at once, the stairway to his office revealed itself.

Once the two of them had reached the top, Dumbledore directed her to sit down. He offered her some of the previously named candy. Hermione was feeling anything but hungry at the moment, but out of relief and gratitude that she'd found Dumbledore and he seemed to be willing to listen, she took one. Just holding it in her hand for the moment.

"I've always been somewhat partial to the candy of Honeydukes," Dumbledore had remarked. "Though, at my age, these particular ones seem a bit … disagreeable. Feel free to try it though if you'd like."

Hermione had muttered a weak thanks before suddenly pouring into a tearful, almost erratic, confession of the events that had led up to this. How she was actually not even supposed to be born for another three years, and had been a sixth-year Gryffindor, how she'd gotten into a… fight with some of her friends (she left out the exact details, feeling rather ashamed of it all), how she'd … admittedly foolishly, broken her time turner, and finally how in result, she'd ended up… here. At times Dumbledore had stopped her, kept her from saying too much. There was danger, he'd said, in knowing things about the future before they happened. Who knew what such might do to the fabric of time.

But wait. If he was saying that, then… "So… y-you believe me…?" Hermione had almost whimpered.

"Well, of course I believe you." Dumbledore had nodded. "Anything else would only seem less likely."

Once more, Hermione had to suppress a very strong urge to hug him. "So…" she asked, somewhat afraid of the answer, "Do you know… I mean… Can you get me back, to my own time…?"

A bit of a sad smile came over Dumbledore's face. "Personally, no. While in my not-so-humble opinion, there are certain areas of magic that I consider myself somewhat a master of, the construction and theory behind timer turners are not among them…"

A look of absolute despair came across Hermione's face. She was millimeters away from bursting into tears again.

"Please don't cry." Dumbledore quickly added. "I'd rather not trouble the House Elves to clean my desk again tonight. Again, to answer your rather prudent question, I personally do not know. But, there are of course those who make it their goal in life to research such matters. Under normal circumstances of course, their research is kept hidden but… Well, I have friends among them. I'll write tomorrow to the Ministry. See if I can't get them to find a way to send you back."

A weak smile once more formed on Hermione's face. "Th-thank you!"

"Oh, it's no matter really. Personally I find the idea of all this quite… fascinating. Certainly more so than the book I would have otherwise read tonight… You know, sometimes I think reality is so much stranger than any fiction might ever be?"

"That said," he continued after a brief pause, "It would be doing you a great disservice if not to allow you to continue your education in the same school that you've studied at already into your sixth year. As Headmaster of course, the power falls upon my head to determine which students to admit. And since you've already – in some sense of the word – studied here, and been sorted into Gryffindor, I see no reason why you should not continue to be a sixth year Gryffindor. Though, I'm afraid the role of prefect…" he said, pointing to badge on her uniform, that Hermione had entirely forgotten about until this point, "Is already held by Miss Lily Evans. A lovely girl really. I'm sure the two of you will get along quite well."

Hermione's mind was now spinning. Lily Evans. As in… Lily Evans Potter. Harry's mother? Or eventual mother. She hadn't considered it until now but… She would… would know some of the students after all. Actually, quite a few of them. If her math was right, from what she knew… She'd be in the same year with… That was a bit mindblowing. Surreal.

"So you mean… I can still study here… until you can find a way to send me back?"

Dumbledore had nodded, and at this point explained certain guidelines he thought it best if she observed. Firstly, that she make no indication to anyone that she was from the future. As it'd almost certainly put her in a very awkward position, and again, any information from the future known to the past was almost certain to have unintended consequences. She'd be introduced as an incoming transfer student. Her family had moved, and thus she was attending Hogwarts. While somewhat rare, it had occurred a few times in Hogwarts history, and there was certainly nothing impossible about it. As long as she was careful, no one would probably think anything of it, he assured her. The second point stressed – to the degree possible, she should be honest. The fewer lies she had to tell, had to remember, the better. The lesser chance she had of possibly running into an awkward contradiction she'd have to account for. Thus, it'd be best if she presented herself to the school as Hermione Granger, a sixth-year, muggleborn, Gryffindor. Who just so happened to have transferred there that year.

It… was still all so sudden. She was still in disbelief. But the dominant, logical part of Hermione's mind had to agree with Dumbledore's logic on … well, all points. It really did seem the best way of making it out of the mess that she'd landed herself in.

"Agreed." Hermione had said softly, "And once more… thank you, Professor."