Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter- the books, the movies, or the characters.

Summary: A look into her future sparks a desperation in Hermione to change it. With the uneasy assistance of Dumbledore, she is sent back to 1944 for a chance to do just that. But dealing with Tom Riddle will prove to be more of a challenge than she would prefer.

Sorry that took a while! I've been working a lot. Moving into a new apartment requires more money than I have, unfortunately. Enjoy the chapter! I feel like I butchered it up completely. But hopefully not. :(

Chapter 4: First Impressions

Potions was not by any means his favorite class. If anything, he thought it to be a worthless part of the curriculum. While he admired what one could do with proper knowledge of ingredients and enchantments, and while he had at times benefitted from a good potion or two, Tom found that the potions covered in Hogwarts were too simple most of the time. Running a hand down his face in boredom at the mere thought of today's lesson, whatever that old coot had decided it would be, he rested his head in his palm. There were plenty more important things he could do with his time. Training his own club, for example.

"Going to stand there all hour?"

Tom turned to the doorway, where Durant stood, clearly harassing some bushy-haired Gryffindor. He eyed her for a moment, wondering why he didn't recognize her, before he realized that this was probably the new transfer student they had announced at breakfast. But she wasn't at breakfast. He snorted in amusement. A smirk spread across his face when Slughorn stepped in and called for introductions. While he couldn't hear her quiet murmur of a name, he did enjoy how awkward she seemed to feel when Abraxas snapped at her.

Atta boy.

The boys came and sat down- Walden Macnair in the seat directly in front of him, Abraxas Malfoy next to Walden, Durant Avery to one side of Tom, and Alphard Black to the next. Each gave him a respectful nod as he glanced at them. He locked eyes with Durant though, who exasperatedly rolled his eyes, nodding his head in the direction of the professor. "Slug Club might be useful, but he's an annoying prick," he whispered.

Tom smirked again, dipping his quill in ink.

"...could any one of you bright young witches and wizards explain to the class what Murtlap Essence is?"

Tom scrawled the name of the potion onto the top of his parchment. It was such a simple potion, hardly worth studying in his final year. He could make a dozen batches blindfolded and in a spinning room. Slughorn was losing his touch. Tom didn't even have to finish writing before answering. "Murtlap Essence relieves pain and heals cuts and scratches. It's made from strained and pickled murtlap tentacles and used often in the infirmary." He looked up, but his eyes landed on the same brown-haired girl that Durant had been mocking. She had his back to him and her arm extended far towards the ceiling.

Oh please.

He almost wanted to scoff at her. Perhaps she should have been quicker in her response if she was so confident in her answer. He turned his attention back toward Slughorn, absently running his fingers along the dark barbs of his quill. "Sir," he added politely.

Slughorn's face erupted into a grin, but Tom had an odd feeling that someone was staring at him.

It was the girl. The Gryffindor.

He glanced at her, narrowing his eyes a fraction when he saw her glare. Who was she to get angry at him for knowing the right answer? It wasn't his fault he was quicker to respond. He all but rolled his eyes at her dramatic expression, then looked back at Slughorn.

"Ahh, yes, yes. Excellent! Ten points to Slytherin, Mr. Riddle."

His house wouldn't have half their points if it weren't for him, he was sure of it. Nodding, he looked back down at his desk, pleased to take the pride from the damned lions.

"Well done." Alphard whispered.

Tom's grin faded as he looked back up, the feeling of being watched still hovering over him. And he was right; the Gryffindor girl looked at him with such wide eyes. Almost... afraid? He tensed, but she looked away quickly. Shaking his head lightly in disbelief that such a strange person was allowed to transfer into his school, he looked at Durant, who had noticed her behavior as well. He, too, shook his head.

"Demented," he whispered to Tom.

He looked back down, scribbling the directions to the potion as though Durant hadn't said a word.

The whole point of this self-made mission was to find and stop Tom Riddle. She had thrown herself into another timeline to see this man stopped. This was one of the most unpleasant predicaments she had ever, willingly or not, gotten herself into, so naturally, she would follow through. Hermione would have to face him at some point. Why, then, was this encounter so difficult to believe? After witnessing moving chess pieces, being turned to stone, befriending Azkaban prisoners, fighting Death Eaters, and being a surprisingly crucial part to a wizarding war at her age, this shouldn't have been the most unnatural experience.

She had expected it, therefore she most certainly should not have been so surprised. But here she was, broken quill in hand, tingling legs, twisting stomach...

Said boy looked back up at her with an odd expression and she barely hesitated before quickly turning around. She'd been caught staring. All at once her thoughts exploded into unending streams. Would he disregard her staring? He probably didn't think it worth his time. Or did it mean something to him? Was she a perceived threat? Probably not, she was just a girl. Or would he consider her an admirer? She blanched.

What a revolting thought.

She was probably just being paranoid. Hermione had no reason to be afraid. Well, not yet at least. He didn't know who she was and he had did not have grounds on which to suspect her. She would just have to be calm and set up a game plan on how to take him down.

Slughorn continued with his lecture at the front of the room, conjuring ingredients and supplies for the potion. "Partner up with the person next to you and make one cauldron-full of Murtlap Essence. Your instructions are on page 233 and your materials are on the front table." He clasped his hands beneath his long sleeves. "Begin," he said with a wide smile before he sat down to observe.

Hermione looked to her left, seeing a thin, pale girl with long, black hair. According to her robes, she was a Slytherin. One might suggest the same thing from the permanent scowl that seemed to be plastered onto her face. Surprisingly, though, the scowl melted into a hesitant, but warm, smile. She looked almost... pleasant.

Hermione smiled back warily. This was it. If she was going to stay in this time, she needed to make friends. The opportunity presented itself and she would not let it go. Clearing her throat, she lifted a hand in a shamefully awkward wave. "Hello, I guess you're my partner."

The girl inspected Hermione's crooked wave, then nodded and pulled out her cauldron. Hermione sighed, relieved. She didn't have her supplies yet so she was glad the girl initiated using her own.

She opened her Potions textbook-which Hermione regrettably noticed she did not have either-and extended her hand shyly. "Eileen Prince."

That name sounded so familiar. Where had she heard it before? Mentally shaking her head, she smiled a little wider, taking the girl's slender hand with her now lowered one. "Hermione Graves." She paused a bit before adding, "You're the first friend I've made here."

Eileen's eyes shimmered. Hermione wondered if the prospect of being friends brightened her expression as much as it did because she didn't have many, but then felt very rude thinking that. "I'm honored." The girl half-whispered, turning a couple of pages in her book. "You must be the new transfer then."

Hermione nodded. "From Beauxbatons. I'm really lucky to have gotten in." Really lucky.

"Oh, you must be really smart." Eileen flipped through the textbook, still well away from the required page. "Dippet is very particular when it comes to the school. He would never let just anyone in." Her eyes met Hermione's again, but they were soft. Inviting. Kind. "I'm happy for you."

Slytherins in this time period were much nicer, she concluded. First the dark-haired boy in the hallway that smiled and introduced himself, now Eileen Prince. But then there was Tom Riddle... So maybe not all.

Hermione watched the girl stop at various pages along the way, skimming her eyes over random potions. This girl was so familiar, but she couldn't seem to place it. Her dark eyes reminded her of someone back home. Perhaps a student? She must be related to someone.

While she was almost positive she wasn't related to her, she admitted that Eileen reminded her of Luna. There was an airiness about her personality, and the way she stared at Hermione for fractions longer than necessary was very much like the blonde girl. She seemed ever-curious. The only non-Luna aspects were that she was a Slytherin, had dark hair, and seemed much more sensical. And something about her made her seem unhappy.

"Shall we venture up to the table?" Hermione blinked. Eileen didn't make eye contact, nor did she wait for Hermione's response but Hermione stood and walked with her anyway. Eileen held her book and assembled most of what they needed, while Hermione was proud to say that she knew much of what went into the potion without the book. As she reached for a purple vial, however, her hand collided with another. It was a male hand; pale with long fingers. For a moment, she meant to laugh it off and apologize; perhaps make another friend. Merlin knew she would need as many as she could make.

With barely a hint of a smile and a light blush on her cheeks, she followed the hand up to its owner and instantly felt her color drain.

Tom smiled politely down at her, standing almost a head taller. "Pardon me."

Hermione took a deep, silent breath, feeling her shoulder tense and jaw clench. Words escaped her.

Here she was.

1944.

Potions class.

Touching Tom Riddle's index finger.

It was so surreal. She had never seen a photograph of him, nor had she seen a memory. She had no idea what this boy looked like before today, unless you count tall, gray, seventy-something, and practically inhuman. And yet, seeing him now, Hermione felt as though this face had been frequenting her nightmares. It wasn't long before chills washed over her and she could feel the hatred virtually seeping through her pores. His apology rang silent. She could only think about punching him right in that repulsive smile.

But she couldn't.

Relax.

"Right..." She managed to mumble. Impolite, she knew. But she couldn't bring herself to feel guilty about it. Not with him.

Tom watched her search his face with furrowed brows, then look down at the table. Blinking a couple of times, his smile faded and he felt taken aback. What a peculiar girl. He grabbed the vial and made his way back to his table with Alphard carrying the bulk of the items right behind him.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. She let out a breath and snatched another purple vial off the table. She was mostly angry at herself for the way she handled that... 'conversation'.

Eileen was staring at her with a raised eyebrow. "Are you feeling alright, Hermione?"

Nodding silently, Hermione led the way back to their desks, managing a quick peek in the Dark Lord's direction. He was nonchalantly tossing ingredients into his cauldron and waving his wand. It was as if he'd made this potion every day of his life. His expression didn't seem as bored as it did smug though, and Hermione shook her head.

"That's Tom Riddle."

She nearly fell out of her chair. "...Tom Riddle?"

Eileen nodded. Hermione noticed the tint of pink that colored her cheeks as she spoke to the table. "He was meant to Head Boy-" She quickly looked up at Hermione, "-the Head positions are the top student titles.

Hermione opened her mouth but then closed it quickly, realizing there were many things she wasn't supposed to already know. She just nodded.

Eileen turned her attention back down to the jar in her hands. She twisted the cap off. "Well, it was intended for Tom to get the position- everyone expected it with his marks- but Dumbledore has been turning the Headmaster against him." She placed the off green chunk of Murtlap on a board and placed a dark, flat stone on it, pressing down on it with much effort. "Dumbledore-" She grunted, flattening the ingredient, "-doesn't see the good in Tom like everyone else does. I personally think he's jealous of him. Tom's very intelligent and a very bright wizard. I'm sure Dumbledore sees him as a threat."

Hermione poured the purple vial into the heated cauldron. Eileen had no idea how right she was.

Eileen continued. "Anyway, Edward Manthrite is Head Boy now, but Tom is still exceedingly respectful to him." She glanced her way again. "I don't understand how Dumbledore can think so lowly of such a gentleman."

Hermione wanted to slap some sense into her, but she nodded. It almost hurt her neck to agree with her, even if she was just being polite.

Eileen added the crushed Murtlap to the cauldron and stirred counterclockwise eight times before turning up the heat. "He's very kind, you know. Tom has never caused a scene or disrespected a professor- well, other than Dumbledore. But truth be told, I find I can't stand the man either." She breathed out sharply. "He even makes poor Tom return to that wretched orphanage each summer."

Hermione raised a brow. Orphanage? That's right... he was born and raised in a muggle orphanage. She eyed Eileen. "Do you like him?" Maybe Hermione would never find a friend after all...

A deep blush set across her features. She shook her head vehemently, then reverted back to her almost-silent, spacious self, regretting her chatter. "No, I just admire him." She peeked up at Hermione past her black bangs. "And he's not half bad to look at."

Hermione cringed, sitting back in her chair as Eileen giggled to herself. "Hardly." Every time she closed her eyes and pictured Tom Riddle, she saw the flat, foul face of Lord Voldemort.

Absolutely disgusting.

Allowing herself a peek over her shoulders at the wizard in question, she felt her lips curve into a snarl but held back.

His dark hair was too dark. His pale skin was too pale. His dark eyes lacked any kind of shimmer. His posture was inconsistent. His fingers were too- well, he did have nice hands, but that was one good thing out of a million faults. She saw him tense and looked away before he looked back at her.

Eileen stirred again, adding a clear vile and one with a dark, mucky liquid. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Suddenly Hermione felt her stomach turn. She wanted to shake the girls shoulders and tell her not to trust her with her secrets because Hermione couldn't be honest herself. She felt guilty. "Sure."

"I did like Tom once."

Hermione wasn't sure she liked this. It already started like a horror story. "Once?"

Eileen nodded, waving her wand at the cauldron and adding the Murtlap extract at the same time. "Up until the summer before my sixth year. Dumbledore was sending Tom to the orphanage and I was quite angry with him. Tom had barely spoken to me our entire time at Hogwarts, but the times he had, he was very warmhearted and charming, so I developed quite the crush."

Hermione coughed loudly. The murmuring in the classroom came to a halt as many students stared at her with odd expressions. She blushed and looked back at Eileen. "Go on."

She smiled gently, turning down the heat. "Well, I wanted to tell Tom that Dumbledore was being unfair to him. To make him realize it so he could fight back."

Hermione paled.

"But by the time I found him, he had already boarded the train. I suppose it was lovestruck panic on my part, but I jumped on the train myself. I couldn't track him down though. I was forced to take a compartment until the trail stopped. When we got out, he was already gone." She smiled again. "I figured I'd just make my way to the orphanage, but I got lost." Her smiled widened.

Hermione could see nothing sweet about this story, but she gave her an awkward smile to show she was listening. Her eyes didn't match the smile, so she probably looked rather uncomfortable. She must have left her social skills back in her decade, she mulled.

"I found this dark little home, but pretty, you know?" Eileen's eyes shimmered as they searched Hermione's. "It looked somewhat sinister, but I didn't feel afraid when I stood at the front gate. I felt very much at home, to be honest. That's when I saw him."

"Riddle?"

Eileen shook her head, the blush and smile both returning in full force. "Not him. Someone else. Another boy. A beautiful one." She whispered. Then she frowned, her eyes beginning to glisten with tears. "A muggle." The way she said it sounded like she had no hope

Hermione tilted her head. This story sounded familiar. She was sure she knew Eileen. Or, well, of her. "A muggle? Who was it?"

Eileen shook her head quickly, grin back in place. "Oh, you wouldn't know him."

"You'd be surprised..." Hermione muttered this more to herself than Eileen, but the girl gave her a funny little chuckle.

"You're silly, Hermione." She paused before adding, "He looked to be a year or two my senior. He's not conventionally attractive, I wouldn't say, but I found him wonderful the moment my eyes laid on him."

Hermione couldn't help the soft smile she gave the girl. "Did you talk to him?"

Eileen blushed again. "Goodness no! What would I have said?"

She laughed, taking a turn at stirring the cauldron now that it was almost done boiling. It was a pale yellow, not quite as bright as it needed to be. "Maybe your name! And a 'hello'. How about a 'how do you do?'"

Eileen laughed with her. "Have you ever really fallen for someone, Hermione? From the moment you first laid eyes on them? I can't even think of Tobias without wanting to cry. The emotions just... well up. Does that make me a fool?"

Hermione placed a hand on Eileen's warm one. "Not at all! You're allowed to fall in love. And you know," She leaned back, resuming her stirring with a wicked little grin. "just because he doesn't know you, doesn't mean he wouldn't like you back."

Eileen sighed. "I want to talk to him. I always feel like a proper stalker, though watching him through his windows on long weekends and breaks. But I'm afraid he'll turn me down."

Hermione smiled. "You should try it. Next time you see him outside, walk up and talk about something interesting. Something muggles like."

Eileen stared blankly. "Like... what are they called- microwaves?"

Hermione erupted in giggles. "Probably not kitchen appliances, no. I don't think that would get a good impression across. Introduce yourself first. Then ask his name-"

"But I know it already... I would feel embarrassed."

"How do you know it?" She cocked her head to the side.

"I heard his mother call him. And their family name is on their gate."

"Ask anyway. He doesn't know that you know."

Eileen nodded. "I suppose..."

"Then ask him if he's in school, what he likes to study, if he would like to get coffee with you and talk..."

Eileen blushed. "Imagine that. A date with Tobias Snape."

Hermione faltered. That was it. Eileen Prince. Tobias Snape.

Severus Snape's parents.

Eileen gazed into Hermione's suddenly wide, sad eyes. "Hermione?" She squeezed her free hand, taking the spoon from her other to continue stirring the cauldron while Hermione came to. "Hermione, are you alright?"

Eileen Prince was madly in love with Tobias Snape, a cold, hard muggle who, sadly, did not love her back. And he never would. What should she say? "I-I'm sorry. I was caught off guard. I remembered something. Something I had forgotten. Sorry." She couldn't look Eileen in the eye.

The dark-haired girl looked at her questioningly. Then she averted her gaze, smiling again. "Thank you, Hermione. I'm glad we're friends."

Hermione swallowed a growing lump in her throat. "I am too, Eileen."

"Spectacular!" Slughorn boomed right in front of them, making the girls jump in their seats. "The potion is perfect! Miss Prince, Miss Graves, ten points each to your houses." He nodded with a wide smile and walked around to the other pairs.

Hermione let out a quick laugh, shaking her head at Eileen, who was also giggling. "Well done, Miss Prince." She half-mocked.

Eileen blushed and looked down. "You too, Miss Graves."

Hermione appreciated Eileen stepping out of her comfort zone with her; trying to be friendly and bold. Maybe she had made a friend after all.

And Severus Snape's mother, of all people.

What would Harry and Ron say?

Stop reminiscing.

Potions class went by quickly after they finished. Hermione and Eileen chatted about possible topics Eileen could bring up around Tobias, while Slughorn wandered the class giving points to just about every pair of students for correct conjuring up Murtlap Essence. She did notice, however, that he played favorites. Hermione and Eileen had gotten ten points each, while most other students only received five. Tom Riddle and Alphard, Abraxas and Walden, and Durant and a short, brown-haired boy with the brightest blue eyes Hermione had ever seen received a whopping fifteen points each for their 'brilliant' work, totaling 90 points for Slytherin for the six boys.

Hermione felt very frustrated.

Eileen assured her it did not mean their potion was any less brilliant than theirs. Slughorn's Slug Club members were prized and he treated them as such. Eileen herself was a member, though not a very active one. She was particularly smart, but also awfully shy. One Slug Club member in a group did not get you as many house points as two, though.

After class ended, she excused herself as politely as she could, smiling brightly at Eileen, and hurried out of the room. It was towards the last forty five seconds of Potions that she remembered Tom Riddle was there and he might try to do or say something vile after she ignored him, so she fled. But maybe that was her paranoia again.

Which, as it turns out, was working hard. Tom Riddle did not follow her, nor did he look at her, nor did any of his friends. It was as though she didn't exist to him. So it all came down to paranoia. Again. Perhaps she left her sanity in the 90s as well.

She stopped at the doors of the infirmary. Prior to seeing Headmaster Dippet, Hermione had promised she would come back for a follow up appointment as soon as she could, to make sure the potions were working properly. Her ankle still felt swollen, so the promise was gladly kept. Hermione pushed the doors open and strode in.

Tom didn't pay her much attention after their meeting at the front table, but at the very end of class, he looked up at the brown-haired girl. She gathered her things into an unorganized pile and more or less ran out of the room. Durant, Abraxes, Walden, and Alphard followed him out the door as he made to leave as well, turning the opposite corner without even sparing her a second glance. She was a strange girl, and not one he'd make an effort to impress.

She, like potions, was hardly worth his time.

I'll try my best to update soon! And to make the next chapter, like, eight times better than this one.

Thank you for reading!