Author's Note: Re-edit. Reminding my darling readers and reviewers that this is an AU storyline, and that I am a busy college student that has no Beta.

This chapter was such a mess. I feel bad for the people who read it before my re-editing, 'cause it really did confuse things. Oops.

Dawn was cold and bright as it entered the windows of the Gryffindor common room. Hermione watched the sky break open into morning, staining the sky an array of pinks and oranges. The grounds glistened with dew and practically glowed like the burning embers of a dying fire as the sun cast its light over autumn leaves and not-so-green grass.

Unable to sleep, she'd curled up by the fire and stared at her school books without really reading them. It was too strange to enter her old dormitory- those four poster beds reminded her of hours she'd spent gossiping with Lavender, hours spent crying alone, and hours spent studying books that never really told her what she needed to know. I mean, they were great for exams, but they hadn't told her how to help Harry when Sirius died, or how to bring the bastard back to life, or how to kill the immortal Dark Lord.

All that wasted time on things that never really mattered. And now I'm right back where I started.

Hermione stood slowly and brushed bits of soot off her school robes. Her soft brown eyes caught sight of something moving; her reflection in a polished frame resting on the fireplace mantle. A sad little thing stared back at her- sickly pale, meticulously groomed, and infinitely hollow. Her hair, not quite as untamable as it had been back in grade school, had been pulled back into a tight bun again, exposing the creases on her forehead that concern and sadness had put there.

God, how she had changed.

Breakfast had just appeared on the large tables of the Great Hall by the time she walked in. A small handful of teachers and students stirred sleepily around her as they piled hot food on their plates. For the moment, it was quiet. Peaceful.

Hermione pursed her pink lips and blew softly on the steam rising from her cup of Earl Grey. A particular sensation crept through her bones and made them tingle - that odd sensation of being watched. She casually glanced up over the rim of her cup to find a small group of Slytherins eyeing her warily. Unfazed, the young witch closed her eyes and amused herself with the thought of acing her O.W.L.S. for a second time.

The amusement quickly drifted off into uneasiness. She couldn't risk being detected and noticed, she knew that. But she also knew how easy it was to exist and never be noticed. Hermione had probably meet a thousand people in her life, but their faces and the details of her encounters with them were hazy at best. Yet there were so many things could go wrong…did go wrong…would go wrong…

Vivid memories filled her mind like a bad slideshow, making her relive the bloody battles, the taunts of masked Death Eaters, the way she'd had to hide away in Grimmauld Place as her friends died off like cockroaches, the awful search for the Horcruxes, that last night in the Department of Mysteries, the way Remus had told her to go, the look on his face as she disappeared, leaving him to die…

Something moved beside her, and she gripped her wand tightly. Someone chuckled.

"Mind if I sit here?"

If I say no, he'll probably make a fuss. Might as well.

"Go ahead," she sighed, obviously irritated by his presence. It was silent again for a short while as the boy sat down. Hermione's skin crawled as she felt more people watching her. In fact, the entire Great Hall was paying way too much attention to their spot at the table. She chanced a tiny glance sideways, wondering if perhaps it was the young man next to her that was attracting so much attention… Oh. Shit. Not just any young man.

He was a Slytherin. A Slytherin Prefect, more aptly. Tall, handsome, with deep green eyes and dark blonde hair that was parted to the side. His robes, she couldn't help but notice, were impeccable; not a single crease in them, even as he sat. He was impressive, and he was pissing her off.

"Need something?" she asked, barely glancing at him as she did so.

"You looked lonely over here all by yourself- I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine, thanks." Hermione put an emphasis on the words, dismissing him as she took another sip of tea.

"David." The boy extended his hand. "David Starlan."

Her left hand remained at her side, gripping her wand in a loose and inconspicuous manner. The sleek Prefect grinned and reached out to gently touch the bandages that surrounded right hand. Hermione flinched hard, nearly spilling her mug down the front of her robes, and turn to give him a mean glare. His eyes, in response, glittered with amusement.

"That looks like it hurt."

"…right, of course you care. What is it you wanted?"

"Just to make your acquaintance," he replied with a smile. A look of disbelief spread across her face, and he seemed to expect it.

"I make friends in all houses, for whatever reasons you want to assume. Like I said, I noticed you were alone over here, and I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Bullshit, you nosy bastard. What is it you really want?

"Do what you want," Hermione muttered, downing the dregs of her cup and resuming her air of indifference. The tall young wizard threw his hands up in quick defeat and bowed slightly towards her.

"I'll remember you said that." A smile touched at his lips again, flirtatious and almost patronizing. Trouble with a capital 'T'.

Starlan returned to the Slytherin table where his friends were giving him curious and accusing looks. But he smiled broadly, bursting with confidence and control, and the entire table relaxed.

As more people streamed into the Great Hall for a quick breakfast, Hermione grabbed her schoolbag and slipped outside. The brisk sound of shoes hitting stone bounced off the high, arched ceilings of the walkway and echoed across the sunlit courtyard, and the crisp morning breeze played with the edges of her new school robes. Her mind kept replaying the scene at breakfast. It would be so easy to wonder why he had singled her out and to pretend he might have really wanted to be friends.

Hermione was a lot of things, but completely stupid was never one of them.

I'll bet my wand he knows something about what happened at the Department of Mysteries. He practically reeks of Death Eater. And even if he doesn't know, it probably wouldn't take much for him to find out. The Ministry doubtless has my name, statement, medical records and a long list of the coins I've cost them on file. I'm a Goddamn walking paper trail.

Her stomach tightened at the thought, and suddenly Hermione found the world around her becoming quieter and more muffled. Familiar sensations of dizziness and nausea began to rise, clouding her mind as if it were stuffed with cotton. She rubbed at the flesh over her lungs in surprise, finding it hard to breathe.

And I'm…not completely healed. Her heart settled as she leaned against an old stone column, running over and over again through her mind what the nurses had told her. I should have died that night. I wish I had died that night. Jesus, what if I never completely heal from this?

The soldier inside her winced; the cynic inside her laughed. Flushed and still a little shaky, Hermione pushed herself gently from the column and shuffled off to Transfiguration slightly later than she'd hoped.

The young witch noticed the amount of stares her classmates pinned her with as she slipped into a desk in the very back corner of the room. But as soon as class started, everyone was too busy jotting down notes and keeping up with a surprisingly young McGonagall to spare her a glance. Seventh year was no joke.

It was the same in History of Magic, too, and in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Charms, and all through the hallways. There were whispers and shrugs, and a mix of disinterested or suspicious looks. Hermione had come from the world outside Hogwarts, the world where people and magical creatures were disappearing like rabbits in a magic show, and nobody wanted to be a part of that. Well, nobody worth thinking about in any case.

The nausea came back after lunch, just as she began her descent towards the potions classroom. So far the day had gone by without much incident, but the cold, dark atmosphere of the dungeon was suffocating. The thin veneer of bravery she had held on to that morning was gone. Anxiety was setting in hard. More worries and concerns filled her mind, making it harder and harder to put one foot in front of the other.

Giving in, Hermione crumpled against an icy wall. Did it really matter if she went to class?

Maybe I should run, right now, and get the hell out of here.

There were steady footsteps in the distance- just a single pair. She closed her eyes and composed herself, ready to take on Filch or the Potion's Master. The footsteps stopped and Hermione could feel someone standing over her.

"Here you are," they said. "Are you feeling alright?"

She groaned and looked up at David Starlan, willing him to disappear. There was genuine concern etched into his strong face.

What a performance. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you care.

"I'm fine."

"You say that too much. Class should be starting in a minute," he sighed, looking down the hallway. His hand reached down and took her arms gently, and David hoisted her to her feet before she could protest. Spots covered Hermione's vision as she tried to pull away from him. It was a decent struggle, but it was a vain one.

"I'll help you down to the infirmary. And don't worry-" he added as her mouth opened to argue, "-about missing any notes. You won't miss anything."

"Charming as usual," someone said as they passed by. The reassuring look on Starlan's face twisted darkly, marring his handsome and eager features.

"Go fuck yourself."

"What a stunning comeback. Your genius never ceases to amaze, Shit Eater."

Hermione stopped fighting David's tugging and allowed him to help her up the maze of enchanted staircases. She must have been terribly incoherent because she swore she knew that voice. But that would have been impossible. It sounded like Harry, but Harry was years away, tied up in the Department of Mysteries. I'm missing something. Something…something about the Order? No. Yes? Fuck it, I don't know.

"Still so suspicious. Do you think I'm going to hurt you?" David's voice interrupted her thoughts and reminded her that she was still holding his arm. He had regained his control and was once more oozing that sweet and eager charm of his. Pulling back from his grasp, she shook her head.

"Perish the thought."

He laughed, and it was a rich, sweet sound. "You really are an odd one, Hermes. Perhaps I'll see you later?"

Her shaking hands grasped the doors of the infirmary tightly and swung them open. The fact that he knew her name was as inevitable as it was disturbing.

"I doubt it."

"I don't," David replied with a tight smile. His smile was not as charming as it had been at breakfast, and his pretty eyes burned with pleasure. Hermione knew she'd been right- he looked more like a hunter toying with his prey.

"What's got your panties in a twist, Moony?"

"I'm looking for Hermes Graingier."

"…the hell is that?"

Remus sighed with exasperation as he looked over the Great Hall once more. Hundreds of students laughed and chattered noisily as they ate their supper. The only person he could tell was missing was the one person he wanted to finally check up on.

"She's the new transfer from Salem." James Potter made a face and pretended to gag at the mention of the American school. A small, rat-faced boy laughed loudly at his side.

"Why are you so interested in her?" came a smooth, deep voice from Lupin's side. "Is she cute?"

"Professor Dumbledore asked me to keep an eye on her, if you must know," Remus replied with a blush. "I don't even know what she looks like."

"Mm, I think I saw her earlier," James interjected through a mouthful of food. "Starlan was dragging some Gryffindor girl out of the dungeons. She looked pretty ill."

"…you saw him dragging someone away, and you didn't stop to help her?" James shrugged, and Remus bit his tongue. The disapproval was evident on his scarred face.

"Is she at the table?" The seeker haphazardly glanced around and shook his head.

"I'll go check the infirmary. Ask Lily to keep an eye out for her, alright? I should have gone looking for her earlier…"

"I'm sure she's fine. Hogwarts isn't like the rest of the world. If she disappears here, she'll turn up again." The soothing voice at his side reassured him. Remus still looked worried.

"I'll see you later." James was bemused as he watched his friend scurry out of the Great Hall.

"He must really like her. I think that's the first time he disregarded you, Padfoot."

A very young and very irate Madame Pomphrey cracked open the doors to the Hospital Wing, glaring at the boy on the other side.

"Is this an emergency?"

"…no. No ma'am. I'm sorry, but is Hermes Graingier here?"

"Not anymore. She left a couple of hours ago."

"Do you know where she is?"

"Do I look like her keeper?"

"No ma'am. Sorry." The doors swung shut and locked with a loud click. Remus ran a hand through his thin brown hair and sighed. Maybe something had happened to her.

It was late as he finally made his way down to the library, after checking the common room and other obvious social spots. Nobody claimed to know her name when he asked about her. Nobody seemed to care. Dim candle light filled the silent library. Remus walked down every aisle of shelves, losing hope of finding the girl Dumbledore had trusted him with. Where could she have…

Oh, Remus thought with relief. That must be her.

At a table in the back corner of the library, a young woman was browsing through a thick stack of dusty volumes. She was unhealthily thin; the bones on her face and neck were pushing against her drawn skin. And her skin was terribly pale, even in the warm light of the candles surrounding her. The girl's brown eyes were filled with seriousness as she browsed line after line of her book, flipping through the pages with almost frightening speed. Unsure of what to say, Remus cleared his throat softly. Hermione jumped and looked up. He smiled reassuringly and opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. The smile on his face fell. She was just staring at him. Like he was a ghost or something. Remus stared back, guilt ripping at his heart. Had he frightened her? Was she okay? Was she even breathing?

Nobody moved or blinked, like statues frozen in the most awkward of moments. The only signs of life were the sound of two heartbeats pounding away at a mile a minute. Time took a cruel interest as the minutes ticked by, forcing each second of silence to last an eternity, waiting until somebody felt brave enough to move.

Hermione broke away first. She rubbed at her eyes tiredly, suddenly disregarding the boy standing before her, as if he didn't exist. She stood, not bothering to put away her books, and walked away. Remus tried to call after her, but the words would not come.

That look in her eyes was still haunting him, screaming FEAR! DISTRUST! and soft, aching sadness. It was…

…it was almost…

…almost like…

…she knew.

It was like she had seen the werewolf inside of him.

I must be exhausted. Did the healers ever mention hallucinations?

Hermione threw herself into her four-poster bed, no longer bothered by the strange feeling of being in her old dormitory. Too many other things to worry about. Her mind wrapped itself around the youthful image of her old professor and clung to it as tightly as a prisoner clings to hope.

Tears brimmed at the edge of her vision. The image had been so clear. I could have reached out and touched him.

Unable to sleep, she snuggled into her soft sheets and stared off into the darkness, daydreaming a million different things, wondering if she'd lost her mind somehow. There was a reason time turners went by hours, not days or weeks or years.

Lost in the sometimes cruel, sometimes sweet world of her thoughts, Hermione could not realize that her plans were shattered. All her ideas of staying safe and unnoticed in this foreign time were gone. Her indemnity was more than ruined.

It was changing everything.

I accept chaos. I am not sure whether it accepts me. I know some people are terrified of the bomb. But then some people are terrified to be seen carrying a modern screen magazine. Experience teaches us that silence terrifies people the most.

-Bob Dylan

Author's note: I hate putting in made up characters, but it was terribly necessary. Apologies to the not-so-kind reader who ripped me a new one for putting a non-canon character in this story.

Up next on Frame of Reference- Fortune's Fool. What will happen when Hermione realizes she wasn't hallucinating? Is there any way for her to fix things, or will fate have something to say about it?