Sorry for the delay in updating, I've been away for a week and had no access to a computer, but I was able to use my phone and reading the reviews made me super happy.
I use a tiny bit of French in this chapter, I took it for A level so there may still be some errors, and the translation is written after it in bold. It's not much French, just a little to add weight to Hermione's "backstory" and you could probably figure it out easily enough.
Hermione POV
"What lessons do you have today Mione?" Harry asked her the following morning as he ladled porridge into his silver bowl, having just finished reading his own timetable.
"Potions." Hermione replied, swallowing the bite of toast she'd been chewing. After a year on the run where they'd scarcely had enough, let alone quality food, being able to once again eat the delicious food at Hogwarts was something she was still savouring.
"That'll be interesting." Harry offered, sounding somewhat unconvinced.
"Mmm, what do you have?" She knew Harry had opted out of potions, having only survived a year of NEWT level due to having the Half Blood Prince's book to assist him. As this book did not yet exist in this era it seemed pointless to take a subject he would surely fail, regardless of the fact the absence of the book also meant an absence of Snape.
"Free period!" Harry grinned at her, "I think I'm gonna see about borrowing one of the school brooms and maybe having a fly." Catching her look of disapproval he rolled he added defensively, "I haven't flown in ages!"
After they'd finished breakfast Harry cheerfully waved her goodbye, eager to be out flying, and Hermione set off for the dungeons (again) for her first lesson in this year.
A few other Slytherins were also headed in the same direction, along with several Ravenclaws. Neither of them spoke to each other, and the class filed inside the classroom silently.
"Ahh, Miss Potter, do come in." Boomed Slughorn when he had spotted her hovering at the back of the class waiting to see where there was an available space for her to quietly slide into, preferably with somebody competent at potions rather than the usual space she had to occupy back in her time with Neville. Hermione was all for helping people, but sometimes it got ridiculous when she became responsible for their potion and ended up neglecting her own in the process.
"Now… Where shall we sit you?" He asked, scanning the room to find a space, "Ah! I know!" Pointing a podgy finger at the table to his right he called out "Crabbe, move, I want Miss Potter to sit near the front." Secretly, Hermione was pleased. Sitting where Crabbe had been put her on the Slytherin table, meaning she was on the same table as Tom. The others on the table included somebody she could only assume to be a Malfoy (his sleek blonde hair gave him away), somebody with a bad perm and the Slytherin prefect, who scowled before looking away.
Calling the class to order, though nobody was being particularly noisy, Slughorn explained to them their task for the day.
"The skilled potion maker is able to use whatever ingredients are available to him at the time and know how to place them together in such a way that they'll be of some use," he began, smiling round at them all, "So for today's lesson I am going to ask you to partner up and read over the list of ingredients I shall be giving you presently," he waved his wand at a stack of parchment laying on his desk, which moved to hover beside him, ready to be doled out, "I'll let you choose your partners for this lesson till I can see who I'll be assigning to work together."
Out of habit, Hermione felt herself sit up a little straighter as he said this, it was her almost inbuilt reaction whenever a teacher was setting them off on a task. She hadn't come to this time for the schoolwork, but she was definitely bent on enjoying that while she was here too.
"Will you do me the honour of working with me Miss Potter?" Internally Hermione cringed, no doubt in her mind that the blonde haired boy was a Malfoy after hearing his sleek and smarmy voice. It was clearly a tone which ran in the family.
"Of course Mr..?"
"Malfoy." He smiled, "Abraxas Malfoy." The way he introduced himself reminded Hermione of the muggle character James Bond. In all honesty, the obvious wealth and no doubt string of women (if Draco Malfoy was anything like his ancestors) made him quite similar to said character.
Glancing over at Tom under the pretence of simply looking around the room, Hermione saw him move his chair closer to the Slytherin prefect (who went on scowling) in a silent gesture that they would be working together to Slughorn.
"Everybody partnered up? Excellent!" At the final word, the parchment stack began to move among the students, depositing themselves onto the desk in front of the partners. Hermione peered closer at it, picking up the sheet and looking over the list of ingredients scrawled in black ink.
"So tell us about yourself Miss Potter?" Malfoy asked as he leaned back in his chair, arm hanging loosely over back of it in a relaxed position.
"What?" Hermione replied distractedly, still pondering the list in her hands and what she should do with them.
"Tell us about yourself." He repeated, "You are quite the…enigma."
From across the table, Tom sneered at his own list, causing Hermione to look up in confusion. Deciding it was nothing to worry about, she turned back to Malfoy, trying to mask her inner frustration. It would be handy to have some of Tom's inner circle "friends" on her side…
"Not much to tell." She smiled in what she hoped was a friendly way, "I moved here from France, where I had went to school in Beauxbatons till the end of my fifth year."
"No attractive French accent for me then?" Malfoy responded smoothly, giving her a wink.
"Je n'ai pas un accent quand je parle l'anglais." I don't have an accent when I am speaking English. She told him, relishing his look of shock, he'd clearly thought he had her cornered with his probing questions and clear flirtation to get what he wanted, which was answers for Tom.
"Parlez vous le français?" You speak French? He asked her, excitement evident on his face.
"Oui, je peux." Yes, I can. Hermione said firmly, grateful for the fact she'd learnt French when she was younger thanks to countless trips to France with her parents, "Now can we get on with our work?" She continued smoothly, hoping that information would suffice.
It quickly became apparent that this Malfoy was no different to the one she had met before, meaning he felt he could smarm his way up to teachers, and simply left Hermione to complete the work whilst pestering her with questions masked with flirtatious smirks and winks. It was infuriating to say the least, and she found herself hacking at the ingredients with more force than was strictly necessary for the basic antidote she was preparing. In her day it was considered somewhat basic and taught to earlier years, however in this era, it was a relatively new development and was classed as an advanced potion due to the methods involved which were as yet not as common to the world of potion making.
This particular antidote had been one they'd taken to making great cauldrons full of during the war, it being a common thing to be needed throughout the day. Countless people were poisoned, and this most basic potion could delay the effects of some of the nastier poisons long enough for them to carry on fighting or work on a stronger dosage.
A single tear slid down her cheek as she remembered the masses of people she had administered this concoction to. There'd been people of all ages. Children screaming and writhing in agony in their parents arms as they were pinned down by healers and the antidote poured down their throats. There were adults too, mothers, fathers and friends. All of them weakened by the symptoms as they suffered and begged to die if only to relieve the pain. She'd seen fully grown men whimper for their mothers, and others refuse the potion because they couldn't stand the thought of living in this world anymore. A cruel world where they spent each day fighting to the point of exhaustion in the vain hope of living another day.
Wiping the tear away, Hermione stole a look around the room to check nobody had seen her moment of weakness. For a brief moment, she thought Tom had been watching her, but it turned out he was in fact asking Malfoy to pass him an ingredient.
When their time was finally up, Slughorn used a charm to make his voice heard above the sounds of potions bubbling and students cursing at their concoctions or partners.
"Times up, turn the heat of your cauldrons down and stand back." He boomed, smiling broadly at them all and beginning to walk around the classroom. Every so often he paused to sniff or stir a potion, whilst swiftly walking past others and offering weak smiles in the direction of some cauldrons whilst steering clear of the hissing potions emitting powerful odours.
When he reached the table Hermione was at he went to Tom's first, peering eagerly into the cauldron and giving him ten points as well as his partner for "a most excellent Draught of Living Death", then it was Hermione and Malfoys turn.
"Oho! What have we here?" he exclaimed excitedly, taking the ladle and stirring the potion once before holding it up to sniff it, "Smells like a near perfect antidote for several poisons." He beamed.
Nodding silently as she did not quite trust herself to speak just yet, Hermione watched Tom out of the corner of her eye, hoping her impressive skills would have the desired effect.
If she had wanted to lay low and escape his attention, it would have been all too easy to create a simple solution to mildly impress a teacher, but she'd hoped to catch the attention of Tom Riddle as well as Slughorn. Both of men would prove vital to her future and she needed to have their attention if she was to truly change the future into a better place.
"20 points to both Miss Potter and Mr Malfoy for a truly outstanding antidote and may I have a word at the end please Miss Potter?" Slughorn said loudly, pouring the potion back into the cauldron and staring at her for a while with something akin to awe, before turning back to the class as the bell rang signalling the end of lesson.
As the class filed out of the room, Hermione slowly gathered her things and pretended not to notice the fact Tom was dawdling and clearly trying to see what Slughorn wanted with her. He slowly siphoned his potion out of the cauldron, saving a small flask for himself for "Extra studies, Sir." And took his time putting his books an equipment away.
"I can't say I have ever had student make such an excellent potion first time in my class Miss Potter!" Slughorn enthused as she walked over to his desk to ask what he had wanted to see her for.
"Thank you Sir." She responded politely, the pride she felt inside only slightly acting.
"Occasionally I have a little… Get together, for talented students you understand?" Here Hermione nodded, knowing he was about to invite her to the Slug club. She'd been invited in her time too, and had sat through the boring meetings hating very minute. Things were different now though. She needed to do this.
"Yes Sir?"
"I was hoping you'd care to join us?" Noticing Tom hovering, Slughorn smiled at him too, "Mr Riddle here can attest to how delightsome they are can't you m'boy?"
Tom smiled, though naturally it did not meet his eyes, and bowed his head respectfully in her direction.
"Simply wonderful." He told her, turning back to Slughorn and smiling before leaving.