Disclaimer: Any familiar characters belong to J.K. Rowling

Chapter 3: Brought Back To Life

Hermione woke the next morning in a warm four poster bed in a charming room. Someone had drawn the deep purple velvet curtains so the sunlight pierced into the room through two arched windows. She barely registered her environment as she sat up in bed nursing her wounds, her chin resting on her hands, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought.

A younger Voldemort was in this very building. Her heart rate picked up at the thought of how easy it would be to go down to the Slytherin dormitories and murder him in his sleep. How many lives she would save if he were dead. Her parents, Harry, Ron, the Weasley's, Dumbledore, Severus, Sirius… A single tear fell from one eye. She could kill him and then kill herself. Rather that then Azkaban. A life for thousands. Tempting. Very very tempting. Oh how much she'd changed. The thought of murder in cold blood didn't even make her flinch. She would end it in a second with her life if she could. With Riddle's life. No, with Voldemort's life. Did Voldemort exist? If she killed him was she murdering an innocent man for another's sins? But alas, there was much more at stake then the murder of an innocent man. Professor Mcgonagall had warned her about tampering with time. The destruction could tear the fabric of time. Balanced so finely. But no one knew for sure did they. It was theoretical. Some spoke of dimensions. There could be multiple Hermione Grangers. Multiple Riddle's. And not all of those Riddle's evil? She groaned.

She was getting carried away with herself in the abstract. Firstly she must find out how she had come to be here, why she hadn't died and whether she could ever return. She scoffed. Return to what? Death. No, she wasn't concerned if she was stuck here but she'd see all the same. It was appealing, the idea of staying in this time period, healing her wounds, preventing two wizarding wars and beginning a new life dedicated to protecting the future of her loved ones. And if she thought about it she'd already interacted with the past and well, there hadn't been an apocalypse. She massaged the temples of her head. Too many variables and unknowns.

Her stomach grumbled angrily but she barely noticed being used to near starvation. She stretched her sore muscles, wincing with pain. She glanced at her arms marked with scars. She traced her finger on the most recent made from the shackles on her wrist now removed. She sighed and attempted to stand. A soft knock sounded from a door.

"Enter" she called.

The door opened. At first she thought no one was there but then a squeaky voice drew her attention lower where a house elf stood with a tray laden with breakfast. Her mouth salivated at the smell.

"Good morning miss" The creature with large bat ears and eyes the size of tennis balls blinked at her, a shy smile on her lips. "My name is being Wendy Miss. I will be looking after you."

"Hello Wendy" it took a lot of effort for Hermione to smile back at the elf dressed in a Hogwarts branded tea cosy. "My name is Hermione."

"I is bringing Miss Hermione breakfast" Wendy smiled a little more easily now. Hermione attempted to get up. "Miss should stay in bed. Miss is not well."

Hermione smiled at the motherly concern from the stranger. Niceness, ah. It had been too long. "Of course Wendy. You know best." Wendy now grinned and Hermione couldn't help but smile more naturally now. Wendy spread the tray over her lap. There was a wide selection. Porridge, pancakes and strawberries with syrup, toast with a variety of spreads and pumpkin juice.

"Is miss wanting anything else..?"

"No Wendy, this is lovely thank you."

Wendy bowed and disappeared with a pop as another knock came from the door.

"Enter".

"Miss Granger, how are you feeling?" Professor Prince had entered. Hermione noted his appearance for the first time as he performed a few diagnostic spells on her. Long black hair streaked with grey and deep black eyes that resembled pools of ink. This man was not to be crossed. There was a fierceness in the lines of his face and the way he stood conveyed control and power. Yet a gentleness in his eyes.

"As well as one could be following months of torture, a year of hiding and a close brush with death." Hermione replied dryly.

Professor Prince chuckled and now sat on a white Juliette armchair. "I expect your joints are feeling sore. I had to break your limbs to realign the bones as well as fixing them. Luckily no brain damage. Quite the miracle."

"Thank you sir for saving my life."

"I thought you'd wished to die."

Hermione looked at the professor deliberating what lay behind his polite demeanour. Curiosity naturally.

"You are wondering how a child so young can speak of so much suffering. Do you pity me sir?"

"Quite the contrary Miss. Granger, I am impressed at your sanity."

Hermione wondered if she should be offended. She laughed instead and a second later was taken aback at the pleasant sound that had escaped her. How long since she'd laughed.

"The past is what it is. To permit my past to ruin my future would be detrimental. Yet.. the future is my past. My past your potential future." She frowned thoughtfully.

"There is a lot to discuss and decipher. For now however your health is our priority. I believe you are 18 years of age?"

"Yes."

"And you studied at Hogwarts?"

She nodded.

"I didn't finish my studies due to the war."

She saw the professors eyes glinting with intrigue but he did not ask more of it.

"Then you will be placed in the 7th year. If you are to stay in this time for the unseeable future it is best that you stay at Hogwarts where Albus can afford you his protection."

Hermione disliked the idea of returning to school, playing a student among the innocent and untainted.

"What year is Riddle in?"

"Seventh year." Again he looked frustrated but hid it well. Hermione prided herself in detecting these contained emotions. Thank you Severus.

"How can I say no?l." she smiled grimly.

"You will be able to begin lessons next week. I will have Rosaline buy your school equipment, books and robes. You can buy anything else you require yourself when you are completely recovered. I have also called to have Ollivander visit with a selection of wands later this evening."

"Oh thank you professor! No need however." She gushed at the thought of being made complete again. It made her deeply insecure at the idea of being unarmed.

"It is done Ms. Granger. Garrick is a good friend of mine. He is happy to serve." Professor Prince smiled and Hermione was hit with a bout of home sickness. His smile was rare but genuine much like a professor from her time.

"If you could drink these potions for me Ms. Granger." Professor Prince placed three flasks by her. "It should help with the muscle fatigue, sore joints and appetite . I will have to return to my classes but Rosaline will be with you shortly and Albus should be seeing you soon. He is taking care of your documents and a cover story."

Hermione embraced this familiarity of danger and secrecy. The professor saw himself out. She attempted again to stand up holding the bed with one hand for support. She breathed a sigh of relief as she found she was able to walk, it was only the pain she had to endure. She headed to the en suite attached to the bedroom. Once inside she realized she had a hospital style slip on so she called hesitantly for Wendy. Wendy appeared. "How can I help miss?" She asked enthusiastically. "Sorry to be a nuisance Wendy but if you could find me some clothes I'd really appreciate it?" Wendy dissapperated with a little bow.

Hermione entered the shower thankfully, moaning as the hot water hit her broken and bruised body. She hadn't washed manually in so long. Relying on spells was definitely not as effective and felt artificial. Under the downpour of water she felt herself washing away both physical and metaphorical dirt. Numbing her injuries. She wondered if she'd grieve now she had space to mourn. In the war her loved ones died one after another, a cruel sadistic domino effect and she was the last one standing. There had been little time to think about the individuals loss. Each one hit her harder turning her heart into stone. She began to refuse herself feeling as it'd compromise her survival. She boxed up her grief, love and loss and placed it far from her mind. Even now as she thought about what she'd done so she could continue fighting she hardly felt it. She was vacant and cold. She clenched her fists as she made a promise to herself to not only recover physically but mentally too. She was a Griffindor for godric's sake. Her emotions couldn't be tucked away, repressed only to explode another day. She smiled as she felt that familiar lioness spirit bubble inside her. She'd made a resolution and damn it, she was Hermione Granger, she was going to make sure she reached her goal.

She stepped out of the shower and dried herself in the towel. She eyed the full length body mirror misty from the steam of the shower shrewdly. Time to see the damage. She waved her wand and almost dropped it when she saw her reflection. Her body resembled a skeleton. Ribs pertruded from her body. Her breasts had shrunk. Her arms knobbly, her collar bone highlighted in the most unflattering away and my god, her face! Her face was gaunt and haunted. She looked like a living corpse. Her eyes looked unnaturally large and sunken. Once golden caramel eyes appeared dead and flat. Plump lips now rough and grey. She stepped closer entranced by her ugliness. Brown unruly curls stuck out in different angles and different lengths. A deep scar ran from her eye to the valley of her pathetic breasts. Why, she looked like a malnourished boy! Never had she claimed to be a great beauty, but this was repulsive. She felt degraded. No longer a woman. The scars she was proud of. They were memories of her struggle, but this skeletal figure screamed out weakness and she refused to be that. She'd rather go over to the dark side then resemble a helpless submissive coward. She turned away from the mirror wrapped a towel around herself and walked back to her room. There on her bed lay a white blouse, a deep wine red wool sweater and a bright red and green plaid skirt. She put them on her frail body. Her skirt fell off. She screamed in fury and used her wand to fit it on her miniscule waist.

Now to fix her hair. She conjured a mirror and with her wand snipped away at her hair in an attempt to make the length even. She cut the back a little shorter and looked back in the mirror thoughtfully. She blocked the memory of how her hair came to be so short. Another day she'll face her demons. Not today.

There was yet another knock on the door. Hermione stood this time and answered. She came face to face with Dumbledore.

"Please come in."

"Thank you Miss Granger. I hear you are on your way to recovery!"

"Yes. Professor Prince has been most attentive."

"Now Hermione I have prepared your identity papers so you can register as a seventh year here at Hogwarts. You have been orphaned by Grindelwald's troops this summer and have been taken under care by Edward Prince, your uncle and godfather. You were home schooled in France. Your name is Hermione Prince. What house were you previously in?"

"Griffindor- but sir is Professor Prince aware of this?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and for the second time Hermione's heart began to thaw.

"This is more a legality issue than anything else."

Hermione nodded.

Dumbledore was about to leave when Hermione interrupted him. "Professor do you not wish to talk to me about… my past?"

"All in good time Hermione." And with one long unnerving look he left.

Hermione sat on the viola chaise lounge and reminded herself to breathe. She tried hard to believe she was here. Safe and sound. It was unnerving seeing the view that proved she was in another Hogwarts. A whole and untouched Hogwarts. No ruin or rubble. All perfectly intact.

Another knock came from the door. My wasn't she popular. Hermione opened the door.

"Oh good you're awake!" Rosaline bustled in, several shopping bags in tow. She began to transfer items from the bags into the regency inspired wardrobe. Hermione glimpsed several pinafores, shirtdresses, blouses and skirts and not one trouser in sight.

"I've just been to Hogsmeade to get you a few essentials. I'll be going to Diagon Alley later this evening to get you your school books, equipment and so on. Is there anything else you need Miss Hermione?"

"Urm a wand arm holder and some trousers please miss".

"Do call me Rosaline" She smiled. "And trousers? Whatever for?"

But of course women didn't wear trousers in this decade.

"To urm, wear. It's far more practical." Rosaline looked unconvinced. "It's a new trend in Paris." Hermione lied smoothly.

"Well I'll buy you some mens trousers and we'll transfigure them onto you."

"Now let's have a look at you." Rosaline held Hermione's shoulders and slowly turned her around. "It'll do, though we have to get you eating."

Rosaline took Hermione's hand and led her into her living room which was similarly decorated in creams, dusty pinks and deep purples. A selection of sandwiches and salads on gold dinner plates awaited them on the small round dining table. Rosaline spoke about herself, her family in Spain and the apprenticeship with the professor. Hermione silently ate, relieved she didn't press her to contribute to the conversation, enjoying knowing more about the intelligent, though slightly vain, witch. She wasn't ready to be normal just yet.

A.N. Yes a warning to the less materialistic. I love fashion and especially this era so expect more rambling details about the clothes they're wearing. If I had the patience all my details would be that specific so it's consistent which is why I might go on about the architecture and so on.