A/N- Unless a different POV is indicated, narration will refer to Hermione and Lily as who they actually are, not who they look like.
.oOo.
September 2nd, 1977
[First Day of Classes]
Hogwarts
.oOo.
The next morning, Hermione shot out of bed, her shrill scream piercing through the otherwise peaceful morning. This isn't my flat, this isn't my flat she thought over and over, grasping for her wand. Her heart rate soon calmed to a dull roaring in her ears, and she blinked, taking in the tell-tale four post bed. This…this was Hogwarts, but how in the world had she gotten here? The last thing she could remember was the beach and that manor and—oh.
"I'm going to murder Zabini," she thought viciously, wincing when she swung out of bed to face an open window. The sunlight streamed into the room, alighting the comfortable accommodations, and Hermione was entirely irritated.
She fell back onto her mattress with an audible groan, grateful all the 8th years were to be given their own rooms. Last night was coming back to her in flashes—Blaise had to keep her from doing what on a yacht?—and it was only when she remembered they had missed their first day back that Hermione could muster the energy needed to get up.
She blindly groped through her bag when she heard a knock on her door.
"Lils, are you alright? I heard you screaming," she heard Harry call. It really must have been a rough night, because Harry never sounded so raspy and she certainly wasn't whoever "Lils" was.
"Yeah, gimme a sec," she called back, fingers wrapping around a little vial of Sober Up potion signed with Blaise's elegant scrawl. Harry was right. He really was a git, but he sure knew how to have a good time.
Knocking the vile tasting liquid back—was it usually so disgusting? That slimy Slytherin probably added something on purpose—she was relieved when her vision cleared and her pounding headache faded away.
"Have you seen the Potion he left—" she started, opening the door. Her voice died in her throat.
Standing in front of her was not her Harry, but rather some funhouse mirror version of him. He was taller, lankier, with bigger ears and a more defined, crooked jaw that gave him a boyish charm.
"Gods Potter, what happened to you last night?" Hermione asked, squinting at his appearance. Harry brought his hand up to the side of his face self-consciously.
"Err, after the meeting with the Prefects?" He looked at her, his brown eyes wide—wait, brown? Considering he had just called her Lils, it wouldn't have taken a genius to figure it out, but it certainly took The Brightest Witch of Her Age to handle it with such grace.
"James?" she asked breathlessly, and the boy across from her nodded.
"I… yeah, that's me. We've got to get the first years to their classes, Wait for you in our Common Room?" he asked, and Hermione nodded mutely, shutting the door with no preamble before rushing to the bathroom.
Gripping the sink, Hermione barely managed to stifle her cry when instead of the familiar pools of honey brown, a pair of green eyes stared back at her from the mirror.
.oOo.
Hermione flew through her morning routine, eager to focus her attention on more important things. Once she was absolutely certain she wasn't locked in some terrible dream and she had spent a sufficient amount of time pacing back and forth while muttering under her breath, Hermione, as she always did, got down to business. Convinced James could fend off some first years on his own, she pulled out a quill and some parchment, outlining what she knew.
Two nights ago, Harry dragged her out. That became somewhat of a 24 hour party. In order to stop Harry from proposing preemptively, Hermione table danced. Blaise brought them to Hogwarts. Ron kissed McGonagall. Hagrid took them to their rooms. Ron may have kissed Blaise. She went to sleep and woke up as Head Girl Lily Evans? That didn't sound quite right. Maybe she had gone wandering and wound up opening a door to an alternate dimension. It really wasn't any more plausible than just waking up, but there were reports of the Castle doing weird(er) things after the reconstruction. She searched through the room, prowling for any sort of hint—a secret door, maybe?-when James was knocking on her door again.
"Look, I promise we'll just do our jobs, okay? No funny business, I swear it, please come out."
That was another issue, Hermione jotted down quickly. From the little she'd seen of him so far, James didn't seem like a man who had finally snagged the girl of his dreams. Weren't he and Lily supposed to be happily dating by now? Based on the stories she'd heard from Remus and Sirius, she expected James to have knocked down her door and carried her down to breakfast. Maybe they got into some sort of argument, but if so, how the hell was she supposed to act around him? She supposed she'd have to play It by ear.
"Sorry James, I'm not feeling too well, erm, girl things" she added quickly. If alternate-universe James was anything like Harry and Ron, that should do the trick.
"Oh! I, I could tell Headmaster Dumbledore or Minn-I mean, Professor McGonagall, if you want?" he stammered. She could hear his feet shuffle from outside the door.
"No, no, I'm just about done, one moment," she replied in alarm. The last thing she needed was for McGonagall or Dumbledore to enquire of her. She needed to keep a low profile until she could figure out what exactly was going on. Throwing on the robes Lily kept in her wardrobe and carefully attaching her Head Girl pin, Hermione opened the door, flashing James what she hoped was a casual smile.
"C'mon then, don't want to keep them waiting any more than we have to," she said, brushing past him with a forced air of confidence. If she attended her seventh year, Hermione probably would have been Head Girl, and hadn't Sirius mentioned how alike she and Lily were? In comparison to fighting a Dark Lord, she could certainly handle playing a 17 year old, especially one she already knew a bit about. She'd just last the day, regroup tonight and be back home in time for Treacle Tarts. With a deep breath, Hermione walked through the doors of the Great Hall, greeting the room with a cheery, "Good morning!"
As those paying attention dutifully greeted the Head Girl, Hermione relaxed. She wasn't called The Brightest Witch of Her Age for nothing, right? This would be a breeze.
.oOo.
To be fair, things went fairly smoothly at first. She greeted first years, handed out schedules and made small talk with professors, being careful to avoid any mention of her summer and instead focusing on curriculum-Hogwarts: A History never failed her. It wasn't until she had to sit down for breakfast that she realized the predicament she was in.
She scanned the Gryffindor table (James was still talking to some Hufflepuff so she couldn't sit with him) when she finally narrowed in on a familiar sandy mop.
"Remus!" Hermione cried, throwing her arms around the unsuspecting Werewolf who had just gotten up to receive his schedule.
He stiffened before returning her hug awkwardly, and Hermione had to wonder what her mistake was. Even if Lily was having an argument with James, that shouldn't put her off all the Marauders, right? Theoretically, she hadn't seen them since the end of last year, why wouldn't she be hugging them?
Of course, these considerations came later, because in the moment, all Hermione could think about was how wonderful it felt to be in the arms of her old professor again. She beamed up at him, willing the sob in her throat down and instead trying to channel her torrent of emotions into happiness, which was almost certainly more natural than bursting into tears.
"Hi, Lily," he said finally, his voice low and soft. "I hope you had a good summer."
She was saved from a reply when their conversation was interrupted by another familiar voice.
"I told you she'd fall for our charm eventually, mate, just took her nearly six years. Tell me, Evans, are you always this stubborn?"
Hermione barely had time to take in his appearance—clean shaven and baby faced, his hair up in a top knot while his eyes sparkled with a mischief that would die down considerably—before she launched herself at him, too.
"Sirius!" she exclaimed, her vocabulary reduced to nothing more than names in her haste to greet the younger versions of men she had loved. She took in his scent greedily, fists grabbing the dark fabric of his robes as, clearly delighted she was playing along for once, Sirius swung her around. When she did not screech for him to let go, Sirius exchanged a quizzical look with Remus, who shrugged.
"Alright there, Red? I know I'm irresistible but Prongs'll have my head if I keep his witch any longer. What's got you so affectionate, anyways?" Sirius asked, and Hermione cursed inwardly. Lily might have been with James, but maybe she and the Marauders didn't get close until they married?
"I'm not his witch, I'm not anybody's witch you mongrel," she tried, imagining what a woman with six years of experience dealing with Sirius Black in his mischief making prime would say. "I just…I heard you lot got hurt." That was believable, wasn't it? Given their reputations, at least.
"You heard we were hurt?" Sirius asked dramatically, jumping onto the bench at the Gryffindor table. "If one measly pretend injury is all it takes to win your good graces, love, I would have started that rumor ages ago."
"Where'd you hear that, anyways?" Remus asked, and once again, Hermione was cursing herself. This really wasn't going well.
"From me," a Scottish accent rang out. She had long locks that were pulled up into a twist, dark eyes and an even darker complexion. "Why else haven't I heard from you since June, you prat?"
"Marlene!" Sirius sang, jumping down and dipping the girl down into a kiss which she calmly rejected. "You were worried about me?"
"More relieved, if anything. How are you, Lupin?" she asked conversationally, effectively giving Hermione a reprieve. Eventually, she turned back to Hermione.
"I'd ask you to sit with us, Evans, but I think Fortescue over there has been dying to see you. Congrats on Head Girl," she said before walking off to the Ravenclaw table, leaving a pretend-put out Sirius to pine in her direction.
Armed with a better idea of how she should be behaving, Hermione roused herself to face her former mentors again. "I'm glad you two are alright, but let's try to keep it that way, shall we? Merlin knows the poor Mediwitch has seen enough of the Marauders in the past six years to hold her over the last." It sounded suspiciously like the talk she had given Ron and Harry a few nights earlier.
Remus paled considerably at this comment, but not sure if Lily had officially been told about his ailment, she pretended not to notice.
"You underestimate us, Lily-Love, but we humbly thank you for your consideration into our well beings. Now, if you'll excuse me, we have a friend to find and a witch to woo," Sirius said, slinging his arm around Remus and sauntering off in Marlene's direction. At the thought of facing the rat, Hermione paled, and quickly sought out whoever the hell Fortescue could be.
.oOo.
As it turned out, Fortescue's first name was Alice, as in the soon to be Alice Longbottom. It was difficult, talking to her and Frank when she knew what grisly futures awaited them, but it was certainly easier than pretending to be indifferent towards Sirius and Remus, or even worse, friendly to that rat. James was still unsettlingly absent from her interactions, but that was one mess the real Lily could clean up when she got back to her own time. That did beg the question, of course, as to where Lily was, but those were implications Hermione simply did not have the brain power to consider. Right now, she was focused on lasting the day without crying or murdering for any reason. She knew what the dangers of messing with time were, and having just come out of a war, she wasn't looking to change anything and start a new one.
"Doing alright?" Alice whispered, leaning over Hermione's cauldron. There could be no better friend for a misplaced time traveler than Alice. She was considerate but not nosy, and she was an automatic partner in all the classes they had together. Potions was especially nice since Slughorn seemed to adore her, and said nothing when she and Alice bowed their heads and whispered instead of paying attention.
"Yeah, just thinking." Another bonus was the fact that Hermione could brew Strengthening Solution with her hands behind her back. Yes, Slughorn had said it was a warm up of sorts after the summer, but come on. They really weren't concerned about their NEWTs, forget the eminent war brewing.
"You're not thinking about him, are you?" Alice asked, and Hermione realized she was caught. She couldn't help but watch Snape, or Severus, as Lily might have called him, from across the room, carefully stirring his cauldron while scribbling notes in his text. It was certainly a treat, watching the Half Blood Prince in action when he wasn't one wrong move away from lambasting you in front of all your friends. She wondered whether he had been branded yet. A part of her jumped to reach out to him, but another knew that his miserable lot in life was essential to Harry's success. The Greater Good was the worst, she thought solemnly.
"Ah, I don't know. Do you think he looks different this year?" That'd be a good reason to stare at someone, right?
"He looks as sallow as he ever has, I suppose that's because most of his cronies have graduated." She turned to Hermione, and her expression softened. "He doesn't deserve your pity, he made his choice a long time ago," Alice said gently, and Hermione was reminded of her future son, Neville.
"You're right, as you always are," Hermione sighed, grinning when Alice bumped her shoulder with her own.
"It's our seventh year, Lils! You're Head Girl and Potter is finally off your arse, let's try to enjoy it."
Hermione almost dropped her stirring rod into her potion. "What did you say?"
"That we should enjoy our last year? That you're Head Girl? That James and the motley crew have finally toned it down? Frankly I'm surprised you were so nice to those two this morning, but I suppose they are pretty endearing when they aren't setting off fireworks to help Potter-the-Prat propose, eh?"
"I was just glad to see they made it back in one piece," Hermione huffed, and Alice sent her a sly grin.
"And you're sure that little display of maudlin affection had nothing to do with Romulus?"
At this point, Hermione's head was spinning.
"Little display…maudlin affection…what? You're terrible! And we really need a better codename for him," she mumbled, knowing that it was probably as much subtlety as she would get in a time where people thought calling the werewolf Moony was a good idea.
"So it is him, I knew it!" Alice said triumphantly, bottling her potion up and lofting it in the air like a trophy.
"It isn't Alice, for Merlin's Sake!" James wasn't pursuing Lily anymore and Alice thought she liked Remus? This couldn't be good.
"It is and it has been, at least since fifth year. And don't you mean for Niviane's sake?"
"What?" Niviane as in the enchantress who tricked Merlin and then saved Arthur?
"You know, for the new SPEW initiative? Oh, I'd almost forgotten!" Alice exclaimed, rummaging through her bag as they left the classroom. "I've got those buttons made. They're not as good as your charms, but they'll have to do for now."
Alice placed one in Hermione's palm face down and wrapped her fingers around them quickly, as if she were bestowing her some grand, secret gift.
Without thinking, Hermione glared. "It's S.P.E.W., not SPEW!"
"Embrace the acronym, Evans, embrace it!" Alice called over her shoulder as she left to meet Frank.
Hermione watched the future Auror walk away, a bit flabbergasted by all that she had just found out. When Alice disappeared in the sea of black, swishing robes, she unclenched her fingers, lifting the button in the air. There, in cursive letters, was SPEW, or Support the Publicity of Empowered Witches. Above the letters, black and white sketches of influential witches throughout time flashed grins and opened their mouths to reveal the same speech bubble: "Do you SPEW?"
Unable to contain herself, Hermione dissolved into a fit of laughter. Perhaps she and Lily Evans were more alike than originally thought.
.oOo.
To Guest: I'm glad you like Blaise! He serves as a bit of a Jiminy Cricket to Hermione, if Jiminy Cricket was a Slytherin, anyways. Stay tuned for the proposal, though, because my lips are sealed.