Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville and Hermione got off the carriage after Lupin into the tight throng of students making their way to the school, reuniting with friends who were on different carriages.
"Well," Lupin said. "I best be off. I look for-"
"Hi, Hermione!" a chipper voice sang and two arms hugged her from behind.
"Gah!" Hermione jumped and spun around and to see her younger friend. "L-Luna!" she squeaked.
Younger and now taller (or noticeably taller now, Luna had informed her she was taller than her before), it seemed. Luna Lovegood beamed at her, her large silver eyes shining in the lamplight, her dirty blond hair fell to her waist in soft waves and she wore her signature butterbeer bottlecap necklace, and her strange earrings of the day were navy ribbons tied into bows with bronze bells in the centre of them. Though underneath the broad smile, spring in her step and curated strange appearance, she seemed off.
She was always pale, but she looks paler, Hermione thought. "Luna are you alright?"
"Well," Luna's smile faded and she took Hermione's hand before catching Lupin over her shoulder. "You must be the new professor! I'm Luna Lovegood!"
"Professor Lupin," Lupin smiled. "It's very nice to meet you, Luna. I'll be off."
Luna had either forgotten Hermione's question or decided it was best not to answer. Hermione was the last person to criticise avoidance and let it drop. If Luna wanted to tell her, she would, maybe when she didn't have witnesses that looked at her like an unwelcome stray that wormed her way into their home. Neville spared her the uncomfortable expression.
Oh, Luna, sometimes I wonder if Skylar and I are your only friends... Hermione thought. But a craning of her neck and eye scan told her that she might be off base in thinking the two were friends- she may have only been a year younger than Hermione, but she was three years younger than them. Did she ride to Hogwarts alone?
"If I knew you were taking the train, I would have looked for you," Luna said, without malice.
"I'm sorry, Luna," she said. "I thought I mentioned I was with the Weasleys in my last letter."
"We were on the move in Iceland quite a bit," Luna explained. "I mustn't have gotten it."
Guilt gnawed at Hermione once more. She wondered if she would ever get used to the feeling, it was familiar. She wished she had spied her at the station-but then remembered that she would have left her anyway. The dementors on the train...was Luna alone when they came?
"You look pale," Luna lowered her face to hers. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Hermione shrugged with a smile.
"We're all fine," Ron gestured to the entrance. "Shall we go before we're late?"
"You don't care if we're late for anything but meals, do you, Ron?" Hermione sighed.
Ron groaned and rolled his eyes. "I'd be offended if that came from someone who divides every meal into exact thirds."
Luna turned to Hermione and blinked. "Oh, Hermione, I don't think that's terribly healthy."
"I'm fine," Hermione sighed again. "Let's go before Ron resorts to-no, I'm not that much of a bitch."
Ginny smirked. "I am! Let's go before my dear older brother resorts to cannibalism!"
Luna howled with laughter at this while others sniggered. Hermione didn't finish the joke, but seeing Ron's ears turn bright red, she regretted setting it up.
"Erm, sorry, Ron," Hermione turned her gaze to her feet.
"Sure you are," Ron snapped. "Grew up with a sister only a year younger than me and I had no idea girls were so mean!"
They entered the castle in relative silence, Luna either oblivious or not caring told began telling Hermione about her trip to Iceland. Hermione loved the animated manner in which she described the fjords, and the two mountains and the shimmering of the Northern Lights. Were it not for Hermione's guilt she might have been captivated. Though she couldn't help but notice that the others, unplagued by guilt, were not overly involved with the stories either.
"Is it true then, Potter?" a smug voice sneered behind them. "You fainted?"
They all turned to see Draco Malfoy's pale, pointed face smirking with an overly satisfied gleam in his pale eyes. He of course was flanked by his favourite goons, Crabbe and Goyle, whom Hermione could scarce tell apart. Of course that arrogant prat wanted to torment Harry. Hermione wondered how the fuck he got the information, but stepped between Harry and Malfoy, staring daggers at him.
"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron groaned before Hermione could speak.
"Excuse me," Luna losing the dream-like quality of her voice, joining in the glaring. "I'll have you know it's natural and I fainted as well."
Malfoy and his goons burst into laughter. "Well, if Looney Lovegood fainted, it's perfectly normal! You keep associating with worse and worse, Potter!"
Hermione's blood boiled. Malfoy's shit-eating grin churned her stomach. He thought he was so much better than everyone. Two years now he had belittled and mocked Harry for nothing more than being born into circumstances outside his control. He held himself over muggleborns like Skylar and Saiyaka, throwing racist slurs at them, mocked Ron for his lack of wealth, as if Malfoy had some control over being born with a silver spoon in his greedy little mouth, and mocked Hermione for her unknown origins. Now, he was insulting one of the kindest (and perhaps strangest) person Hermione had ever met.
"You might know the kind of hardships that lead to that if you weren't born with a silver spoon shoved so far up your arse we can see the handle out your bloody mouth!" Hermione yelled, voice more shrill than she wanted. "So you can go fuck yourself, you self-aggrandising, inbred cunt!"
"I'd ask if you kiss your mother with that filthy mouth of yours," Malfoy sneered. "But I already know the answer."
"Oh, I'm so fucking hurt by you pointing out the obvious!" Hermione hissed.
"I think you are hurt that Mummy left you," Malfoy cooed. "Is that the 'hardship' that leads to fainting at dementors, kitten?"
"I've met your dad," Harry said. "I bet the only reason your mum didn't leave you is because of that silver spoon. Any woman with brains would have left you both a long time ago otherwise."
"Oh, did the subject of mothers sting a bit, Potter?" he laughed. "Mudblood bitch didn't-"
"I swear to God!" Harry seethed nearly leaping out from behind her.
"Harry!" Hermione blocked Malfoy, and Harry stopped in his tracks. "He'll just go snivelling to the teachers if you hit him. Don't get yourself expelled for this arrogant prat."
"I'd listen to the little stray, Potter." Malfoy sneered with a smug grin on his face.
"You know," Hermione turned to Malfoy with a cruel smirk. "I don't think I mind the cat comparisons. They're quick, clever, adaptable, always land on their feet and have brought entire species to ruin. Mark my words, little mouse, mess with any of the people behind me and you'll have a very intimate understanding of how this cat toys with her prey."
"Is that a threat?" he said, like everyone but Ginny, he had enough hieght on her that she had to look up at him, but she could still see the fear in his pale eyes.
"It's a promise," she hissed closing the gap between them. "Adapt or face extinction, Draco Malfoy."
Malfoy gulped before attempting to sneer down at her. Hermione imagined the prat was going to play the 'when my father hears about this' card. She knew how to counter it.
"If my father found out-" his voice cracked.
"Are you sure you want to play the father card with her?" Harry-Harry of all people!-asked. "You do realise she's the one person Snape favours over you, don't you?"
"Say, isn't he the head of your house?" Ginny mused.
Malfoy shrank under the leverage Hermione so rarely used. Hermione hated falling back on her father's authority, and made a point to only threaten it when she was backed into a corner. And she never actually came to him for students antagonising her. She thought it was obvious he would placate Lucius Malfoy before punishing his son in her defence. Malfoy's narrowed eyes and clenched jaw told her it wasn't so obvious.
But I had it handled, he used his last card, I knew how-Always have to be the hero, don't you, Harry?
"Let's go, Crabbe, Goyle," he said. "Enjoy your social decline, Potter."
Hermione watched as the useless trio skulked down the corridor in silence. Once they were out of earshot Hermione felt the anger rise within her. She had it handled. Hermione was done being rescued by her father's authority. She was done being rescued by Harry. For once, she had a handle on things, she had control and now Malfoy would never respond to her threats again unless she invoked her father. Maybe it was that her nerves were frayed from fending off the dementor, maybe it was the way Harry always took Ron's side over the last two years, or maybe it was the dismissals piling up. Hermione wasn't going to be silent. She'd be kind, but she'd be listened to.
"You have to know he won't take me seriously after that, Harry." Hermione whispered. "Why would you bring him up? I-I had it handled."
"He'll leave you alone for the time being," Harry wasn't as delicate about his volume. "I don't understand what's wrong with that?"
"Because I need him to take me seriously, Harry," she said. "I'm more than just Severus Snape's daughter."
"And I know that, Hermione," Harry groaned. "But Malfoy doesn't. Listen, people like Malfoy respond to authority."
Hermione looked at Harry and there wasn't a trace of malice. It was just confusion, hurt and anger. She knew he meant well. "Malfoy responds to power, Harry. And you swooping in before he can even respond tells him I have none. You do understand that, don't you?"
"I understand I helped you," said Harry. "What I don't understand is why you're upset with me."
Are you even listening to me?! This is a lost cause..."I'm not upset, Harry," she sighed. "I'm just... disappointed."
Harry ran a hand through his untidy black hair and sighed. "Hermione, listen-"
"Well, well, well," a cold voice said from the stair case. "The six of you are taking quite a bit longer than the rest of the student body. I do wonder what has you so delayed."
Hermione's father stood on the steps, staring down at the six of them with an impassible expression on his pale face. Hermione tried again to decipher a mood from his black eyes, but found nothing but displeasure and exasperation.
"Sorry, sir," she said, quietly, her eyes moving to her feet.
"I doubt it's your fault," he stared daggers at Harry. "Now, it's fortunate that you are all together. Longbottom, and both Weasleys, you three are free to go."
Ron, Ginny and Neville cast a concerned look to the ones asked to stay behind before silently climbing the stairs to the Great Hall, giving her father as wide a birth as possible. He watched the three leave and he beckoned Harry, Luna and Hermione closer.
"We didn't do anything," Harry argued.
"Yet," he folded his arms over his chest. "But, for once, I'm not calling on you because you are in trouble. Astounded though I am that you could make it this long without doing so."
"Then why-"
"We haven't even started classes yet and you are already trying my patience, Potter," he snarled. "Professor McGonagall wishes to see you in her office. Hermione as well. And, Miss Lovegood, Professor Flitwick wishes to see you in his office."
"Thank you, Professor," Luna nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hermione."
Luna disappeared up the stairs and Harry began the long walk to McGonagall's office. Hermione followed but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder once they cleared the stairs. Hermione turned to face her father, his once impassible expression now replaced with one of concern and cautious relief.
"We got an owl about the dementors on the train," he whispered, lifting her face and scrutinizing it. "You look pale. Did one of them attack you? You don't look well at all."
"Dad," Hermione spoke slowly, and attempted to sound calm. "I'm fine." I swear he thinks I'm four!
"Your hands are freezing, love," he remarked as he lifted them to examine the bleeding crescent marks she reopened. He placed a small dark brown sphere in her hand. "I know you have strange little behaviours around food and I don't care. That should counteract some of the lingering effects. I suggest you take it."
"Thank you, sir," she said quietly, and placing it in her mouth. I bottle-fed you once and I'll do it again...She didn't think he meant it then, but she wasn't interested in risking his ire.
"I should have never sent you away from here," he sighed. "Tell me exactly what happened on the train. Now."
"Doing something dangerous again, I suppose?" The plump school matron interrogated Harry, scrutinizing him.
"It was a dementor, Poppy," McGonagall sighed. "The poor boy fainted."
"Dementors," Pomfrey spat. "And let loose around those who are already so delicate-"
"I am not delicate," Harry argued, recoiling from the touch.
"Oh, of course you're not," Pomfrey's tone was similar to the one she used with Hermione when she was little.
"Does he need the hospital?" she peered at them over her square glasses.
"No, of course not!" Harry argued. "I am fine, honest."
"Perhaps we just give you some chocolate-"
"Professor Lupin gave me some already, thanks," Harry said.
Hermione felt for him. Too often she had been scrutinized when she was fine. She wondered why she was there, but some spiteful part of her was happy Harry was being fussed over after that remark on the train. You're sick, everything makes you faint. Welcome to my fucking world, Harry Potter! Perhaps she was being a bitch, knowing he was well, her sympathy was blunted by that spiteful part. If he wasn't okay, if he wasn't going to be sent away without further examination just as he wanted, she might have felt differently. Listen, Hermione- This is what it's like not to be listened to, Harry. Maybe now you'll think about- Ron's voice entered her head. You sound like Snape...Is it true? Do I sound like him? What if I'm just like him?
"As you wish, Potter," Pomfey muttered. "I'll be off then, Min-oh!"
Pomfrey faced Hermione, as if she forgot she was even there. The attention Hermione so thoroughly enjoyed avoiding turned to her and she suddenly felt stupid about those thoughts she harboured.
"Potter was the only one mentioned in the letter, but your predisposition-"
I can thank my father for this, she thought bitterly. Wait! I fend off the thing by myself for minutes and nothing?-Of course not, don't be so arrogant. "My father already looked me over, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione explained. "If he thinks I'm fine-"
"Point taken," Pomfrey sighed.
"Thank you, Poppy," McGonagall said. "You'll want to go to Flitwick's office."
Luna must have fainted as well...I hope she's okay...
"You may leave as well, Potter," she leaned over her desk. "I have a private matter to discuss with Hermione here. Sit down, girl."
Hermione examined the thin face and beady eyes behind her square spectacles. The much older woman was no match for her father when it came in stoicism, but she was often hard to decipher. She seldom registered emotion before students, had a tight strict voice uttered from thin red lips, and her black hair with a shock of white at her temple was tied back into an equally severe bun. Hermione noticed her nostrils weren't flaring and knew she wasn't in trouble. So what was it?
Oh, I am not having that conversation again! I can read, I have a parent if I needed to talk about it. Why can't you respect that? Hermione prepared the 'this conversation already took place' speech as Harry left them alone and she took a seat opposite her.
"What did you want to discuss, Professor?" Hermione asked.
"It's about your classes, Hermione," she said.
Oh, thank fuck! Hermione let out a sigh and her muscles untensed. Classes. That was simple, easy. She could-
"What do you know about time magic?"
What the hell? "Erm," Hermione shifted in her chair. "It's highly complex, little understood and time-turners are the only widely available form of them. It's not possible to change the past with them because the time-turner functions in a closed time-loop. Anything the wizard does they have already done. And that some travellers have gone mad when they've seen future versions of themselves. I'm unsure how that functions with a closed time-loop though..." she admitted with a sigh. "I haven't read too much about it, I'm afraid, Professor."
McGonagall blinked blankly at her, she seemed surprised by Hermione's answer. Was she expected to know more? It wasn't like it was something covered extensively anywhere, and fascinating as it was, Hermione had no use for the subject, not when she had so much to do. Maybe she should have-Why the hell am I doing this to myself? I doubt Harry and Ron know even that much. If she expects more, that's on her! Maybe...
"I'm impressed," McGonagall smiled-a rarity. "I didn't expect you to know as much as you do."
"Impressed?" Hermione nervously wrung her hands. "That I'm literate and happen to know where the library is located?"
It's impressive you held your own as long as you did... Maybe I'm not being patronized?
"I swear, y-" McGonagall sighed and shook her head. "Never mind that. Did your father tell you that your participation in the Japanese program would make taking some of your electives during the summer impossible and that that is what most students who take all twelve courses do?"
"Yes, Professor," Hermione nodded.
"Then it should come as no surprise to you that you won't have the time to complete all of those courses, especially given your advancement?"
"Yes, Professor," Hermione nodded again. She didn't know which subjects to drop. All of them could prove useful and she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life.
McGonagall produced a small hourglass encircled by three, intricate gold rings, and on a long gold chain. The innermost ring where the tiny hourglass was affixed had stars carved around it and a Latin inscription in an elaborate font could be found on both outerrings. Hermione had seen one diagram of this, this was a time-turner!
"The headmaster and I have written many letters to the ministry to request this time-turner, Hermione. We both swore that you were a very mature girl for your age and that you would only use it to attend classes. Any other uses of this device is strictly forbidden. Am I understood?" McGonagall stared not just at Hermione, but through her. The severe expression on her face told her she did not want to try anything outside the allowed circumstances. But Harry and Ron always find themselves in trouble...
"Yes, Professor," she said. "I'll only use it when absolutely necessary."
"We are trusting you with something very important, and where Professor Dumbledore and I vouched for you, we also face the penalties for any misbehaviour with the time-turner," she explained with a grave expression. "Promise me that you will be completely responsible with this."
No pressure though, "You and the headmaster have my utmost respect," Hermione said, eyes on her hands. "I promise I'll be completely responsible with this."
McGonagall pressed her lips into a fine line and narrowed her beady eyes before softening her expression. "Very well, young lady. We have everything faith in you. Don't let us down."
She had no intention of doing so, but her stomach churned at the thought of failing such profound trust. Hermione reflected on her own paradox again, she both wanted someone to have that kind of faith in her, but knew she didn't deserve it. What if she did let them down? Failed them? But this was academics, she knew how to handle that. She had perfect control over that, she knew how to control it. Hermione resolved to only use the time-turner as instructed no matter what came up. She could control this. Or emergencies...
"Thank you, Professor," she gingerly accepted the time-turner. How can something so heavy be so light? "Honestly, I'm surprised that you managed to convince my father to give permission."
"Oh, heavens no," McGonagall scoffed. "There was no way we were even broaching the subject with your father."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You require parental permissions to enter a village and medical consent forms for Quidditch (Which Harry is exempt from somehow!), but not for use of time-magic?"
"Well, it's not exactly protocol, is it?" she replied. "No, your father doesn't know and it's best we keep it that way."
Hermione slowly nodded, not liking the idea of hiding regular use of time magic right under her father's nose. He was bound to find out, and Hermione was not terribly keen on the 'conversation' that would follow. "I'll keep it secret, Professor."
"From everyone," McGonagall insisted.
"I won't tell a soul, Professor." Hermione promised.
"You haven't started on the best foot have you, Lupin?" Severus hissed in the frail man's ear.
Lupin turned to face him, he barely appeared the same man he went to school with. Grey prematurely flecked his brown hair, and his pale green eyes seemed to permanently have blue rings beneath them, his cheek bones were too pronounced and his once rosy skin now had a grey cast to it. It was hard to believe he was only thirty-three.
"Erm," he bit his bloodless lip. "I'm sorry, Severus, but I don't know what you're talking about."
Severus clenched his jaw thinking of Hermione fending off the dementor while he, a grown-ass-man, slept through it only to swoop in at the last moment. His daughter was more generous, assuming he was ill, and claiming he'd saved them. He does look ill, doesn't he? Wolf taking its toll, Lupin? You won't find sympathy from me. "You slept through dementors attacking the train," he seethed. "It may come as a surprise to you, but I'll give you a little piece of advice from a senior colleague, we are expected to keep the students safe. Not let a frail twelve-year-old girl handle it until you feel up to the task!"
"Calm down, Severus," Dumbledore appeared behind them. "And I believe the girl is thirteen."
"Regardless," Severus rubbed his temples. "My point still stands."
"You're right," Lupin sighed, making eye contact. "We're lucky that girl knew the patronus charm at all. I'll have to be much more vigilant going forward."
"At the very least," he replied coldly.
"You'll have to forgive him, Remus," Dumbledore sighed, taking a seat at his desk. "His daughter was on the train this evening."
Lupin shifted uncomfortably in his own chair. The two of them sitting opposite Dumbledore in his office brought back memories, and not pleasant ones. He seemed to be aware of that, judging by the guilty twitching of his mouth. At least you're capable of feeling guilt!
"Is she okay?" he asked.
"She's about as well as to be expected," he folded his arms over his chest. Who the fuck are you to enquire after her welfare? If you did your damn job-no, I don't-I DO NOT care what lycanthropy and the abject poverty has done to you. You slept during the attack and that was my baby you put at risk.
"I'm sure you two know why I've summoned you here?" Dumbledore asked, peering over his half-moon glasses at the two of them. "I understand that there is an uncomfortable history between the two of you. I expect you you both-" he cast a withering glance to Severus "-to be adults about it. It will not effect your work."
"Yessir," they both said, sounding more like boys than men.
Severus moved his eyes to examine Lupin. The sickly appearing man did not completely lose his zest for life, leave it to a Gryffindor to hold out hope long after it was gone. He seemed sincere in his concern about Hermione, and the man masked any malice toward him very well. There was an evident discomfort in his shifting, and he eye contact didn't come easy, though unlike in his youth, he did venture it with hesitation. Perhaps it was hard to look a man you tormented in the eye. Lupin was never an instigator, but was complacent. He could never forgive him for that. And as for that night seventeen years ago...that was Black's machination, Lupin was not capable of controlling his actions...not that that could erase the howl that pierced the night, nor the werewolf's bared teeth nearly a metre away. Nothing could erase that.
It was a harmless spot of fun, sir...Fuck you, Black. I could have died, or been made a werewolf myself.
"Severus has promised to keep his silence about your condition, Remus," Dumbledore explained. "And every month he will be preparing the Wolfsbane Potion like we discussed in our correspondence."
"I am a busy man, Lupin," he said. "I expect you to take it from me on time. I won't go chasing after you."
"Understood."
"Severus, wait!"Lupin ran to catch up with him.
Since when the hell are we on a first name basis? "What could you possibly want of me now, Lupin?" he turned back to see an abashed Lupin.
Lupin ventured eye contact, a painful sincerity in both his eyes and voice. "I wanted to thank you," he said. "I know that-erm-this can't be easy for you-"
"Easy?" he scoffed. "Working with and treating the man who tormented me through boyhood, and nearly killed me, or worse and was best friends with an escaped mass murderer. You think 'not easy' describes that, Lupin?"
"No," Lupin sighed. "I suppose it doesn't do it justice. Everything we did to you back then, it was horrible-"
"Oh, of that I'm quite aware," Severus replied icily.
"Severus, listen-"
Listen? He just wanted to get away from him! The sight of him made his blood run cold, his presence made him relive those memories. Nothing could change that. Lupin made his life miserable and stood to do it again. And he wanted what? For Severus to listen to him?
"People like you," he seethed. "I don't mean your condition. I mean self-righteous, arrogant idiots who think themselves the hero because they can feel a modicum of sympathy-and that's somehow different from the rest of us. You are always asking for us mere mortals to listen, as if pleading for peace should earn you it. You did it then, I see it being done with my daughter, and you're doing it now. So, no, you listen to me. You say you are grateful for all I'm doing, I believe you, and you seem genuinely remorseful. That does not make us friends. If you're looking for absolution you will not find it with me! I suggest you learn to live with that."
Lupin recoiled as if he'd been physically struck. The sickly man looked pathetic, only slightly shorter than him, but a hell of a lot smaller, and his gaze moved from him to his scuffed shoes. He wasn't prepared to hear it, and Severus could find some satisfaction in the impact his words had. The idiot deserved it, after everything he'd done to him. Not just nearly killing or turning him, but every humiliation, every last scrap of dignity stripped from him-he had worked so hard to regain that dignity, to regain a sense of-hell, he didn't know. But Lupin's pleas for friendship were at best in horrible taste. He could only hope his words hurt half as much as they seemed to.
Lupin could take his offer of friendship and shove it up his arse. True, Severus hadn't any, but he didn't need any. Not after Lily. If his relationship with his daughter was the only meaningful relationship he ever had moving forward, that was fine. He survived this long with her being the only worthwhile part of his life, he could go another twelve years.
"I understand," Lupin said. "I'm sorry. I'll leave you be."
Would Lupin...? No, he's 'one of the good guys' in his own books, he wouldn't harm a child unfairly because her father-What about Black? "Lupin, wait."
"Yes?" he turned around.
"I want to make one thing abundantly clear," Severus leaned over his shoulder to his in his ear. "You are at my mercy. I know your dirty little secret, I brew the potion that keeps you from becoming a literal monster. Keep that in mind during your lessons, because if I even get an inkling that you've done anything to harm my daughter, if you make her vulnerable in some manner to your old mate, I will not hesitate to exact vengeance in kind. Stay the hell away from her."