Hermione's hell started with the ringing of that damn bell. She had to be in Divination, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy without running into herself or her father. She should have told McGonagall that her father's paranoia would make their little secret difficult to keep. How the hell did he do it? It was like he wasn't interested enough and too interested in her life at the same time. He treated her like a baby and expected her to behave like an adult, which she had already known, but it was especially frustrating now. She never knew what to expect from him, would he leave alone or be hoovering over her like an oversized bat? She wasn't sure she even cared that he meant well anymore.

At least it'll be easy to hide from everyone else. I'm invisible to Harry and Ron unless I'm of use. She combed over her schedule to triple check the room numbers. Divination, North Tower, Ancient Runes, a floor up, and-her goddamn father! Arithmancy happened to be the nearest classroom to them when he caught her attention. Even fate hated Hermione!

I don't think I believe in past lives, but I'm pretty sure I must have been someone terrible to deserve this! Hermione sighed putting her timetable in her bag. She'd take Arithmancy first, get somewhere secret, go back an hour and attend Divination next, then Ancient Runes. She watched her father leave from an alcove and joined the group of students that filed outside the door.

Arithmancy, Divination, and Muggle Studies weren't terribly popular compared to Care for Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes, so instead of two neat lines of students from different houses, Hermione saw a cluster of students from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Well-she saw one Gryffindor. Angelina Johnson spoke animately to a lanky Ravenclaw boy with curly hair and dark eyes. She caught Hermione and waved her over.

Angelina was a pretty girl, and like the boy next to her, was tall herself but with an athletic build and dark brown skin, round brown eyes and long black hair divided into a million little braids that were then pulled back into a pony tail. This would be one of very few interactions with out the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan hanging around in the background.

"Josh," Angelina smiled to the Ravenclaw boy. "This is Hermione, she was advanced to our year last year. Hermione, this is my boyfriend, Josh Cohen."

I wonder how George is taking it, Hermione wondered, knowing the second born Weasley twin had fancied Angelina since their first year. It was painfully obvious, but she could feel bad for George without judging Angelina, right? She didn't know, and even if she did, she didn't owe the lovesick boy anything.

Hermione sat beside Angelina, happy to have someone she knew with her. Angelina and Josh talked about Quidditch, Both were chasers, and more excited for the next match than curious about the class. Hermione remembered that she was the only one who had never actually taken any of the classes in the room. She'd studied and taken a levelling exam for each of the electives while she was in the hospital.

There Hermione was, two years younger, small for her age and outmatched in every way by those around her. She took a deep breath and opened her copy of Arithmancy: Interpreting the Past, Present and Future through Numbers and began re-reading the first chapter. She couldn't let herself fail here. She was good at maths, good at academia. Being younger was no excuse...Why did my father do this to me?

"Books away, you two," Professor Vector, a middle-aged witch with wiry dark hair, and intent brown eyes, stood at the front of the room, with a neutral expression on her face. "You had the summer to read the first chapter."

Vector had a reputation for being difficult to please and a tough marker. Hermione had of course seen her passing when she was little, but she never got the measure of the woman before her. She needed to make a good impression and she blew it. She turned to see who else tried to brush up before the lecture.

A very tall and thin Hufflepuff girl with strawberry blond hair with a pink flower behind her ear. She too looked for her fellow insecure classmate. The two exchanged awkward smiles before turning their attention to the professor. Hermione took surreptitious notes on the lecture.

"And who can tell me how to use the Pythagorean Method to determine the meaning of a dream?" Vector asked. "Anyone? No?" her eyes then landed on Hermione. "Oh, come on, you lot, don't make me ask the little girl."

Shit! Hermione shrank as small as she could make herself and clasped her hands together, when all eyes turned to her. Why is my hair so damn bushy, I stand out everywhere I go. Let me sink into the floor. I'll happily have someone turn me into a cat and succeed this time. I'd run very far-

"Still no one?" Vector sighed. "Miss Snape?"

"By determining base factors of the querent, such as their name, their parents' names and date of birth. Add the numbers assigned to each Greek letter for each name, add the date and then divide by the sum of three key dream features," Hermione mumbled. That's it! I must have been Grindlewald in a past life!

Vector smiled at her, but her widened eyes suggested mild surprise that Hermione had gotten it right. "Down to the last detail. Colour me impressed. That'll be five points to Gryffindor. Everyone pair up! We'll be doing dream analysis for our partners!"

Angelina of course paired with Josh. But she was the one person she knew and it hurt to be left alone again. She should have expected this. Every time people were paired, every scrambled to partner with their closest friends. Since first year, Hermione was a partner to be avoided unless they thought they could coast while she did all of the bloody work. They're a couple, if Hiro were here you wouldn't give anyone here a second thought.

"Ooh!" The tall Hufflepuff girl waved. "New girl!"

Hermione made her way over to the girl. Hermione was torn between pity and jealousy looking at her. She had a beautiful heart shaped face, freckled ivory skin and silky strawberry blond hair that fell past her shoulders, and beautiful blue-green eyes, with broad shoulders, despite her willowy frame and despite being only fifteen stood at two meters tall. Hermione had never seen her before, though her time last year was a blur. Her pity stemmed from this girl's similar experience of being ignored by every classmate in the scramble for partners. Why else would she call out for 'the little girl'?

"I'm Deirdre," she said.

"Hermione," she took the chair across from her. "I haven't seen you around last year, are you new?"

"Not really," Deirdre shook her head. "I didn't come back after the holidays-I-erm-had a lot going on. You're not new to this class then?"

"I wasn't advanced into your year until after the week before the holidays," she explained.

Deirdre and Hermione set to work. Deirdre volunteered as a querent first, which Hermione was more than happy about. She described a dream where she 'tamed' the Whomping Willlow. Hermione ran the equation with 'tame', 'Whomping Willow' and 'harmony' as key words form the dream. Listening to her speak, Deirdre was rather like a tamer version of Luna (debunking both ginger and Irish stereotypes). She had a dream-like quality to things she said, but she never seemed as out there as Luna. Though, she also seemed happy just to have someone listen to her. She wondered why she opted for something as rigid as arithmancy.

"I love the Pythagorean Method," she mused setting up her chart for Hermione. "Working with sets of nine is so satisfying. It's like a complete crossword or sudoku. And the only thing more satisfying than a complete crossword is-"

"A well-played game of sudoku!" both girls giggled before Deirdre commenced.

"So, what did you dream about last night?" she asked.

"Erm," Hermione bit her lip. She could remember two. The recurring one from the chamber that she was not interested in speaking about to-well to anyone. But her other dream was personal. She thought the dream, Hiro kissed her rather more passionately than in real life against a blossoming sakura tree. It was a rare pleasant dream, but very deeply personal. She decided to make up a dream about transforming into a cat-human hybrid. It happened from time to time, so it wasn't an outright lie, and despite the negative emotions attached to it, Hermione could easily realy it. She was numb to the pain of her body contorting, and the humiliation of being seen like that, or the disturbing residual effects that still lingered. Hell, she even missed parts of it, particularly the hearing, vision and coordination.

"We already have your father's name," Deirdre asked. "What's your mum's?"

"Erm," Hermione hesitated, digging her nails into her hands again. She knew this was coming, but she wasn't at all prepared for the question. It must have been so easy for some, and Hermione's breath caught in her throat whenever the subject of mothers came up. Was she abandoned? Whoever she was, she could have been dead, but simply didn't know. Surely, her father would have told her if her mother were died? No, especially after her father's stunt with the forged letter, Hermione was dead certain she'd been abandoned. Who could blame her?

"Hermione?"

"S-sorry," she said. "I-erm-I don't know who she is."

"Oh," Deirdre bit her lip before raising her hand. "Professor Vector?"

"Yes, Delaney?" Vector approached the girls with her clipboard in hand.

Deirdre waited till Vector was close enough that she didn't have to speak very loudly. "Hypothetically, what do we do if we don't remember one of our parents' names."

Vector picked up the chart Deirdre worked from and explained the process of calculating for a margin of error and analysed the relevant information. "Miss Snape? Is everything else here accurate?"

Hermione skimmed it over. Father's name, Severus Snape, mother unknown, date of birth, 1, September 1980...She made up the dream, so the key words were probably where they went wrong. She gave a stiff nod. "Yes, Professor."

"Very curious..." she tapped her quill. "I can't seem to make sense of your numbers at all."

"And on the first day, too?" Severus sighed. "Perhaps a Hippogriff was a poor choice for a pack of students who've never dealt with any magical creatures before?"

"I tol' Malfoy not to be insultin' them, Professor," Hagrid insisted.

Severus knew it was probably true. Draco Malfoy may have earned his pity, but he could be such a little shit at times. And as always when it came to his behaviour, it fell to Severus to do damage control. A child was injured on an unqualified, half-giant Professor's very first day. Lucius Malfoy would call for Hagrid's dismissal, for Dumbledore to be investigated for his appointment and probably the death of the creature in question. It was times like this he despised being head of Slytherin house. He was so tired of running interference.

"I really don't care if Draco Malfoy leapt over a barricade with a thousand warnings, Hagrid," he said. "I believe you're the adult, here?"

The man towered over Severus and was twice his width, but Hagrid could have been a mere centimetre tall at those words, his already ruddy skin deepening in colour beneath his bushy black beard and hair. This man's judgement was always so remarkably poor, he suddenly remembered why we stopped entrusting Hermione to his care when she was little. This is what happens when you hire a man who saw no problem taking a six-year-old into the Forbidden Forest.

"I don't know if I could have done stopped him," he admitted. "An' everyone else seemed to understan' no' ter insult them. Malfoy jus' got all petty because Harry-"

"It always comes down to that boy doesn't it?" he seethed. "If Potter prompted the behaviour, I have to wonder why you were unable to prevent it. I thought you were the one adult in this damn castle the boy listened to! You could have easily silenced him. I'm going to see if I can convince the boy not to demand retribution from his father. Pray I manage that impossible task, because I don't know if I can stop it once the gears start turning!"

He entered the hospital wing to see Malfoy whimpering while Pomfrey prodded at his broken arm. It was difficult to tell if he was sincerely expressing pain or if he were engaging in Melodrama. It was by no means a serious injury, but it was a break.

"You're lucky, Malfoy," Pomfrey observed.

"Lucky?" he squeaked.

"It was a very simple break. It'll be mended in no time."

His pained gasp and grimace were very sincere when Pomfrey realigned the bones before mending it with a tap of her wand. However, Pansy Parkinson was very much indulging in melodramatics, almost wailing while crooning over Malfoy.

"Oh, I hope they sack that worthless oaf for doing this to you!" she cried.

Damn it, Parkinson! "I've already spoken with Hagrid on the matter, Miss Parkinson," he said before turning to Malfoy. "As head of your house, Draco, I'd like your account of events when you're up to it. It falls to me to explain to your parents you were injured during class. Accuracy is important." If I can get him to stay quiet I can omit whatever details I see fit.

Draco Malfoy had a penchant for theatrics, something Severus forgot over the summer. The boy loudly condemned 'that oaf' and painted a picture where he was purely a victim of a viscious beast that had been screeching and bucking from the moment students were in view of it. Judging by the crack in his voice at points, he thought it was entirely possible the boy was actually afraid of the creature, but it was also clear by the shifting of his pale eyes, he knew he was exaggerating and outright lying. It didn't matter, once the narrative was set anyone who called him out on it was clearly on Potter's side, and if Severus cast doubt on the boy himself it was simply to appease his daughter. How wonderful to have such a casual relationship with the truth.

Dumbledore would never sack Hagrid, he mused. "I see," he said to a rather nasty glare from Pomfrey. "I shall inform the headmaster on the issue and I assure you it will not go unaddressed."

"That old git isn't going to do anything," the boy sulked. "I wish he had been sacked last year. The board of governors talked about it."

"I think you would find his replacement to your distaste, Draco," he sighed. "Now, as I have previously stated what power I do have is at your disposal. This was highly inappropriate and I can assure you it will not happen again."

Malfoy's face broke into a smug grin that reminded him too much of the boy's father. "I don't imagine it will after my father hears about this!"

Fuck! "If that's your prerogative, Draco," he said with a forced smile. "I shall write to your parents. Let's hope you can heal up before the Quidditch match." I do hope Hermione is fairing better.

"Hi, Skylar!" Hermione waved sitting in an overstuffed chair at a round table.

Skylar Sloan was a willowy Hufflepuff student with an ovular brown face, amber eyes on highset cheekbones and wavy black hair falling past their shoulders. They were quiet and often moved with a bounce not normally accompanied by one who was alone as often as they were. Between their appearance and the melodic Welsh lilt to their voice, part of Hermione thought Skylar was objectively the most beautiful person she met. Not in the sense that she liked them, but in the same way she recognized Ginny was exceptionally pretty or Saiyaka was cute without having a romantic interest in either of them.

"Surprised to see you in Divination," they said. "I figured you'd shy away from something so-well, out of your control."

Hermione gave a nervous laugh. "You've known me half a year and already know my deepest flaw. I hate not knowing every aspect of a thing. I don't know how everyone else does it."

"Blind trust in the world around us," Skylar teased. "Definitely no happy medium between comfort with uncertainty and complete control."

"I don't need complete control," Hermione sighed.

"No?" they smiled. "You've just made an equilateral triangle with our tea cups and the crystal ball, kitten."

Hermione looked down at the table, and dead centre of the circle there it was, an equilateral triangle, the crystal ball the "top" point, while the two bottom points were the bone china teacups on saucers. How had she not noticed she'd done that? She knew before she sat to study she arranged her quills, inkwell and parchment to be parrallel with each other, but to absent-mindedly make triangles-the time-turner is making me nervous.

"So, is Trelawney as overly dramatic as they say? I never really saw her around growing up," she assumed a calm tone.

Before Skylar could answer a slender bug-eyed woman with coke-bottle specs and wild grey hair wrapped in at least three beaded shawls came to the front of the room. "Welcome back, dears!" she said in a dramatic voice. "As happy as I am to see you return to us, I'm afraid I have seen in my visions dangers for some of you. Yes, consulting-" she lost the dramatic dreamy tones and found Hermione sitting with Skylar. "Oh, are you in the right place, dear? This is a fifth year class. Third year divination is taught before lunch, dear."

"Erm," Hermione clasped her hands together and stared at them as all eyes turned to her. "I was actually placed two years above level, Professor." If you didn't receive a message from the great beyond, you might have at least checked the register!

"Oh, of course, dear," Trelawney smiled. "Endowed with knowledge as I am, it can still be surprising to see one so little among the OWL students."

Little? I'm only two years younger than them! I bet you and my father get along wonderfully!

Trelawney proved Hermione wrong when she hoovered over their table while Hermione tried to gaze into a crystal ball. All she saw was mist swirling around in the confines of the ball. She had her book of omens open for reference, yet every time she thought she saw something, it would disappear before she could be absolutely certain.

"I had a feeling your second sight would be blunted, dear," she sighed. "When you were a baby you didn't have the same sensitivity as others did, and your father certainly didn't foster development for what little talent you had. I'm sorry, dear, but you might be out of place here."

Sniggering could be heard from every direction of the room. Skylar was literally the only person in the room not laughing or exchanging whispered comments. Hermione wasn't looking forward to the comments that would follow her when she left the classroom. She wasn't terribly attractive or charismatic, those were automatic strikes against her, she was small for her age, let alone theirs, and she was the daughter of the least liked teacher. Trelawney just gave them one more reason to torment her, which they all seemed to love doing.

Trelawney looked around, her bug eyes growing even further in size as she covered her mouth. "Oh, my dear," she gasped. "Everyone settle down. Oh, my dear girl, I'm so sorry."

Maybe you don't have the same sensitivity as others! Because even with my 'senses so blunted' I knew that was how they'd react! "It's fine, Professor," she sighed readjusting her book of omens and note book to line up with the crystal ball.

"Not sitting with any of your housemates?" O'Malley asked.

Hermione cast an eye to her two long-term bullies Ivy MacDonald and Violet Vane, two of the girls responsible for turning her into a cat-human hybrid in the previous year. She thought she was over the humiliation of it all, she was when she talked to Deirdre about it, but she felt it open again as she endured their teasing in line before class. She was just happy they hadn't gotten word of what happened in Divination yet. It didn't happen yet...oh, god are they going to question how I was here and there at the same time? I might have made a huge mistake...

An hour, Hermione had been using the damn thing for one hour and she was already so nervous about it. No one was so oblivious as to not question how she was in so many places at once, even for someone who was only visible to be of use or a magical punching bag. My father...he's going to put it together...I have to be very careful.

The Weasley twins, Angelina Johnson and Lee Jordan were the only Gryffindors in that year she really spoke to. And none of them took Divination or Ancient Runes. She was honestly surprised they were taking something like Ancient Runes when they didn't seem interested in reading anything beyond gossip columns in the Prophet. She hated that people could be very popular, pretty and still be smart. It seemed so unfair, Life's unfair. Some of us have everything and people like me have to fight to exist. I'm starting to understand that now.

"Ivy and Violet?" Hermione asked innocently. "I don't think there's enough booze on the planet to make those two anything less than insufferable."

"Wow, sunshine," he laughed flicking her forehead. "You're so cheery in the mornings!"

Hermione rolled her eyes sitting next to the older Slytherin boy.

Damien O'Malley looked like a disowned Weasley, tall and lanky, with a freckled face and flaming red hair, though his eyes were an impossibly piercing blue rather than Ron's light blue or Ginny's deep brown. He tied his long red ringlets in a ponytail and spoke with an Irish lilt. Though he and Deirdre certainly sounded like they were from different regions.

"It's a talent," Hermione sighed.

Professor Tran was an unremarkable looking man in his mid to late thirties (she guessed), and was neither tall nor short, fat nor slim, with neatly arranged black hair, and warm brown eyes. He didn't demand control the way Vector did, or claim it with theatrics the way Trelawney did. He sat at his desk and waited for silence, which came after fifteen minutes or so.

Hermione suspected either this or arithmancy might have been her favourite subjects. She loved learning about the symbols and their origins from different cultures. She adored translating from different modern and dead languages and seeing the differences between how each spoke of certain matters. Not only that, but from years raiding language books in the library, but from being exposed to other languages early on, Ancient Runes, like Arithmancy came easy to her. Hermione wouldn't give herself an excuse to reduce her effort, she'd surely fail if she did, but she did relish in the feeling. Nothing came easy to Hermione. She had theory of so many magical subjects down to the point she could recite it when asked, but practicality...she didn't know if it were her emotional state, the fact that her bloody father was right about her complicated relationship with sleep and food, her young age or just pure lack of talent, but she had to work twice as hard as her peers to produce the same results.

By the end of the class Hermione was the first to fully translate instructions on magical amplification rituals from a fusion of futhark runes, Ogham and ancient Greek. Something she dared to even be a little proud of when she handed it in to Tran, seeing that no one got past halfway done before she wondered if she had done something wrong. Maybe it wasn't so easy.. If I'm that ahead, I must've done something wrong.

"Can I get you to stay behind for a bit, Hermione?" Tran asked, looking over his reading glasses.

Oh, dear god, I did do something wrong!

"O-of course, Professor," Hermione nearly squeaked, nervously wringing her hands. Get it over with, Tran.

"I was surprised when you completed your translation on your first day," he explained combing over the translation. "I'm throwing OWL level translations at you lot and am marking to the same standard. It's standard practice for fifth years. Given your age and lack of in-class experience, I was prepared to make some exceptions for you."

Hermione bit her lip and dug her nails into her hands. What was he getting at? How horribly did she botch it? She tried to pace her breathing but could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She hurt, but Runes? If she failed this, something she thought went easy for her...Was she a failure?

"You've made a couple of grammatical errors-"

Failure! I knew it!

"But other than that, you have a damn near perfect translation. Better than most OWL level students at the right age , if I'm honest," he smiled.

Hermione drew out a long breath, relief unfurling her muscles. However, she wondered- "Erm, professor? If I didn't make any big mistakes, then why am I here?"

Tran peered at her over his reading glasses before smiling. "Because you have to pick a career path after this year, and it'd be a waste with talent like this not to consider Arcane Archaeology. Think about it, Hermione. A talented witch like you could go very far in the field."

"Erm," Hermione bit her lip unsure how to respond to what he'd said.

She hadn't put any thought into her career. She didn't know what she could do, let alone what she wanted to do. She just turned thirteen and she had to have her whole life figured out? Did anyone else her age? She thought about asking Harry and Ron, but there were more pressing matters to speak with them about. Hermione would have to wait, she was used to waiting. It was fine.

I'm exhausted, Hermione thought as she sat opposite Harry and Ron. They both looked quite grim, pale and a deep pensiveness in their eyes. It wasn't often Harry displayed fear, but the nervous tapping of his chin, and his uneven breaths suggested a trace of fear among the grave seriousness.

"What happened?" Hermione whispered.

"In Divination," Harry explained. "Trelawney saw a grim in my tea leaves."

A grim? I don't trust her, but I can't dismiss it, she thought of stories about averting predicted futures and resolved to spend her time in the evening looking into it. "Trelawney predicts a death every year. According to Skylar she likes to be extra theatrical with each new batch of students she receives. She peddles in tragedy. If you two pretend to see death omens and misfortune in all your assignments you'll probably receive top marks."

"But no one's survived after seeing a grim," Ron argued. "I heard stories of people who saw them and died right on the spot. Died of fear."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Then those people died of fear, not because of the omen, Ron. These omens and rumours, they can take on forms of their own when they've gotten enough traction and-"

"I'm telling you I saw it too!" Ron said. "Harry had a grim in his tea leaves and an escaped murderer is after him!"

Harry shifted uncomfortably and brought his eyes up to meet them. "I reckon I saw one in real life too," he admitted. "During the summer I after left the Dursleys'. It was this great black thing, it looked a lot like the grim. What if Trelawney isn't just being theatrical?"

"You saw one?" Ron's voice rose above a whisper and his eyes grew larger. "Mate, that's-no one survived seeing a grim, no one."

"Is it ever delayed?" Harry asked running a nervous hand over his fringe.

"I dunno, mate," Ron grimaced.

Harry shifted uncomfortably again before picking at his rice. Of course Harry believed it, he had nearly died five times before they were even teenagers. Harry walked a delicate line, he was the only person Hermione knew that excepted his days were numbered. He didn't embrace it with fear or paranoia, nor did he give up on obtaining happiness. It seemed Harry just tried to live his life, but knew to wait for the signs. Hermione's distaste for Trelawney grew.

"Harry," Hermione spoke gently. "I agree that you should be very careful. I've done a bit of research into Sirius Black, and-it's disturbing. I don't want you to let your guard down. But I'm not ready to accept Trelawney's words as truth. I had her earlier today and I don't really think she's capable of what she claims. Be careful, but don't treat her word as gospel."

"You think she's a fraud?" Harry asked shifting his eyes. "But Dumbledore hired her."

"He also hired Lockhart, Harry," Hermione sighed. "I won't pretend I understand his reasons, but I can't think Dumbledore's beyond reproach after everything that's happened. I think he's brilliant, and I know he's not a bad person, but I don't trust him."

Ron sent his blue eyes to heaven with a boorish groan. "You don't trust anyone."

"Th-that's not true!" Hermione squeaked.

First Luna, now Ron? Hermione shifted uncomfortably wondering if she'd ever be able to get anyone to trust her when she was painted as suspicious and paranoid by those she cared for? She picked at her rice and began dividing it into three white mounds as she mused on what to do next. Given the grim, even if Hermione didn't trust it, she probably should give Harry the article now. She originally wanted a more complete picture so they could avoid acting without all of the pieces. She could give them information as she found it, she didn't need a strategy for disseminating information, she wasn't her father.

"I've copied this from the archives, Harry," she passed him the news article on Sirius Black's crime. "I'm going to dig in the archives a bit more this evening. I'll also look into death omens and averting them. I still don't think Trelawney's word is worth hanging anything on though." And it's not just because she decided to make my life that much more miserable than it already was.

"Do you have time to do all of that?" Ron asked. "With all of your classes, I can't imagine you have much."

"If Harry's life is on the line, I'll make time," she explained rising from her spot. "I think I'll go look into it now before my next class."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said reaching out to her. "I'll meet you in the library after classes. If we both look into it, it should be less of a-erm-burden."

This isn't homework help, it's literally life and death...The Dursleys really fucked you up, didn't they? Hermione tilted her head and offered a smile. "Hey, you're my friend. You could never be a burden."

"I'll help too!" Ron volunteered. "It'll be just us three like the good old days."

Good old days? For whom? Hermione smiled at Ron with a shrug. "I'll hold you lot to it. I'll see what I can dig up in the mean time."

"First day and I've already lost your attention, Miss Lovegood?" Severus sighed. Why can't my daughter make friends with good students?

Hermione had incredible taste in people, a mean-spirited, insecure boy in Weasley, an arrogant prat in Potter, a complete dunce in Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood was a complete headcase. Lovegood being the most harmless of the lot didn't ease the dilemma he was faced with daily: remedy the casual disrespect and face his daughter's ire or ignore it.

"Sorry, Professor," she adjusted in her seat and made eye-contact with him. "I was just thinking about the laughing solution, why does it exist? I mean if the cheering charm exists, it's quite silly to spend so much time on a potion when you can achieve the same thing with a charm in seconds, isn't it?"

You need a filter, Lovegood. "No," he sighed rubbing his temples. "What's silly is you wasting my time and that of your classmates with such an impertinent question. Had you spent half the amount of time reading the text as you did chasing urban legends, you'd know that the two serve very different roles. One is meant to induce a shallow sense of happiness through forced laughter to be used to re-establish a baseline before attempting more profound procedures. The other is to be used to induce an instant and again shallow sense of happiness by flooding their mind with positive emotions. That one is to be used on despondent people or those in immediate crisis. Or do you suppose those are the same as well, Miss Lovegood?"

Sniggering erupted from the second years around her, which Lovegood promptly ignored with a shrug and a wistful smile. It was strange. He sometimes got the feeling the lonely girl followed his daughter around, but she never seemed to make an effort with her peers. He taught this strange girl for a bloody year and he couldn't place her. She seemed to sincerely not give a damn at the laughter directed at her, or harsh words meant to hurt her. It irked him.

Perhaps it was because he grew up in her position, being universally loathed, and was uncomfortable that he couldn't fathom her motives. No one could live like that and be that happy. Not that he wanted the girl to be miserable, of course. He pitied her, but her behaviour had to be easier to predict and control. Most of his students, even the more unbearable ones, he could guide to act a certain way, usually by guilt or shame. It worked on him, it worked on his peers, it worked on his students, but her.

Severus Snape was no saint. He knew that about himself long before he graduated school. He knew it was petty to be irked that a student in his position wasn't as fucked up as he was. He knew it was bad to wish she would be embarrassed, but that was the only thing that could stop the behaviour. Come off it, Lovegood, Longbottom, picking on them makes you feel bigger, like you're in control. Stupid piece of shit.

He couldn't deny that. But there was something else. Severus noticed that Hermione was close with this girl, and he suspected that she was the only healthy relationship she had. He needed to know that the one friend who seemed okay was capable of considering the impact her actions had on others. Had some trace of empathy. Luna Lovegood had showed him no sign she could think of anything beyond whatever fantasies danced in her head.

"I'll be deducting five points from Ravenclaw for Miss Lovegood's impertinence."

"Thanks, Luna!" several Ravenclaws hissed.

"I can always deduct more, Ravenclaws!" he snapped.

I really hope you make new friends, Hermione...

Hermione ducked out of a cubicle in a girls' toilet, tucked the time-turner back into her robes and made her way to DADA. She decided to aim for five minutes before each class after the exhausting attempt at a photo-finish for each class before lunch. It ensured that she could get there on time, not run into herself or other students in transit from classes that she was supposed to be just leaving. Ducking into the toilet ensured she could avoid what felt like the ever-present gaze of her father. First day and I'm already going mad.

"Hermione?" Lupin looked up from his copy of their book, his grey eyebrows knit in confusion as he eyed her.

"Yes," she said, scrutinizing his face.

"Erm," Lupin's eyes scanned the room before he switched to Japanese. "I think you must have a mix-up on your time-table. You're in third-year, right? I'm afraid this is my fifth year I thought the headmaster mentioned you were thirteen."

Why the hell are you and Dumbledore discussing me, Lupin? "Actually," she sighed, also switching to Japanese. He didn't want to embarrass her, she'd extend the same consideration if students entered. "I've been moved to fifth year. You should find my name on the register."

"Hmm," Lupin mused reading over the register. "I believe you, but I think they haven't updated the register. The only Hermione here is Hermione Sna-oh!" he shook his head and then sighed. "Actually, that makes a lot of sense now."

Hermione choked, taken aback before squeaking: "Sorry?" I guess I was kind of a bitch on the train.

"Oh, no, that's not what I meant!" Lupin nervously chuckled. "Your dad was very upset about the incident on the train. It makes sense now why he was as upset as he was about the whole thing. With me at least, but I bet he was quite proud of you."

"Have you met my father?" Hermione rolled her eyes. Why the fuck did I say that? Don't trust him with anything.

Lupin smiled at this. "I know you were being sarcastic, but your dad and I were classmates."

"I'm aware," Hermione raised an eyebrow before taking a seat. Stop being a bitch!

"I should have pieced it together before now," he shrugged. "You don't-"

"Look alike?" she said coldly forgetting her resolution to stop being a bitch. If she wanted information from him, she had to play nice. But every bloody new person in her life had to make that same damn observation. Yes I look like the woman who likely abandoned me! Why can't people leave it alone?

Lupin looked down, it seemed ashamed of what he just said. "You two probably hear that enough, sorry."

There it was again, an apology from a grown-up and something that looked a bit like respect. Neither was necessary, he didn't need her forgiveness or approval for any reason. She was again forced to wonder why he was doing this, but pushed the discomfort aside. "It's fine, sir."

The rest of the class progressed without a hitch. Hermione noticed as they were practising non-verbal spell (Hermione partnered with Lee, who despite showing off when he could for the twin's approval, went very easy on her until she hit him with a jellylegs jinx) that Lupin was just exceptionally kind with all the students while he made his rounds. He even offered words of encouragement when the twins let themselves be hit with their own spells giving them each other donkey ears.

"I always did say they were jackasses!" Lee elbowed Hermione.

"Lighten up, Hermione!" Fred pinched her cheek.

"Yeah," George pinched her other cheek. "You know Lee's right about us!"

Judging by the twins erupting with laughter they didn't suffer anything more than the superficial traits, she didn't think they'd be in the hospital for months or have permanent changes. Hermione was just unlucky enough to be transfigured by someone who had no clue what she was doing. Fred and George were lucky not to suffer what she did.

"That's some very-erm-intracate spellwork, boys," Lupin said. "But we can when we try again, perhaps we can avoid transfiguring each other to the point we need Madam Pomfrey to undo it? Though you both did it silently, so I'll reward five points to each of you."

The twins left before everyone else was dismissed and Lupin closed the class by telling everyone to return to their seats. Many couldn't be bothered paying attention, as it was so class to the bell, but Hermione kept her attention on him as he announced next week they (actually all of his classes) would be confronting a boggart. She wanted something to justify her unease with him. He seemed like a legitimately nice person, and it clashed so directly with everything Hermione thought she knew about him.

"Hermione?" Lupin called. "Mind if we have a little chat?"

Here it is, Hermione approached Lupin's desk nervously wringing her hands. "Yessir," she nodded.

"Listen, Hermione," he started looking a little nervous, once again dropping into Japanese. "I'm sure your dad has told you quite a bit about me, and I don't imagine any of it's good. Things weren't great between us, and I certainly was no saint looking back. I have to admit he has more than the obvious reason to be suspicious of me. And I don't begrudge him for telling you, nor you for knowing."

He gave her a pointed look for a moment, something in his light green eyes to similar to Harry's when he made his pleas to be heard out. But unlike Harry, it seemed Remus Lupin never found himself in a position where people suddenly did listen to him after years of being ignored. Hermione knew how that felt. Hermione offered him a weak smile. "He didn't say anything about you," she lied. "All I know about you is that before you were hired here you did research on Yokai-Mannandake in Japan."

"That was quite brave, you know," Lupin said. "You had no idea what was going to happen. I was a strange adult come out of nowhere. I knew you recognised that when you spoke to me, yet you still tried to stop me from jumping. I wasn't going to, mind," he shook his head. "But many would have convinced themselves of that either way and kept walking. You even stepped between myself and your boyfriend just in case I actually was dangerous, even while you clung to his hand for comfort."

Hermione hadn't realised she'd done that. In truth, she felt weak leaning on Hiro, and Lupin's details made her feel a bit better about the whole affair.

"In truth, I was worried you walked away thinking I did jump," he said.

"What?" Hermione sputtered. "Of course not! You had a camp set up, that'd be stupid!"

"Okay," Lupin said softly lifting his hands as if to show he held no weapon. "What matters now is that you're okay. That and I want you to know whatever reason, and however you came upon it, you had to be suspicious of me on the train, I don't blame you. You were looking out for your friends and that's admirable. But there's no reason for you to worry about that, to worry about me, I promise."

Hermione gave a stiff nod, again, not knowing how to process everything she had just heard. Either way, it gave her an in if she wanted to ease her way to information she couldn't find in the archives. At the very least she could determine he was as sincere as he seemed. And there was something else she could get out of it.

"Erm, Professor Lupin?"

"What's up?" he asked.

"The boggart," she sighed. "My worst fear is, well kind of embarrassing. Is there anyway I could-erm-I don't know how to say it-"

"I can 'forget' to call you on Tuesday," he offered. "You seem to have a bit going against you here, I won't hold it against you."

That damn pitying look, she thought shrinking under his gaze. That she was familiar with. "I'm not incapable of handling it, I-erm-" she inhaled sharply and clasped her hands together. "It's, erm, it's fine. Don't feel like you have to make special arrangements for me. I'm not so fragile I can't deal with my classmates."

"Hermione," Lupin sighed. "I believe you can, but were I in your shoes I wouldn't want to. Why don't you come by my office Wednesday evening, to make up for the missed lesson on Tuesday?"

If I'm 'sick' Tuesday, it'll all be above bored. If we're alone I can ask 'innocent questions'... "Yessir," she nodded. "I'll be there."