Hermione’s stomach was in knots. Today was the day the students returned to Hogwarts after the summer break. She had been studiously following after Poppy Pomphrey all summer, taking notes and learning as much as she could possibly fit into her mind about healing. Dumbledore, being who he was, had arranged for her to take an expedited healer’s apprenticeship and she had spent much of her time, not unlike her previous semester at Hogwarts reading and practicing alongside Pomphrey. Pomphrey was much like her head of house, no nonsense and strict in her expectations. This was at odds with Lupin, who had been kind and considerate to her and would make a joke occasionally on one of his better days. He would read along with her and make conversation with her and push her to think creatively for solutions to work he gave her. Whereas, Pomphrey was straight from the books and wanted her to study and know the basics inside and out before she touched another human being. She would quiz Hermione and make little tsk-tsk noises if she answered something that wasn’t completely correct.

Hermione had arrived at Hogwarts last winter but had been hidden away in her books most of her time and didn’t come out from her rooms. However, this semester that was not an option.

This semester, she would be doing her clinical, which meant she would be alongside Pomphrey healing the students of Hogwarts. Even the thought made Hermione shudder in dread. She felt the intense fear of her childhood creeping into her mind once again.

As a first year, she spent much of her time reading and researching not only because the subjects were fascinating for a muggle-born witch with newly found abilities. But because she had been failing almost all of her classes. Her grades were plummeting at an alarming rate and she felt like she was in a sinking boat with only a bucket to bail herself out. She flung herself into the library with an intensity that others found scary because she was terrified of losing this new world she so desperately wanted to be apart of. Going back to being just a plain, old muggle after knowing about what she could have been was not an option for her. She remembered fondly of a time when she told the boys to get to bed before they were all “killed, or worse, expelled.” Her eyes growing huge at the thought of being kicked out of the magical world. That, to her, would be a fate worse than death.

However, this semester would be much different. There would be no hiding, no research, and much more interaction with students. Which is where the problem arose. When Dumbledore had sent her back in time, he didn’t just send her a few months or even a few years. He sent her to the year 1976. And she knew what and who this year entailed. Which was much of the reason she had made herself scarce these past few months.

Hermione’s quarters were near the hospital wing and were bright and airy in the late summer day. She had a fairly good sized collection of herbs and plants needed in healing potions and draughts growing in her windows that she needed to tend to before the feast tonight.

She pruned a few leaves from a plant beginning to trail out of her windowsill and took them over to workbench. She deftly minced them into even cuttings and added them into a bubbling potion. The potion let out a pink plume of smoke and she smiled to herself before stirring it and pointing her wand at the flame to dull the potion down to a steady simmer.

She looked at the clock and sighed, knowing that soon she would need to head to the great hall for the beginning of term feast. She had tried to distract herself all day by making more potions for the infirmary, but the stores were starting to overflow with backstock from her superfluous brewing.

Hermione decided now was as good a time as any. Checking over herself in the mirror one last time, she made her way out of her rooms and towards the infirmary. Her heels clicked on the stone floor as she walked down the empty halls of Hogwarts, soon to bustling with children. One could only hope that the hospital wing would stay empty for a while, but seeing as James Potter and Sirius Black would be attending, there was nothing certain.

“Ah, there you are dear! I was beginning to worry you were going to miss dinner.” Pomphrey was bustling about the infirmary, flicking her wand as she went. “Would you mind helping me finish with this paperwork before we head off?” She shoved a monstrous pile of papers into Hermione’s arms.

Hermione headed off towards the office and flicked her wand, the papers sorting themselves as they settled neatly into their files. She watched out of the office windows as the older witch flitted from one end of the wing to the other.

After the older witch finished running about, they finally made their way down to the great hall. Hermione wasn’t used to using the corridor that lead to high table the professors sat at. She wasn’t used to not coming with Harry and Ron on the train on opening nights. And she definitely wasn’t used to seeing a young Dumbledore in dress robes sitting only a few chairs down from her.

Slowly, she watched as students started to fill in the great hall. The noise of the hall started climbing and before she knew it, her thoughts were drowned out by all of the commotion and excited chatter.

She heard a bark of laughter then saw the familiar face of Sirius Black appear around the entry way. His face was much younger, even though he was only twenty some years younger here than in her time. His time in Azkaban had dulled the liveliness that glittered in his devilish grey eyes. His hair hung down to his shoulders in soft tendrils of black that Hermione knew would be streaked with grey in a few years. This Sirius was a year older than her and she understood the rumors of him being a lady’s man back in his day. He walked with an effortless confidence and his smile lit up his features, something she rarely saw from the Sirius of her time. She knew what Azkaban would do to him and wanted to protect him, but quelled her Gryffindor urge to protect what was hers.

Following closely beside Sirius was, who she could only assume, was James Potter. He looked almost the same as her Harry, except where Harry was a little more tentative and reserved, James was robust and exuberant. He was laughing along with Sirius about something, the pair made her a little reserved feeling. James also had an effortless confidence, but where Sirius seemed to pull his from charm, James seemed to pull his from a sense of self. His hair was jet black and messy like Harry’s and she had the urge to try to comb it down into place for him like she did for her best friend, but knew they were not the same person. Her heart ached at the sight of him though. It really was almost like looking at a clone of him.

Following behind them was a tall, lean boy who was bent slightly in conversation with a shorter, red headed witch. The wizard, she recognized immediately, was Professor Lupin. He had a youthful look about him as well, less scarring crossing his features and the lines of worry hadn’t marred his forehead yet. His robes hung off of his lean frame, and she could see that someone had patched them a few times. He was giving the witch the same small smile that she had received so many times from him and her heart panged. She hadn’t realized until now how close she had become to the professor and just how much she missed his company. He had made this process so much easier for her and now that she was truly alone, she wished she could reach out to him for his friendship once again.

The witch who he was talking to was waving her hands excitedly as she explained something to the towering wizard, her features lighting up as she talked with him. Her hair was a dark auburn that fell to her shoulders and her green eyes were lit up with excitement. She knew that look, she had seen it so many times on her friend’s face when he talked about quidditch. She fought back a smile and hid it by taking a sip of her pumpkin juice. Lupin was doing a great job of feigning interest.

Scurrying behind the group was a rotund boy who had his hair slicked back, but it was still falling from its hardened place to get in his face. His brow was heavy and he had a thick build, making his gait clumsy and hard-fell. He was the shortest of the boys and the most forgettable of the lot. Hermione, however, tracked him with hawk-like precision. This boy would end up causing the death of not only the Potters but also Sirius, in a round-about way. Plus, he had almost gotten her, Harry, and Ron killed by Lupin. Peter Pettigrew may be a forgettable looking boy, but he would turn out to ruin many lives and Hermione wanted to make him pay for it.

Hermione recognized a couple other faces as they trailed in but couldn’t help staring at the Marauders. She had to check herself a few times to make sure she wasn’t giving off creepy adult syndrome. She had to remind herself that in this time, she was supposed to be older and graduated, she couldn’t be caught staring at children. Especially on her first night with them.

That plan went to shit when her husband walked into the room. The thought of calling Professor Snape her husband still made her ill and seeing him in person for the first time in a year was startling. She nearly spat out her pumpkin juice. She ended up spluttering and coughing rather ungracefully, causing Pomphrey and Professor Flitwick to ask if she was alright. She had forgotten he would be a seventh year this year as well.

Her eyes locked with his dark ones as he walked in flagged by two boys who she didn’t know. His hair hung in sheets of black around his sallow face, the bags under his eyes still pronounced. He looked…exhausted. Hermione thought back, trying to remember what she knew of Snape’s home life, but she really didn’t know anything about him. She assumed he was a pure-blood and that he came from a decent home life like the Malfoys who he associated with in her real time line. He certainly seemed to look down at her for her blood status, so she knew he wasn’t muggle-born. She would have assumed he would be well rested over the summer. She didn’t understand why he looked like he hadn’t slept in months.

His robes seemed to hang off of his wiry form as well, and he walked like he was carrying the world on his shoulders. Hermione watched as one of the boys who was walking with him nudged him in the ribs and he looked down at something he was showing him. Hermione continued to rake her eyes over his slender form, his robes were tattered and wrinkled, like they were hand-me-downs that had been passed one too many times. His large hands closed over the paper the boy held out to him and he slid it into his pants pocket. His eyes found hers again and slid into slits. He held her gaze and Hermione’s heart pounded, not daring to look away, but knowing she needed to end this staring competition. He suddenly whipped his head around and followed his friends to the Slytherin table to sit down.

Hermione made sure to keep her eyes off the students as much as possible throughout the rest of the meal. She listened to the beginning of term speech with rapt attention, but was shocked when she was introduced to the room of students. She awkwardly stood and gave a small wave as Dumbledore explained that she was doing her apprenticeship under Madame Pomphrey and would be leaving them after the Holidays.

After dinner, she quickly made to exit, but was pulled aside by Professor Flitwick, “Acacia! Heading to bed so soon?”

Hermione was taken aback by a professor wanting to talk to her and almost didn’t think he was even addressing her until she felt his hand on her elbow. “Oh! Um, yes. I’m rather tired. I was brewing early this morning so-“

“Ah, yes, Poppy told me all about how skilled you are in potions. What other classes were you proficient in while you were here, my dear? I read you were in my house, and I’m sorry to say I don’t quite remember you…”

Hermione plastered a fake smile on her face, “That’s alright, I actually finished my studies at Beauxbatons, but I started off at Hogwarts. My parents transferred to France for work during my third year. I just decided to take my tests for both England and France because I knew I wanted to come back here for my schooling.”

Flitwick seemed to take this quick lie, but Hermione knew he was still a little apprehensive. She gave him another dazzling smile before changing the subject to charms, getting his mind off her. However, she could feel eyes on her as the students exited the great hall. She glanced over he shoulder and saw Snape’s dark eyes burning into her back with an intense look on his face. She had no idea what the face was about, but when she met his eyes she felt a slam of something hitting her consciousness. She clenched her eyes shut and brought her hand up to her forehead.

“Are you quite alright, Miss Cresswell?”

Hermione hissed as she focused on bringing her mental shields down. Snape was trying to see in her mind. And teenage Snape was much less inconspicuous than thirty-year-old Snape was. “Yes, I’ve just got a migraine. I think I need to go to bed. We will talk soon though, okay?”

Hermione hurried through the corridor and quickly to her rooms. What had Snape seen? Anything important? What was she going to do about this? He couldn’t constantly be accosting her as she tried to study here and keep up this secret. Hermione just hoped he hadn’t seen anything sensitive that could hurt her mission.