Enjoy :)

Hermione almost cracked her neck as she spun to face Blaise. She hadn't realized he'd even been listening into her conversation, and the suspicion she'd been feeling before resurfaced as she shot daggers at him for answering in her place.

"Really?" Regulus arched an eyebrow and turned to Hermione. "What are your parents, then?"

With the attention of Regulus, Zabini, and the girls he'd been talking with on Hermione, the word Muggles sat on the tip of her tongue. Regulus's and the girls' eyes were fixed upon her face inquisitively, wondering, she supposed, whether she was worthy or not to be in their presence.

On the other hand, Blaise stared at her calmly, curiously, as if enjoying a show on the television.

She narrowed her eyes at him; he simply smirked at the predicament he thought had gotten her out of.

If she cared, maybe she would go along with his comment. But since second year, after she survived being Petrified by the basilisk because she was a muggleborn, Hermione had never let anyone else try to judge her based on blood status. She could ignore stray comments, hold in her anger, but this was the one thing that crossed the line of her tolerance. Besides, whether the Slytherins accepted her or not was not a priority for Hermione. As far as she was concerned, she had no reason to care whether she was liked by the House she despised anyway.

"I'm a muggleborn," Hermione therefore said flatly. She glared at Blaise before eyeing the dark-haired boy next to her. She wanted Regulus Black (and now one of his friends, who was sitting beside Blaise and leaning forward to listen) to understand that she was Muggleborn and proud of it. "My parents are both dentists."

Regulus recoiled, though she was pretty sure he had no idea what a dentist was. His face twisted into a melanged expression of disgust and surprise. While he seemed to be temporarily rendered speechless, the brawny boy that sat across from him asked loudly, "And you got Sorted into Slytherin?"

Hermione turned her gaze to him, lifting her chin defensively. She was not afraid to say that she was a muggleborn, but to deny that she'd been put into Slytherin would risk people finding out the truth about Hermione and Blaise. That, at least, was worth the lie, though she internally convulsed.

"Obviously," she said haughtily.

The boy's eyes instantly went cold. "How did a mudblood even discover Hogwarts?"

"Every student is given the option of being home schooled when receiving their Hogwarts letter," she replied instantly. "Muggleborn or not."

He narrowed his eyes at her, as if trying to discern whether she was lying or not. Finally, he shook his head and said with a humorless quirk of a smile, "You're going to wish you stayed at home, Muggleborn."

He turned to Blaise, who met his stare with one of his own. "And you?" he asked presumptuously. "Zabini, was it?"

"That's right."

"Happen to be related to Elena Zabini? She graduated a few years back."

Blaise seemed to freeze for a moment before saying smoothly, "She's a cousin."

The other boy nodded appreciatively, his features relaxing as he clapped Blaise on the back. "Good Pureblood family. Almost as old as the Blacks here, eh Reg?"

Regulus was still watching Hermione with what appeared to be disgust.

He tore his eyes away and contemplated Zabini before reaching across the table to shake his hand. A satisfied smile surfaced as Blaise obliged, and he laughed a little.

"Older than yours, Parkinson."

Hermione observed this exchange with grim acceptance. Her unflattering suspicions about Slytherin were confirmed already. All this talk about family bloodlines and whose blood was purer than whose was just a way to justify social standings in the Slytherin world, just as she had imagined. And Hermione never expected the Slytherins to accept her as a muggleborn (neither did she care for them to), but it had just taken three words for Zabini to be admitted into the inner group of Slytherins.

She was disgusted.

Hermione turned back to her plate and willed the Welcoming Feast to end faster. She wanted to escape the crawling presence of these Slytherins who could not think in terms of anything but blood.

As if answering her plea, Dumbledore stood at the staff table and cleared his throat. Slowly, the noise petered out, and when the vast room had gone silent, the headmaster said, "I hope that was a fulfilling dinner for all of you. There is nothing better than a large meal to end the day. And now, you may all go to your common rooms to rest for the night with these final words from me: Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus!"

"Never tickle a sleeping dragon," Hermione muttered under her breath as she rose from her seat.

After glancing at the Gryffindor table one last time, she set off before anyone (namely Zabini or Sirius's younger brother) could detain her.

Yet she was stopped on her way out by a gentle tap on her arm. She pursed her lips and turned; her impression of Slytherins was already cemented for the night.

"You're one of the new students, right?" asked a tall boy with brown hair. She saw that he wore a green Prefect badge on his robes.

He smiled at her after she nodded slowly. "I'm Adrian Greengrass, seventh year Slytherin prefect. If you have any questions during your stay here, you can ask me or Natalie Farley over there."

"Thanks," she said reflexively. She looked in the direction he was pointing, at a girl who had gorgeous brown hair and an impish smile that reminded her of Ginny.

"Anyway, the password's 'Giant Squid'. Tribute to the mister outside our dungeons." He winked at her as she nodded and spun toward the doors. He was acting kind to her now, she would give him that, but by the time it spread around that she wasn't a pureblood or even a half-blood, he wouldn't be offering her any more help.

As Hermione made her way towards the Grand Staircase, a group of Gryffindor boys ran past her, hooting as they clamored up the stairs. Her heart skipped a beat for a moment and she stopped in her tracks.

But when she took a good look at their backs, there were six boys in the group instead of four, and none of them had Sirius's long black hair which she felt she could recognize anywhere.

She hesitated as she reached the Grand Staircase herself. To get to the Slytherin dungeons, she had to go down the stairs, and if she did, she'd be forced to lose sight of the passage up to the Tower. And Hermione desperately wanted one more glance of Harry's parents, or Sirius, or Remus.

She glanced over her shoulder to see if she might be able to spot the Marauders in the crowd, but she was instead met with the sight of Zabini, Regulus, and the rest of the group of boys exiting the Great Hall and heading toward the Staircase.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Hermione muttered under her breath, and, casting a final longing glance at the staircase going up to the Gryffindor Tower, she started down the staircase to the dungeons.

Zabini's increasingly infuriating voice drifted into her mind. I did tell you that you wouldn't be able to resist…

She clenched her teeth together and though of how he had been grinning and buddying up with Regulus Black and Aaron Parkinson over a single name. Maybe it would be difficult for her to resist the Gryffindors of this era. But seeing him already on the way to acquainting himself with all these Slytherins, Blaise was sure as hell a hypocrite if he thought her weak-willed.

Hermione woke up an hour earlier than she normally did at school, though it was hard to tell by the lighting what time it was; the murky waters outside the windows obliterated any chance of seeing the color of the sky above.

The months she, Harry, and Ron had spent on the run had changed Hermione's sleep cycle to the extent that she had again woken up at two a.m. and five a.m., ready to take the shift outside the tent she no longer lived in. Yet even as Hermione lay wide awake in the dim light of the chamber at her normal waking time, it was difficult to force herself out of bed. The first night in this time, she'd fallen asleep immediately after hitting the bed, so Hermione hadn't noticed the silkiness of the sheets or the comfort of the mattress. She had not fully realized that the Hogwarts bed was nothing short of a miracle.

It took the fleeting thought of Harry and Ron, and the guilt accompanied with it, to force herself to throw off the heavenly covers and drearily head to the bathroom. When she came out ten minutes later, dressed for the first day of class, she packed her book bag quietly as to not wake her roommates.

Hermione had met the four seventh year girls last night: Ava Lavery, Natalie Farley the prefect, Meredith Chen, and Rebecca Dawling.

They were tolerable at least, especially since they didn't know her blood status yet, and Hermione was happy to find out that they didn't spend as much time questioning about bloodlines than the male Slytherins evidently did. They had not once asked whether Hermione was a pureblood or not, or perhaps they'd simply assumed.

Instead, their eager questions were directed on the subject of Blaise Zabini.

"I'm not very close to him," Hermione had told them, all the whilst thinking about what lay beneath the sleeve of his left forearm. "You'd get better answers from asking him yourself."

When she had indeed offered nothing flattering about him, they'd turned to the discussion of boys in general. They were rather like Lavender and Parvati, Hermione thought; she supposed whether they were Slytherin or Gryffindor, girls had to be the same in some ways. Regardless, Hermione had never been interested in gossip, and had politely declined their offer to list the most available Slytherin boys in the school. Her final impression of them had been that they were rather vapid Slytherin girls that lived less up to their House title than say, Pansy Parkinson.

Yet as Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder and gazed at the girls in their beds, she couldn't help but feel as if there was something beneath her roommates' insipid gossip and girlish appearances that they were deliberately hiding from her.

Several times, she had caught Meredith and Natalie exchanging glances while Hermione spoke. She had definitely heard them murmuring about something other than boys when Hermione had excused herself to go to the bathroom.

But when she'd returned, they had continued their frivolous conversation where they left it, even though Rebecca and Meredith had moved to join Ava and Natalie on their beds, leaving an obvious gap between the group of girls and Hermione on her bed.

It was strange, and she contemplated this for a minute before shaking her head and turning towards the door. The female language was not as inate for Hermione as maybe it ought to have been. She would have time to figure it out later, if she ever felt inclined to in the days to come.

Two months, she reminded herself as she left the empty Slytherin common room. She still had two months left before she could return to Harry and to Ron.

The Great Hall was almost completely empty when she entered it at 6:45 in the morning, but Hermione glanced at the Gryffindor table reflexively. Though she knew better than to expect that the Marauders and Lily Potter would conveniently be here where she could possibly speak to them without suspicion, she was still disappointed to see the empty seats at the table.

With a sigh, she made her way to the Slytherin table and took a seat near the front.

Usually, the only ones who sat closest to the staff table were the first-years, more engrossed in taking in Hogwarts than trying to be out of hearing range of the teachers. Here, Hermione would be able to eat in peace without having to sit through another headache-inducing conversation with older Slytherins. First-years, after all, whether they were Gryffindor or Slytherin, were bound to be more interested in their first day at Hogwarts than in an exchange student who did not mind being alone.

Hermione tugged one of her new textbooks from her bag and began to read to distract herself from the lack of Ron's jokes as she ate. She paid little attention to the slowly filling Great Hall, pausing only occasionally to look at the doors in search of certain Gryffindors.

She didn't notice, then, the person who took the seat opposite of her until he gently tapped the corner of her book.

"Morning," said Adrian Greengrass the prefect, grinning slightly at her jolted expression. He helped himself to some eggs as she stared uncomprehendingly at him. "Hermione, right? Sleep well last night?"

Hermione's lips turned into a cautious frown. "Yes, I did."

"Good. You don't mind if I join you, do you? You seemed rather lonely by yourself here, and it didn't look as if you were talking with the first years."

She lifted her head, surprised to see that the Great Hall had filled considerably from the last time she looked up. Glancing directly around her, she saw that her predictions had been correct; except for Adrian Greengrass, the seats were filled with young students who were marveling at the sight of the sunrise on the dome of the Great Hall.

She turned back to him, and was slightly taken aback at the warm smile he was giving her. Hermione cleared her throat and thought she should offer some explanation for her stoic appearance. He was being rather polite, after all. "I was reading."

"I can see. You must really be into Transfiguration."

She smiled, without thinking. "It's fascinating, but I have to say Ancient Runes is my favorite subject."

"Are you taking the class here?" He grinned when she nodded. "Excellent, I've been looking for a fellow Slytherin partner for that class. The only other Slytherins who take Ancient Runes are Natalie and Meredith, but they always partner up on their own…"

It was surprisingly easy to talk to the prefect, once she allowed herself to be less than icy around him. He somehow reminded her of the deceased Cedric Diggory, in looks and personality.

As they continued to converse, Hermione tried to remember if Adrian's children were similar to their father, who appeared to be more intelligible and considerate with every second she spoke to him. She knew that Daphne Greengrass was in her year, but Hermione had never spoken with her before.

She and Adrian had just begun a fascinating discussion about the connection between Astronomy and Transfiguration when a group of older Slytherin students slipped into the seats beside Hermione and Adrian.

Adrian welcomed them comfortably. Judging from the ease in which he greeted them, they were his friends.

Hermione cast a critical eye over the four boys currently sitting down, wondering whether they were more similar to their prefect friend or to Aaron Parkinson and Regulus Black. She continued to eat stiffly, eyeing the boys carefully as one of them began,

"You just missed it, Greengrass."

"There was a group of Puffs coming down the stairs, and Thomas charmed it so that the stairs grew slippery."

"You should have seen it -"

"They slid everywhere, one almost swung himself off the staircase -"

The Slytherins crowed appreciatively and Hermione, who listened to them with growing disapproval, quickly finished her plate. She put her book back into her bag and stood.

"Excuse me," she muttered, and for all they were guffawing, Hermione doubted anyone but Adrian heard her - at least until a hand latched onto her wrist.

A boy with short dark hair and a square jawline peered up at her. "Oi. You're one of those exchange students, aren't you?"

"Evidently," she said. It came out much more biting than could be overlooked, and the boy raised his eyebrow at her.

One of the other boys smirked and whispered something to the boy sitting next to him. The two began to chuckle under their breaths.

The one with a scar on his left cheek leered at her and said in a rather loud voice, "So you're the Mudblood."

Hermione, affronted, nearly rolled her eyes. Had Zabini told him already? The boy smiled satisfactorily at her, as if waiting for her to absorb the reactions from the other Slytherins at this accusation, but Hermione wasn't interested in any of them. Instead, Hermione glanced at the only Slytherin to counter her expectations so far, and wondered if he would live up to the Slytherin attitude and turn on her with this new piece of information.

But Adrian's face betrayed no emotion other than surprise as he turned his gaze to her. "Are you really?"

"Yes. What of it?" She arched an eyebrow at the smirks forming on the Slytherins' face in an effort to mask the building anger in her stomach. She wrenched her arm out of the Slytherin boy's grasp, causing surprise, then annoyance, to lace across his features.

"Just that we Slytherins don't appreciate mudbloods tainting our House," he responded roughly. "Even if it is just an exchange student."

"So stay out of our way," continued a rather large Slytherin who, when Hermione turned to him, looked so alike to Crabbe that she nearly dropped her jaw. "We might go easy on you."

Her posture stiffened, partly for his words and partly because she just remembered coughing up ashy air from her lungs as she, Harry, Ron, Gregory Goyle, and Draco Malfoy had sat outside of the Room of Requirement and discovered that Vincent Crabbe was no longer with them. She stepped backwards, suddenly hyper-aware of the eyes on her, ringed with a mix of malice or amusement.

"Oi, Snape!"

Some of the gazes on her broke, and Hermione barely had time to let out a breath before the name "Snape" struck a minor chord in her heart. She turned her gaze, wide-eyed, to where one of the Slytherin boys was waving at a boy entering the Great Hall.

Hermione's breath caught as the boy walked closer. He was combing back his dark hair with his fingers, and only gave an emotionless nod at the Slytherin boys as he approached, a large bag that looked half his weight swaying from his shoulder. His robes looked slightly wrinkled, like he had pulled them out of the deepest part of his luggage and did care to straighten them out.

The boy's eyes scanned the table, and settled on the only empty seat nearby - the one Hermione had just vacated and was currently standing in front of. His eyes raised from the seat to Hermione's face, where they cast over her features in mild disdain.

"Who are you?"

He received several answers from the Slytherins as Hermione opened her mouth and no sound came out: "The exchange student", "Mudblood", and "Proud little mudblood."

But Hermione could only flash back to how Harry had described Severus Snape, in cold blood, killing Albus Dumbledore. The greatest man of the century was killed by the thin, slightly disheveled boy in front of her now. Hermione involuntarily shuddered, and young Snape raised his eyebrows at her.

"Doesn't seem like much," he muttered, more to himself than the Slytherins who snorted at his comment.

He shouldered past her and promptly took his seat.

The Slytherins began to wildly recount their trick on the unsuspecting Hufflepuffs to Snape, who seemed almost bored by their talk. It seemed that playtime with the mudblood was over now; Hermione did not stick around to entertain them any longer.

Seeing young Professor Snape left an unsettled feeling along Hermione's skin. If meeting Regulus Black had seemed surreal, meeting young Snape cemented the absolute insanity of Hermione being here in this time. Hermione could feel the wrongness of being here in 1977 along the hairs of her skin.

So when another hand suddenly grabbed her wrist on her rapid escape toward the Great Hall entrance, Hermione reflexively wrenched her arm away. She found herself staring down into Blaise Zabini's amused eyes.

"What?" she asked. She hoped she sounded exasperated and not half-crazed.

"My, my. No need to sound so rude." Zabini nonchalantly returned to his plate of food. "Sit down," he said as he forked a piece of egg.

She turned to leave, but he grabbed onto her arm again and pulled. "Seriously," he said under his breath.

Hermione glared at him, but looked up to see Regulus Black watching her from across the table. He did not look away when her eyes met his; rather, he narrowed his eyes even more. The suspicion in them was not lost on her, and judging from the overconfident nonchalance on Zabini's face, the Italian knew it, too.

She shakily sat, despite the voices in her head still ringing out, Wrong, wrong, wrong. She gingerly peeled off Zabini's long fingers from her arm. "Was there something you needed?" she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

Zabini shook his head. She was struck with the desire to stomp on his foot from under the table. "Slughorn's passing out the schedules. Didn't want to have to hunt you down later."

Hermione immediately peered down the Slytherin table; sure enough, the younger version of Professor Slughorn was coming down the table with timetables in his arms.

She turned and frowned at Zabini as he cut his bacon into precise little rectangles. Though she didn't say anything, Blaise smiled out of the corner of his mouth. "What?" he asked innocently. "One exchange student can't help another?"

The dry amusement in his eyes was infuriating, but she just turned away and remained silent.

In the time she sat, waiting for Slughorn to reach them with their timetables, Hermione decided that Blaise was a character to be wary about, for obvious reasons and then also - especially - for the fact that she didn't know him at all. The fact was dawning on her now that they were sitting beside one another, supposedly in the same boat because of his Time Turner.

What did she know about him? She had had classes with him in Hogwarts, but for the life of her, could not remember much about specific Slytherins except for Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. She'd never bothered to get to know Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini because there had been more important matters to focus on. All she could recall was that he'd been in the top five students of their class, and that Flitwick was fond of him. He was not on the Slytherin Quidditch Team. He had been in Slughorn's "Slug Club" because of his rich mother. Hermione could imagine other things about him - for example, a certain brand on his left forearm - but even with that, her extent of knowledge on Blaise Zabini was uncomfortably limited.

Hermione eyed Zabini with trepidation. Then she glanced down the table to see if Slughorn was near yet - and found him behind her, rustling through a sheaf of papers.

"Ah, Mr. Zabini and Miss Granger! I hope you are looking forward to your first day here." The young professor beamed at them and brandished two pieces of parchment. "Please look over your timetables. If you have any questions, you can ask me or your prefects. Ah, and here's yours, Mr. Black, and Mr. Newell -"

As soon as she grasped her roll of parchment, Hermione stood and said tersely, "Goodbye," which earned a snort from Zabini and no farewell in exchange.

She fled from the Great Hall with one last quick glance at the Gryffindor table, though she could not spot if any of the students' faces were Lily or James Potter's. Once in the Entrance Hall, Hermione slowed to a walk, relaxing a little now that she was no longer in a room full of unfamiliar students of this time. She unfurled her timetable.

The Slytherins had Charms first today, then Herbology. Her eyes skimmed over the rest of the schedule until she landed eagerly on Thursday morning, where it stated there was a dual class: Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Gryffindors. Pleased, Hermione carefully folded the parchment. She slipped it into her bag and, failing to notice the person coming down the hallway, thus walked straight into him. Losing her balance, she promptly dropped her heavy bag on his foot.

"Ouch!" The boy's knees buckled and he sank to the ground.

Horrified, Hermione bent down to assist him. "I'm sorry, are you okay? Oh, damn -" She winced as a black mark blossoming over her bag indicated her ink bottle had broken.

"I'm fine, you just surprised me. Here -" The boy leaned over and scooped up her fallen quills as Hermione frantically siphoned the ink off of her books. With his help, she cleaned up the books and her bag before they became too damaged, and Hermione repaired the ink bottle with a final wave of her wand.

"Thank you," she said appreciatively as she ran her fingers over the book spines in her bag. "Sorry for dropping it on your -"

She forgot to finish her sentence as she finally took a good look at the boy's face.

"Foot," Remus Lupin supplied helpfully, after a pause in which Hermione stared at him, completely stunned in place. "But it's no problem."

Hermione had to force herself to move, although her eyes remained fixated on his brown hair and familiar kind eyes. She had seen several pictures, from Harry's special album of old photographs, of young Remus Lupin but it was different to see him in real life and so close to her. Remus, with no wrinkles of loss and sadness in his eyes. Remus, whom she'd last seen rushing into battle, Tonks following after him. Remus, whom she had always considered a protector, and whom Harry loved nearly as much as he did Sirius. His name formed on her lips but she couldn't utter it.

"Are you okay?" Remus asked now, peering at her. "You look a bit pale."

Hermione cleared her throat and blinked. Words fell out of her mouth before she could process them. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm Hermione, by the way."

"Remus." He smiled pleasantly and cocked his head to the side as he spotted her green and silver tie. "Aren't you one of the new exchange students?"

"Yes, I am."

"Well, I hope that you like Hogwarts so far," said Remus warmly. "If you ever need anything -"

He was suddenly cut off by several, simultaneous loud exclamations.

"Oi, is that you, Moony?"

"Remmy! Did you wait for us?"

"Ooh, who's that?"

Hermione's gaze snapped up and over Remus's shoulder toward the sound of the voices. She thought of something Hagrid had once told Harry: where one Marauder went, the rest soon followed. And Remus only smiled over his shoulder as three dark-haired boys sporting Gryffindor ties bounded over to where he and Hermione stood.

And Hermione suddenly found four young Marauders standing in front of her.

"Hey. Isn't this…?" Sirius began.

Her eyes raked over Sirius's clear grey eyes and Peter Pettigrew's stout figure. The way Remus was giving his friends an affectionate grin. And James… Hermione finally understood all those "You're-the-spitting-image-of-your-father"s that Harry received. James looked so much like Harry, so much that her heart called toward him and ached for her best friend. She felt the urge to throw her arms around James and whisper Harry's name.

"... one of the exchange students?"

Hermione's eyes swiveled back to Sirius, his dark hair and chiseled face as vibrant and, yes, awfully handsome as she had ever seen it. She felt like she was in a dream, a Pensive, looking upon the prime image of Sirius Black.

She remembered to stick out a hand. "I'm Hermione Granger," she said, rather eagerly. "It's nice to meet you." She waited for him to grab her hand too. She waited for his fingers to grasp hers like she had grasped his brother's.

Instead, Sirius's face twisted into a scowl.

"You're one of the new Slytherins in our year." Hermione had known him enough when he'd been alive that she could detect the underlying scorn in his tone. The dislike in his eyes, was familiar when she looked up at him, trepidation in her own.

"I'm sorry?" she squeaked out. But comprehension was already beginning to dawn on her.

Her hand slid awkwardly out of the bridge of space between them - the four Gryffindors and the one Slytherin - and to Hermione's side. Her previous excitement and wonder was now fading to a comprehending frustration that burned against the iciness in James Potter's posture.

Her heart clenched in anticipation as James opened his mouth, but when James spoke aloud, Hermione had to admit that she was a little relieved he did not sound like Harry. That was on the account of the taunting lilt in his voice.

"Guess Slytherin is treating you well." James Potter gave Hermione a grin, and her heart clenched again, in shock this time. Harry sometimes used that smile for Draco Malfoy. He used that smile for Umbridge. He used that smile to hurt in the rare times he was hurt enough himself to want to hurt others. Hermione had never, ever seen that particular smile directed at anyone Harry considered a friend, not even that time with Ron in the forest, and yet the same condescending smile was being given to her right now, with ease because she was a Slytherin.

Slytherin. Slytherin. She bit back frustration and swallowed the surge of anger toward Blaise Zabini. Oh, why did she have to be Slytherin in this era?

Hermione watched Harry's father with pained eyes as he shouldered past her, like Snape had earlier, and said, "Whatever. Let's eat, boys."

"Leave the snake to do her thing," Sirius crowed. He spared a goading glance for her before enthusiastically following James, and Hermione was surprised at the rush of anger and indignation that surfaced as she hardened her gaze after his figure.

Hermione turned away sharply, and suddenly met young Peter Pettigrew's eyes. The mousy-haired boy seemed momentarily petrified into place by her gaze, and there was something in his brown eyes as he looked at her. He lowered his stare before she could identify what it was, though, before leaving Hermione and Remus alone once more.

Hermione half-heartedly steeled herself as she looked at Remus. She did not really think that he would be hostile to her, and indeed Remus's expression as he watched his friends leave was sheepish, not cold.

"Sorry about that," he ventured hesitantly, and a rush of warmth instantly flowed through Hermione's veins. "I know you probably didn't need that on your first day here -"

"It's quite alright," Hermione assured him quickly. She was simply relieved at his unchanged attitude.

Remus still looked uncomfortable, and he waved his hands. "There's some perpetual… rivalry between the Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses."

Despite herself, Hermione hid a smile that surfaced to her lips. "I understand. You ought to get your breakfast now."

Remus gave her a warm, apologetic smile before bidding her goodbye and heading off into the Great Hall.

Now alone, Hermione stood unmoving in the hallway for several moments, processing the past events one movement and expression at a time. She eventually forced herself to continue on her way through the castle, though it was with no direction in mind and at a slow pace.

As silently as she had bore the Marauder's obvious dislike, the indignation that had surfaced at Sirius's taunting last comment still burned in Hermione's stomach. But as Hermione walked up flights up stairs and into corridors she had last seen crumbling under Death Eaters' attacks, the anger directed itself at the tie presently choked around her neck.

Because Hermione understood James and Sirius's judgement and scorn more than they would ever know.

She understood, so she wanted to run after them and convince them that she was Gryffindor on the inside, no matter what color tie she wore. She understood that they would have reacted very differently had they not been repulsed as she as the sight of the mere, foul green accent on her school uniform.

Hermione understood that Harry's father and Sirius were good people. But no matter how much she knew why they hated Slytherins, no matter how much she had just been scorning the Slytherins at the breakfast table, no matter how much she understood - Blaise Zabini's words slithered into her mind and began to echo almost tauntingly, the ones he had spoken on the very first night they arrived.

"You're quick to judge without knowing anything."

The words prodded at her consciousness with their dark tendrils, whispering to her of James Potter's cool smile and Sirius's cruel heavy gaze. And the more Hermione thought about those words, the more she disliked Blaise with every step.

Whew! This was a longer chapter with lots in it, and I hope you liked it :) As always, thank you for the reads, follows, reviews.

I have to warn you that I'm going to busy for the next couple of weeks and probably won't update until toward the end of the month. Hopefully I'll be able to update more often after that, though!

(And yes, I'm channeling my love for Jane Austen into this chapter's title. XD)

xo Summer