The first time she'd seen him had been on the second week she'd used her time turner and the third time she'd used it that particular afternoon. It was a Thursday, she remembered that clearly. There had been nothing especially strange about that day, really. It was just a seemingly normal day in mid-September in Scotland, which meant it was cold and a little damp. The sky had turned a light iron grey with the sun occasionally peeking through the clouds.

She was between classes, looking for a secluded spot to use her time turner so that she might attend her Arithmancy class. This particular corridor had been suggested by Professor McGonagall as an ideal place for using the device for one of her time hops as it was disused by staff and few students knew about it. It was also dusty and exposed on one side, affording a spectacular view of the Scottish highlands. Everything in the wizarding world seemed to have an unerring sense of capriciousness that was at times awe inspiring but also dreadfully impractical to Hermione's thinking at times. And an exposed corridor with lovely decorative arches on the side of the building for no real reason reeked of impractical whimsy. It also seemed like a silly spot to time travel in, but she assumed Professor McGonagall knew what she was talking about.

A gust of wind buffeted her and she pulled her robes closer to her, hiding her face into her scarf until it passed. In the two weeks she'd used this passage, she had never seen a single other soul. So she was a bit surprised to actually see someone walking down the corridor that day. But it was a rather big school, with loads of students and McGonagall had said that only a few knew this place, not that no one knew it, so she covered her surprise. After all, there was the evidence bobbing down the hall towards her.

The first thing she'd noticed was the shock of white blond hair, which had panicked her briefly as she thought it was Malfoy. Really, the last person she wanted to deal with in a dusty, disused hallway. But as the figure got closer, she could see it was not him. First of all, he was far too tall. It had to be a sixth or a seventh year, at the very least, by her estimates.

Coming closer, the differences were very sharp and obvious. That shock of blond hair was far too shaggy, almost artfully messy. And it was all flipped up like a bird wing in the back, not smooth and slicked back as Malfoy seemed to prefer it. The most startling thing, though, was that he was out of uniform on a school day. He was wearing ill-fitting black jeans that hug low on his hips, a baggy bright red hoodie that was not zipped up, and a t-shirt with what looked like a faded broken record printed on the front. Dark mirrored aviators covered his eyes and he walked towards her at what could be generously described as a lackadaisical gait. Hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, he had the air of a person who had all the time in the world and nothing at all to do.

As they came closer, he gazed at her, a very small, almost imperceptible smile on his face. The blond boy nodded at her as he passed, giving her what, at the time, she thought was a very rude gesture, but upon reflection later that night she realized it was a rather lazy peace sign because... He had said only one thing to her, in a very clear American accent.

"Sup."

It took her several seconds to really even think about what happened because she'd been so gob-smacked by the accent and the gesture. Turning around to question him incredulously, she made to shout at his back but he was gone. She did a double take. He hadn't been walking that fast, she had been sure. It had seemed almost as if he hadn't been there at all.

Later in the day while reflecting on it in the common room it almost seemed like she'd dreamed it. 'Ridiculous', she told herself, shaking her head. Neglecting to mention it to Harry or Ron partly out of fear they'd make fun of her and partly because nothing really had happened anyway, it was silly of her to worry about it and even sillier of her to make her friends worry. Plus, how would she even explain what she was doing down that corridor without also mentioning the time turner, which no one was even supposed to know she had. So, turning back to her Ancient Runes homework, she pushed the strange encounter into the back of her mind, despite the lingering questions... what was an American doing in Hogwarts walking down a little used corridor as if he belonged there?

The very next day, she'd gone to Professor McGonagall to ask if Hogwarts had ever had exchange students, like they did in some muggle schools. The Deputy Headmistress had primly told her that Hogwarts had never hosted such a program. When McGonagall had asked her why she'd made such an inquiry, Hermione had lied and told her that she was only curious. She didn't know why she'd lied, considering everything going on it seemed foolish. It was just stress, that's what she'd told herself. She'd just imagined it, because she really hadn't been sleeping well, what with all the work. Even though it was only two weeks in, Hermione had read about sleep deprivation and what it could do. She'd just have to sleep in a bit over the weekend, it'd fix itself.

She didn't see the boy again, and had completely forgotten September's incident. Chalking it up to exactly what she thought it had been: a bit of stress and a desperate need to sleep more. And she believed this until just after Christmas.