A/N: I told myself I wouldn't do this, but after I uploaded this chapter, I realized I didn't like it as much as I thought I would. I had the outline, but I went off script with the Harry and Ron part and it turned out not as powerful as it seemed in my head. I'm sorry for that and for rewriting this chapter. For those who've read this chapter, start reading a paragraph before the break. For those who have yet to read this chapter, begin here.

Known It Always.

Booker was humming softly to herself as she glided down the stone steps. Knowing children often fed off the emotions of their superiors, Booker had smoked more than usual in order to keep a completely relaxed attitude. Dumbledore had disappeared. Of course, Booker had seen this, was expecting it, but knew the old headmaster had everything planned out and under control. There was never a need to warn anyone, so she simply kept quiet.

Once she'd made it to the great hall, Booker headed toward the head of the Gryffindor table. Harry was sitting with an angry scowl across from Ron and Hermione, looking at Harry with worried expressions. Booker stopped beside Harry and looked across the table.

"Hello, Hermione. I'm Miss Lively, the new divinations teacher," Booker watched Hermione's head nod in acknowledgement and continued, "I was just wondering if you'd be willing to stop by my class during your lunch period. I'll have food for you, so you won't have to worry about not eating."

Hermione looked at Professor Lively disbelievingly. What could the new divinations professor want with her? Slowly, she answered, "Um, sure Professor. I'll be there."

Booker smiled, "Great. I'll see-"

Her sentence was cut off by a vision that came in quick flashes – the boy sitting on the other side of where Booker had stopped; a boy in green robes waiving his wand; a flash; the poor Gryffindor boy slumped over, pale, shaking, sweaty, and obviously in pain. As the last flash faded, Booker's eyes focused on Hermione's questioning face. Quickly, Booker glanced up at the ceiling that reflected the outside sky before pivoting on her foot to be positioned to block Neville.

She barely had time to register the flash of light she glimpsed speeding toward her before she felt it. Booker gasped as her stomach tightened and twisted. She heard an exclamation around her as she fell, rolling onto her side and clutching her stomach, eyes shut tight. She felt large hands on her, lifting her, and her body began to seizure as shivers racked up and down her spine. Booker decided her organs were definitely rearranging themselves inside of her. She groaned as a particularly painful twist made Booker wonder how long it would be before one of those vital organs popped from the exertion.

As suddenly as the pain set it, her body settled. Booker took a gasping breath before opening her eyes, seeing Madam Pomfrey standing over her. She was in the hospital wing, and she quickly sat up to see Professor McGonagall and Hagrid watching her.

McGonagall's mouth was stretched thin, her eyes wide with disbelief that this girl had actually seen something. She'd had a heated debate with Dumbledore about this girl the night he brought her to Hogwarts, but he'd been firm in his belief of her gifts. Having heard the account of what happened from Miss Granger though, Minerva had to admit even she was starting to believe.

"Sorry about that. I couldn't just let him get hurt like that," Booker apologized, shrugging her shoulders. She groaned, clutching her still sore stomach as she sat up, blatantly ignoring Madam Pomfrey's tutting. "What was that, anyway?"

"Why are you apologizing?" Minerva was outraged at this. First, the girl saved a student from certain turmoil and then she was apologizing for it. "It was an entrails-expelling curse. I don't know where that Slytherin boy learned it, but Professor Snape is taking care of his punishment right now."

Booker nodded, sliding slowly off the bed. Madam Pomfrey immediately tried pushing her back down, but Booker was having none of that.

"Madam Pomfrey, I have to teach my classes. A little curse isn't going to stop me."

Madam Pomfrey huffed in annoyance; she didn't like when her patients dismissed her, but she also didn't feel completely comfortable around this muggle. Instead of pushing her back to the bed and demanding she stay for observations, she handed Booker a bottle. "Fine then. Drink a good gulp of this every hour for the next twenty-four hours. Don't miss it or you'll be right back in here."

"Got it," Booker said, taking the bottle with the hand not holding her stomach. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

With a huff of indignation, Madam Pomfrey sped off. Turning back to Professor McGonagall and Hagrid, Booker exchanged pleasant goodbyes before slowly making her way back to her classroom. The students that saw her passing and had heard the news would stop and watch her pass with wide eyes. She smiled her greetings as best she could, but didn't stop to make conversation with anyone. Madam Pomfrey may have given her a potion to drink every hour, but Booker knew this nausea would go away sooner with a few good hits of herb.

By the time she made it to her class, the students were seated and ready to begin. Booker was happy she could give them some basic reviews now that they'd successfully finished learning the plethora of emotions she'd thrown at them. She knew there was no better way to teach the identifying of emotions during readings than to give them actual readings. That would leave enough time to smoke then walk around and help each student.

Leaning on her desk, Booker instructed, "I would like for all of you to break into pairs. Each pair should get one tea set and a bag of tea that box." Booker gestured toward a small wooden box she'd filled the previous night with little baggies of different tea mixture. "Today we're going to review reading tea leaves with what we've learned. As it's a review, we'll only be spending one class on this. I'll be around in a minute to help each of you that needs it. You may begin."

Watching her students begin the task, Booker slipped behind her desk and opened the top desk drawer. She discreetly pulled out a small silver pipe, baggie, and lighter before heading to the windowsill. Booker thought it'd be best, with the pain she was currently in, to smoke straight pot instead of her usual mixture. Sitting on the ledge with her back to her class, she loaded herself a small bowl and began to smoke. After a few puffs, Booker felt her muscles begin to loosen. She was still sore, but she knew she'd feel much better once the full affect of the weed hit her.

Booker closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh outside air, opening her eyes as she sighed. Turning slowly, Booker slid off the windowsill and inconspicuously deposited her wares back in her desk drawer. She was walking gracefully again, an easy smile settling on her features. She stood briefly at her desk, watching Harry and Ron working. They were so young, too young to fight in the impending war. But there they sat, chatting quietly while drinking their teas, not knowing the full weight of what their decisions did.

Soft foot steps caused Booker to look up from her weekly lesson plan. She smiled, setting her work aside and rising to greet her guest. Booker watched Hermione walk through the door, startling at the way the young professor seemed to expect her entrance. She had prepared for her guest, asking the elves to bring up a small sampling of food, but just as Hermione started stepping toward Booker again, a vision flashed. Once her focus returned, Booker smiled.

"I'm sorry. You won't be staying for your lunch period, but I just wanted to ask if you would consider taking divination lessons from me. Not for your O.W.L.s of course, but just in your free time. I think you're a smart enough student to learn the things I can't teach you – the things only wizards could do." Booker watched Hermione's disbelieving expression before saying, "Oh! You don't have to give me an answer right away. Just think about it."

Hermione was about to respond when a dark shadow caught her eye. Turning her head, she noticed Professor Snape standing in the doorway, a small box tucked under his arm. He looked down his hooked nose at the student, arching one brow and holding back a sneer.

"Right well, I'll think about it then, professor." Hermione turned to leave, wondering what Professor Lively could teach her that no other student could learn. After what she'd seen just that morning, Hermione thought this muggle had a lot more right teaching divination than that bloody fake, Trelawny. A queasy thought cuased Hermione to stop and turn back to Booker. "Professor, do you already k now my answer?"

Booker breathed a laugh, shaking her head. "No. I see the outcomes of decisions made. You haven't made your decision yet." Booker watched the young witch cock her head, thinking. She nodded to herself, seemingly pleased with Booker's answer, before turning and heading toward the door once more.

Once the Gryffindor know-it-all had left the classrooms, Snape stepped forward to Booker's desk. His mouth pursed, not really smiling, but civil enough. He set down the box he'd pulled from under his arm on the desk, lining its contents up alphabetically on the old wood surface. He watched Booker in his peripheral, picking up a small glass jar and examining a label. Her hair had gotten slightly longer, leaving a small streak of white blonde hair between the green and her scalp. Severus' eyes watched her face contort from interested to puzzled. She'd noticed. He'd hoped she wouldn't notice.

"Why didn't you bring me the herbs from the list?" Booker set the jar down with soft clunk of glass on wood as she turned to face Professor Snape.

It surprised Severus, not hearing accusation in her question. She was inquisitive, perplexed, but not critical. Knowing what she'd gone through just that morning, he was surprised to see how at ease she seemed. Her left hand rested gracefully against the desktop, creamy skin clashing with cherry wood, with the other hand tucked deep into her from pocket, pulling the denim further down her hips. She oozed calm, cool, and collected, and she was making him feel the same.

"They were poisons." He had expected this statement to break the feeling of relaxation that encompassed the small classroom. He didn't expect Booker to nod in apparent understanding – though understanding of what, he wasn't sure.

"That explains it." With a shrug, Booker walked to her tiered shelves. Slowly she began rearranging the glass jars, making space for the new arrivals.

"That explains what?" Snape didn't understand this girl. Placing the bottles alphabetically on the shelves, he watched her walk back for the remaining jars, pausing briefly.

"My future went blank when I decided to get them myself, then I thought of asking you and my future returned. I didn't know the exact cause until now, but thank you for saving my life." Booker smiled as she resumed rearranging the different herb jars. "And you don't have to worry about punishing Draco; I know it would look too suspicious if you did. He doesn't need to know I know."

Snape was stunned. She'd responded to the explanation he had prepared. He'd thought she would be mad, upset, something, but this odd young woman had done it again. All she seemed to do was surprise him.