Hermione looked around her, at the destruction. Many of those who were still alive were barely there.

Her heart was breaking. Harry was lying at her feet, still alive, but out for the count. A few feet away, Remus Lupin was in a similar condition. Bellatrix Lestrange, and Neville Longbottom had died in battle against each other. The light had technically won, but with so many deaths, was it truly a victory?

Hermione fumbled for the time turner around her neck. On the night of Dumbledore's murder, she had found it lying on her bed under a sound concealment charm, with a note in the headmaster's quirky scrawl. It had only told her to use it when all hope was lost. She turned the hourglass once…twice…thrice, until she lost count, and she kept spinning the little gold crank, and she didn't stop until she was passed out.

She woke up in the Hospital Wing with the curtains drawn. Had she gone back? Had she broken her turner? She desperately grabbed for the chain, and sighed in relief when she saw it wasn't damaged.

Gingerly, she lifted herself out of the bed and made to open the drape around her, when it was violently yanked open for her. She gave a shrill shriek and leapt backwards onto the bed, taking a defensive stance. She didn't recognize the face in front of her. She was middle aged, and she wore a medi-witch's robe.

"Who're you?" Hermione gasped.

"Madam Patton, the Hogwarts Hospital Matron." She said softly. "You gave us quite a fright, dropping in the way you did. Fell right out of the sky onto the Slytherin table, in front of Mr. Riddle. We had to cut your clothes off of you because we couldn't tell some of it from your skin. A lot of burns, some of the plastics and glasses were welded into your skin. Gruesome injuries. We kept your clothes, in case you wanted them. I don't know why you would, though."

"How long have I been here? I don't have any burns now…"

"You've been here for two days, and we managed to relieve a majority of your injuries. You'll have a few curse scars, and you'll be sore for a couple of days at worst."

"I need to speak to professor Dumbledore." She gasped. She had landed on Tom Riddle's plate a few days ago, looking war torn. "Not Headmaster Dippet?"

"No. Dumbledore. Now." She probably sounded rude. She didn't really care all that much.

"I'm already here, Daisy. If you'll give us some time, please?" She nodded curtly and turned away, and Dumbledore cast a silencing charm around the bed. "First and foremost, I'll need your name, dear." He said kindly.

Hermione hesitated. "My name is Hermione Granger." She muttered. Whatever she said, her situation probably couldn't get much worse. Falling out of the sky in front of a power-hungry maniac didn't sound like the best thing that could have happened to her on her newfound mission. She wasn't even quite sure what her mission was yet. She had a lot to figure out.

"Ms. Granger, how did you get here?"

"I…I turned back time, and I landed here." Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "I'm from 1997."

"Oh dear. You've gotten yourself into quite a fix. It's 1944 now. Well, we'll register you here under a new name, and have you sorted. Then we'll just…let you do what you came to do."

"You're not going to ask me what that something is? I could seriously alter the timeline."

"I trust you, and what happens, happens. It will all turn out for the best," He sighed. "I will give you some money to go buy clothes in Hogsmeade. Then we'll get you settled in a private room."

"First can I go up to the Room of Requirement? I might be able to get some of my possessions. That's where the Gryffindors from my time stored all of their stuff after the first attack."

"It don't see why not. It's worth a shot." Dumbledore smiled. Hermione had missed that smile, and she smiled back sadly. She lifted herself out of the bed and pulled on the plain black robe that Dumbledore held out to her. She made her way over to the door, and paused.

"I'll be ready in a few minutes." She sighed, looking around at the Hospital wing in all of it's stark white glory. Back home, the walls were singed, and the feeling panicked, whereas here, everything was pristine, and everything about the room was soothing.

She walked through the maze of corridors on autopilot, barely taking any of the portraits or passers-by into account. That is, until she crashed into one, and he was solid. He caught her and righted them both before they lost their balance. "Hey, be careful. Oh. You're the girl who fell onto Tom's dinner plate." Hermione looked up into the cold, smirking eyes of Draco Malfoy. She would have dismissed it, but to Hermione's knowledge, Draco wouldn't be born for at least forty more years. This was Draco's grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy, one of the first inner circle members.

"Get off of me." She intoned coldly. He raised his eyebrows, but complied, smirk falling. "If you'll excuse me, I'm in a bit of a rush." She pushed Abraxas out of the way.

When she wound up outside of the Room of Requirement, she wanted to slap somebody. There were so many happy people. Loud, obnoxious, stupid HAPPY people, who kept referring to her as "the girl who fell on Tom's dinner". It was a pain.

There was a door waiting for her, and she smiled when she saw the inscription above the handle. "Hic recubo capitale liberum of Leo , quod hic they mos reperio refugium.". She whispered. It meant 'Here lie the possessions of the children of the lion, and here they will find refuge'. She yanked the door open and her eyes glittered when she saw everything as she had left it back home, at least in this room.

She crossed to her trunk and cast a featherweight charm on it, then easily lifted it out the door.

Dumbledore was waiting for her outside the room, and he was carrying a bag. "Follow me, Ms. Grauel, and I'll show you to your room." So he had found her a name. She smiled. Dumbledore was always a step ahead of her. He lead the way, winding into alcoves that she never knew existed. "The rooms that you are about to inhabit are equivalent to those of the head students. There is a private laboratory, a kitchen, a small library as for a private collection, bathroom, and a common room. It conjoins to the head rooms, so that if you should need assistance, you shall receive it."

"Wow." They entered the her common room, and her face lit up. Dumbledore pulled the Sorting Hat from within his robes and placed it gently upon Hermione's head.

Hermione Granger. You're not supposed to be here. If the Sorting Hat could smirk, she had a feeling that it would be doing just that.

I know.

Well, since you are, might as well put you where you belong. Hufflepuff is too soft for your background, and while you're intelligent enough for Ravenclaw, you're more cunning and brave than they are. Gryffindor is what you were, but not again, you've changed too much to stay in the same house. SLYTHERIN.

"What?" Hermione whispered. Slytherin? She was a Gryffindor. The room around her changed as the Sorting Hat called it's decree.

The couches became a soft, black leather, and the carpet was a dark green. The white room changed, and rich greens, slivers, golds, and blacks weaved themselves into the room, exactly the way Hermione would have decorated it.

"Wow."

"All and any books you need, no matter what genre, type, or level of material, will be in your library. Your favorites will stay there as long as you want them. Your kitchen is fully stocked, and there," He pointed at a portrait of the four founders. "Is the portrait that will lead to the Head student's rooms. The password is Trust."

"Alright. I'll just get settled, and I'll come down for dinner soon."

"As you wish. Helena Hermione Grauel of Tuscany, welcome to Hogwarts." And he exited. She smiled. She had missed the old man. She floated her bag up to her room and dropped it at the foot of her bed. Her bed was a lavish king sized bed, fitted with beautiful, freshly pressed, green and black linens. The bedside table was a polished Ebony, and the floor was a soft, rich black carpeting. This place was a palace.

She leaned down and opened her trunk. It was empty. She swore. What had happened? She crossed to the closet, suspicious. Sure enough, the contents of her trunk were neatly hung up or folded in the closet. She grinned, and picked out an outfit with painstaking care. Her skirt displayed her legs up to mid-thigh, and her top buttons on her perfect white shirt were undone. She wore a simple pair of closed-toed black heels. She was probably looked like a trollop in accordance with the time period, but it was the best of what little she had.

She looked at herself in the mirror, and decided that she would dress herself up. She straightened her hair and she put on some make up.

When she arrived at the doors to the great hall, everyone was already inside. She walked in slowly, and made her way towards the front of the hall.

"Students, please give a warm welcome to Ms. Helena Grauel, she prefers to be called Hermione, and she's been sorted into Slytherin."

There was enthusiastic applause from the Slytherins, and reserved, polite cheering from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. The Gryffindors didn't even twitch. She rolled her eyes at their boorish behavior. Gryffindors could be very rude.

She cautiously made her way down to the Slytherin table, looking for an empty seat, since all of them were wearing friendly faces. She sat between Abraxas, and a boy around her age with shaggy black hair. This had to be Orion Black, for his resemblance to Sirius was uncanny. He confirmed her suspicions, and indicated his twin brother down the table, to be Cygnus. Across from her, a tall boy sat, surveying her. Even sitting, she could tell that he was around 6 feet tall, probably 17, and very clearly the one guy that every girl at the school threw their panties at. Unlike Abraxas and Orion, he didn't introduce himself, and neither Abraxas nor Orion introduced him either. She paid him no mind. When the food appeared, she finally realized how hungry she was. The boys wanted to back away as she piled food onto her plate. She felt insatiable, and the more she ate, the hungrier she felt. She could feel the boy across from her looking at her, and she realized that she must look like a barbarian. She was too hungry to really care. When she was finally full, everyone at the Slytherin table was shooting her disgusted glances,

"Were you hungry?" Orion asked. Abraxas snorted into his food.

"A little."

"That was disgusting." A girl sneered. She was sitting next to the silent boy.

"I think you're rather charming. Unafraid of expectations. And she's not disgusting, she's hungry. Honestly Druella, sometimes you're so rude." The silent one spoke.

"Oh my god, you talk!" She exclaimed with false excitement. He chuckled. She had guts.

"So, what classes are you taking, Hermione?" He asked politely. He raised his fork to his mouth, his eyes never leaving her face.

"I'm taking all NEWT level courses. Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Defense Against the Dark Arts." She informed him.

"Those are all very difficult courses." He warned. She bristled. "Not to offend, I'm just giving you a heads up. I'm sure that if you're taking the classes in the first place, you're more than capable." He smiled at her. She examined him closely, taking in his strong jaw and perfect cheekbones. His lips weren't too thin, but they weren't fat either. Ron's were fat. It was like kissing a marshmallow. His eyes were dark, and they were constantly calculating.

"Well thanks." She smiled thinly. He chuckled again, and she raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"You're very…on guard." He explained. "You'll come to trust us. Slytherins take care of their own. We're like a family."

She smiled tightly, her eyes sweeping the table. She had seen that. They were a family against every other family on campus. "Well, I'm assuming that family calls each other by their names. You know mine, would you do the honor, and grace me with yours?"

He reached his hand across the table, and his smile widened as she took it. "Tom Riddle, Head Boy."

Hermione's heart froze. Tom Riddle, whose dinner she had landed in. Voldemort was sitting across from her. She thanked Merlin that she was a good actress.

"Pleasure to meet you, Tom." She found it ironic that the Devil's name felt so good as it rolled off her tongue. Or that the devil's smile was so beautiful. She could tell why he had so many followers. He was a very disarming person.

She was faced with a ray of hope. He had killed, but he was still salvageable. She wasn't sure, but she believed that his soul had only split once so far. His followers were definitely established, however, and the quiet fear and respect permeated the air around the table, and her level of 'impropriety' with their leader had created a feeling that could have been cut with a knife, weighed, and sold to the highest bidder.

Hermione had a feeling that she was supposed to feel something, other than the obligatory flash of fear. Right now, he seemed harmless. Kind of.

"So, I hear I landed in your dinner a few days ago." She smiled at him, laying on as much charm as she could. Tom nodded.

"Yeah, you looked beat up. Like someone killed you, brought you back, then left you for dead." He deadpanned. "I think you're the first person who has ever actually scared me." Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I hear you're Italian. You don't have an accent."

"I'm originally from England. We moved because my mum wanted to live in Italy. One of her dreams. I've always wanted to come to Hogwarts, so when I set my safety portkey, I had it send me here. I decided that since she was dead, it was time to stop following her dreams and it was time to start following mine." She patted herself on the back for her quick thinking.

He nodded, accepting her story. "I think it's about time that we take the first years to bed, everybody. Miranda and I need to do our rounds, and then I'll come down to the common room."

"What? Why?" Hermione asked. "Don't you have your own rooms? And how long have the first years been in school?" He considered her for a long moment, calculating his next words.

"Like I said, we take care of our own. The older Slytherins get together with the younger Slytherins to discuss issues and concerns, and how to address them. The only question is knowing which group you'll be in. You're new, so are you going to be treated like a first year?"

"Definitely not. I don't need that much help." She responded firmly. She softened bit. "But I'll be sure to let you know if I need anything." He nodded at her, and took one last swig of his pumpkin juice, before standing in a sweeping gesture. He walked around the table until he was by her side, and he took her hand, brushing a light kiss to her knuckles.

"It was lovely meeting you. I'll see you in the morning."

And he was gone.

Author's Notes:

Grauel- pronounced 'Growl', as in a lioness 'growl's.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I realize that her clothes are too slutty for the time period, and I'm not trying to change her character (too much, because face it, she's a prude). Realize that she doesn't have period-appropriate clothes (yet). There's a method to my madness, I promise.