Green Eyes

After three days in the Hospital Wing, Hermione was thoroughly sick of being sick, and was ready to join the Hogwarts as the school’s newest Seventh year student. However, she was still extremely weak, and only just had the strength for her morning glamour charms.

As she dressed for her first dinner in the Great Hall, she mused on the challenges ahead. There are only two months to go before the end of the school year, she thought. A perfect amount of time to quietly assassinate Riddle, escape to some lonely mountain and figure out how to get back to my own time period once again.

She shivered as Riddle’s image, with his stony, beautiful face, side swept mahogany locks, and chiselled body flitted through her mind. Something about him frightened Hermione beyond reason.

An hour later she found herself standing self-consciously in front of a sea of curious faces in the Great Hall at dinner. None of the students (apart from Riddle, of course) had been told of Hermione’s arrival, and Hermione could almost feel their scrutiny. She fell to reciting passages of Hogwarts: A History inside her head to keep from vomiting. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something glitter - Dumbledore was sitting at the Teachers table, watching her kindly with his sparkling eyes and smiling warming. Hermione suddenly felt a lot better.

Professor Dippet cleared his throat. “Students, I'd like you all to give a Hogwarts-welcome to Hermione Hart - newly transferred from ...er... unusual circumstances in Ireland into our Seventh Year. Miss Hart, if you wouldn't mind placing this Sorting Hat upon your head...?"

The Sorting Hat blocked her vision, but did not block her ears to the waves of whispers from the students. What do they think of me? she wondered - but then gathered her courage and decided it didn't really matter anyways.

“Ah,“ a voice said the familiar voice of the Sorting Hat. “That’s brave, my dear, casting aside your fear like that. I think I know exactly where to put you. Although…you are quite the studious one, aren't you? Now if you‘d stop reciting Hogwarts: A History, I might be able to actually see something of your mind…Ah, that‘s better. No, no, Ravenclaw absolutely would not do.”

Hermione grinned, knowing what was coming.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat yelled.

“By the way, my dear,” it continued quietly, “I've had a little look at those memories of yours. You are the first student I've ever had to sort twice - quite an accomplishment for a 400 year old hat. Time travel, eh? Pleased to meet you my dear, pleased to meet you.” The sorting hat seemed cheerful at having met his first time-travelling student, and Hermione giggled, feeling suddenly less alone.

The Gryffindor table had erupted in joy at having the beautiful stranger placed among their ranks.

As Hermione made her way down the hall, her revealing dress and her piercing green eyes drew searing looks of appreciation (males) and jealousy (females).

"Oi, Barnabas, just look at that face! Dibs on her, mate."

"Merlin's Beard, does her dress have to show that much cleavage? Hardly modest, is it?"

"Where do you think she came from? I wish she were a Slytherin - her eyes would have matched."

Hermione frowned at this last comment. Were her eyes too green? I hope I don’t attract attention from the wrong people, she thought, eyeing the Slytherin table uneasily. She couldn’t see Riddle there, and was strangely relieved.

She soon cheered up, taking a place at the Gryffindor table beside a pretty, serene looking girl with curtains of shining brown hair. Hermione thought she looked slightly familiar, and her suspicions were soon confirmed.

“Hello, Hermione. My name is Minerva. Minerva McGonigall. Welcome to Hogwarts! “ the girl said in a soft Scottish brogue. Hermione choked on her pumpkin juice as she tried to goggle at the attractive, smiling girl that was her former Head of House and drink at the same time.

“H- hi. Glrug- Great to m-meet you.” she said, trying to bang the pumpkin juice from her windpipes. Lovely, Hermione. Spectacular introduction.

“Whoa there. Are you alright?” A tall, very handsome boy sitting next to her with blond, tousled hair was patting her back, looking half-worried and half-amused. “I’ll tell the house elves to add a bit less firewhisky to the pumpkin juice next time.” He said, raising his eyebrows at Hermione.

“Hermione. Meet my very rude boyfriend, Max Fiddimore.” Minerva said, shaking her head and smiling at Max, He grinned wolfishly and extended a hand. “How d’ye do?“

For the rest of the night Hermione laughed and talked so much that she hardly noticed the food on her plate. Max had soon good-naturedly taken on the task of protecting Hermione from the hoards of admirers that kept visiting the Gryffindor table to goggle at her.

"Look at them all!" Minerva observed wryly as Max herded a group of starry-eyed Second Years away from Hermione. "You would think the men in this room had just climbed down from the trees, for Pete's sake!"

Hermione smiled. "It's not so bad Minerva, they're just curious. Max is being an absolute hero!"

Minerva smiled softly and said nothing. Despite their antics, Max and Minerva obviously had a connection that ran deeper than words, and Hermione was slightly awed by the maturity of their relationship. She was surprised though, to learn that Minerva and Max had been seeing each other for four years - what had happened to the relationship? The old McGonagall had been single for as long as Hermione had known her, and had never mentioned relationships.

Minerva glanced at the time. "Ay me - got to be going, Hermione. I’ve got a meeting with the Head Boy." she said, tapping her badge with a smile. "I’m Head Girl. The last thing I want to do is keep Riddle waiting!"

"Riddle?" Hermione stuttered, realising she had totally forgotten about him, and feeling guilty.

"Ay - he's the Head Boy, and a demanding one at that."

"Is he...er...nice?" Hermione asked, rather unsubtly.

"Well, he's perfectly polite, I suppose....and all the girls here secretly pine for him. He's devilish handsome." Hermione had to smile at the archaic compliment.

"But most people are afraid of him. He's got the most unsettling way of reading you like a book. He takes pride in knowing the people around him better than himself - their hopes, dreams and fears, what makes them angry." Minerva shook her head. "It's ironic really, as no one in this entire school knows the slightest bit about him. He never even eats with us."

"Well, how did he get the Head Boy position, if he's so...unsavoury?" Hermione grimaced as the tainted word slipped out.

Minerva lowered her voice. "Well, for one thing, he's a child prodigy - incredibly bright. But Riddle is first and foremost a manipulator. He could talk the head off a rabbit." She shook her head. "Right, time to go. I'm off darling!" Blowing a kiss to Max, she ran off.

****

After dinner, Max insisted on accompanying Hermione through the empty halls towards the Gryffindor common room, where Hermione would be sleeping.

"You're taking the chivalrous attitude seriously tonight, aren't you?" Hermione trilled in her soft Irish lilt.

Max grinned, shaking his blonde head. "Yes, Hermione. But don't worry - I enjoy saving you from the would-be ravishings of two hundred horny magicians." It was true - Max was obviously the protective type.

"Oi!" laughed Hermione. "I would be perfectly fine on my own, you know. They were just curious. Plus, you have obviously not been on the receiving end of one of my bat bogey curses." She stopped speaking; the thought of Ginny and her trademark hex had made her choke up.

"Yes. That much is true, and I hope to let it stay that way. Anyways, to change the subject, what subjects are you tak..." Max stopped as he noticed tears on Hermione's pale face. "Are - are you alright?"

Looking up into Max's wide, sky-blue eyes, filled with concern, she felt a little better. "Um...yes. I just was thinking of home, and how I left, and all."

Max was silent. It was obvious from the Hermione’s scars and bruises that her background had not been a happy one. He didn’t want to pry, but he felt a rush of pity for this little waif of a girl with her huge, emerald eyes.

"Well, if you ever need to talk, you come to me, alright?" He was about to gently wipe a starry tear off Hermione's cheek when he froze. That was definitely not something just a friend would do.

Hermione nodded, and sniffed, oblivious to Max's moment of indecision. Her lips trembled and Max tried not to look at her heaving breasts.

"Thanks for escorting me, Max. You should probably get back to Minerva." At the mention of his girlfriend, Max felt even guiltier, and even a bit resentful. Who was this little girl to make him doubt his four-year relationship with Minerva in one night?

Wrenching his hand away from her shoulder, he made his escape from the beautiful girl. Other deep stirrings within him urged him to go back and accompany the dark-haired girl into her bedroom, and into her bed.

Running his hand through his hair, he ran instead.