Coming too was a far better experience then it had been the first time around. It was more of a bleary eyed unconsciousness, like waking up after a heavy nights sleep. Sighing and groaning just a bit, Hermione forced her eyes to open once, closed them, then tried again. Someone was sitting at her beside, waiting for her to awaken. Shifting slightly, Hermione rubbed her face with a hand, blinking the crust from her eyelids and staring at who exactly had sat to wait for her. Professor Albus Dumbledore looked exactly as Hermione remembered him too be, if not a bit more lively. The creases in his face weren't as deep as before, and the white in his beard wasn't as snowy. Feeling suddenly self conscious, Hermione pulled the blanket up to cover her chest, despite it being covered by a drab hospital gown,
"I hope you are feeling better, now, Miss Black?" Dumbledore questioned, his voice ringing in the elderly way Hermione had greatly missed. Nodding hesitantly, she clutched the sheets tightly between white knuckles. Her hands were so unbelievably pale. As if reading her thoughts (Legitimacy and all that), Dumbledore chuckled,
"Ah yes, I'm sure you will be able to recover your color as the year progresses, Miss Black,"
"Y-yes. U-uhm," Hermione rolled a lip. What could she possibly say? 'I'm actually Hermione Granger and I just fell off a bridge?' Shaking her head slightly, Hermione sighed and cleared her throat, "what...what's today's date, sir?"
Dumbledore lifted a furry brow, but it soon relaxed back into place as Hermione shifted uncomfortably under his gaze,
"Today is the 19th of January, 1975. You've been comatose for precisely 3 months time,"
Hermione felt a chill travel up her spine as her mouth searched for words, but her brain couldn't find answers. She had fallen off a bridge and died in 1998, and somehow woke up almost 20 years in the past (23 years if you want to be exact about it) in 1975. She didn't have her Time Turner, nor did she have any kind of artifact which would transfer her backwards in time. And yet...how could she have possibly time traveled if she was suddenly under the name of 'Miss Black?'. Hermione groaned slightly, holding the heel of her palm to her forehead as a headache began to pulse behind her eyelids. This was worse then studying for her NEWT's,
"Miss Black, are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm alright. I do believe I'm just...thinking too hard about this,"
Dumbledore didn't say anything at first, then made a noise of acceptance and stood, smoothing out his robes and holding his hands together slightly,
"I will leave you to your rest then, Miss Black. But have no fear, your cousin will be punished adequately for this incident, along with any of his friends who were involved,"
Hermione nodded slowly, watching cautiously as Dumbledore disappeared and the Hospital Wing was quiet. Glancing around carefully to make sure Madame Pomfrey wasn't around, Hermione threw the blanket off her legs. They were bare and very pale, almost sickly so, pricking with cold as Hermione grasped the bedside table. She then stood, nearly collapsing from weakness as her hands took tight hold of her half-crutch to keep her standing. If she was going to figure out what happened to her, now was probably the time to start poking around. After all, time travel was forbidden for a reason, and Hermione didn't want to be that reason.
Huffing with the effort, Hermione stood on her own and took a few careful steps. She still felt off balance and wobbly, but she was no wimp. She fought in a war for Merlin's sake! Surely a few 'months' in a hospital bed could be easily overcome. Staring determinedly forward, Hermione made her way around the room once, then twice. Stopping in between laps to visit the full body cast boy, who was most likely bored out of his mind. Finally comfortable walking again, Hermione made her way towards one of the medical closets near Madame Pomfrey's office. Even if she were 20 years in the past, Hermione knew the closets had been there far longer. Opening the door, Hermione turned to look at her reflection in the mirror tacked to the inside of the wardrobe. She had been expecting looking sickly and probably fairly disheveled from bed rest, but what she saw was honest to Merlin startling.
Her face was the same as it had always been, but her once chocolate colored eyes were now a startling, practically glowing cobalt blue. And her precious 'rats-nest' of bushy almond curls was now dark as burnt coffee beans, and - despite being highly tussled - fell wide and lush,
'I look like a bloody Slytherin!' Hermione thought to herself, still staring at her reflection when Madame Pomfrey returned to the room and yelped in surprise and frustration,
"What is this? You need to be in bed, resting,"
Hermione was guided away from the mirror and forced back into bed, though it was cold now as Hermione folded her arms stubbornly. She was itching to get to the library and research what exactly had happened to her. But Madame Pomfrey was insistent on keeping her in the infirmary. The days were long and dull, and by the time she was feeling more like herself (as much as you can be in a different lifetime anyway), Hermione was practically gnawing the bars of her cot in frustration. Finally though, Madame Pomfrey set a pair of robes on her bed, forced one more round of Potions down her throat and told her to change. Hermione couldn't have been more grateful, practically bouncing from her bed to change behind one of the screens.
It was the usual Hogwarts grey vest, dark ruffle skirt and clogs. But what started Hermione the most was the green and silver tie and knee highs accompanying the ensemble. Folding the tie expertly in the standing mirror beside her, Hermione stared at the reflection in abject horror. Hermione Jean Granger (i.e Black) was a Slytherin.
Running a hand down her face slightly, Hermione pulled on her school cloaks, feeling the embroidered patch on its front with a hand, surprised to find it rubbed smooth,
'Apparently this was one of my nervous habits' Hermione thought to herself, feeling the patch once more before sighing and emerging from behind the curtain. It felt good to be wearing actual clothing again, but she wasn't exactly thrilled with the color choice,
"You do look much better now," Madame Pomfrey said mindlessly, holding out a wand for Hermione to take, "here you are. Lucky it wasn't broken during the fall,"
Nodding, Hermione took the offered wand hesitantly. It certainly wasn't her ivy wood and dragon heart string, but it still felt quite comfortable in her grip. The simplicity of the thing soothed her really, as the dark maple finish matched her hair,
"Thank you for your help, Madame Pomfrey," Hermione stated, happy to find a hair tie tucked into her robe pocket. Another nervous tell perhaps?
"I'm just glad you are well again. Seeing you in that bed for three months Hermione was quite the dampener on my days,"
Hermione smiled, glad that only her last name had changed. Sticking her wand into her newly formed ponytail, she gave Madame Pomfrey one last wave before leaving the Hospital Wing.
The castle walls were cast in yellow from glowing torches, and the echoing of her own footsteps were loud as Hermione sighed slightly. She had almost forgotten what the Castle looked like in tact.
"My lady! My lady!"
Hermione froze, rooted to her spot as she turned. A small figure was padding up the hallway towards her, heaving as it's tiny footfalls barely made any noise on the granite floors. Blinking bewilderedly, Hermione was surprised to find a house elf there at her feet. He was a small thing, ears perched high atop his head and cropped to stand on end. Large eyes were brimming with a hidden admiration as he bowed respectively,
"Quitz is here to serve you once again, Lady Hermione. Quitz has been longing to see you so,"
Hermione herself felt slightly aghast. She knew how badly many elves were treated, but compared to Dobby, Winky and Kreature, Quitz looked relatively clean,
'Apparently my new self dislikes enslavement also,' Hermione thought, nodding her head as the elf stood and waited. Hermione knew they enjoyed the work (mostly anyway) and, even if she offered clothes to free the elf, he would feel offended. So she merely nodded her head,
"Very well then, Quitz. Do you happen to know what time it is?"
"'Tis dinner time, my lady. Everyone's in the Great Hall. Masters Lucius and Regulus have been worried so, they will be most joyous to sees you well again!"
Hermione lifted a brow, but quickly pushed it back into place. She was intruding on someone's life - her life - if she wasn't mistaken. Just in a different timeline. Sighing heavily, Hermione ran a hand over her scalp,
"I'm not ready to see anyone yet. I think I'll be heading to the library for some research,"
"Oh buts Lady Hermione, everyone will be so pleased to see you. Surely you are in need of food after your awakening?"
Hermione made a move to deny the fact, but was quickly silenced by the grumbling of her stomach. Quitz smiled victoriously as she winced slightly,
"I guess I am kind of hungry,"
"Quitz knows the Lady Hermione well,"
Hermione blinked as the house elf took her hand, pulling her gently in the direction of the Great hall,
"Come, come! You will eat and be with friends, and I will serve you,"
Hermione felt the need to argue, but followed the elf anyway, mind still abuzz with new information. At this point, it seemed Quitz was her best source of information, even if she was being dragged head first into familiar yet unfamiliar territory. After all, she'd be sitting at the Slytherin table with - if she heard the information correctly - Lucius Malfoy and Regulus Black. Oh joy.