She had been thrown 50 years into the past.
That didn't bother her, not really. She could deal with that. It was almost as high on her list of "Weird Things That Have Happened Since Befriending Harry" as being petrified by a 1000 year old serpent or helping an escaped prisoner escape execution.
Even her sorting into Slytherin didn't bother her all that much. Sure, Abraxas Malfoy was a little too much like the Malfoy of her own time but that was familiar. She knew how to deal with rich boys who thought they were better than her for no reason other than having been born to certain people. As if the person who's genitals you came from really mattered.
That was what bothered her.
The fact that Tom Riddle was almost exactly like these boys yet had fought his way to thinking like them. Like that was any achievement.
So why couldn't she stop thinking about him.
He was rude, incredibly so sometimes. But in a suave manner that made you unsure if you were being insulted or complimented.
She finally understood what Harry had been saying. He was charming and some part of her wanted to believe that he really wanted to make things good and right and just for "people like us."
"People like us" were, of course, those raised by muggles. Not just the orphans of those of Proper Wizarding Heritage (People descended from purebloods, her mind corrected), but all of us who are cast into this world at 11, on the cusp of puberty, expecting confusion from all sides and then being told we're not who we thought we were. Hermione knew that feeling.
And that was what was wrong with Tom Riddle, really, wasn't it?
He would figure out your deepest darkest thoughts and use them to his own advantage.
God, but she really wished Ron or Harry were here right now. They would be able to talk sense in to her. Instead, she was sat in the Slytherin common room at almost 3am, her arms wrapped around her thin frame as she tried to comprehend a world where Tom Riddle Jr. had Hermione Granger, the Smartest Witch of Her Age convinced that he was right.
"Hermione?"
She looked up and there he was. Looking at her as if he was actually concerned.
"Are you alright?" he asked, the soft glow from his Lumos softening his harsh edges and angles.
Hermione let out a chocked sob as she tried to think about what the hell she could do to keep control of who she was and who she'd always been.
"I need a hug."