Inopinatus – Unforeseen
Riddle, upon hearing the scream, raced towards the dungeons with a baffled Hermione close behind him. Tom was bothered; why was she following him? Generally, people tend to run in the other direction upon hearing such tortured sounds...
Tom stepped in front of the door and began to say the password when he realized that he did not know the password.
What the-
"Gladius cruentus," the girl behind him whispered, and the dungeon door shifted open with its usual creaky, disturbed sound.
Riddle ignored her and walked right ahead. How was it she knew the password and he did not?
They walked in to find a rather peculiar and wholly unsettling sight before them: Abraxas holding his wand in his left hand, bent over and coughing up blood, while Lestrange, panicked and distressed, knelt by his side, muttering a few healing charms that seemed to do nothing.
"Lestrange," enunciated Riddle in a deep, feral tone, "what happened here?"
"I-I don't know!" Lestrange replied, glancing back and forth between Riddle and Hermione; if he was surprised to see them here together, he did not show it. "I came out and saw him pointing his wand at the wall, muttering s-some sort of... I don't know, I couldn't tell what it was, and then this, this happened-"
"What are you waiting for!" snapped the girl beside Riddle almost instantly, "He has to get to Madame Pomf- to the-the infirmary, right away!"
Riddle did not miss her hesitation, and determinedly stalked over to Abraxas' side, lifting him up by one arm. Lestrange did the same to the other.
Hermione rushed ahead of them to the infirmary, an unconscious Abraxs' leaving a trail of blood behind their way.
It wasn't until Abraxas was on the infirmary bed, a panicked Madam Millford – Hermione consciously noted - tending to his scorched hand that Hermione finally realized her slip up.
She had begun to say Madam Pomfrey's name. And worse of all, she had led the way to the infirmary when in fact; she shouldn't have known where it was at all.
Stupid, stupid, stupid Hermione!
She gulped, her fingers tingling in slight fear. She hoped that the current Head Boy had not noticed her mistakes, though, when she had glanced up, she realized that he had not just noticed, but he was now interested. He was staring so intently at her that she just had to look away; she couldn't bare such a stare. What the hell is wrong with him? Thought Hermione, I know he's a disgustingly, evil excuse for a human being, but looking at me like he wants to kill me is surely too much, even for him…
"Something wrong?" he whispered all too calmly from next to her.
"Nothing at all," she replied, a bit too quickly.
"I'd say something was the matter," he said in a nauseatingly guiltless voice, "You know, as your Head Boy and being in your same house, you can come to me with any issues, Miss..."
"Hermione," She answered simply.
"I find it inappropriate to address a girl by her first name without knowing her first," Tom said, raising his eyebrow at her refusal to tell him her last name.
"And I find it inappropriate to ask for one's name without introducing themselves first," she countered.
Riddle very nearly looked shocked at her outburst, where did she get such courage from? This girl evidently did not know her place.
"Riddle," he very nearly growled, and Hermione was suddenly aware that he was right behind her, his voice dangerously close to her ear, "Tom Riddle."
"He should be alright in a few days," said the nurse, suddenly, eying Tom and Hermione warily, clearly put off by their sudden close proximity. This was an old-fashioned time after all…
"It's nearly sundown, you should all head to your dormitories and get a good night's sleep... school does officially start tomorrow..." she added, trailing off.
"Yes," Tom said, "Of course Madame Millford, we'll be off right away. Please do tell us when Abraxas wakens," his voice was perfectly innocent, almost hypnotic to listen to.
Madame Millford nodded as Lestrange stood up a bit shakily. Why is he so distressed? Hermione wondered, Surely, being a follower of the Dark Lord meant he'd seen much worse before…?
Lestrange walked on ahead, looking a bit disgruntled as he turned a corner, Hermione was about to follow him when suddenly she felt a strong grip on her arm. What the-
The thought breezed out of her mind as the hand pulled her rather roughly and pressed her back against the icy, cold wall with a sickeningly loud thud.
"What are you doing?" Hermione spat.
Riddle places a finger to her lips and whispered something that Hermione couldn't make out. Suddenly, Riddle disappeared. Hermione realized he'd Disillusioned them.
Two voices were heard whispering down the corridor they were in, then. Hermione recognized one as Dumbledore and the other - from Dumbledore's addressing - as Headmaster Dippet. She couldn't make out what they were saying, mostly because she was too busy feeling outright revolted by Riddle close proximity. Repulsive, uncivilized prat, frowned Hermione, though she knew he could not see.
Once they had passed, Riddle ended the charm non-verbally and eyed her without speaking.
"Is there something you want?" she snapped at him, eyes narrowed in anger.
"Why so feisty?" He asked, sounding purely curious.
When she did not respond, he spoke again, "Is there something about me that bothers you?"
"Yes," she said all too assertively, "you're too close for my liking," and she placed both hands on his chest, pushed him off of her and sauntered off, not once even bothering to look back.
Riddle stared after, hands clenched into tight fists.
Heart beating fast and head spinning, Hermione rushed to the Slytherin common room, found her way to the girls' dormitory and found quite the astonishing sight on one of the beds. Her beaded bag with her Hogwarts trunk! This was unbelievable. How is this even possible? Hermione thought in pure shock, This is just ... crazy. Where could this have come from? From who?
She stalked over to the bed and picked up a letter she found near her new, sparkling clean Slytherin robes, opened it cautiously, heart beating anxiously as she read,
Dear Hermione,
I know it would be unwise for me to address you by your real surname, and so I will here forth call you Miss Levesque. None of the Professors know of your predicament besides myself and Headmaster Dippet.
The Professors all 'know' that your father is of French ancestry, your mother English and both whom have passed away; you were brought up with your aunts and uncles in France and have decided to attend Hogwarts for your 7th year in hopes of becoming more acquainted with the area, for soon you shall be seeking a job at the Ministry.
As to how I know about your situation, and how I obtained your belongings, I cannot say, but all I can say is that I was requested to place you into Slytherin, best fitting I suppose, as there are no other girls in Slytherin 7th year.
I do hope you sleep well tonight, I have included some money if you need it for whatever reason, Miss Granger, and I am trying my best to help you.
Meanwhile, good night and sleep well, young one. A long day awaits ahead.
Yours sincerely,
Professor Dumbledore
Hermione read the whole letter more than once, feeling a bit queasy but slightly more reassured. She collapsed on the bed, without bothering to change or shower, she was sure she reeked of god knows what but yet, wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and perhaps, maybe find that this was all just a terrible nightmare that she'd yet to wake up from.
Sadly, she knew this was not to happen soon.
Riddle walked, or rather, stormed, through the 7th floor of the castle in unadulterated fury, and he did not even know why.
Actually, yes, yes, he did.
Firstly, who the hell was that girl, where did she come from, and what was she hiding?
Why the hell had he woken up in the middle of the library not remembering anything?
To make matters all the more suspicious, she had also been there too, and he couldn't forget what she'd said too him "You can't hurt anyone anymore," - did she know about what him, Avery, Lestrange and the rest were up to? If so, how?
Who had blabbed their mouths to her? He would Cruciate the bloody limbs off of them.
Which led on to the next thing, why was he so incredibly frustrated? Yes, the situation was loathsome and simply put - annoying, yet Tom Riddle never lost his temper, he was always calm and rationale, despite whatever it was he was dealing with. And it rather annoyed him that at some point, he wanted to strangle the living daylights out of that crazy haired girl when he'd pressed her against the wall. He'd placed his finger to her lips, to silence her, to distract her before he hurt her, it was all too convenient that those fools Dumbledore and Dippet had walked past, otherwise he knew not what he would have done.
Insane, thought Tom, am I insane? Even the brilliant succumb to insanity at times…
What really worried him though was Abraxas. What had happened to hims? Lestrange's story seemed not to add up, and he looked too... upset, for it to be a mere accident. What had Abraxas wanted to tell him? Curse that stupid git.
Riddle punched the wall next to him, feeling strange and puzzled. He did not ever punch walls, certainly not random walls in his beloved school in the middle of the night - no matter how angry he was.
Then, with a hint of shock laced with amusement, he realized that it did not hurt. Not one bit, it was as though he'd acclaimed the power and anger and rage of over 50 men all in one night.
What has happened to me? Tom breathed, shut his eyes, and leaned his back against the cold and bitter wall.
Hermione had a very odd short dream that night - she dreamt of... a boy, a blonde boy. What was his name again? She was too disorientated to remember.
It was weird; she seemed to be chained up to something, voices passing by, snickering, laughing at her. She felt so exhausted, the dream nearly felt real. She was aching.
She wanted to kill herself.
And then she heard the boy's all too familiar sneer, "Missed me, Granger?"
Her eyes snapped open and she was overwhelmed with the most disgustingly horrendous smell she could ever remember smelling. Then with a hint of self-mockery, she established, the smell was her.
This was revolting.
Hermione grabbed her trunk and pulled out fresh underwear along with a white, flimsy dressing gown to wear and her toiletries. Grabbing a towel, she headed off for the girls' bathroom. Hermione actually had a good look at herself once inside. What was this horrendous garbage bag that she had managed to find and wear?
It appeared to be some sort of robe, though graying with age. It may have been black before, maybe dark green.
There was a crest on one side... Hermione remembered this crest from... somewhere...
Damn it, she thought angrily, why can't I remember anything?
In a heap of fury, she marched right up to the shower stall and pulled at the golden tap. Nothing happened.
Are you kidding me!
She grabbed her things and headed off to the nearest available bathroom, the Prefects' bathrooms; she knew no one was here anyway, and if they were, what kind of moronic idiotic would shower at 2 AM in the morning?
Riddle felt ghastly. He looked down at his robes, they were filthy and ragged and he needed nothing more than a hot bath.
He grabbed his belongings from his dormitory and headed off for the Prefects' bathrooms - he'd always preferred it there, anyway - in a hope to quench himself of this sudden feeling of disgust and self-revolt.
Hermione filled up the bath just the way she used to back at Hogwarts, feeling instantly calmer as the scent of honey and cinnamon wafted through the air. Feeling slightly better about herself, Hermione shrugged off her robes, her jeans, shirt and underwear, and slowly dipped a foot into the water. Eyes closed, feeling the hot water brush her tired feet, she realized that a hot bath really was the most wonderful solution to anything.
Just then, she heard a strange pop, but dismissed it as of being just the tricks of the running water.
Feeling satisfied with the temperature, Hermione lowered her naked body to the rest of the bath, eyed still closed, feeling absolutely calm and-
"You should be careful where you strip, Granger. Might accidentally flash someone," hissed a voice from in front of her and Hermione snapped her eyes open and when she registered just who was in front of her she screamed so loudly it would have put a Mandrake to shame.
"Oh, God," she hissed, eyes wide, disbelieving, "Oh god oh god oh god, what the hell, what the bloody hell, what on-"
"Granger, I-"
"-Earth is happening, this is just too crazy, there's no way-"
"Granger-"
"-this has happened, oh my god, I'm crazy aren't I? Right? I'm going insa-"
"Bloody hell, Granger, will you just listen-"
"Finite incantatum!"
"I'm not a fucking incantation!"
"Transferam alucinatio!"
"Granger, I'm not a fucking hallucination, either! Now will you shut the hell up and listen to me-" the boy's growl made Hermione stop. There were a few seconds of just breathing as she took in the sight of the boy who was in front of her in the big, round bath tub.
Seeing his robe-clad shoulders and his mud covered face up close made her realize just what she was wearing. Or rather, what she was not wearing. She instantly brought her arms forward to cover her chest, sinking lower into the water, feeling embarrassment heat up her face.
After a few more seconds of simply gazing into the boy's stormy, grey eyes, she whispered, disbelieving, "Malfoy? D-Draco?"
He smirked, "The one and only."
Hello, there Draco :3
Thanks so much to all that reviews! I hope you liked this chapter! :D Transferam alucinatio is a spell I made up that translates to 'Remove Illusion' :) Poor Hermione, so confused and distressed. And what the hell is happening to Riddle?
Please do not get bored with the story, even if its so confusing! Everything will make sense soon! Please continue to read and review. Thank you all! :D