There's no use going back to yesterday,
Because I was a different person then.
. . .
Hermione stirred her porridge absentmindedly, eyes fixed on a bare patch of table beside her bowl. She had yet to bring a spoonful to her mouth. The breakfast selection at the Home was narrow, though not totally abysmal. They still had appearances to keep, and a bunch of starving, malnutritioned wards would not ensure renewed funding every year.
The Queen liked to throw crown money at social causes, particularly those suited to women, without having to step foot in the hovels herself. Hermione was certain the funding was at least partially diverted to other interests before the residents saw any benefit. But the powers that be couldn't allow the place to fall into complete ruins, otherwise they'd be cut off entirely.
Still, she had no stomach for the food set out before her. She selected a bowl of mush so she'd have something to do with her hands, giving the illusion of eating. Her appetite was nonexistent, as it had been for the last year. She only ate when pressured, and her thin, brittle frame was showing the wear and tear of her poor diet. Her collarbone all but jutted out from her pale skin, nearly every rib visible around her middle. She wore high collars and extra layering to hide the evidence of her slow disintegration.
Truth be told she could care less about her appearance these days. And it seemed right that her outside match her inside. Broken and scarred.
It was strange to think back to who she once was such a short time ago. The silk dresses, the glittering gems, the painstaking hours of prep before she'd dare step foot outside. Her mother would spend all morning twisting Hermione's curls into lavish up-do's, strategically placing pearl-tipped pins throughout, giggling along with her daughter as the thick locks refused to stay in place for more than a second or two.
Thinking of her mother caused a sharp pain in her chest, a chronic ache of late, one she knew was psychologically based though she pressed her hand to the spot anyway. A silent acknowledgment of her grief, her loss, her past.
She lowered her hand to her lap as someone slid onto the bench beside her. Hermione didn't have to look up to know who it was, the smell of gardenias hitting her nose before the white blonde braid was visible in her peripheral.
"Good morning, Hermione."
"Good morning, Luna. You've been tending the garden?"
The slight girl smiled, her expression one of genuine serenity. "You are very observant. Or did Lauma tell you?"
Hermione couldn't help but smirk. "No, I'm afraid Lauma doesn't speak to me." She continued to stir her bowl. "What form did she take today?"
"A spotted magpie," Luna said as she played idly with her long braid. "She sang to me while I watered the flowers."
Hermione glanced sidelong at her strange companion who claimed the woodland fae goddess communed with her in the form of various animals. "That's a good sign, isn't it? It means it's going to be a good day."
Luna shrugged a delicate shoulder. "It depends on the message. She sounded a bit frantic. I think she was trying to warn me."
Hermione blinked, a sudden cold settling into her bone. She set her spoon down, turning to face the blonde fully. "Warn you about what?"
Luna reached for a piece of burnt toast without a care in the world. "I don't know, I had trouble understanding her. Something in the air is affecting my aura."
"The air? Like smog?"
"No," she slid the butter dish closer. "Nothing you can see. Something you can feel," then glanced at Hermione with guileless blue eyes. "You can feel it, too. I can tell."
Hermione swallowed, heart skipping a beat. She tentatively wet her lips, about to ask more questions when a new voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Loony Lovegood, covered in filth before breakfast is finished. Sleeping in the stables again?"
Hermione glared at the girl standing behind them.
"What's your problem, Marietta?"
The girl smiled with malevolent glee. "My problem, Hermione, is Loony's stench. Or maybe it's you I'm smelling from across the room?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Luna smells like the garden and I practically bathed in rose oil this morning, I know your capacity for original thought is limited but do try and be more creative."
She turned back around, not willing to give the petulant girl another moment of her time, but felt the rage simmering at her back all the same.
"You stupid bunter, think you're so much better than everyone here because you grew up on the Westside? Well, now you're stuck in the East end like the rest of us because no man will have you, which makes sense considering you're certainly nothing to look at, so don't think for a minute-"
"Not thinking is really more your thing, isn't it Edgecomb?" Came a new voice.
"As is deterring members of the opposite sex with your ghastly face." Came a second.
Lavender and Parvati appeared, flanking the angry girl from behind, exchanging smirks as they crossed to the table and sat opposite Hermione and Luna.
"You- you- dumb whores-"
"It's alright, Rhetta, if there are men desperate enough to pay for it there's gotta be someone willing to stick it to you for free."
"Lavender!" Hermione hissed. "Not at the breakfast table."
Her roommate laughed, reaching for her own piece of burnt toast without a hint of shame. "Oh please, it's not like I told her to wear a bag over her head-"
"That's enough!" Hermione glanced around, looking for Umbridge as Marietta turned bright red, sputtering in rage and embarrassment.
"It's really just your complexion, luv," Parvati said, voice dripping with faux sympathy. "Men mistake your face for your arse and get all confused."
Lavender choked on her bite, spitting crumbs across the table. Hermione shook her head, spotting their Matron at the head table, eyes narrowed and fastened on the cluster of girls. "We're being watched."
All heads swiveled around to peer at the head table as well. Marietta reluctantly stepped away from the group.
"This isn't over," she hissed menacingly, stomping away with clenched fists and a blistering red face.
"I can't believe you said that, Parvati," Hermione whispered. "What if she reports you to Umbridge?"
The girl rolled her dark eyes. "She'd never have the nerve to repeat it because she knows it's true."
Hermione sighed as Lavender erupted into a fit of giggles. Luna started humming as she nibbled at her crusts, seemingly oblivious to the entire encounter.
"Oh relax, Mione, Edgecomb isn't a threat. She's a brown-nosing little-" Lavender stopped short, mouth agape and eyes glassy. Hermione blinked, brow furrowed.
"Lav?"
The blonde was unresponsive, eyes affixed to some point beyond Hermione's shoulder. Hermione glanced at Parvati in confusion and noticed her gaze similarly locked. She spun around on the bench just as the chatter within the dining hall come to a standstill. The silence was jarring, eerie, and then Hermione saw what everyone was staring at and understood.
Dr. Riddle had entered the room.
For his part, he either didn't notice or chose to ignore the profound effect his presence was having on the female population surrounding him. Her money was on the latter, as the sea of teenage girls made their interest shamefully obvious. They giggled and blushed, whispered behind their hands, batted eyelashes and tipped their heads coyly.
Hermione felt a wave of nausea seize her. She was embarrassed to be in the same room as these twits, counted among their ranks. She turned back around to say as much to her friends when she noticed her roommates practically salivating onto the table.
"Oh for heaven's sake…"
They didn't hear her, eyes tracking his every movement as he slowly cut a path down the middle of the room toward the head table.
"Strange…" Luna mumbled, gaining Hermione's attention.
"What is?" she whispered, the room still uncharacteristically quiet.
"Your aura… it's changed."
Hermione blinked, at a loss for words. Just then the silence was broken by the cringe-inducing sound of their Matron clearing her throat. It sounded kittens drowning in a burlap bag. Hermione imparted a lingering look of confusion and dismay to her benchmate before turning to face the front of the room.
Umbridge stood on her little crate, making her round shape hover two feet higher than usual. She glanced about the room with her signature narrowed and suspicious gaze paired with a cruel little smirk.
"How lovely to have everyone so attentive first thing in the morning. Perhaps I've been able to instill a modicum of manners into you after all."
Dr. Riddle came to a stop beside the Matron, turning to face the room with his hands clasped behind him, shoulders back and chest out. Despite the modelesque stature, she could tell it was a natural repose for the man, not an act of preening she was used to seeing young men like Cormac exhibit when in female company.
She tilted her head, studying him in a clinical fashion, much as he did to her the night before. She hadn't been able to really process his appearance then, as frazzled as she was. Now she was safely encased within the group, free to peruse at her leisure.
He was obviously quite attractive, even more so in the sunlight, which was surprising as it normally revealed flaws. But his pale skin was unblemished, carved from marble, sloping in perfect lines beneath a heavy brow. His clothing was as dark as his hair, well pressed and bespoke.
Everything about him was inviting, screaming refinement and money, it was no wonder the room was filled with such shock and awe. It wasn't often such a specimen was seen on this side of town, little less within these walls. At least not during daylight hours. Plenty of rich young men found themselves wandering the halls at night in search of female company. And many of the residents were only too happy to oblige, taken in by promises of a better life. Others simply gave in for the promise of one less lonely evening.
But Hermione wasn't fazed by his appearance or beauty. If anything she was off-put by both. She was no stranger to high born males who dressed like kings and treated everyone around them like squires. She had lived alongside that sphere for most her life, never a part of it, always an outsider looking in, painfully aware of her so-called shortcomings due to her great misfortune of being born into the wrong family.
She was already classifying the Doctor among the gentry she so detested. She had barely spoken to him last night, and truth be told he showed her great leniency in letting her go without punishment or even reprimand, but she didn't dwell on that detail. She couldn't afford to think of him as anything but a person to avoid. She would form no ties with this strange man.
She finished her examination and judgment before Umbridge even introduced him to the room.
"I would like you to all help me in welcoming our newest member of the administration, Dr. Thomas Riddle. He joins us from St. Mungo's Hospital where he came very highly spoken of by all of his associates, and we are so very honored to have him join us."
There was an explosion of chatter, eyes gleaming and limbs fidgeting as the crowd moved as one to try and get a closer look.
"Ladies! Ladies, do calm down!" Umbridge yelled, looking greatly put out. Her pleas fell on deaf ears, the ensuing chaos growing louder as girls called across the room to one another, exchanging jokes and laughing sharply.
Dr. Riddle looked mostly amused, the corner of his mouth tipping up as he gazed around the room with little interest. Hermione's spine went rigid. It was as she suspected, of course Umbridge would hire someone with as little regard for the residents as herself. And if rumor was true, no one wanted the post to begin with which is why it took so long to fill, so she highly doubted Riddle was all that respected in the field unless he simply drew the short straw.
She narrowed her eyes at him, glaring at the side of his perfect face, only for his head to turn and his eyes to lock with hers.
She jolted, accusing expression melting away to one of dismay at once again being pinned beneath his intense gaze. There was a sudden flash of lightning in his storm cloud eyes, perhaps a flicker of recognition, and his air of amusement only grew. She felt a flush spread across her chest and up her neck, staining her cheeks, heart stuttering, and then he finally released her, glancing back into the crowd as if nothing had happened.
She deflated with a sharp breath, unaware she'd even been holding it in.
Yes… I definitely need to stay away from that one.
"Blimey, I think he was looking at you."
Hermione blinked, glancing across the table.
"What?"
Parvati raised a dark brow. "He was staring right at you. Probably thought you have a fever with how red you're turning." She smiled knowingly, making Hermione burn even hotter.
"I have no idea what you're talking about. He wasn't looking at me."
"Leave her alone, Parv," Lavender smirked, twirling a long strand of hair around her finger. "If he pinned me under his stare I'd be turning all shades of crimson."
"If he had you pinned under-"
"Enough!" Hermione hissed, facing the front of the room, folding her hands in her lap so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"Quiet!" Umbridge all but screamed, complexion turning a blotchy purple. "Act like respectable young women!" Her eyes bugged out, a vein throbbed in her forehead. It was all Hermione could do to hold in her laughter, others weren't so capable. Umbridge silenced them with a lethal glare.
"You will all behave the way young ladies are supposed to behave, and will not embarrass me or this establishment!"
Riddle looked both humored and perturbed by the Matron's tirade. Hermione did her best to keep her eyes off him but she was finding it increasingly difficult. The crowd finally settled, silence falling across the room in a rippling wave. Umbridge gasped for breath.
"Dr. Riddle will be treated with the respect that his title and position in the Home deserve. Any offense against him will be treated the same as an offense against me." She scanned the crowd with a slitted gaze, her focus lingering on a select few charges, Lavender included. The blonde rolled her eyes, indifferent to the threat.
"Once the Doctor is settled into his office he will begin seeing patients on a case by case basis, starting with those who have not been to see a physician since their admittance."
Hermione's heart skipped a beat.
"If this includes you then you will review the schedule posted outside the clinic door tomorrow evening. If you are late for your appointment or try skipping it-" her eyes fell on Hermione, burning bright with hellflame, "I ensure you, you will not enjoy the consequences."
Hermione released a slow breath as the Matron glanced away. She felt her heart lurch once more as she felt the Doctor's fathomless eyes upon her, no doubt taking cues from Umbridge. She swallowed thickly until the feeling of being watched passed. Her fists were clenched so tightly her blunt nails broke the skin of her palm. The sting of pain grounded her.
And as if the Matron didn't just spend the last five minutes threatening and belittling the entire room, she smiled brightly and bounced on her heels. "Splendid! I am so looking forward to another productive day. The weather is superb, so there's no excuse for anyone to dawdle in the dining hall. Remember, idle hands are the devil's playthings."
Parvati scoffed under her breath as the room once more erupted into conversation. Hermione watched as the Doctor extended a hand to their Matron, helping her off the crate. Umbridge flushed lightly, her hand lingering on his even after his fingers released her. Hermione blinked, glancing away sharply and staring at her congealed porridge.
"Well, the day is certainly off to an interesting start," Lavender said, sweeping a pile of crumbs to the floor with a smirk. She loved creating a mess for Filch.
"You're one lucky bint, Mione." Parvati grabbed a piece of toast and began ripping it into small pieces, tossing them over her shoulder onto the floor. "You'll get to spend some quality time with the good doctor before any of us. You have to report back, spare no detail."
Hermione rolled her eyes at their antics. "I will do no such thing. I don't understand the cause for such a stir. He's a medical professional, what do the girls think is going to happen? He sees us as his patients and nothing more."
Lavender smirked, leaning in closer. "Obviously you don't know why the last doc got chucked."
Hermione's pulse thrummed wildly. "What do you mean?"
"He was a bad man."
Hermione jumped lightly, nearly forgetting Luna was still seated beside her. The girl's simple but loaded declaration made goosebumps erupt along her arms.
"What did he do?"
"Let's just say he adhered to the medical half of his job title a bit more closely than the professional part," Parvati said with disinterest, glancing about the room.
Hermione's mind reeled. "Are you saying he was inappropriate with the residents?"
"If that's the genteel way of saying he knocked boots with 'em, then yes." Lavender looked far too amused for the subject matter they were discussing.
Hermione blinked, face turning white. She opened and closed her mouth, at a loss for what to say, unable to think through the sudden emotions that seized her. How could such a thing happen? This was meant to be a safe haven for young women, the mere idea that someone charged with providing protection and care could abuse them in such a way was overwhelmingly terrifying.
She glanced over her shoulder at where the Doctor last stood, but he was already gone.
Hermione pushed open the glass inlaid door, the overhead bell ringing through the small Apothecary.
"You're late."
She fought back a sigh. "I was detained by Madam Umbridge. She extended the list, we have a new physician on staff and the medical pantry needs restocking."
"I'm aware. Now stop wasting my time further and hand it to me."
Hermione crossed the wood slat floor and did as requested, barely phased by Snape's ire. She was used to it after three months of regular visits. It was unheard of for Umbridge to entrust one of the residents with the important task of procuring medical supplies for the Home, apparently Filch had been assigned the errand previously. But Hermione's existing knowledge of medicine and chemistry made her a more viable candidate for the task.
Of course, Umbridge went through the shopping basket with a narrowed eye upon her return each time, no doubt paranoid Hermione was pocketing substances for herself. Hermione found it mildly irritating but didn't take great offense, she knew how much she could earn if she sold tonics on the side to the other residents or even on the street. Lavender had already tried to convince her to do so more than once before Parvati finally convinced the blonde to let the matter rest.
And as much biting sarcasm as Snape drenched her with during her visits, she knew he preferred her to Filch's company any day of the week. He often tossed out random questions to challenge her, looking annoyed when she answered correctly, but also somewhat pleased. She imagined he considered the majority of his customer base to be idiots.
She watched as his black eyes scanned the parchment, flickering back and forth rapidly before he set it on the counter and disappeared between the aisles. She heard him rummaging about, the tinkling of glass, and saw flashes of his thin, ghostly frame between gaps in the shelves.
"May I help?"
She already knew what the answer would be, but enjoyed poking at the bear with a stick. She had so few outlets for entertainment these days.
"The only help you could provide is acting as a human door jam."
She rolled her eyes. "I was going to suggest substituting the laudanum with soothing syrups. Both are addictive but the girls won't be as familiar with the latter and therefore less likely to abuse it."
"Seeing as I'm not a complete imbecile I've already made the alteration."
She folded her hands behind her back, glancing about the shop with a gleam in her eyes, pacing along the display cases. She didn't notice Snape watching her through the shelving, dark brow raised.
"You seem restless today, Ms. Granger. List the humoural temperaments."
She blinked, feeling a thrill race along her spine, making her stand taller. "Sanguine, choleric, melancholic, and phlegmatic, if you're basing it on classical theory. If you lean towards Kant's argument then of course phlegmatic is merely the absence of temperament. Unless you adhere to the five temperamental theory, in which case the latter is deemed neutral, whereas relationship-oriented introverts are regarded as the fifth classification."
The corner of his mouth tipped up a fraction before his expression once more pinched into a classic scowl.
"There, you got to show off. Now stop wearing a hole in my floor."
She sighed, coming to a standstill. "The pedlar's back. I saw him at the corner of Browning on my way here."
"I'm aware."
She frowned at the scorn in his voice. "Why hasn't he been arrested? He's selling snake oil and patents, at least one death has been linked directly to a tonic from his wagon."
"The authorities rarely put the focus where it is most needed, surely you of all people are aware of that unfortunate fact."
Hermione swallowed thickly, averting her eyes to the floor. She couldn't shake the dark cloud she felt hovering above her since last night. She was pulled from her thoughts by Snape's bored drawl.
"I find it fascinating you have such concern for the welfare of Fletcher's clients and so little for your own."
She glanced up, brows pinched, watching him move from one aisle to the next like a graceful bird of prey, long deft fingers grabbing up tiny bottles, boxes and pouches and adding them to the ever growing pile.
"What do you mean?"
"You've lost half a stone since you last deemed to grace me with your incessant presence."
She feigned fascination with a display case in front of her, which did nothing to deter him.
"And here I thought you had some common sense about you. Surely you're aware daily sustenance is needed for the body's vital functions to continue operating?"
"Last Spring a man survived for twenty-two days on a boat without food."
"What a useful piece of information."
She bit her lip, glancing down, a flush stealing her cheeks.
Snape was silent for a while, the only sounds in the shop his swift footsteps as he navigated inventory until he spoke again, voice laced with disinterest.
"You should try and survive until Parliament reconvenes. Gurney is bringing forth an interesting proposal."
Her head snapped up, embarrassment forgotten in wake of excitement. She stepped around one of the shelves but only caught a flash of black coat tails as he darted to another corner.
"They're voting on the Medical Act?"
She didn't have regular access to political news anymore, having to settle for snippets she overheard in the streets or read in stray newspapers she found along the pavement.
"Indeed."
"Do you think it will pass?" she continued to search for him along the stacks. He was like a human shadow, jumping from one place to the next as quickly as light traveled.
"The Queen is certainly against it. But Gurney has a long record of overcoming great obstacles. He managed to get the Property Act through after all."
Hermione swallowed heavily. The implications were life-changing. For the first time in a long time, she dared to feel hope. Her heart was light and fragile as glass in her chest, one touch and it would shatter to pieces.
Snape appeared before her as though materializing from thin air. She reared back, tipped off balance. He grimaced as she steadied herself against the wall, narrowly avoiding crashing into a cough suppressant display.
"Another symptom of starvation is lightheadedness."
She blinked rapidly. "I didn't- I mean, you-" she swallowed, shaking her head and falling silent as he passed her swiftly, loaded basket in hand.
"I will add these to the Home account. Tell me, do you enjoy performing sums as much as hearing yourself speak?"
She blinked, head tipping as she watched him pull the ledger from under the counter, writing fast and furious along the page.
"I find myself in need of part-time assistance. I would put a sign out front but I shudder to think of the vermin it would attract."
Her heart lurched. She inhaled sharply as she watched him continued to write, speaking as though she weren't even there.
"I need someone to take inventory, restock shelves, and conduct rudimentary sales on occasion. And while I'd prefer a deaf-mute, I doubt I'll be able to find one on such short notice. If I'm forced to settle, I suppose you're as adequate as anyone else. I don't suppose you'd be interested in the position?"
She swallowed thickly, standing straight. "I- yes, of course, that is, I would be honored to- if you needed the help-"
"Bloody hell." He glanced up sharply, eyes narrowed. "I already regret asking."
She couldn't help the smile from overtaking her face, causing him to scowl further. "Yes! I would love to assist you-" she stopped short, eyes widening. "But I don't think Madam Umbridge would allow it."
His expression flickered, true malevolence overtaking his face for a brief moment, so quick she wasn't certain if she imagined it or not.
"I will speak to her," he glanced back down, continuing to write. "Your skills are wasted as a simple errand girl."
She blinked rapidly, sure she'd misheard him even as warmth permeated her chest. The comment was high praise coming from Snape, and it had been so long since she'd heard such commending words regarding her intellect she felt shaken to her core.
He raised a brow, eyes still focused on the parchment but no doubt sensing her reaction. "Don't get a big head. It will look obscenely out of place on that skeletal body."
That was more like it. Still, she felt light, dizzy with excitement and hope, the dark cloud overhead breaking apart, light peaking through.
For just a moment, she felt the old Hermione stir beneath the surface.
She was so excited about her potential new position at the Apothecary she nearly forgot her second mission of the day. She was supposed to head straight back to the Home with the supplies, of course, but she knew escaping the oppressive walls would be all but impossible as soon as she returned.
And she had something vitally important to do, no matter the consequences.
She briefly studied her reflection in the window pane, trying not to cringe. She looked ghastly, and while she normally didn't give two figs, she knew the person she was meeting with inside the cafe would have a strong opinion on the matter.
She sighed, doing her best to keep her loose curls out of her face. She didn't spend nearly as much time as she should twisting her hair up, it was only a matter of time before the entire mess came crashing down around her.
She knew she couldn't delay any longer. Taking a deep breath she pushed the door open and stepped inside. Luckily they were meeting at a halfway point and therefore she only received a fraction of the sidelong glances she would have been subjected to if they were at a nicer establishment.
She stood on her tiptoes, peering around the tops of heads looking for the familiar shock of hair, balancing her Apothecary baskets between her hands.
"Mione! Over here!"
Her heart leaped into her throat. She spun around, eyes wide and smile breaking loose upon spotting him.
"Harry!"
He stood from his chair as she approached, weaving between tables. He stepped forward, unable to wait any longer, and seized her in a hug. She laughed, wrapping one arm around him and holding the basket aloft with the other. He breathed into her hair.
"Christ, I've missed you."
She felt tears spring to her eyes at the simple admission. Her chest burned.
"I've missed you, too."
He slowly released her. They gazed at each other, oblivious to the stares they were receiving from the other patrons. Her bedraggled appearance may not cause a huge stir, but a man and woman embracing publically was certainly a borderline scandal. No doubt the onlookers were curious to see how much further the couple took it.
But Hermione was used to the assumptions people drew about her and her best friend. She'd given up explaining their bond years ago. Harry had been a central part of her life since their fathers became work associates and then friends when their children were barely three feet high. After his parents died and his godfather took him in, Hermione's parents doted on the boy they considered a son.
She had been used to seeing him on a daily basis until he turned eighteen and joined the Royal Navy. Being without him for weeks, sometimes months at a time was a painful adjustment. And then tragedy had struck Hermione's own family, and now she saw him even less.
"You look dashing," she said with a smirk, admiring his tanned complexion and bright emerald gaze.
He flashed a dazzling smile, dimples appearing at the ends. "Stop that. You look-" he stopped short, finally taking a moment to gaze upon her fully. His smile fell, eyes dimming. "Mione, what's happened?"
She swallowed, stepping around him towards the table, eager to sit and block her thin frame from view.
"Nothing's happened, let's sit and order, I'm starving."
She cringed, regretting the turn of phrase as soon as she said it. She kept her gaze averted to the basket as she set it beside her feet.
"Obviously. Have they not been feeding you?"
She shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous. I've just been really busy-"
"Too busy to take care of yourself?" He slid into the chair across from her, eyes narrowed.
"Harry, please, let's not do this right now-"
"Then when Mione? I haven't seen you in over two months, and you look like you-"
He inhaled sharply, shaking his head. Now she narrowed her eyes.
"And I look like I what, Harry? Say it."
"Nevermind."
"No, you obviously want to talk about it, so let's talk. What do I look like?"
"I don't want to fight."
She exhaled slowly, expression softening. "Neither do I."
He sighed, handing her a menu and opening his. "If you want we can go round back and I'll let you punch me."
She smirked. "That sounds splendid." Her eyes roamed the page without reading anything. She glanced over the top. "How was the Mediterranean? You look like Apollo come to life."
He laughed shortly. "I don't know about that. But it was breathtaking, Mione. I have to take you to the islands. You've never seen water so blue, the way it sparkles like blue topaz beneath the sun."
She smiled, happy to see Harry talk so animatedly about something once more. Her friend was normally in high spirits, always finding the bright side no matter the situation. She had been equal parts heartbroken and thrilled when he followed in his father and godfather's shoes and enlisted.
"And the ship? Is it really mastless?"
"Yes, the first of her kind. She has a twin that is about to be sea-bound as well. They're called Devastation class."
His eyes lit up as he described the ironclad warships, but Hermione felt a stone sink to the pit of her stomach.
"Do you man the gun turret?"
He smirked, shaking his head. "I'm not senior enough for that. Yet. But Sirius thinks I'll be ready in another couple years. I'm focused on weaponry but still training."
She sighed. "I hate the thought of you on 13,000-ton weapon in the middle of the ocean."
"If I'm going to be in the middle of the ocean, better to be on a floating weapon."
She rolled her eyes as he laughed. "Relax, Mione. No one is going to mess with our ship, not when they know the firepower we have. I was in more danger on the previous routes I sailed."
"Don't remind me."
His eyes scanned her face. "Enough about me. How are you?"
She bit her lip, focusing on the menu once more.
"That bad, huh."
"I didn't say anything."
"Exactly."
She swallowed tentatively. "Harry-"
"I don't understand why you insist on staying there, Mione. Grimmauld is sitting completely empty right now, and even when Sirius and I are off rotation we're practically family-"
"The rest of the world doesn't know that, Harry. And they'd hardly listen if we tried to explain it to them."
"I don't give a toss what the rest of the world thinks."
"People who don't care about the opinions of others lead very lonely lives. And that's what will happen to us both if we're labeled an item."
"We won't be lonely if we have each other."
She sighed, setting the menu down and leaning forward. "That's not what I meant and you know it. I love you, Harry. And right now you might be longing for travel and adventure, but someday you'll want to settle down, find a wife and start a family. And you'll never be able to do so if all of London thinks I've been your kept mistress for the better part of our youth."
"Then I'll find someone outside of London."
She rolled her eyes. "I can't talk to you when you're like this."
"You mean you can't stand it when I punch holes in your argument."
"You'd have a better chance of punching holes in your warship." She picked up the menu once more, eyes narrowed.
He smirked. "Glad to see your sharp tongue hasn't dulled."
She smirked in return. "I seldom have the opportunity to use it now that you're off sailing the high seas."
"So I take it that means you haven't spoken to anyone else?"
Her amusement faded, knuckles turning white as she gripped the paper so tightly it bent.
"Hm?"
"I'll take your half-hearted deflection as a resounding no."
She swallowed. "I think I'll get something sweet, I'm craving fresh fruit."
"Hermione."
She ground her teeth, hating when Harry used her proper name. It rarely boded well.
"I know you've been avoiding our friends because you're all they ask me about since I got back."
"Don't be dramatic, you only got back yesterday."
"I did. And guess who was waiting at my doorstep?"
Her heart lurched, her entire body going rigid in her seat. She continued to stare blankly at the dessert selection.
"I have no idea."
"No guess whatsoever?"
"I'd have made one otherwise."
"So you didn't get into a big fight with-"
"I don't want to discuss this." She glanced up sharply, eyes narrowed. She couldn't bear to hear his name spoken aloud. Not yet.
"I didn't want to discuss it either, but I was forced to listen to his drunken ramblings until one in the bloody morning, so you can sit here and listen to me for a few minutes."
She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms like a petulant child.
"Now I have no idea what is going on between the two of you…" He narrowed his gaze. "Frankly, I don't want to know, since I'm sure it will send me into a violent rage, and I'm not going to be kicked out of Her Majesty's Royal Navy over Draco Bloody Malfoy-" she cringed, unable to mask her visceral reaction. "So the two of you are going to work it out so I don't have to have to act as mediator."
She shook her head. "No one has asked you to be a mediator." She certainly knew Draco wouldn't. Then again, if he was truly in his cups last night and went to Harry's door, then he must have been in quite a state… she wondered how much he revealed. It couldn't have been much, otherwise, Harry would have brought up the topic right away.
"The two of you have fought like cats and dogs since I made the horrific mistake of introducing you ten years ago. If I didn't step in every now and then I'd have lost my sanity a long time ago. But I can't do that anymore, not with being abroad and not with you being stuck in that asylum. I worry about you every day, all day, Mione. I need to know you're okay. Draco can look out for you. But if you refuse to speak with him-"
"It's not that," she said, quickly swallowing and wishing she could recall the words.
Harry raised a dark brow. "No? Then what is it?"
She inhaled sharply, cheeks tinging pink. Harry groaned. "Bloody hell, I knew it, I'm going to fly into a violent rage-"
"It's not a joke."
"I'm not laughing."
"I don't want to discuss this with you-"
"Then discuss it with Draco!"
"I can't!"
She blinked, jolting as she realized she had practically screamed the last part. She glanced around, eyes from nearby tables upon them. Harry sighed, either oblivious or uncaring of their audience. Probably the latter, as her friend was frustratingly observant.
"You don't have a choice, Mione."
She glanced back across the table, brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"He said you have to arrange a meeting with him, or he's coming to you."
She swallowed.
"Furthermore, he said if you make him come to you, he's arriving in his family's most gaudy stagecoach and wearing his most ostentatious suit and will tip the gossip rags off to his whereabouts so your reunion makes it to the front of the paper."
She rolled her eyes, hands curling into fists on her lap.
Harry smirked, finding far too much humor in the blonde aristocrat's ludicrous threats.
"He also said to inform you that if you plan on slipping out of the Home upon his arrival, he'll have his father purchase the deed to the building and the land, and have everyone but you evicted by morning."
Hermione nodded, face pinched. "Lovely. Anything else?"
Harry smiled. "Yes, he said you have twenty-four hours to send him word, starting from last night."
She scowled. "That son of a-"
"Are you ready to order?"
Hermione blinked, gazing up at the woman who stood beside their table, eyes fixed firmly to Harry, obvious wonder in their depths. Even out of uniform her best friend made a very attractive sight.
"Not yet, luv, give us a moment," he barely spared her a glance but flashed a cheeky wink that made her giggle nervously.
"Okay, I'll be back in a few minutes."
She walked away slowly, batting her lashes. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Why am I surrounded by such desperate women?"
"She wasn't desperate, she was flirting. There's a difference, not that you'd recognize either."
"What does that mean?"
"Your idea of flirting is debating politics or breaking someone's nose."
She flushed brightly. "That was one time! And it was hardly flirting-"
"As I said, I don't want to know. I just want the two of you to get it sorted. Which is why I'm here to reluctantly act as your messenger pigeon."
She sighed, shoulders drooping. She didn't want to do this, wasn't ready to do this, but it seemed she had little choice in the matter. Her free will burned away in her childhood home.
And yet a part of her, albeit a small, frustratingly supercilious part of her, knew that Draco wasn't being all that unreasonable. After all, she had ghosted him for the last three months, avoiding public markets and parks where she knew he may corner her, and remained unresponsive to his many letters.
She read them all, obsessively, until she memorized every word, before carefully folding and binding them in a pile, tucking them beneath her mattress pad only to repeat the ritual night after night.
Her silence was cruel. She knew that. But avoidance was so much easier than facing the situation head-on. There'd been too much to deal with this last year, she couldn't process it all at once.
However, it seemed he finally had her cornered. She believed every word of his threat. It would only serve his ultimate purpose to splash their faces over the gossip rags, and she knew if she held up in her room he would happily purchase the building, his family had more money than the Crown and his father was constantly buying and renovating properties. A Wayward Girls Home would only diversify his already massive portfolio, making him look like a charitable philanthropist and further strengthening the Malfoy name.
She chewed on the inside of her cheek, pulling free from the vortex of her thoughts and feeling exhausted by the onslaught. She locked eyes with Harry, exhaling sharply through her nose at his amused and knowing grin.
"Tomorrow. Royal Gardens. 10 am."
It was a struggle to bite out each word. Harry seemed only more amused. "Great. Where should he meet you inside?"
She closed her eyes briefly, the familiar stab of pain impaling her heart. She snapped her gaze back quickly, trying to mask her reaction.
"Just tell him to meet me at Kew. He'll know where to find me."
Hermione was reluctant to part ways from Harry. She would have happily lingered all day in his company, but she had delayed her return to the Home for too long already. She had no doubt Umbridge would punish her for her tardiness, but she wanted to avoid total house arrest.
She doubted Draco would appreciate her excuse if she stood him up, and she certainly couldn't reveal her plans to meet him tomorrow to her Matron. Umbridge already thought all of her charges were sexed up strumpets who were only a glance away from being impregnated by any man that passed them along the street.
Hermione would have to be on her best behavior and draw as little notice to herself as possible until she was able to slip out after breakfast tomorrow morning. Perhaps she could get Parvati to cover for her should her absence be noted. She would ask fewer questions than Lavender-
"There you are!"
Hermione froze halfway down the hall, the click click click gaining speed and volume behind her. She took a deep breath before slowly turning around. She opened her mouth but her Matron cut her off.
"I don't want to hear whatever pitiful lie you've concocted! You should have been back an hour ago. Where have you been? And give me that!" She forcefully tugged the Apothecary basket from Hermione's grasp. "If I find a single item missing you can rest assured you will be spending the rest of your nights sleeping in the gutter."
Hermione forced her face to remain neutral. "Yes, Madam."
Umbridge huffed in annoyance, always frustrated by the fact Hermione never took the bait.
"Come to my office at once."
Hermione fell in step behind the short rotund woman, hands clenched at her side. They followed a few more twisting paths through the old building before they emerged inside the horrendously decorated room.
Each wall was lined with shelves housing a menagerie of glass figurines, mostly cats, but a large assortment of other adorable creatures with large round eyes and softly curling mouths. It was always jarring standing inside such a whimsical space accompanied by the evil witch herself. It was a conundrum that such a vile woman would have such delicate, fanciful taste in decor.
Hermione felt the hairs on her arm and neck stand on end everytime she was trapped inside. It reminded her eerily of the sensations she experienced when passing through other parts of the Home… other dank, dark, rooms-
She cleared her throat, trying to distract herself from the treacherous thoughts. She couldn't afford to think on that now, not here, not in the presence of Medusa herself.
Umbridge glanced over her shoulder at the noise, eyes wide and expectant. Hermione flushed, scrambling for an excuse as to why she called the woman's attention.
"Um… I…" her mind was a wasteland of broken thoughts and memories, her emotions still running rampant after her visit with Harry.
The Matron rolled her eyes. "Spare me."
She set the basket on her desk and began rummaging through the pile, clicking her tongue as though annoyed everything was in order.
Suddenly a large dark mass floated past the open doorway. Hermione gasped, stepping back, an invisible current of cold sweeping past, settling into her bones, hardening her muscles and freezing her in place.
"Idiot girl," Umbridge hissed, stepping out from behind her desk. "Not an ounce of propriety."
Hermione blinked, dazed, staring at the empty doorway, wondering if Umbridge saw the haunting apparition as well. The Matron stepped into the hallway, fake smile plastered ever so sweetly on her face. "Oh, Doctor Riddle, do you have a moment?"
Hermione swallowed, brows pinched in confusion as the steady tread of footsteps echoed off the stone. Suddenly a tall imposing figure appeared before her, dressed in the same dark pitch as this morning. Hermione flushed brightly, realizing she mistook his passing figure as some supernatural entity.
I'm going mad.
She blinked rapidly as his eyes shifted past the short Matron and fastened on Hermione.
"Yes, Madam?"
Umbridge glanced over her shoulder with a scowl, as though it were Hermione's fault for drawing his attention away. "I just received new inventory from the Apothecary. Would you like me to have it delivered to your office?"
He smiled, eyes snapping down to the older woman who flushed hotly beneath his scrutiny. Hermione swallowed, something in his expression looked lethal.
"No need, I am happy to take it myself."
"Oh, alright then, please, come in."
It was disturbing to watch Umbridge titter about like a nervous school girl. It was more disturbing to feel the shift in atmospheric pressure as the Doctor stepped inside, as though his presence held a gravitational pull all its own. Hermione fought its effect, stepping back until she was practically pressed up against the wall. The movement drew his attention, eyes locking onto her once more. The corner of his lips turned up in a wry smirk.
"Hello there. My name is Doctor Thomas Riddle, and you are?"
She swallowed, stomach twisting into knots.
"The doctor asked you a question!" Umbridge hissed as she reloaded the basket.
Hermione wet her lips, trying to remember how to breathe. "Hermione Granger."
"Hermione," he repeated, eyes dancing with amusement. "That name sounds strangely familiar."
She stared at him with wide, pleading eyes. This was it. He was going to expose her midnight excursion to his chamber, last night's reprieve was merely a mocking gesture, a passing amusement at her expense.
"Ah yes," he said with a bright smile, teeth gleaming in the light. "I know where I've heard the name… The Winter's Tale. Were your parents fans of Shakespeare?"
She blinked, heart thumping painfully in her chest, her body still surging with adrenaline, unsure what was happening, but she forced her voice to work beyond the tight constriction in her throat.
"No. I mean yes, they were." She swallowed nervously, flushing further under his intense scrutiny. "But they were bigger fans of Greek Mythology. My mother's name was Helen. My father called her his Helen of Troy."
The Doctor's eyes flashed, his expression changing but the emotion indiscernible to her eyes. "Ah, yes. Hermione, the daughter of Helen and King Menelaus. She married the son of Achilles, did she not?"
Hermione felt her shoulders ease a touch, finding familiar footing among such topics.
"Yes, after breaking an engagement to her grandfather."
The Doctor chuckled, the sound rich and deep and soothing to her nerves.
"Seems she caught a lucky break then."
Hermione wet her lips, stepping away from the wall slightly, the lure of such conversation overriding her previous panic.
"Hardly. Pyrrhus took a mistress and abandoned his wife after she failed to conceive. Hermione fled Sparta, married her cousin and died in childbirth."
The Doctor raised a dark brow, eyes narrowing slightly. He drew in a short breath, she held hers, eager to hear his response, when their Matron's shrill voice broke the spell woven between them.
"I find such stories a complete waste of time. They're myths, nothing more, hardly worth studying. No one ever succeeded in life by memorizing fairytales."
Hermione blinked, glancing down, barely catching the predatory flash that overcame his features as he faced Umbridge.
"On the contrary, Madam. I find that Greek and Roman mythology played a pivotal role in the developing world, leading to the most notable innovations in arts and science that allow us to lead the lives we do today."
Umbridge glanced up, eyes wide. "Oh. Well, I…"
"The earliest charted navigation system for shipping routes were created thanks to man's understanding of the stars, which were explained using stories of ancient myth and legend, making them easier to memorize and teach to future generations." He tucked his hands into his pockets, tipping his head as he pinned her with a rather sardonic expression. "In fact, the majority of the cosmos are named after such stories. And even today the symbol for modern medicine is the staff used by the God of healing, Asclepius."
Umbridge's face was somehow deathly white and blistering red all at once. Hermione felt her chest swell with some unknown emotion, heart racing, and for a brief moment, her eyes met the Doctor's.
Time stopped. The air shifted once more, gravity evading the room, leaving her weightless, floating among the stars he just described.
And then he glanced away, as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Hermione felt her feet hit the floor, limbs heavy, cursedly weighted to the earth.
"That's very interesting, Doctor," Umbridge said in a keening voice, obviously embarrassed and fishing for a change in topic. "Well, the supplies are ready if you'd like to take them…"
She swallowed nervously as the Doctor approached, smiling without warmth as he picked the basket up. He glanced down at the contents, brow raised. "These were delivered?"
Umbridge bristled. "No, they were picked up by Ms. Granger. Is there a mistake? I knew the girl was up to something-"
"Not at all. Everything is in order. I was merely curious."
Umbridge deflated. "Oh. Yes. Well, it saves on a delivery charge if I send one of the residents."
The Doctor nodded. "Perhaps she can help me stock the medical pantry, given her familiarity with the contents."
It wasn't phrased as a question. Hermione felt her heart leap into her throat.
"Oh…" Umbridge looked decidedly thrown for a loop. "That is highly unorthodox. We don't trust our charges to handle the medical supplies directly."
"Merely to purchase and transport them."
Hermione bit her cheek to stop from smiling. She'd never witnessed anyone challenge their Matron before. It was superbly entertaining.
"I… well, Ms. Granger has a background with such things, otherwise I wouldn't-"
"Wonderful, she's the perfect candidate to assist me then."
Umbridge blinked. "That's not- I don't- well, I suppose-"
"I begin seeing patients in two days time. Send her to my clinic tomorrow after lunch."
Hermione swayed on her feet, wondering if she was rendered invisible. He had engaged her without hesitation moments before, teased her even, and now he spoke as if she wasn't in the room.
"Alright," Umbridge said with obvious unease.
"Thank you, Madam. Have a wonderful evening." He turned without awaiting a response, striding for the door.
The room was rapidly darkening with the setting sun, his face cast in shadows. Hermione drew in a breath, feeling equal parts frustration and dismay, not fulling comprehending either reaction.
He stopped in the hall, turning to face the doorway, directly before Hermione but out of her Matron's sight.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Granger."
She swallowed, limbs rigid.
"I shall see you tomorrow." His smile was perversely beautiful, lethal, dripping venom. "Sleep well."