A/N: So fate has, much like the first chapter's title, shat on me. I have been graced with not only the flu, but a stomach virus. Every single time I so much as sneeze, my bowels quiver in the worst way. Life is so fun. I haven't left the house in about three days. I wonder if it's hazardous to my health, not mental-that's already been shot. I was you-tubing Tom Riddle in the Chamber and his jawbone just kills me. I love Draco when he cries more though. Gods, I'd pay him to cry for me. But I'm broke so…..I'll settle with the poor substitute of my fantasy. I'd be there to comfort him, run my fingers through his flaxen locks, and melt into the embrace of what could never be. Fact: As soon as Dumbledore waltz in, I sneezed on my laptop and snot smeared the keys. Fun.


Hermione Jane Granger stared at Armando Dippet. He was a proud looking man, with a large presence. Or was it his ego? He was draped in indigo velvets with embroidered bronze thread, and had snow white hair curtaining his face, eerily similar to Snape's, as he lazily wrote at his desk. The boy who brought her to the headmaster's office sat beside her, drumming his fingers on his lap noiselessly. She was still bound and gagged, but it gave her time to craftily weave a lie and take in her surroundings. She was still reeling over the fact that she had just died and somehow landed in this parallel universe of sorts, unharmed.

Dippet meant that it was the forties, so Hermione wracked her brain for all the Hogwarts A History information she'd ever ingested. Dippet was outwardly distrusting, exception being Voldemort, and somewhat absentminded when it came t-except voldemort. Except Tom Riddle.

Hermione was sitting in a room with Tom Riddle. She realized the heaviness of the situation and her stomach hit her toes. She recalled the sleepless nights at the burrow with Ginny, a blubbering mess, in her arms. She knew what he was capable of, what he'd done and would do. She remembered the basilisks yellow eyes flickering to grey in the mirror, the apathetic grey of Tom Riddle's eyes. Harry's frantic, weary ramblings, recounting the Chamber of Secrets skirmish.

Headmaster Dippet raised his head to look at the pair. His fondest student had come to him, clearly distraught, with…a captive.

"Tom, what is the matter? Who is this girl and why is she bound?" Hermione watched Voldemort struggle to hide his defiant posture by relaxing his rigid backbone into a slouch. Charlatan.

"Sir, this-this-I woke to up to find her naked in my bed clawing into my skin. She was trying to, dare I say, molest me!" Hermione found that the world not imploding upon the joining of those words in that order to be an outrage. She was suddenly glad the rope stopped her from scoffing.

With a wave of Dippet's over-jeweled hand, the ropes shriveled and fell to the floor as dust. It vaguely registered in her mind that she wished Tom had been the one holding her hostage so it would have been him.

"Explain yourself miss…." Hermione mentally searched her mind for every pureblood line she could think of.

A slow smile pulled at her lips as she remembered Umbridge's claim to fame. "Selwyn. Hermione Selwyn." She hoped to Merlin that the line wasn't thriving in this time and purposefully reclined in the seat in a Malfoy manner, the Pureblood way. Tom's chin twitched and Hermione knew it was from grinding his teeth like Ron did when he was angry.

"Right, why were you-." He was cut off by a youthful Albus Dumbledore sashaying into the room. Dippet smiled in a relieved way and acknowledged his confidante. Hermione was shocked, and secretly appalled, as she watched Dumbledore bend to kiss Dippet's family ring in respect before turning to them. That seemed like something a Death Eater follower would do. She snuck a glance at Tom and saw his tongue slither out to wet his lip instinctively. That's probably where he got the idea. Snake Bastard.

"Ms Selwyn," Dumbledore murmured softly, "I gather by your attire or lack of, that you attempted to apparate into Hogwarts? Did your father not inform you of our wards?" He gave her a teasing tut and waved his hand. "No matter, I will see to it our new transfer has gathered the appropriate materials before classes start."

Hermione could see the confusion on Dippet's face, the one he masked by tiredly rubbing his wrinkled face. "Of course. I'm a very busy man indeed. Thank you, Albus," he muttered and dismissed them silently. Hermione could feel Tom Riddle's anger in waves, rolling off and scalding her. Dumbledore led the pair away filling the mute void with his nonsensical chatter. Hermione heard the words 'splice' and 'Hogsmeade' being mumbled. The two teenagers had yet to say a word as they were led to the Head dorms.

Tom Riddle finally broke the silence when they reached the door; it seemed he could not quell the burning curiosity. "Who exactly is she, sir?" The charm he possessed brought a weak smile to the transfiguration professor's face. Hermione opened her mouth to answer but Dumbledore cut her off. "Miss Selwyn is a former student of Durmstrang, but under…." He paused and Hermione noted that Tom leaned closer, "Certain circumstances, she has been forced to transfer schools."

Dumbledore ran a hand through his beard, smoothing it of nonexistent knots. Hermione continued to stand in the corridor as she watched the exchange. It seemed that Dumbledore was baiting Riddle, drawing him in using his thirst for knowledge.

"Sir, if I may ask, what sort of circumstances?" It was presumptuous indeed, but the lithe of Riddle's voice made it seem innocent. Hermione's throat tightened when he glanced her way, with those penetration grey eyes. Even she was caught in the web. Dumbledore quieted for a second; Tom watched the old man contemplate. Hermione knew if she'd been ill-informed, she would have also been as hungry as Tom. She knew she would have digested those lies Dumbledore fed him so elegantly. But she knew that looks could be deceiving, as was this boy who lay in lamb's skin. Dumbledore ran his hand down his thick beard again, coiling the wisps at the end around his finger. Then he glanced at her in what seemed like a questioning way.

Hermione decided to play his game. The greatest wizard alive knew a thing or two about Voldemort. She nodded with a tight smile in what seemed like a way to unwillingly grant permission. She knew it would look like Dumbledore put her on the spot to flaunt her shortcomings, much like Tom Riddle felt he did.

"Miss Selwyn will be a splendid addition to Hogwarts. It is man's own mind, not his enemy or foe, that lures him to evil ways. Hogwarts is a safe place to nurture a mind such as hers." And with that, he turned and strode away.

Tom's eyebrows were still knit together and even Hermione had no idea what to make of that statement. She gnawed at the inside of her cheek, thinking up a story to go with it. It seemed Dumbledore left her hanging. Hermione Granger knew what the Headmaster was doing. She sidestepped Riddle and entered the portrait. She knew exactly what he was doing.

Like she said before, she would play his game.