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Chapter Three: Dead Man Down

Through Hogwarts' corridors they wandered to the transfiguration master's office. Damn you, Death Eaters, for killing me, Hermione thought furiously while following Riddle who for some inexplicable reason Held. Her. Hand. They arrived at the office and Hermione knocked at the door. Hearing a "Please, come in", she entered the office, ignoring Riddle's hints that he would wait for her. Freaking stalker! she cursed while entering the room. Hermione spotted Dumbledore sitting behind his desk. Hot tears prickled in her eyes as she scanned the old wizard. Seeing the man again was wonderful and a large, if a bit wobbly, smile appeared on Hermione's face. Dumbledore looked a little confused by her enthusiasm, but returned the smile anyway.

"Ms Black, how can I help you?" the wizard inquired kindly.

BLACK?! Hermione stared at him, aghast, for a good minute. Dumbledore obviously was not surprised by her slowness and waited politely for her to regain her composure. 'Black' was running around in a loop in Hermione's mind, making her feel faint. She pulled her wand, turned around and hurled every secrecy and silencing spell at the door that she could remember. Riddle should really not hear what she had to discuss. Turning back, Dumbledore raised an impressed eyebrow at her. Without a word Hermione plopped in the seat before his desk.

"We have a problem," she stated, not beating around the bush.

"Yes?" Dumbledore inquired, kindly smiling.

"Er… am I dead?" Hermione looked at Dumbledore desperately.

Worry sparkling in his eyes, Dumbledore asked, "Are you alright, Ms Black?"

Not being able to hold back anymore, Hermione snapped, "No! I'm freaking not alright."

Angrily she wiped a few tears from her eyes, glaring at Dumbledore. The wizard cocked an eyebrow and ignored her outburst. Instead he asked politely,

"Maybe you want to see Madam Hambard?"

"Merlin, no!" Hermione lamented, furiously shaking her head. "I don't need to see anyone. I'm not crazy!"

Dumbledore's eyebrow remained raised and he blinked at her. It didn't take long for Hermione to cave in and concede,

"Okay, maybe I am. I don't know."

Folding his hands, Dumbledore leaned forward on his seat and scanned Hermione over his half-moon spectacles.

"What happened, Ms Black?"

Hermione worried her lower lip and admitted, panic lacing her voice, "I don't know."

Dumbledore nodded and supplied sagely, "Just start at the beginning. I find that always helps."

Hermione exhaled, fighting for calm. The wizard was taking this a bit too lightly for her taste.

"Okay," Hermione snubbed acridly, glaring at Dumbledore. "Here I was, minding my own business. Doing the usual stuff, you know. Breaking into banks, flying around the country on the backs of dragons, helping the Chosen One, fighting against freaking Death Eaters." Dumbledore raised a curious eyebrow, but Hermione didn't stop and continued, "They attacked Hogwarts. Well, frankly, it was to be expected. What with the war going on."

"I'm afraid you don't make much sense," Dumbledore commented, still annoyingly calm.

"No. Obviously not," Hermione conceded. But then continued her story like he hadn't interrupted her. "Well, I was innocently going about my business when two of those wankers assaulted me over at the old Charms classroom. I would have defeated them," she said proudly. ", but some other Death Eater just cursed me from behind my back, the damn coward."

Furrowing his brow, Dumbledore said, "I should probably bring you to the Hospital Wing."

"I seriously hope there's a potion to cure this madness," Hermione deadpanned. "So, after that other bloke hit me with a curse in the back, I blacked out. Actually, I thought I was going to die back then… maybe I did."

Hermione paused and scratched her head, not knowing how to explain what happened next because she didn't really understand it herself. Peering at Dumbledore, she saw he eyed her like he would an insane and possibly dangerous person. Hermione sighed and just went on heatedly,

"Next thing I remember is me waking up in that room. All in Slytherin green, mind you. And then Tom freaking Riddle is there. I almost cursed him on the spot."

Dumbledore didn't interrupt her again, so Hermione assumed that having urges to curse Riddle wasn't something unknown to him.

"Well, I didn't curse him," she continued. ", but thought to just play along. Surely that curse that hit me did something to my brain. That's what I thought before I looked into a mirror."

Hermione stared at Dumbledore desperation in her eyes. "I mean look at me!" She gestured at her face. "That's not right at all."

Dumbledore still eyed her like she was a crazy person. "Let me assure you, Ms Black, you look perfectly fine."

Hermione couldn't hold in the snort as she heard it, "Merlin's balls! My name is NOT Black!"

"And what is your name, my dear?" Dumbledore inquired cautiously as if talking to a crazy person.

Hermione breathed out impatiently. She really was glad to see Dumbledore alive, but the bloke wasn't exactly helpful at the moment. Forcing a smile on her face, she offered him her hand.

"Granger," Hermione clarified. "Hermione Granger."

The old wizard shook her hand. "Albus Dumbledore."

Hermione couldn't help but giggle at the insanity of it all. "I know." She leaned back in her chair and said, "You can be honest with me. Am I in hell?"

"I assure you, you are very much alive," Dumbledore informed her kindly.

"Then what is going on?" Hermione shook her head, panic welling up. "Why is Tom Riddle here? He went to Hogwarts… when? Fricking decades ago. In the forties?"

A look of genuine surprise crossed Dumbledore's face and he said hesitantly, "Ms Granger, we have the year of 1943."

Hermione simply blanched at that, her throat tying up.

"Not what you expected?" he asked kindly.

"No," Hermione croaked, running a shaky hand through her hair. "That is… I guess… but that is… 54 year in the past… "

Dumbledore still eyed her, concern having now replaced the surprise. Hermione glanced at him and, seeing his face, accused,

"You don't believe me."

"It is quite some story, Ms Black… excuse me, Ms Granger."

Hermione sighed tiredly, "Okay, let me impress you with my incredibly inexplicable knowledge I could have only gained in the future." By now there was a dry tint in her voice. "1943, you say? Grindelwald is still at large, eh?" Dumbledore nodded. "I can predict quite accurately that you'll defeat him next year. To be precise at the 27th of Decembre 1944."

Dumbledore merely raised his eyebrows.

"You probably wonder why I tell you. It could be changing the future after all," Hermione continued seriously, no sass in her voice anymore. "But I don't think you knowing will change all that much. Between you and me, we both know that you could defeat Grindelwald any time now. You just don't want to at the moment. Although he is the owner of the Elder Wand," Here Dumbledore took in a sharp breath of air. ", you are still a tiny little bit more powerful than he is."

"How do you know about the wand?" Dumbledore inquired and now there was a suspicious undertone in his voice that sharpened it.

"I am from the future." Hermione smiled bitterly. "I know a lot about you. After all I've read Rita Skeeter. I'm sorry to bring this up, but I really need you to believe me." She paused shortly, then continued gently "I know about your brother Aberforth, working in the Hog's head. I know about your sister, too." A pained expression erupted on Dumbledore's face. "I know how she died. I also know about your father and what he did to those Muggles. And if the whole story about Ariana is true, then I would say those Muggle boys didn't deserve any better."

After this Dumbledore stared at her for a long time, face unreadable. Hermione nervously fiddled with the sleeve or her robe, watching him hopefully.

Finally, Dumbledore asked, "Can I assume you are not working for Gellert? He is the only other person who would know all the things you told me, aside from my brother. And I know Aberforth would never tell anyone."

"Well," said Hermione, grinning slightly. "I'm Muggleborn myself, so I would rather rot in hell than help that lunatic."

She was glad to see an amused twinkle dancing in his eyes. "You are Muggleborn?"

"And proud of it." Hermione's smile widened.

"And you say you are from 1997?"

Hermione nodded. The smile died on her face as her predicament hit her again and panic bubbled up. "Professor, I don't know what to do. This is the wrong body. And I don't know how to get back. It's all wrong… and… and... Tom Riddle?! What am I supposed to do?" Tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm scared… I want to go home. I don't belong here. My friends need me in the future. And… and Tom Riddle?! He'll kill me. I'm sure he will. I don't wanna die here."

Hermione raised her hand and wiped the tears away that rolled down her cheeks.

"Calm down, Hermione," Dumbledore soothed. "No-one is going to harm you."

Hermione laughed hysterically. "You don't understand. It's Tom Marvolo Riddle! And he's waiting for me right outside this room."

"Can I assume you know him then in the future?" Dumbledore asked gingerly.

"Oh yes. Yes, we've crossed paths, you could say." Hermione replied, fighting against sobs. "I don't want him anywhere near me."

Dumbledore offered her a handkerchief. Hermione took it, blowing her nose loudly.

"This could be problematic," Dumbledore told her cautiously. "You are Tom Riddle's girlfriend at the moment."

Shock completely paralysing her system, Hermione stared and shook her head in denial.

"No."

"I'm afraid you are."

Dumbledore patted her arm, sympathy swimming in his clear blue eyes. Or maybe it were condolences, Hermione wasn't sure.

"Oh sweet Circe," she mumbled under her breath. "Merlin help me! I'll die. That's it. I'll die. Just like that. I never imagined it to be like this. What can-"

"Please, calm down, Hermione," Dumbledore again tried to soothe her. "I'm sure Tom's not going to just kill his girlfriend all of a sudden."

Hermione drowned him in a disbelieving look. "Myrtle rings a bell?"

"So, it really was him?" Dumbledore stated sadly. After Hermione nodded, he tried to console her with, "Well, she hasn't been his girlfriend."

"Professor, he'll find out I'm not … er… what's my current name?"

"Rosalie Black," he provided. "You are a seventh year and in Slytherin house."

"No, really?" Hermione sniped sarcastically. "A Black in Slytherin? What has this world come to?"

Dumbledore chuckled lightly, "Naturally. You have a brother here at Hogwarts. Cygnus Black, is a sixth year and also in Slytherin. As far as I know Rosalie Black is rather happy in her house. She's very popular and has a lot of friends."

"Ha, as if Slytherins have friends. They only have acquaintances."

"I guess you were not in Slytherin back in your time?"

"No. Gryffindor." Hermione hesitated shortly before asking, "Sir? Judging by her taste in men, I might not like Rosalie Black at all, but do you think… I… She's not dead because of me, is she?"

Dumbledore scanned her for a moment. Then he said, carefully choosing his words, "To tell you the truth, Hermione. I do not know. I have never heard about any spell capable to cause people to switch their bodies and simultaneously send them back in time."

It is rather farfetched, isn't it?

Hermione bit her lower lip. Dumbledore just smiled at her, reassuring, "Don't worry, my dear. I will look into this. Maybe I will be able to find an explanation."

Hermione raised her face at him. "And hopefully a way to reverse it? You see, I'm needed in my time. And I don't wanna stay here with Vo- Riddle."

Dumbledore nodded. "I will do my best. Do you have any idea what spell it was that hit you in the back?"

Hermione sadly shook her head. "I guess it was Dark Magic, though."

"I see," Dumbledore replied. Then he promised, "I will investigate this, Hermione. In the meantime, I suggest you stay here at Hogwarts and try to blend in as best as you can."

"As Rosalie Black?" Hermione said tonelessly.

"Yes." Dumbledore nodded.

"I don't know anything about her. How can I pull that off?"

"I will ask Professor Slughorn to give me Ms Black's dossier," Dumbledore told her. "Aside from that, I'm afraid, it all depends on your acting ability."

Hermione groaned. "And her boyfriend is Tom Riddle?" she asked, desperate lilt in her voice.

"Yes."

"Man, I really can't pull this off," Hermione lamented. Her eyes flashed at Dumbledore. "They are not… you know… in a serious relationship."

Dumbledore raised an inquisitive eyebrow, making Hermione groan again. She wasn't very keen on discussing this with Dumbledore.

"Okay. Let me be blunt." She sat up straighter in her chair and exclaimed unsmilingly, "If that git tries to touch me, I am going to cut off his manhood and feed it to the Threstrals. Bless the poor beasts."

With that she got up from her seat, not wanting to hear any comment from Dumbledore to that statement. She bent to grab her – or rather Rosalie's – bag. Before she turned to leave the office, she said insecurely,

"And you will tell me when you find anything. Yes?"

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Of course, Hermione. I might even ask you to visit me again so we can discuss this some more."

"Everything you need," Hermione hurriedly promised. "I want to leave here as fast as possible."

With that Hermione took her leave. As she stepped out of Dumbledore's office and found Tom Riddle casually leaned against the corridor wall, she wanted to turn on the spot and run away. Suppressing her flight instinct, Hermione took a step towards the Dark Lord. Tom Riddle's eyes were a freakish shade of blue, Hermione noticed as they calmly wandered over her form. The intensity of his gaze made her squirm. He pushed away from the wall and stepped over to her.

I can't do this. I can't do this, was all that echoed through Hermione's head as Tom Riddle gracefully stalked over to her, stopping right in front of her. He was at least a head taller than her and towered over her while his mesmerising eyes continued to study her.

Calm down, Hermione, she frantically tried to tell herself. He's only a boy. Nothing to worry about. Only a boy… who is going to murder you should he ever find out who you are. Damn!

"What took you so long?" Riddle asked, his soft voice like dark velvet.

Hermione stared up at him with huge eyes. She couldn't believe she had to talk with Lord Voldemort here.

"Erm… That is… I…" She squirmed until she remembered her white lie, "Well, we went over my essay and Dumbledore said I was allowed to write it again."

Riddle arched an elegant eyebrow. "Really?"

Hermione saw the beginnings of a smirk on his face as he inquired casually, "What was that essay about again?"

Hermione blushed slightly. Well, she had no idea what the stupid essay was about.

"I kinda… er…" Hermione wished she could just hex the smirk off his arrogant face. "Forgot?"

Riddle chuckled melodiously as he heard her reply. Hermione was relieved, though, that he didn't seem suspicious.

"Oh, Rosalie," he purred indulgently at her. "Didn't I tell you this would be a waste of your and, more importantly, my time?"

Riddle's statement was accompanied by what was probably supposed to be a charming smile. To Hermione it was nothing but condescending. Well, I didn't ask you to accompany me here, you prick, Hermione huffed in her head. Riddle, not able to hear her mental rant, took her hand in his and started to lead her down the corridor. Hermione stiffened in fear as he touched her and just followed him. As they walked Riddle turned his head and let his eyes wander over her form.

"You didn't forget we want to go to Hogsmeade today?" he asked abruptly.

Actually whenever he used 'we' it more sounded like an 'I'. Hermione hid her angry scowl and said innocently,

"No?"

There was a disapproving frown on Riddle's face and he ordered her in quite the commanding voice, "Well, then you will have to change your clothes."

His cold eyes once again wandered over her, admittedly crinkly, Hogwarts uniform. Hermione for one didn't feel responsible. After all, she inhabited this body since only a few hours. And she had quite the suspicion that it was Riddle's fault her clothes had been strewn around his room.

"Honestly you look like a scarecrow, Rosalie," Riddle said icily. He bent down to her and placed a horribly cold kiss on her cheek. "You don't want to embarrass me, do you?"

Indignation gnawed at Hermione. It physically hurt. She so wanted to just kick him. The accusing look he threw her way was quite aggravating. It made Hermione realize that Rosalie Black wasn't really Riddle's girlfriend. Well, she had been confused about it. Tom Heartless Riddle, having a girlfriend? No, impossible. Now Hermione realized that Rosalie Black was nothing more than a plaything. And Riddle - Hermione mused as she glanced up at the fastidious sneer on his face - was quite the nasty boyfriend, wasn't he?

Oh noes. Lord Voldemort is a shitty boyfriend? Whoever would have known?

Once again Hermione swallowed down another sassy reply and instead breathed duteously, "No, of course not, Tom."

"Good then." He decided imperiously, "We meet in half an hour in the common room. Don't make me wait."

Without further ado, he just turned around and left her standing in the corridor. What a conceited peacock, Hermione thought furiously. He behaved as if he was doing her a favour by spending time with her. Seriously, he didn't have to lower himself on her behalf. Still, Hermione checked her watch. She didn't want to blow her cover this early in and Rosalie Black seemed to be quite the push-over. Hermione raised her eyebrows as she scanned the delicate and very expensive looking silver watch on her wrist. The Black's weren't exactly candidates for the poor house, were they?

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