Internal Bleeding Strawberry
A/N: Is it just me, but is every story in the TR x HG section a Time-Turner or going back to the past story?
Disclaimer: I wish. Haha.
o3. [ c o n n e c t e d ]
chapter three
I see, I find, I make sure.
I stare, I'm fascinated, I'm satisfied, but...
We're connected at each and every place so
when I think this word, you'll already know.
The soft glare of light slowly filtered through Hermione's closed eyes. She groaned and pulled herself awake, blinking a few times in the process. Where am I? Groggily, she glanced around her, taking in her surroundings. Her body was resting upon a slight incline, a blanket of grass beneath her. Off in the distance, tall groupings of trees encircled the undulating field she was currently lying in. There was something about this place that seemed so familiar...
With a rush, the painful memories of the night before slammed into her thoughts, and she gasped in horror. Images of a black oozing mass creeping towards them and explosions of pain that wracked her body, and Hermione immediately glanced downwards.
Her leg! What happened to her leg? Instead of puddles of blood and a gaping wound eating through her calf, she instead found pristine and unmarked pale skin. Eyes wide, her hand reached out and grabbed her flesh, squeezing and running it up and down the expanse of her skin to make sure it wasn't a hallucinatory trick of her mind. But no, it was exactly as she had seen. Clean and unmarred.
Pushing herself off the ground, she brushed the gobs of dirt that clung to her skirt, and gave a sharp yank to the hem to straighten it out. Something flickered at the back of her memory and she immediately swung her head around in sharp snaps, gazing over the rolling hills. Where was Harry? A long line of trees encircling the field was her only answer. Ron? Where's Ron? But for that matter, where were the quintapeds who had nearly ripped them apart with their claws for dinner.
Her sharp intake of breath sounded noisy to her ears as she came to a realization. Gone! Everything is gone! There was no scar-marked boy to rush over and fret over her injuries, nor a flaming haired friend to exclaim irrationally over her moronic actions. There wasn't even the guttural snarl of a creature pissed of at losing something to eat. No birds, no animals, nothing. What in the world was going on here?
She had to move, find something, escape and let everyone know where she was. Hermione couldn't stay here, everyone would be caught up in some mass hysteria that she had gone off and killed herself, Harry especially.
Keeping a firm grip on her wand, Hermione scrambled over the mound she had been lying on, and stood at the crest, scanning her surroundings. If she wanted to prove to everyone she wasn't some rotting corpse out in the middle of nowhere she had to go home, and that meant finding the way out of here. But, wait a minute. Didn't she have a portkey? In fact, weren't all of them given a portkey at the beginning of their mission for use in emergencies? Dropping her hands down, Hermione patted, searched, and turned out every nook, cranny, and pocket on her clothing, but turned up with nothing more than a few scraps of wispy lint.
Fighting the urge to scream in frustration, she gave her side pocket a last glare, before taking a step toward the trees. Well, guess she was going to do this the hard way.
Hermione was expecting to find a gloomy, oppressive forest with dark shadows flitting out from every corner. But as she held her wand out at the ready, she was surprised to see she was wrong. Warm rays of sun trickled through the thick canopy, hitting her face and lighting her path. Large splashes of green crept over the trunks of trees on either side of her, and she placed a hand on the spongy moss to reassure herself that it was real.
Crouching down in the muddy path, the pungent scent of wet wood, fresh pine, and the fresh aroma after a spring rain hit her senses, and she breathed in heavily, taking comfort in its welcoming smell. Bright flowers dotted the floor, petals of blue, yellow, pink, and red greeted her with opened faces. Hermione touched the soft petals, caressing them with the pads of her fingers, and traced the outline of their shape over and over again.
How was that possible? They almost seemed to reflect the secret comfort she took in their elegant curves and straight lines. But how did they get there? When she came into this forest, there was no plants, flowers, or anything of the sort. It was all drab, brown, and entirely overrun with giant weeds. In fact, if she were to look back, she clearly remembered having to force, chop, and slash her way through thick bushes and wild growth. Dark, heavy globs of mud had clung to her boots, shirt, and skirt, leaving her with a sickening slimy sensation. It looked and matched the part of a banished, untouched island, filled with abandoned bloodthirsty monsters.
There was something strange going on here and she was going to find out - now. Taking a firmer grip of her wand, Hermione gazed down the path, and kept her eyes fixated on the bright light that shone between the trees at the end of her vision. It just wasn't possible that Harry and Ron would leave her here while they would run off to safety. They would never leave her behind. Never. Unless...
Hermione's head snapped up as the thought crossed her mind. Unless they were injured, or worse, killed. Shaking her head, she bit her lip with much more force than needed, and held her wand out in front of her. No, she shouldn't let herself entertain such ridiculous ideas. Harry and Ron were perfectly fine. They knew how to take care of themselves. Didn't they fend off the attacks of an angry quintaped, survive duels against the he-who-must-not-be-named a million times before, and lived to tell about it? They were somewhere; she just had to find them. It would be just like them to go gallivanting off and getting themselves into trouble.
But then what about her leg? How would she explain that? She had been on the brink of near death, eaten by some mysterious black substance, but now she was perfectly healthy with not even a stray scar to show for her ordeal? Even with the best healing medicine, there was no way she'd be fixed so quickly and thoroughly. Gulping, Hermione pressed her lips together and took her first steps forward.
Her wand trembled in her grasp, dancing irregular shapes, as she made her way past the line of trees. Silence bore down on her with a suffocating choke hold, and a trickle of sweat snaked down the back of her neck. Hermione felt the tingle of magic as she drew closer, kept her hand steady, and continued onward with light steps, ready to flee if needed. Despite the cheerful, upbeat, and secure feelings her surroundings tried to invoke, she knew not to trust them. There was always the elusive taste of dark magic mingled in the air, and whatever it was, she didn't want to be caught unprepared.
A clearing grew sharply before her eyes, enveloped by the bright yellow rays that shone from above. A prickling sense of tension rose in the air, and she realized someone was there. But no matter how hard she squinted, his form was blocked, covered by the blazing sun that had been sorely absent only hours before. Hermione inched closer to the imaginary line that marked entrance to the space in front of her, and tried to gaze inwards once more, but yielded the same failing results. Taking in a sharp breath that caused her to wince at the harsh, loud noise that reverberated through the air, she broke through the barrier, palms nearly dripping with sweat.
"Hello," a low voice greeted.
Hermione stiffened, almost shooting off a spell in her shock. Deep blue eyes gazed at her, infused with an intense emotion she could not name. His dark robes, cleanly pressed shirt, and long slacks marked him as Hogwarts student. Sunlight shone off his wavy brown hair, and she stared at him the words dying in her throat. A hint of a smirk graced his lips, and she narrowed her eyes.
Pointing her wand at him, she demanded, "Who are you?"
He raised an eyebrow at her, and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm sure you're quite familiar with my name. You've heard it before," he said, taunting her with a drawl.
Hermione frowned. Who in the blazes could he be? She didn't recall ever seeing his face in a book, and if he had been someone of importance, she would definitely not have forgotten a face like that. He seemed to be amused by her puzzlement, watching her with a self-satisfied expression. Gritting her teeth, Hermione fought to rein in the glare that she was highly tempted to throw at him.
"What do you mean? How do you expect me to know your name when I've never met or seen you before?" Hermione shot back. Who did he think he was? Besides what was he doing here, in this forest, on this island of all things? Especially when it was supposed to be abandoned. There must be something sinister about him, his whole persona radiated it. She had to keep her wits about her, who knows what kind of dark magic he could unleash.
He gave a wry chuckle in response. Drawing himself up to stand taller, he tilted his head at a certain angle, and spoke, "Oh, no. You most definitely know who I am. I'm sometimes referred to as Tom Riddle."
Hermione gasped. "You're-You're Lord Voldemort!" She was dead. Dead.
"Not yet."
Not yet? How could he say such a thing with such blase, and such a lack of concern, as if the things he had done meant nothing? And then with a great rush, a surge of hatred boiled up inside her, ripping and shredding her control to pieces. "Stupefy!" she screamed, her heart pounding loudly in her ears.
Tom, as he was called, sidestepped the red light with ease, an amused smirk on his lips. "Come now. Do you really believe that's necessary?"
"Necessary? You're a murderer! You've killed hundreds of people and you have the audacity to stand there in front of me and pretend that you're not?" Hermione brandished her wand at him again, unleashing a torrent of spells that he waved away with a flick of his wrist.
"I thought you were smarter than that, Hermione. You're going to condemn me when I haven't done these things yet?" he said, stepping closer. How dare he use her name with such familiarity!
"It doesn't matter! You will!" she raged, face flushing a bright pink. The biggest question wasn't what he had done, but how did he know of her? How did he get her name? A light bulb flickered to life in the back of her mind, and she took a step back at the revelation. That's right! He was a Legilimens! He could rip through her thoughts like a shredder. How dare he! The rage that had bubbled up in her earlier was a churning, choppy mess. She was going to kill him!
"Will I?" he answered again, edging closer to her. The lines of his face were more clear now and he must have been nearly a whole foot taller than her. There was no way she would take him down in a physical fight.
"It doesn't matter!" Hermione shrieked. "You deserve to die for what you're going to do!" Images of Harry, his parents, Sirius, and countless others he had killed swarmed in front of her. How could he just stand there in front of her, spouting off words so casually, denying what he did? He committed murder! Murder! And nothing he said could change that.
Tom's eyes swirled into a darker blue, a tick in his jaw working as he clenched his teeth. "I never would have thought Hogwart's brightest star would be so irrational. You're willing to murder a seventeen-year-old boy who hasn't done any of the crimes you've accused him of yet, because there's no other acceptable reason then for the fact that he will?"
Hermione stopped. Seventeen? That would make him about my age... No, this can't be possible! There was no way she could've been transported back to his time. Absolutely none! She must be going crazy. But like an annoying fly that followed you there was a real, flesh and blood Tom Riddle standing before her awaiting her answer.
"It doesn't matter! You're evil! You're going to do it eventually!"
"Maybe I will, maybe I won't. You're going to pass judgment on me for things I've done in the future that may not even come true? Who are you to decide what my fate holds?" Tom moved his hands toward the side, his wand held in a loose grip. She realized what he was doing. He was making himself open, vulnerable, asking her to attack at such a grand opportunity. "Go ahead. Your choice. Just remember - it'll make you a murderer as well."
Hermione shook her head, trying to chase away his silky words from her mind. He was trying to trick her, coax her into seeing his side, so he could get the upper hand. She could do it! All she had to do was say the words and it would be done. The greatest Dark Wizard in history gone in a flash of green light. She thrust her wand out, and jabbed at him.
But just as her mouth opened, the words refused to come out. The dark wood of her wand glinted in the sun, and a new wave of sweat broke out over her palm. Her hands shook as his words tumbled endlessly over one another. She may hate him, and wanted him dead, but she wasn't above killing another person in cold blood. He did have a point. If she killed him now before he had undertook the terrible crimes stated in history, it would make her a murderer because he was still a teen - innocent, though she scoffed at that notion.
Her wand lowered a fraction of an inch, but she still kept it poised at the ready. "Don't even think of coming closer to me. If you make one wrong step, I'll blow your brains out!"
Tom looked down at her, not impressed in the least at her declaration. "Agreed." His eyes gleamed with something akin to triumph, and she felt like hexing him to hell just for his audacity.
Sighing, Hermione refused to take her eyes off him but she needed to find Harry. There was no way she would turn her back to him and give him the opportunity to Avada Kedavra her soul to oblivion. Pre-Voldemort or not, he was still evil.
"Looking for something?" he asked, noting the way her eyes shifted in barely perceptible movements from the right to left.
"No!" Hermione snapped, voice high. She stalked around the edge of the clearing, her back towards the trees, and her wand held out in front of her.
Tom gave a low snicker. He pulled at the end of his sleeves, the Slytherin seal on his robes standing out in harsh relief against the black of the fabric. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Yeah, right! Did he honestly expect her to believe that pile of crock? His spotless attire, suave way of speaking, dark blue eyes, and good looks might have fooled other people, but not her, she had learned her lesson. Powerful magic radiated off of him in waves and his very figure seemed to suck all the colors from their surroundings, until he shone in unchecked clarity.
Hermione sent him a glare. "Your pretty words won't sway my mind."
Tom's eyes flashed, her skin tingling from something she couldn't place, and he strode toward her in slow, rhythmic strides, like a panther stalking their prey. Panic rose in her throat, and she glanced around frantically, jabbing her wand upwards in a rush. Red sparks flew out in distress, but were quickly muffled by the tip striking a firm surface. Tom's chest.
His lips curved upward in a smirk and he brushed her wand away with a sweep of his hand. Hermione gasped. Should she flee? Attack? What? Was she finally going to meet her demise in a brilliant bolt of green? Her nerves were sitting on a precipice, and her body was taut, over sensitive to every move he was making. But Tom simply lowered his head, and whispered, "That would be a shame."
A flush broke out over her cheeks, and she could feel the ghost of his words sliding over her ear, warm and direct. Hermione stood gaping, mouth slightly ajar, as her thoughts raced in circles, but then a flood of shame rushed through her body and she pushed her wand harder against his chest. Tom chuckled, and stood up, moving back a step as he watched her with those deep blue eyes of his.
He turned to her left, and raised out an arm to his side. "If you want to see your friends again, I suggest you go that way."
Hermione followed the direction his arm was leading; another path into a wall of light and into realms unknown. She didn't trust him, but what other choice did she have? Stay here and be lost forever, or move and be that much closer to finding them. Giving him a heated stare, she edged away from him, not taking her eyes off his figure for a second. "I'm not fooled for a second. Once I have my back turned, you're going to fire off a nice Avada Kedavra, aren't you? Well, you know what? Just try it! You may be the future harbinger of evil, but I'm not scared of you!"
"Don't worry, Hermione Granger. I wouldn't dream of it," she heard him say, as the sound of his laughter echoed through the forest.
Shivers rocketed through her spine and down her elbows, and she stomped off towards the path he showed her. Hermione tried to keep her steps even as steady as she could in an attempt to pretend that his words weren't getting to her, but she found herself walking at a quicker clip than normal. She gave one last look back, fuming at the smug expression on his face and the look of satisfaction in his eyes, and jumped through the barrier of light.
Hermione jolted up, a loud gasp escaping from her throat. Her eyes swirled around the room in frantic circuits. What were these white curtains, this bed, and clean floor doing here? Why was she lying down and wrapped ever so tenderly with a white blanket around her middle? Where was the forest? The clearing? Tom Riddle? Tossing off her covers, a wave of pain assaulted her, and she nearly collapsed back onto her bed. Her leg! It wasn't new and fixed, but wrapped up in thick gauze that went all the way down to the tips of her toes.
A rustle of noises, alerted her to an oncoming presence. "Hermione! You're awake!" In the next instant she was swarmed on both sides by a boy with messy black hair, and one that looked like it had been through one too many bad hair dye jobs. Harry? Ron?
"Where-"
"Where are you?" Harry finished for her, enveloping her in a hug, as Ron kept patting her on the back with awkward timed taps. She nodded. "You're in the hospital wing at Hogwarts."
"You've been unconscious for three days," Ron added, gazing down at her. "We thought you were gone for." He had kept a straight face but that slight hitch in his voice told her how much he - they - cared, and how worried they were.
"I'm sorry." Hermione looked downwards, toying with the sheet on top the bed. Even her clothes looked the part; wrinkled, torn, and fraying at the corners.
"Why are you apologizing? You almost died, Hermione, that's nothing you should be sorry for. If anything, it's my fault that got you into this mess," Harry said, balling his hand into a fist. His green eyes were piercing in intensity. A fleeting image of dark blue drifted out of the darkness, and she frowned. Shaking her head, she pressed her lips together in thought.
Three days? How could I have been asleep for that long? She was just there! She could even picture the tall overhanging trees, damp ground, and bright sunlight that washed everything in a yellow glow. Recalling them was as simple as snapping her fingers. What had happened? "How did I get here?" Hermione cringed at the raspy, cracking sound of her voice.
"Well, that's a long story," Ron joked, giving a half-chuckle.
"Okay, so start at the beginning then," Hermione said, managing a smile.
"What do you last remember?" Harry asked, wrapping both his hands around hers.
She furrowed her brow, trying to drag up the hazy memories that had become buried under deep layers of mysterious images. She saw herself, collapsed, black ooze slithering up her leg, burning through her sensations that there was nothing left for her but the overwhelming feeling of pain. "Fainting." A small voice needled her about telling them what she had in her mind, but she shoved it down ruthlessly into a dark recess. Why alarm them about something that wasn't important? She could figure it out for herself.
Harry sighed, and took in a deep breath. "We panicked, of course. We're not so adept at handling the situation as you are," he said with a wry smile, before turning serious once again. "We didn't know what to do. Ron kept screaming, and I was screaming, and we just sort of had a meltdown before we realized that there still was a flesh eating ooze racing towards us, and a cave crashing above us."
"So, we picked you up and hauled you towards the entrance as best as we could, blasting the doors open to get out..." Ron stopped, flinching, as he reached up and touched his neck.
"But the quintaped was still there. By now it had brought its whole pack with him, and was just waiting to pounce on us as soon as we stepped out."
"I know this may sound terrible, but we had to drop you, Hermione. There was no way we could've fought them off carrying you on our back." Ron swallowed, continuing, "Harry did the most of it, blasting off spells I've never heard of before. He did this one trick with fire and sort of whipped it around him. Wouldn't mind learning that," he said with a grin.
Harry ignored him, and picked up where his friend had left off. "One of them had knocked Ron down good. Got a clean swipe of his neck before I got there." He frowned, glancing off to the side at the other half of their duo.
Ron grimaced, rubbing his neck gingerly. Hermione's eyes widened, and reached up, yanking away his hand to look for his wound. There was nothing. He was perfectly fine. "Yeah, there may be nothing there, but holy fucking hell that bloody hurt, man! I keep thinking it's still there, just a sort of tingly feeling, you know?"
Sure that there was no other place he had been harmed, she sat back down, satisfied for the time being. "I'm glad you're okay. I don't know what I would have done if it was you in this bed instead of me."
"Yeah, me too."
Harry ran a hand through his mass of hair, his scar peeking through briefly before it was covered by his bangs once more. "When we got back to you, you were near death. You were barely breathing, and nothing we did could make you wake up. Then I remembered that we still had those portkeys Dumbledore had given us, and that's how we got back here."
"You should've seen it! Everyone was in such a panic when we walked in through those doors," Ron inserted, laughing.
Trust Ron to find amusement out of this, Hermione chided inwardly, but the tiniest of grins managed to sneak through. "Oh, Ron, that's a terrible thing to say!" Crumpling the ends of her blanket, she sighed, and cast a gaze down at her leg. It looked so strange, like she had sprouted a monster limb, and she didn't want to imagine what it looked like under all those bandages.
"How do you feel?" Harry asked, watching his girlfriend's gaze drift downwards.
Hermione switched her attention back up, drowning in the deep green of his eyes. That would be a shame surfaced in low, seductive tones. Where had that come from? Fighting off the head that threatened to break out over her cheeks, she said, "I-I'm fine. A bit sore, maybe, but no worse for the wear." When would she get out of here? Her body was starting to go numb from lack of movement. And if she was here for three days, there was no telling how much homework she missed!
A loud bang erupted from the corner, and the three of them turned their heads toward the direction of the sound in unison. A stout woman with curly hair, rosy cheeks, and wearing a white apron slid open the curtains. "Oh, I should've known the two of you would be here." Shooing them away from the bed, she took up their place by Hermione's side. "I see our patient is finally awake. How do you feel?"
"Fine. Maybe a bit sore," Hermione repeated. She watched as the woman waved her wand over her body, a greet light emitting from the top. Her face scrunched up in concentration, as she took note of the results. Pocketing her wand at her side, she placed her hand on the bandages and began to gently pry them away from her leg, unwinding them in slow, careful motions.
Pale skin appeared, and the brush of cool air left her tingling. Madam Pomfrey ran her fingers down the length of her calf, squeezing and prodding it in her tests. She nodded, giving it a gentle pat. "Your leg seems to be fine. You're quite lucky to be alive, miss. I had the most terrible time fighting off that nasty curse you stumbled upon. If the Headmaster hadn't helped me, I think you would've died," she chided, brow contracted. "But with some strong potions and good old fashioned healing spells, you can fix anything. Only unfortunate thing is that you'll probably have a large scar."
Hermione dropped her gaze to her leg, scanning for the trademark white line that marred her skin. Scar? Will I have to hobble around too? What was she thinking? How could she be so vain when she was lucky to be alive? What ridiculousness! Shaking her head, she asked the more important question at hand, "So when do you think I'll be released?"
Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'll give it another day of rest and you should be fine. And, you two!" she barked, whipping around to face the two boys who tried to hide in the corner. "Don't you even think about disturbing her! She needs to rest. I won't hear of your traipsing around, telling her all sorts of stories, and getting her worked up! Do you hear me!" she yelled, brandishing a finger at them.
They nodded. "Yes, ma'am!"
"Good! Now get back to class and leave my patient alone," she ordered, turning her back on them.
"We'll be back later, Hermione." Harry gave her a smile, before disappearing around the corner. And with that, they slipped out of the door and left.
After a few more checks, Madam Pomfrey left, leaving Hermione to muddle over her own thoughts. A heavy weight around her neck smashed her back to the present, and she put her fingers around it, gasping as she remembered. It was that necklace! The necklace she had almost died for! The warm metal lay smooth against her skin and she clasped her hand around it. Her mind had been shattered into splinters. It wasn't a dream. It was real, and that meant the Tom Riddle she had met was real as well...
A/N 2: You know, I'm shocked that I'm updating this story. I hadn't planned on writing anything for this for quite a while because I'm trying to get my other story going. But earlier this week, I sort of glanced at the page, and dabbled a few words, and the next thing I knew, whole sentences and paragraphs started flowing out. Eh, I guess procrastination does work. Anywho, we have Tom Riddle now. Yay! He's such a fun character.
I probably won't update this for a long time again, so don't get your hopes too high. Maybe if I'm bored and trying to avoid writing my other story(ies), I'll come back to this.
Thanks: Of course, I have to thank my wonderful readers and reviewers! Especially: The Fuzy Llama (*giggles* I just wanted to poke a bit of fun at them. LoL), GrangersTwin666, Mary, XxNadsxX, and Oak Reedglow. Thank you so very much again! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.