Disclaimer: I still don't own anything. Sorry for the long wait. I'll try to avoid it whenever I can.

Chapter 5

"How do you do, Tom?" said Dumbledore, walking forward and holding out his hand.

The boy hesitated, then took it, and they shook hands. Dumbledore drew up the hard wooden chair beside Riddle, so that the pair of them looked rather like a hospital patient and visitor.

"I am Professor Dumbledore."

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left.

"No, no," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still.

Despite neither Harry nor the other Dumbledore commenting, Sakura couldn't stop the thought that crossed her mind. Did Tom Riddle really fear doctors and has he been subjected to so many that he began thinking anybody that visited him was one? That was sad. She shook her head and found it disconcerting that she was thinking of their enemy as such, but there was no other way to do it.

"Who are you?" asked the boy, thus drawing the girl's attention once again.

"I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school-your new school, if you would like to come."

Riddle's reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious.

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course-well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!" unable to stop herself, the pink-haired girl let out a growl that went unnoticed.

"I am not from the asylum," said Dumbledore patiently. "I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you -"

"I'd like to see them try," sneered Riddle.

"Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, as though he had not heard Riddle's last words, "is a school for people with special abilities -"

"I'm not mad!"

"I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic."

There was silence. Riddle had frozen, his face expressionless, but his eyes were flickering back and forth between each of Dumbledore's, as though trying to catch one of them lying.

"Magic?" he repeated in a whisper. Nodding fervently, Sakura's smile beamed directly at the confused boy.

"That's right," said Dumbledore.

"It's... it's magic, what I can do?"

"What is it that you can do?"

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer.

"I knew I was different," he whispered to his own quivering fingers. "I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something."

"Well, you were quite right," said Dumbledore, who was no longer smiling, but watching Riddle intently. "You are a wizard."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: there was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial. Sakura stopped now, no longer the excited, bubbly mess she'd been mere seconds prior. Riddle looked almost frightening as she fought the urge to step back.

"Are you a wizard too?"

"Yes, I am."

"Prove it," said Riddle at once, in the same commanding tone he had used when he had said, "Tell the truth."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts-"

"Of course I am!"

"Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir.'"

Riddle's expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognisably polite voice, "I'm sorry, sir. I meant-please, Professor, could you show me-?"

Harry was sure that Dumbledore was going to refuse, that he would tell Riddle there would be plenty of time for practical demonstrations at Hogwarts, that they were currently in a building full of Muggles and must therefore be cautious. To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick.

The wardrobe burst into flames.

Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"All in good time," said Dumbledore. "I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe."

And sure enough, a faint rattling could be heard from inside it. For the first time, Riddle looked frightened.

"Open the door," said Dumbledore.

Riddle hesitated, then crossed the room and threw open the wardrobe door. On the topmost shelf, above a rail of threadbare clothes, a small cardboard box was shaking and rattling as though there were several frantic mice trapped inside it.

"Take it out," said Dumbledore.

Riddle took down the quaking box. He looked unnerved.

"Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?" asked Dumbledore.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

"Open it," said Dumbledore.

Riddle took off the lid and tipped the contents onto his bed without looking at them. Harry, who had expected something much more exciting, saw a mess of small, everyday objects: a yo-yo, a silver thimble, and a tarnished mouth organ among them. Once free of the box, they stopped quivering and lay quite still upon the thin blankets.

"You will return them to their owners with your apologies," said Dumbledore calmly, putting his wand back into his jacket. "I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts."

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colourless voice, "Yes, sir."

"At Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, "we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have - inadvertently, I am sure-been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic-yes, there is a Ministry-will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."

"Yes, sir," said Riddle again.

It was impossible to tell what he was thinking; his face remained quite blank as he put the little cache of stolen objects back into the cardboard box. When he had finished, he turned to Dumbledore and said baldly, "I haven't got any money."

"That is easily remedied," said Dumbledore, drawing a leather money-pouch from his pocket. "There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You might have to buy some of your spell books and so on second-hand, but -"

"Where do you buy spell books?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

"In Diagon Alley," said Dumbledore. "I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything -"

"You're coming with me?" asked Riddle, looking up.

"Certainly, if you -"

"I don't need you," said Riddle. "I'm used to doing things for myself, I go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley-sir?" he added, catching Dumbledore's eye.

Harry thought that Dumbledore would insist upon accompanying Riddle, but once again he was surprised. Dumbledore handed Riddle the envelope containing his list of equipment, and after telling Riddle exactly how to get to the Leaky Cauldron from the orphanage, he said, "You will be able to see it, although Muggles around you-non-magical people, that is-will not. Ask for Tom the barman-easy enough to remember, as he shares your name -"

Riddle gave an irritable twitch, as though trying to displace an irksome fly, Sakura, after being quiet and thoughtful for the last moments, lifted her head and immediately recognized the action, Riddle hated his name.

"You dislike the name 'Tom'?"

"There are a lot of Toms," muttered Riddle. Then, as though he could not suppress the question, as though it burst from him in spite of himself, he asked, "Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they've told me."

"I'm afraid I don't know," said Dumbledore, his voice gentle.

"My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died," said Riddle, more to himself than Dumbledore. "It must've been him. So-when I've got all my stuff- when do I come to this Hogwarts?"

"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope," said Dumbledore. "You will leave from King's Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there too."

Riddle nodded. Dumbledore got to his feet and held out his hand again. Taking it, Riddle said, "I can speak to snakes. I found out when we've been to the country on trips-they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?"

Harry could tell that he had withheld mention of this strangest power until that moment, determined to impress.

"It is unusual," said Dumbledore, after a moment's hesitation, "but not unheard of."

His tone was casual but his eyes moved curiously over Riddle's face. They stood for a moment, man and boy, staring at each other. Then the handshake was broken; Dumbledore was at the door.

"Goodbye, Tom. I shall see you at Hogwarts."

"I think that will do," said the white-haired Dumbledore at Harry's side, causing the woman's head to snap towards him, and seconds later, they were soaring weightlessly through darkness once more, before landing squarely in the present-day office.

"Sit down," said Dumbledore, landing beside Harry, Sakura not far behind, landing gracefully on the floor in the Headmaster's office.

Harry obeyed, his mind still full of what he had just seen.

"He believed it much quicker than I did-I mean, when you told him he was a wizard," said Harry. "I didn't believe Hagrid at first, when he told me."

"Yes, Riddle was perfectly ready to believe that he was-to use his word-'special,'" said Dumbledore.

"Did you know-then?" asked Harry.

"Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?" said Dumbledore. "No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others' sake as much as his.

"His powers, as you heard, were surprisingly well-developed for such a young wizard and-most interestingly and ominously of all-he had already discovered that he had some measure of control over them, and begun to use them consciously. And as you saw, they were not the random experiments typical of young wizards: he was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control. The little stories of the strangled rabbit and the young boy and girl he lured into a cave were most suggestive... I can make them hurt if I want to..."

"And he was a Parselmouth," interjected Harry.

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination.

"Time is making fools of us again," said Dumbledore, indicating the dark sky beyond the windows. "But before we part, I want to draw your attention to certain features of the scene we have just witnessed, for they have a great bearing on the matters we shall be discussing in future meetings."

"Firstly, I hope you noticed Riddle's reaction when I mentioned that another shared his first name, 'Tom'?"

Harry nodded.

"There he showed his contempt for anything that tied him to other people, anything that made him ordinary. Even then, he wished to be different, separate, notorious. He shed his name, as you know, within a few short years of that conversation and created the mask of 'Lord Voldemort' behind which he has been hidden for so long.

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless? He did not want help or companionship on his trip to Diagon Alley. He preferred to operate alone. The adult Voldemort is the same. You will hear many of his Death Eaters claiming that they are in his confidence, that they alone are close to him, even understand him. They are deluded. Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe that he has ever wanted one.

"And lastly... I hope you are not too sleepy to pay attention to this, Harry-the young Tom Riddle liked to collect trophies. You saw the box of stolen articles he had hidden in his room. These were taken from victims of his bullying behaviour, souvenirs, if you will, of particularly unpleasant bits of magic. Bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, will be important later.

"And now, it really is time for bed."

Harry got to his feet. As he walked across the room, his eyes fell upon the little table on which Marvolo Gaunt's ring had rested last time, but the ring was no longer there.

"Yes, Harry?" said Dumbledore, for Harry had come to a halt.

"The ring's gone," said Harry, looking around. "But I thought you might have the mouth organ or something."

Dumbledore beamed at him, peering over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

"Very astute, Harry, but the mouth organ was only ever a mouth organ."

And on that enigmatic note he waved to Harry, who understood himself to be dismissed.

As the door closed behind the boy, Sakura finally let her questions and curiosity take course. She stood before the white haired man, patiently waiting for him to notice her.

"Sir, did you know that the particular characteristic of keeping trophies is a distinct feature of psychopaths? Or that the lack of friends or any real social relation inclines most people to think of a sociopath? Forgive my bluntness, Professor, but the child could have been helped. I've seen the obvious separation and animosity between houses, particularly towards Slytherin House and I have to ask, why did you never do something to lessen it!? It's not right, in the first place, to separate them as such, but this continuous fight is absolutely ridiculous!" she took a deep breath, blushed slightly in embarrassment and looked at the man behind the desk.

"That, my dear, I have tried to rectify but alas it is proven to be quite difficult as the quarrel has been this way from the founder's time. Are you aware of their history?" Sakura nodded, yes, she had read about them in several books. Salazar Slytherin had vaguely reminded her of Sasuke, even.

"Well, in any case, thank you, sir. I have to head back, my team mate is most certainly waiting for me to return." she bowed respectfully and left. Sure, the thought of Sasuke pacing around the room, worried, was hilarious, but what else was she supposed to say.

There was a silence surrounding each and every corridor until their dorm that made her remain on guard the whole way back, so much so that the hooting of an owl made her jump 3 feet in the air, drawing her kunai, but she'd managed to go through it. She put her hand on the door knob, entering their common room only to be greeted by the same atmosphere she had wanted to escape from. There were no lights on, no noise, as Naruto wasn't there to snore loudly and annoy her, no anything. She stopped, her hand outstretched in front of her, ready to strike at any moment. She closed her eyes, slowed her breathing and calmed her heart rate, letting her other senses take control.

Her head shifted, now facing her right as a soft, almost glide, movement caught her attention. She searched for a chakra pattern, but found none. Either Sasuke was nowhere near, or he had it masked, either way, there was no trace of anything remotely familiar about the situation. There passed a couple more minutes before the thing she'd heard launched, trapping the paranoid kunoichi beneath it. Sakura struggled, summoned her inhuman strength to her legs and, using the fact that they were tangled with whoever had attacked her, switched their position so she was now on top. She heard a groan as her kunai pressed against a windpipe.

Sakura snapped her eyes open and focused on the red, swirly ones beneath her, recognizing Sasuke. She relaxed then, letting out a breath of air that hit his face. She didn't get up though, she needed to teach him that this was not the right way to greet her, that he'd sort of scared her.

"You ass!"

"Hn. It's not my fault you are paranoid." he insisted and tried to throw her off, only to still again. Although she couldn't be sure as she was bat blind, she felt a heat envelop his face. What the hell?! Was he blushing?! She was soon made aware of the exact cause as she shifted slightly. Her own face reddened and she stood up so fast she almost pulled a muscle.

"Ahh! Uhm... well... D-do you want to k-know what happened?" he nodded and turned on the light, just as she sat on the couch. Her face was not yet cooled so a small pinkness remained on her cheeks. Sasuke refused to think it looked cute and instead frowned and sat opposite to her.

"Well, we saw how Tom Riddle received his letter and how he was as a child. Frankly I found it unfair the way he was treated by the orphanage, but the kid was surely with problems. Really, I think this people are too shrouded in their comfortable, safe net to realise this all could have been taken care of before it even began. If they took time to get to know the kid, to be God-damn nice to him then he probably wouldn't have become so closed off and hostile. But what's done is done and there is nothing we can do now except remove the threat. This being said I think we need to get close to the Malfoy kid." as she talked Sasuke didn't show any sign of listening to her, it was like he was ignoring her entirely, however he did nod at her request. She was right, of course, Draco Malfoy already played a big part in this whole thing due to Dumbledore's plan, now they needed him to trust them. Plus, he was as much of a victim as Harry was as far as they were concerned.

With the new plan set and all its details discussed, the two went their separate ways to sleep. Tomorrow they would truly begin their assignment, at last.

The morning came without any certain problems or hustle, reminding them once again that Naruto would not return for a few months. It was too quiet for Sakura so she and Sasuke decided to take breakfast in the Great Hall. They went different ways, disjointing the moment the stepped inside the Hall. Sakura went to their usual place near the teacher's table while Sasuke joined the Slytherins.

For the most part of the day, Sakura did what she'd gotten accustomed to doing, she attended some courses, she patrolled the grounds until morning turn to noon. She saw nothing of Sasuke all day except for the small time before breakfast so she was curious what he'd accomplished with Malfoy. Also she overheard an interesting conversation between Harry and his friends. It would appear Snape had made a deal with Draco's mother to protect him. An Unbreakable Vow they'd called it and she did her research, that particular spell tied the parties involved forever. If you didn't do what you vowed to do you died, the name befitted the spell, thought Sakura, smiling ironically.

She was training in the Forbidden Forest now, blowing off some steam and waiting for the Uchiha to arrive. She was currently revising her new and improved chakra scalpel when she felt his chakra enter the forest. She realized by the restlessness of it that something angered the man. His face appeared between some tree and Sakura let the green energy fade completely. What happened?! She hadn't seen him so angry in ages!

"Uhm... Sasuke? What- what is the matter?" she carefully inquired, making sure she wouldn't make things worse. Sasuke in turn remained quiet and just moved closer. He took his fighting stance, letting her know he wanted to spar. Nodding, Sakura copied his movement and prepared to attack. The fight went on a long time, the rest of the afternoon flying by fast as they exchanged punches, this being the extent of their hits. They were still doing this now, almost 4 hours later, taijutsu only. However, despite the fight, Sasuke's frustration didn't let up at all, in fact it increased somewhat. Thus, the moment he activated his Sharingan, Sakura gathered chakra in her fists. The fight was only now getting serious, it seemed. One Katon sent her way urged her to punch the ground, shattering it all around her, creating a barrier for the fire. As it dissipated, she jumped towards him, a storm of senbon needles used as distraction. She neared his spot, fist ready, but the blow never hit its target as something pulled her leg from beneath. She saw a hand come out, watched the senbons pierce his skin and felt the smoke released as the shadow clone disappeared. She sent one look at the body climbing out of the ground, before Sasuke pinned her hands behind her back and slammed her on a tree bark not far away from where they'd stood.

Panting for air, Sakura and Sasuke both remained unmoving, just breathing harshly against one another's faces, staring at each other. He still held her hands, but the vice-like grip loosened, she was still tense, but the previous danger was now non-existent. As the chilling winter breeze brushed through the trees around them, their bodies shook with the cold, unknowingly urging the two to come closer, the heat emanating by their skin too sweet to pass up. Sakura arched her back toward the man, and Sasuke in turn took a step forward. They were flushed with the exertion of their fight, sweaty and tired, their breaths just barely resuming their usual rhythm, hearts still beating fast. Sasuke's gaze held even now a hint of anger, but it had, most definitely, vanished for the most part.

Unable to move, Sakura struggled feebly against Sasuke to make him let her go, but he refused to budge. This continued for a couple more minutes until her own anger overruled all other feeling. She readied herself to kick his shin, effectively throwing him off, only he caught her before she had her chance. She glared and turned her face up at him, but before she could retort some snide or sarcastic comment, Sasuke surprised her. He captured her lips with his, slowly massaging them, waiting for her to reciprocate. She first tensed, prepared to punch his daylights out, but as she felt his warm, slightly chapped lips upon her own she relaxed. He took this as an agreement so he let his tongue trace Sakura's lower lip, gently tugging it with his teeth. The woman in turn, moaned deep in her throat and grabbed at his neck as his own hands gripped her waist. They let the snow surround them as they kissed, slowly, patiently, passionately. Sasuke let his walls crumble under her sighs and groans as Sakura ignored her rage and insecurities under his heated embrace.

Back inside Hogwarts, Harry could not see Hermione at the Gryffindor celebration party, which was in full swing when he arrived. Renewed cheers and clapping greeted his appearance, and he was soon surrounded by a mob of people congratulating him. What with trying to shake off the Creevey brothers, who wanted a blow-by-blow match analysis, and the large group of girls that encircled him, laughing at his least amusing comments and batting their eyelids, it was some time before he could try and find Ron. At last, he extricated himself from Romilda Vane, who was hinting heavily that she would like to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with him. As he was ducking toward the drinks table, he walked straight into Ginny, Arnold the Pygmy Puff riding on her shoulder and Crookshanks mewing hopefully at her heels.

"Looking for Ron?" she asked, smirking. "He's over there, the filthy hypocrite."

Harry looked into the corner she was indicating. There, in full view of the whole room, stood Ron wrapped so closely around Lavender Brown it was hard to tell whose hands were whose.

"It looks like he's eating her face, doesn't it?" said Ginny dispassionately. "But I suppose he's got to refine his technique somehow. Good game, Harry."

She patted him on the arm; Harry felt a swooping sensation in his stomach, but then she walked off to help herself to more butterbeer. Crookshanks trotted after her, his yellow eyes fixed upon Arnold.

Harry turned away from Ron, who did not look like he would be surfacing soon, just as the portrait hole was closing. With a sinking feeling, he thought he saw a mane of bushy brown hair whip-ping out of sight.

He darted forward, sidestepped Romilda Vane again, and pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady. The corridor outside, seemed to be deserted.

"Hermione?"

He found her in the first unlocked classroom he tried. She was sitting on the teacher's desk, alone except for a small ring of twittering yellow birds circling her head, which she had clearly just conjured out of mid-air. Harry could not help admiring her spell-work at a time like this.

"Oh, hello, Harry," she said in a brittle voice. "I was just practising."

"Yeah . . . they're — er — really good. ..." said Harry.

He had no idea what to say to her. He was just wondering whether there was any chance that she had not noticed Ron, that she had merely left the room because the party was a little too rowdy, when she said, in an unnaturally high-pitched voice, "Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations."

"Er . . . does he?" said Harry.

"Don't pretend you didn't see him," said Hermione. "He wasn't exactly hiding it, was — ?"

The door behind them burst open. To Harry's horror, Ron came in, laughing, pulling Lavender by the hand.

"Oh," he said, drawing up short at the sight of Harry and Hermione.

"Oops!" said Lavender, and she backed out of the room, giggling. The door swung shut behind her.

There was a horrible, swelling, billowing silence. Hermione was staring at Ron, who refused to look at her, but said with an odd mixture of bravado and awkwardness, "Hi, Harry! Wondered where you'd got to!"

Hermione slid off the desk. The little flock of golden birds continued to twitter in circles around her head so that she looked like a strange, feathery model of the solar system.

"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside," she said quietly. "She'll wonder where you've gone."

She walked very slowly and erectly toward the door. Harry glanced at Ron, who was looking relieved that nothing worse had happened.

"Oppugno!" came a shriek from the doorway.

Harry spun around to see Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild: The little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets toward Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach.

"Gerremoffme!" he yelled, but with one last look of vindictive fury, Hermione wrenched open the door and disappeared through it. Harry thought he heard a sob before it slammed.

Hermione ran down the corridors until she reached the door to Myrtle's bathroom. Throwing the door open and closing it with a loud BANG, she entered a stall, crying. She was close to sobbing with loud, intermittent hiccups and sniffing, but the door was jerked open and slammed back up. She slapped her hands over her mouth, the tears falling down her face coming to a stop and she drew her legs up to her chest as she was sitting upon a toilet. She heard the distinct screech of the tap being turn and the sound of water rushing. She also heard the splash as it hit, possibly, a pair of hands.

Quietly, as to not alert the other individual inside the bathroom of her presence, she peeked through the slight gap between the door to the stall and wall to see him or her. She was a pair of black trousers, continued by a white shirt and a silver and green tie. She immediately moved back, mentally chastising herself for the usually loud action. Once she calmed her racing heart and waited enough to make sure he hadn't heard her, her brain began processing the information.

So, a Slytherin was, late at night, sneaking up in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and he was apparently worried about something if the hunched over position was anything to go by. Hermione thought about the identity of the guy. She felt sort of sorry for him, he was obviously in a lot of problems if this was his only way out. The one boy that came to her that could be him was Theodore Nott. The kid was most definitely troubled, she knew. She'd seen him last year as he tried to help the DA with escaping from Umbridge, she'd also heard him fight with his mother about his father, saying he hated him. From what Hermione remembered about the whole fiasco at the Department of Mysteries, she was sure the Nott Senior was a Death Eater, so she could understand why the kid hated the guy. Problem is, Theo Nott was currently serving detention with McGonagall tonight so there was no way he was at the sink, hunched over as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. She thought of others, but she came up with none that fit. Sure there could have been a few that fit, but they were all mostly accounted for. Great! She thought.

Taking a deep breath, steadying herself and letting that Gryffindor courage sweep over her, Hermione prepared herself to try once more to see the guy mere feet away from her. She softly planted her feet to the floor, making sure she made no noise, she opened the door a little bit more and leaned forward to look through the space created. She saw again his clothes, his built; lean, tall, he must be playing Quidditch, she mused, and finally, she reached his head. His platinum-blonde one at that. This time Hermione couldn't stop the noise she made, nor the fact that she fell forward onto the dirty floor. She heard rather than saw Malfoy face her, jumping like a deer caught in headlights, and raise his wand at her. She was too far gone to care though. As she fell, she cracked her head on the tile, blood sweeping through the tiny wound. She tried to lift her head to look at him, or to talk and ask for help, but she was too weak, too disoriented to do so.

Hermione Granger lost consciousness. Granger had seen him at his worst. Granger was in front of him, bleeding. These were the thoughts running through Draco Malfoy's head as he witnessed the girl tumble and fall from a stall from behind him. He stood still for about half a minute before sense and general brain function pushed him forward toward her body. He knelt next to her, wand out ready to heal, but the reminder of who she is, of who he is, settled. He froze mid-air, staring at the small trickle of blood from her wound making its way to him. He stared and scrutinized the blood almost obsessively. The proverbial ton of bricks hit his head the moment he whispered "It's the same". He stood there, staring at it for almost 3 minutes, but the consequences of what just happened resurfaced.

If Potter suspected him of cursing Katie Bell without any sort of proof, what would the Chosen One say if … When Granger awoke?! He needed no more attention on himself. The damn ninja had pestered him earlier enough to realize he knew something so this would be more than enough for the black haired ass hole to return for more. He only managed to escape when he used Petrificus Totalus on the man. He dismissed the spell only a couple of hours ago.

Mind made up, Draco hoisted up the brown haired girl in his arm, holding her bridal style, used a small healing spell to stop the blood from flowing and rushed toward the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey would be able to take care of the idiot Granger.

As the night wore on, the darkness engulfed everything. Lord Voldemort could not sleep, his mind was too consumed by the ache in his chest as he felt a piece of his soul die. He paced around the so-called meeting chamber, alone, as to clear his thoughts. He wondered if the fool, the Malfoy brat, would give up or mess up any time soon, or if, perhaps, but some twisted string of faith, the boy would succeed. Voldemort doubted it, but he had been taken unaware before. He returned to his bedchamber as he saw Nagini enter before him, back from her midnight hunt. He almost smiled as he saw his most precious follower relax in her cot. He sometimes wished he too were an animal, ruled only by instinct. Life would have been far easier and less painful then, he pondered as he closed his eyes and drifted asleep.