Getting Through Tomorrow

Chapter 7: The Realization

With every passing day, Hermione became more and more attached to Tom. His detailed and intimate letters made their relationship a reality for her. She dreamed of dark and sensual encounters with him each night and wrote him a letter every morning.

Even though she had someone to take her mind off of Ron's nonsense with Lavender Brown, she still felt jealousy. It hurt her to know that she knew so much about Ron, but he never paid attention to her feelings. She needed his respect and admiration, but she wasn't getting either of those things from him at the moment. They had history. She loved him. She needed him to love her back. She knew that wanting him all to herself was being a bit selfish under the circumstances, but Ron was more likely to be in her future than a handsome, charming, and intelligent world traveler like Tom.

Hermione stood in front of the mirror in the girls' lavatory with her eyes closed. The sound of water running through the tap had lulled her into a temporary sense of comfort, but it didn't take long for the restlessness of her conscious mind to ruin the temporary distraction from her problem.

Without warning, the image of Lavender embracing Ron popped into her mind for what had to be the tenth time, and fresh tears streaked her cheeks with the mascara she was wearing just for him. She didn't know why she kept dipping her fingers into the cool water and wiping more ruined make-up from her swollen face every time she broke down, but she needed something for her hands to do until she could finally find the will to compose herself completely and rejoin the others in the common room.

Speaking out loud to herself, Hermione asked, "Why am I so weak?"

"I was wondering when you'd finally ask me for help."

Myrtle sat pouting on the windowsill. The light spilling into the room just over her shoulder threw her transparent face into darkness while her feminine hands glowed where they sat crossed over her chest. The way in which her body leaned against the sill made her look as though she was trying to resist the urge to faint. She looked all at once demure, depressed, and deceased.

Despite herself, Hermione let out a sudden giggle at the scene. It was so typically Myrtle.

Myrtle screeched, "How dare you laugh at me!"

Hermione's expression darkened again. "I didn't come here have a laugh at your expense, Myrtle. You know that, so I don't see why you choose to constantly be at odds with me. Can't you just think about someone other than yourself for once? I'm not feeling too well at the moment."

"Oh, yes. I know exactly what you're going through, Hermione Granger."

Hermione snorted in disbelief. "Really? You've had plenty of boyfriends, have you?"

Myrtle sighed, "Of course not . . . but I did have a best friend that was a boy. We were friends from age eleven, but our relationship became complicated when we were sixteen. Does that sound familiar to you?"

"Too familiar."

"Exactly."

They sat in silence for a moment. Hermione realized two things. Myrtle wasn't going to talk until asked, and she needed another girl to talk to about Ron. Myrtle was as available as it got.

"Myrtle?"

"Yes?"

"Did you love him?"

"No, but he loved me."

"Then, I don't see how you can help me. I'm the one that loves Ron, not the other way around."

"I can't fix everything for you, Hermione, but I can help you to see things his way and maybe save your friendship. My friendship with Tom didn't survive."

"Your friendship? Didn't survive?"

"No, and that's something you should consider right now. From where I sit, it looks like Harry Potter needs you and Ron to stick together."

"But he makes me feel so horrible even though they aren't together anymore. She's a psycho, he's an idiot, and they are driving me mad."

"Hermione, Ron isn't trying to make you feel horrible. He cares for you. He doesn't love you, but maybe he will love you one day . . . I always cared for Tom, but I wasn't ready to give him the things he wanted from me. I might have never been ready. I don't know."

As was usual with Myrtle, she became lost in her sadness. Hermione knew what Myrtle was telling her, but it was difficult to accept. She knew for a fact that most adults couldn't even do what Myrtle was suggesting she do. She had to accept that Ron wasn't hurting her on purpose and that she had to find the strength to continue the friendship. She had always been proud of her rational mind. She knew that she needed to stop feeling sorry for herself and control her feelings.

"Thanks, Myrtle. It may take some time, but I think I can handle my relationship with Ron . . . whatever happened to Tom. Is he still alive?"

Myrtle frowned and pulled her knees to her chest. She looked even more hopeless than Hermione had ever seen her. "Yes . . . even though I'm dead, he still finds ways to hurt me."

Hermione puzzled over Myrtle's statement for a moment before attempting to lighten the mood. "But, surely you had fun together as children?"

"Muggle-borns were not as common back then. I was shy. Most of the students just ignored me, but Tom accepted everything about me." She laughed bitterly and added, "He always thought that he could help me become a strong witch. He had some nonsense he would always say to me. It was something about not giving up your power."

Hermione's ability to breathe became suddenly impaired. She quickly turned as pale as her companion, and she leaned on the wall for support before sliding slowly to the floor. Between every accelerated heartbeat pounding in her head, she recalled, examined, and organized another memory.

Myrtle's Tom was Tom Riddle. Her Tom was Tom Riddle. She had been involved with Lord Voldemort since Christmas Eve.

Hermione found her voice and quoted, "When you doubt your power, you give power to your doubt."

"Exactly!" Myrtle gasped.

"Merlin, Myrtle! Tom Riddle. It was Voldemort the whole time . . . in my dreams . . . in the shack . . . the memories of you. H-he killed you."

Myrtle ignored most of Hermione's babbling and said, "I didn't know it was him that murdered me until you told me in your second year." She pouted. "He obviously never spoke Parseltongue to me. I didn't recognize the voice. He had stopped talking to me, but I never believed him capable of hurting me. I only thought that I had been miserable before. After finding out that Tom . . ."

She sighed and floated down to where she was inches away from Hermione before whispering, "His betrayal weighs on my soul and gives new meaning to the word 'misery,' Hermione."

Hermione sobbed openly and loudly as she stared at displaced soul before her. She muttered, "He regrets it."

Placing her hands on her hips, Myrtle snapped, "You aren't making sense. What is wrong with you? You've never been so upset by my misfortunes before."

Through sporadic sobs, Hermione explained, "Gods, his entire movement was fueled by his anger at you! He always knew that he wanted power, b-but his failure with you revealed to him an angle . . . a-a way to gain support. His obsession with blood status stemmed from the fact that a Muggle-born rejected him, a-and he doesn't want anyone to know."

Hermione wiped her face with her sleeve and composed herself. She spoke to Myrtle in a comforting voice. "Underneath his anger, he still cares for you. He regrets what he's done to you, Myrtle. I'm not sure how or why, but I've seen his memories of you. He mostly thinks of you on one specific night of the year, but he dreams of you often."

Myrtle's expression turned cruel. "Is he utterly unhappy and alone?"

"Yes. I believe he is."

"Good." For the first time ever, Hermione saw a hint of a smile on Myrtle's lips.

The ghost turned and glided away, but she turned back and asked, "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not going to ask you how you got such intimate details about Tom. Your secret is safe with me, especially since you seem so upset about it, but I do warn you to be careful. You don't want to end up like me, do you?"

Hermione felt guilty, but she refused to even contemplate admitting to fraternizing with the enemy.

Failing to suppress the urge to vomit, she ran to the closest stall and became sick. With the sickness came more tears. Even Myrtle abandoned her. She was completely alone with her terrible secret, and that's when more realizations started to surface.

Other than the fact that her Tom was the Dark Lord, he was old. He wasn't as old as Dumbledore, but he was still really old. She was lusting after a man old enough to be her grandfather, and he was also immortal to some degree. She had always thought that her secret desires were a bit twisted, and she laughed bitterly at the idea that she had too much in common with Dracula's bride.

Her biggest problem was her dreams because she suddenly knew that he was actually in her mind at night. She figured that he was probably seducing her while he waited to glean valuable information about Harry from her thoughts.

She needed to do several things as soon as possible. It could take her some time to figure out how to use Voldemort's history with Myrtle against him, but she knew that she could do it. She needed to brainstorm, but she also needed to get some Dreamless Sleep Potion and write Tom a letter.