DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING.
The screeching cries of mandrakes filled Hermione's ears, distressed and desperate. She blinked her wet eyes and attempted to focus on the task at hand. The cries were so much like the ones that she had heard as she ran out of the castle with Draco during the final battle.
The reality of the situation hit her and all she wanted to do was curl up and hide in a corner. Of course, she wouldn't succumb to such an act of weakness. She was Hermione, brains of the golden trio, and she would behave as such. She would play the part she had come back to the past to play, though she did not know exactly what that task was.
As class came to a close, Hermione pulled off her earmuffs and ran out the door, not bothering to say bye to Draco or Neville. Both figured that she was simply rushing to the library between classes, and after sizing each other up, walked away in opposite directions.
Hermione ran in the direction of the head dorms, wanting to quickly grab her books for her next two classes and go to the library to relax. She hadn't been assigned homework for her previous two classes since it was the first day, but she decided that it wouldn't hurt to read up on some of the material that the classes were to cover this year. She had already taken the classes in the future but felt that the books would calm her down. Going though the familiar material would reassure her that she had a life outside of the past that she was stuck in.
Bursting through the entrance of the head dorms, she ran straight into a warm body. Assuming it was Draco demanding an explanation about her quick disappearance about Herbology, she attempted to push the body to the left so she could walk past. However, the body wasn't budging, and she found herself squeezing to the right of it as always.
"I'm sorry for running out of class, but the screeching was bringing back horrible memories, and I need to get to the library and get my hands on a book before I do something rash," she voiced without pause as she ran to the door of her dormitory.
Back in her room, she threw open her trunk, deposited the books from her last two classes, and grabbed the two books for her upcoming ones. She raced back down the spiraling staircase and exited her dormitory, only to find Tom Riddle standing a few feet in front of her with his arms crosses over his chest. Hermione leaned back against the door she had just come out of and looked up at the face of the boy before her, hoping to get a sense of what he was thinking and why he was there. As she had expected, however, his face held no hint of what was going on in his head. He looked down at her and fed up with everything to do with him, Hermione tried to walk past him in the direction of the exit.
For every step she took, Riddle took one that matched it. "Well, since he's obviously not going to let me past, I might as well make use of the situation and get him to repair my wrist," she thought to herself.
Hermione held out her wrist to him, looking straight ahead at his chest, not down to acknowledge his dominance, but not up to convey a challenge.
"Tonight," he answered in acknowledgement, "but only if you answer the questions I have for you at the moment."
"I don't have time for this, Riddle. I have places to be," she replied irritably.
"Clarify the places," he demanded.
"Professor Dumbledore's classroom for a private meeting," she replied, lying in the hopes of intimidating him.
"That's rich," he smirked, "especially since he is teaching a class at the moment."
Hermione found that she had nothing to say to refute his words. "What else would you like me to answer," she asked, not bothering to hide the resignation she felt.
"Why the defeated tone?" he questioned.
"I have things on my mind, Riddle, and standing here answering probing questions for you is a little too much to handle at the moment," she said, tapping her foot to convey her hurry.
"Don't let me be a hindrance then," he spoke arrogantly, "attend to the things you find more important than your wrist."
She began to protest but he talked over her in a calm, but strong voice, "but recognize this: Once you've gone against what I tell you, you're going to have to do a lot more than simply answer questions to get me to heal your wrist."
Hermione closed her mouth, opened it again to argue back, and closed it once more, realizing that her wrist depended on her cooperation. The spell he had placed on her not only signified that he was the only one who could repair her wrist, but also that she would not be able to tell another of her dilemma. She remained silent, contemplating the situation, and Riddle, patient for once, allowed her to take up some of his time.
"What else would you like to know?" she finally asked.
"The class you ran out of, the source of the screeching, and the memories the sound evoked," he listed bluntly.
Hermione looked at him, shocked that she had missed his presence when she had bumped into Draco. "I have not found the time to tell Draco to meet me elsewhere," she offered up, trying to excuse his being in the head dorms.
"Find the time and let him know," Riddle answered, "but he was not the one you stumbled upon, it was me."
"Stop looking surprised at what I have just told you and at least attempt to hide your previous ignorance, it does not become you," Riddle insulted, "and answer the question at hand."
Hermione thought before she answered, preparing what she was going to say so that she would only give away the bare minimum. "Herbolgy, Mandrakes, and" she began.
"And?" he prompted.
"And the sound of newborn babies," she improvised.
"Newborn babies?" he inquired.
"Yes, newborn babies," she repeated, rolling her eyes at his inability to comprehend her answer.
"And just what about newborn babies brings back 'horrible memories'?" he asked, eyebrows raised as if he was mocking her, which he was.
"I had to assist in a birth once, "she answered vaguely, "the situation was not a pleasant one."
"I can only imagine," he allowed, disappointed that her answers were of no interest to him.
"I am going to the library," she told him.
"I will accompany you there," he informed her.
At his words, Hermione turned to face the door of her dormitory, opened it, stepped onto the dimly lit spiral staircase, and proceeded to slam the door in his face.
"I have decided to stay here instead," she informed him through gritted teeth, wondering if her voice could be heard through the door but not really caring.
"Fine, I'll stay here with you," a voice spoke from behind her.
Hermione let out a bloodcurdling scream, acting on opening the door only to find a cool hand on the doorknob.
On top of everything else that had happened throughout the morning, the situation was too much for her mental defenses, and she felt herself crumpling to the steps before she blacked out.
