A/N- I have a cut on my hand and I don't know why. I just noticed it during the award ceremony/ debriefing today… why am I telling you this? Oh well, I've very happy, Not only did Delta Company, my company, get honor company, but I was named best squad leader for 2nd platoon. (happy dance) So this might take the happy rout instead of the sadder one… or I could be evil and not.

Disclaimer- I don't own this.

Voldemort stalked down the hall fixing the robes he had thrown on in his haste. There was a meeting this morning to discuss the possibility of recruiting vampires and he forgot about it after last nights events. His mind was still was replaying everything and refused to concentrate. As he neared the conference room he slowed his quick pace and made sure that his emotional barriers were up.

"Any brilliant ideas?" he demanded, as he entered not bothering to apologize. His servants turned to voice their thoughts and froze, every pair of unblinking eyes fixed on him. "As amazing as I am, you do not, no, should not stare," he sarcastically replied to glazed expressions.

"Our apologizes my lord, but have you looked in a mirror this morning by chance?" Lucius inquired timidly.

"What are you implying Malfoy?" he growled. No one commented on his…unique appearance. Malfoy summoned a hand mirror and presented it to his master. Voldemort glanced in it and was about to comment when his eyes grew large. His red eyes were still the crystal blue they had been last night and black hair was sprouting. His nonexistent nose was becoming less nonexistent and there was a bit of color in his face.

"Damn," he swore lightly. "Well, uhm, as this has nothing to do with this gathering I suggest that you forget it and continue like normal," he told them as he absently ran his hand through the inch long hair that had disappeared for thirty years. The stunned cronies snapped out of their haze and tried to act normally, but obviously not everything was the same.

"Just stop!" Voldemort yelled as Johnson fell apart in the middle of another sentence, "As none of you seem to be able to concentrate then this meeting is done. I want you all back here tomorrow at ten with your small minds focused!" He stormed out wondering how he managed to get such idiots. He headed for the library, a comforting place, and mentally screamed at everyone.

This could not be happening to him! If he was looking like his normal self then that meant that, he was regaining his soul back but that was impossible right? He split his soul up long ago. Could if grow back if you suddenly became less evil. WOAH BACK UP!! Less evil? He was the most evil wizard on the face of the earth and in history, he could not afford to be less evil. He would not sink down to his death eaters' level. Well, only one thing could be done, he'd have to go back to his original plan of staying away from Hermione. A stab of pain shot through his cold heart. He did not want to stay way from her. He wanted to be with her forever and make her happy. He had to be around her. Had Ron been right? Damn him, he was his new target just for that. Voldemort collapsed into an armchair, exhausted with his rantings and thought of Hermione.

She was perfect, so happy and understanding, always trying to see the best in people. He did not deserve her, and he thought he deserved everything before now. She was the sweetest torture ever and he was her victim. I mean, she was the thing that made him evil trying to escape her memory. Now he could, with just a simple curse, but he did not want to. He had to be with her. She was a drug that he could not get enough of and he knew it and would happily go on losing himself for her. He was a rather sad case.

Speaking of Hermione, he figured he might want to go check up on her. He almost ran from excitement of seeing her, but realized what he was doing and slowed it to a rushed walk. He hastily tapped the bricks and stepped inside. She was not there. In a panic, he searched the room. He could not find her. Fear gripped him and the world seemed to shatter. However, he was quickly revived as the sound of the bathroom door opening reached his ears. He turned to see Hermione step out in nothing but a towel. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, his breathing stopped.

"Oh my!" Hermione exclaimed when she saw him. "What happened to you?" she gasped, walking over and running her hand absentmindedly through the new hair. It was soft between her fingers, like corn silk. She was so close to him, so caught up in his transformation, that she did not realize the effect her proximity was creating.

"You happened to me. Honestly I don't know how but I do believe you are causing this," he whispered, exercising every amount of self-control he had.

"So you think Ron was right?" she asked with a teasing smile.

"Unfortunately yes," he growled feeding her humor.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," she pointed out, "it's not Tom."

"I wish you were right but it really is Hermione. The fight is coming," he mumbled, killing the mood. "If I want to stand a chance during it then I need to be Voldemort. Harry is strong, very strong. He will give me a run for my money and I'm not sure if I can beat him now." Hermione slowly hugged him, tears starting to stream down his face.

"Is it horrible that I almost don't want Harry to win?" she asked.

"No," he answered simply.

"I don't think that it would horrible if he lost. I mean, I would still be hurt by, he's my friend and all, but you aren't the bad guy we thought you were now," she explained.

"'Mione, what happens, happens. Don't worry about it alright?" he tried to comfort her. She smiled sadly, and held on tighter. He was quickly losing his control and gently unwrapped her arms. "Perhaps you should get dressed." She blushed a Weasley red and nodded in agreement. He stepped out quickly and leaned against the closed door to compose himself, unaware that he was being watched.