Ultima ratio

by Winterblume

Ultima ratio - the last resort. At last the day of the Final Battle against Lord Voldemort has come. Harry, Ron and Hermione fight bravely against their nemesis - but then something goes wrong. And Hermione finds herself alone in a precarious situation.

38. Chapter Thirty Seven: You Break Me

Title: Ultima ratio

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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Chapter Thirty Seven: You Break Me

Hermione sat in her History of Magic class and listened to professor Binns' endless blether about yet another Goblin war. She stifled a yawn and tried to stay awake. She wasn't one to fall asleep in any class, but today she really had to fight to not doze off. Though however hard she tried, she could feel her eyelids dropping. She was dead tired because she had again spent the previous night reading medical books. Since her magic had left her, her situation here in the past had gotten from bad to worse. So far, she had yet to find a solution for her problem.

While the loss of magic was not something completely unheard of, seemingly it wasn't a condition that had been thoroughly researched yet. In all the books she had read, she had never stumbled across a cure. The easiest way would surely be to reveal herself to somebody else, maybe Madame Dulan or even Dumbledore. But Hermione didn't want to give up yet. Confiding in somebody else would heighten the risk of her getting exposed as a time traveller. She had already broken dozens of rules by interacting with people from the past, she didn't want to add any more transgressions. Her actions so far had probably entailed a lot of things she wasn't even able to see the full extent of. She had messed greatly with the time line. She had to avoid any more mistakes.

Hermione again had to yawn as she tried to focus on Binns through hooded eyes. He was still droning on about Rodewick the Ravening, king of yet another Goblin tribe back in the twelfth century. As tedious as Binns' lectures were, slowly his class had become her favourite. That was solely caused by the fact that Hermione wasn't supposed to do any magic during his class. Here she was safe. On top of that, it wasn't a class the Gryffindors shared with the Slytherins. So, there were no aggressive Slytherins, trying to insult her parents or herself. There were just a few Hufflepuffs, dozing off just like herself.

At least some vengeful Slytherins would have kept me awake, Hermione thought wryly as she again felt her eyes closing. It was horribly frustrating that she hadn't yet found any hint during her nightly ventures. It seemed whatever book she read, she couldn't find a thing to finally help her getting back her magic. Slowly, she was losing faith in Hogwarts' Library, something that had never happened before. Not even the Restricted Section had been able to provide her with anything useful. Though, there still were a few shelves of books she had to rake through. At that thought, Hermione had to sigh tiredly. Obviously, she wasn't going to get any decent sleep tonight either. Instead, she would fetch the old Invisibility Cloak to sneak into the Library again. Hermione was very glad that she had managed to steal the cloak before her magic had left her.

Hermione softly groaned in frustration. She really hated how vulnerable she was without her magic. She was very lucky that so far, no-one had hurled a really dangerous curse her way. The Slytherins had tried to curse her, but until now, she had always been able to dodge the curses. She had only sustained some minor injuries. A scratch here and there or a bruise. Nothing really serious. Even Tom hadn't tried to do anything to her. Actually, he pretty much ignored her. Whenever he had to sit beside her during classes, he completely ignored her presence. During meal times in the Great Hall, he would never even look her way. If they met in corridors by accident, Tom would just pass her as if she were a stranger to him. Actually, Hermione couldn't remember when he had talked to her the last time. It was now a few weeks ago, that he had left her. Still, his dismissive behaviour towards her managed to hurt her. Whenever he was close, Hermione felt incredibly insecure.

On top of that, his impassiveness was quite suspicious. After all, there were still a few things Tom wanted from her. She knew him quite well, so she was aware of the fact that he could be very persistent. As they had still been together, Tom had found out about Peverell's book. He surely hadn't forgotten that. Sooner or later, he might try to get it from her. So, Tom, ignoring her now, was no reason for her to celebrate. On the contrary, it felt more like the calm before the storm.

Hermione was ripped from her unpleasant train of thought as she heard chatter break out around her. She blinked and looked up. The other students stuffed their parchment into their bags or already walked over to the exit. Obviously, Binns had ended the class without her noticing. Hermione felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head and found Longbottom smiling down at her.

"What's up?" he asked her good-humouredly. He looked down at her in mock surprise. "Don't tell me that you've been bored by that suspense filled sensation of a history class and have dozed off."

Hermione giggled softly. Then she rolled up the parchment with her rather sparse notes and put it into her school bag.

"No," she then replied, sarcasm dripping from her words. "I was so enthralled by the class, I just couldn't believe it was already over."

Longbottom chuckled amused and grinned at her. Hermione took her bag and stood up from her chair. Then the two of them walked over to Lupin and Weasley who were waiting for them at the exit.

"Oh Merlin," Longbottom exclaimed as they walked out of the class room. "That was horrible, wasn't it?"

Hermione looked up at him and couldn't suppress a grin taking form on her face. She didn't really approve of talking badly about any teacher, but she had to agree with him on this. Binns was just an awful professor, even in his still very much alive form.

"Really, Marc." Lupin threw a reproachful look Longbottom's way. "How could that class have been so terrible for you. I mean, you were reading in Quidditch Monthly the whole time."

A guilty glint appeared in Longbottom's blue eyes as he smirked at Lupin. "You really can't blame me, Amarys," the blond Gryffindor then said, not a least bit ashamed of himself. "I would have died of boredom. Do you want that?"

Lupin threw him a withering glare then he huffed at his friend, "I don't know how you managed not to have to repeat last year."

Longbottom just laughed at that, seemingly not very concerned about the whole thing.

Hermione, though, asked confused, "Is it even possible to repeat a year in Hogwarts?"

Weasley just nodded at her solemnly. Then he informed her, "Yep. In fifth year. If you don't manage to get any OWLs, you'll have to repeat the year and try again."

Longbottom grinned down at her and wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "You don't have to worry, Hermione," he consoled her good naturedly. "You are a nerd, you'll never run the risk to fail any class."

"Yeah. Unlike you," Lupin threw in, turning towards Longbottom.

Longbottom just shrugged at him lazily. The smile never left his face as he declared, "Maybe. But I still got five OWLs. Who would have thought?"

"Certainly not me," Lupin mumbled darkly.

Longbottom chose to ignore that remark and just continued in his cheerful voice, "So, this year, there are no OWLs and no NEWTs yet. That means I can lean back and concentrate on Quidditch."

Lupin just opened his mouth to, no doubt, disagree, but Hermione beat him to it.

"You can't take school so lightly, Marc," she chastised him. "Next year you'll have to take the NEWTs. How will you pass them?"

"Ah, Hermione," Longbottom said lightly. His arm was still wrapped around her shoulders while he smiled indulgently down at her. "Stop worrying. I'll think about NEWTs next year."

Hermione scowled up at him. Once again her 'bookwormish' way broke through.

"Then it'll be too late," she snubbed at him bossily. "You're not going to pass anything if you're-"

Hermione abruptly stopped her rant as she saw Tom walking down the same corridor they were in. Like he always did these days, he completely ignored her. Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line. Tom was just a few metres away from her, as suddenly his eyes snapped at her. She couldn't help but twitch slightly as his gaze landed on her. She felt horribly vulnerable as his cold eyes lazily wandered over her until he locked eyes with her. Her breathing quickened, and she felt herself starting to tremble as a disturbingly evil glint flared up in his grey eyes.

Tom's hand twitched towards his robe pocket, as if he longed to reach for his wand. Hermione tensed as she saw that movement. She forced an emotionless mask on her face but chills were darting down her spine. Hermione couldn't help but feel afraid of Tom. His hate wrapped around her, wrenched violently and brought back dark memories. Every time, she saw his hate, she was reminded of who he really was. Then, in her mind, Tom would transform into something dark and evil. Something that was able to devour her and leave her behind, broken and alone.

As her dark thoughts circled through her head, Hermione suddenly felt the arm around her shoulders tightening its grip and pressing her gently against another body. She turned her head and looked up at Longbottom. He glared angrily at Tom while he continued to hold her protectively. In the corners of her eyes, she could see that Weasley and Lupin, too, glowered at Tom darkly. Hermione really didn't want her friends to antagonize Tom, he was dangerous, but she still appreciated the gesture.

Her eyes reluctantly wandered back at Tom and still found this unbound hate, glimmering in his eyes. As she now looked at him, she couldn't believe that he had once been her boyfriend. That he had held her gently and had kissed her lovingly. That person was gone. He was staring at her so darkly as if he wanted nothing more than to send a Cruciatus Curse towards her...

…or something even worse.

The person he had turned into managed to make her tremble in fear. He was a far cry from her boyfriend. Whenever Hermione now looked at that hint of crimson in his eyes, she could only see Lord Voldemort, hiding underneath that handsome face.

As Tom had finally passed them, Hermione released a shuddered breath of air. How strange that he had acknowledged her presence. During the last weeks, he had always avoided to even look at her, obviously too embarrassed by the fact that a 'dirty Mudblood' had ever been his girlfriend. Hermione wondered what could have managed to change his mind. Why had he now suddenly dropped his dismissive behaviour? And he had done it in a rather aggressive way. He had almost drawn his wand, actually…

Hermione couldn't find an explanation for Tom's strange conduct. Then she felt Longbottom unwrapping his arm from her. She looked up at him and found him smiling at her.

"Are you all right?" he asked her softly.

"Yes, yes," Hermione quickly replied, trying to sound strong.

They continued their way towards their common room, but now there was a glum atmosphere hanging over the group. Hermione was angered with herself that she allowed Tom to touch her like this. It seemed, though, she was still caught in his tight grasp.

"Don't let him get to you." She heard Lupin's gentle voice.

Hermione turned her head and looked up at him. He was smiling at her encouragingly.

"Riddle, I mean," he elaborated while still looking at her kindly. "Don't let him get to you."

"I know," Hermione replied, her voice soft and not very convincing.

Lupin was right. She should just stop thinking so much about Tom. It wasn't going to lead to anything, and she would only get depressed over it.

"It's pathetic, how he is behaving towards you," Lupin continued in his warm voice. "He should at least show a little decency and not treat you like that."

Hermione smiled up at him faintly.

"Yeah," Weasley said forcefully.

Then he slightly turned his head and glowered at the direction Tom had just disappeared to. "It's despicable what he's doing," the red head continued, an uncharacteristic dark tint in his words. He turned his head to Hermione and smiled at her softly. "I really thought he was a decent fellow. But then he did all that stuff to you. Don't know how I could ever have believed him."

"Well, that's what he's always been like," Lupin interjected. "Outwardly, he is very polite and genial. A nice guy. But he's just putting up a show for everybody."

"Yeah," Longbottom concurred with his friends. "He's sucking up to the teachers, but in reality he's an evil little snake. Just like all the other Slytherins." The dark scowl left his face as he looked down at Hermione. "Just ignore him. You don't need to waste anymore time on him."

Hermione had to suppress a humourless laugh now. Longbottom didn't know how very right he was. She really had already lost more than enough time fighting Tom Riddle, hadn't she? She looked at her three friends. It was nice, how they tried to cheer her up. They didn't care about her blood status.

"I actually know quite well how Tom is," she finally admitted in a rather cold voice. Her composure wavered shortly as she continued, "I just never thought he would be like this towards me."

As he heard that insecurity in Hermione's voice, Longbottom took her hand in his and held it gently. She turned her head and smiled up at him, feeling better to know that she was not completely alone.

_._._._._

Tom was walking down a corridor in direction to the Slytherin common room. Just now his Herbology class had ended and he wanted to use his free time until dinner to finish that essay for McGray. Finally, the DADA class started to be quite fun, he thought amused. They had left behind studies of dark creatures and learned more about actual dark curses. Not that the DADA professor could teach Tom anything new about Dark Magic.

Surely not, Tom sneered condescendingly. But it was still very much amusing to see those looks of shook and indignation on the other students' faces whenever McGray told them about yet another 'inhuman' curse. They were such naïve idiots. Especially the Gryffindors. Tom snickered darkly as he imagined what they would say if they knew that he had already used all those forbidden dark curses. Though, that wasn't entirely true, he thought lightly. Last class, McGray had lectured about the Carnifico spell. That one Tom hadn't used yet.

He bent into another passage way, while still pondering the benefits of the Carnifico spell. His thoughts were interrupted, though, as he noticed that he wasn't the only one in this corridor. Instantly, he recognized the other four people, and Tom could feel his magic react angrily to their presence. It slowly started building up in him as his hard eyes wandered over Hermione and her three Gryffindor friends. They hadn't noticed him yet, being rapt in their conversation. Tom eyed Hermione and had to stop himself from sending one of his darker curses her way. But hHe couldn't attack the Mudblood. He needed to contain himself, at least for now. Of course, sooner or later, he had to somehow take action against her.

For now, though, Tom had decided to only observe Hermione. He watched her from afar, not trying to get anywhere near her. He had done that ever since he had added her blood to the Ortus potion, ever since he suspected her to be a visitor from the future. As he had uncovered that most spectacular of her secrets, Tom's first impulse had been to corner her and to beat the truth out of her. He wanted to finally put an end to her lies and deceits. But he had decided it would be wiser to wait. He knew Hermione DeCerto quite well, after all. She was a lot of things, but above all else, she was a very good liar. Tom needed a clear head when dealing with her. That was why he had decided to just observe her. It wasn't often that this happened, but he didn't quite know how to proceed with her.

His gaze once again skimmed over the group of Gryffindors in the corridor, chatting and laughing with each other. Again Tom's magic was raging furiously inside of him, ordering him to destroy that peaceful scene. The knowledge of her supposed time travel infuriated him. It was so bad that he didn't dare go anywhere near her, in fear he would lose control of his ferocious magic and curse the girl in front of a professor. He had, in fact, almost pulled his wand earlier this day in Charms class to send a curse her way. Since he had run the Ortus potion with her dirty blood, he had to constantly work to keep his violent temper in check whenever she was in his presence.

Tom watched as Longbottom wrapped his arm around Hermione's shoulders and almost lost control over his dark magic as he saw that casual gesture. Hermione really had a nerve, parading around the place like this. What she should do would be hiding in some hole or other, hoping that he would never find her. Tom's eyes wandered over her body, and he could feel his furious magic ripping at him forcefully. It ordered him to be set free, to be allowed to attack the girl. Tom looked back at her face and noticed that by now she had seen him and stared back at him with an indifferent expression on her face. She stared at him without even batting an eye. Offended by her indifference, Tom could feel hate burning up in him. His hand wandering to his pocket, he really wished he could draw his wand and curse the self-satisfied look off her face. How could that chick continue to be so indifferent? How dare she? Lately, she didn't react to him at all but chose to be offensively indifferent. Was that her true face? She just didn't care?

Her pure presence was enough to make him almost lose the rigorous control he had over his dark magic. The urge to set his magic upon that girl was overwhelmingly strong now. She had lied to him, mocked him and used him. She needed to be punished. His magic was raging inside of him as he now watched her, looking at him and mocking him with her indifference. But he didn't pull his wand. He just forced his magic back and averted his eyes from the girl.

Tom passed them and stomped down the corridor while he tried to get his raging magic back under control. He really needed to get a grip on himself. He couldn't go around and hex anyone openly. Granted, Hermione was only a Mudblood, so there would be no loss if anyone cursed her, but Tom knew that a few – misguided – people would disagree with him on this.

He bent into another passage way and continued his way towards his common room. What further infuriated him, was the fact that he had to admit how Hermione's deceit had also hit him on a very different level. Of course, she was a Mudblood, and he didn't care about her at all, but at one point in time he had somehow thought her to be valuable and desirable. That she had lied to him from the start did somehow had never trusted him, but had obviously enjoyed playing around with him. Probably, she had laughed behind his back whilst doing it. That worthless Mudblood really had had the nerve to mess with him.

Tom descended the stairs that led down to the dungeons. On his way he met a few Slytherins who all greeted him deferentially, but Tom didn't pay them any heed. Instead, he remembered that night as Hermione had told him that sob story of how she had had to fight in the war. She had seemed to be so desperate and somehow violated back then. Tom balled his hands into tight fists as he had to admit how he had then tended to believe her. But now, it was very clear that she never had to fight in the war against Grindelwald. She never had fought in any war. She had just wanted to play the victim, so he would fall even deeper into her web of lies. It was despicable how he had held her as she had cried into his chest, when all of this had been an act.

He shook his head at his own foolishness as he now entered the corridor where the entrance to his common room was situated. He stopped before the bare patch of wall and hissed the password.

"Fasces."

He entered the common room. Classes were over for today, so the room was quite crowded. Tom, though, didn't spare his house mates even a glance, but walked over to the black leather couch which stood a little isolated at the far-off side of the room. A group of seventh years were lounging on that couch, obviously preoccupied with a game of chess between two of them. Tom didn't even falter in his steps as he approached them.

Since he had entered his common room, Tom had stopped to rein in his furious magic. It crackled dangerously around him. One of the seventh years noticed that pressure of dark magic in the air and turned his head. Tom almost sniggered evilly, as he saw all colour leaving the boy's face as he spotted Tom walking towards them. He hastily whispered to his friends and they, too, threw worried glances Tom's way. Before Tom reached to couch, the seventh years grabbed their chess board and hurriedly left. Tom was almost disappointed as he sat down on the black couch. It surely would have been quite relieving to release his anger by cursing those idiots. He leaned back against the couch and could still feel his angry magic rushing through him. Since he had seen Hermione in that corridor, he hadn't been able to really get his temper back under control. Actually, his temper was on an all-time peak since he had discovered her time travel three days ago.

The whole situation with the Mudblood just made him almost burst with fury. It wouldn't do if he followed his first impulse and cursed her. He had to contain his emotions and surely needed a clear head when dealing with the Mudblood. The situation was dangerous, and he didn't yet know all the facts.

For one, he didn't know whether the Ortus potion had worked correctly. He had checked it with his own blood right after he had gotten that remarkable result with Hermione's blood. It just seemed to be so farfetched. She was seventeen now, assuming she hadn't lied about her age, which was totally probable, so if the potion had been right, that would mean she had jumped back fifty-three years. A time jump of fifty-three years was impossible as far as Tom knew. The only means to travel through time were time turners. Very difficult to get and even then they only enabled one to jump back a few hours. Then again, what did he know about the inventions that would be made in the future? Maybe they had found a way to enhance the power of time turners. In addition to that, the Mudblood had probably stolen the Elder Wand. Maybe she had misused the wand and had been hurled back in time. Still, it sounded just improbable. Whatever means one would use, a time jump over five decades would still be incredibly dangerous. Why would anyone risk it?

This led him directly to the next question that greatly bothered him. If the Ortus potion had been right, why was Hermione here? Surely, no-one would risk a jump back through time without an end purpose to the whole thing. Was there a connection between her time travel and her suspicious interest in the Deathly Hallows? Since that Mudblood had arrived here, she had always seemed to be engaged in rather fishy stuff. Her every action seemed to revolve around the Hallows. Tom was very much convinced that Hermione owned the Unbeatable Wand. In addition to that, Melanie Nicolls had provided him with the information that Hermione might have managed to steal another Hallow, the Invisibility Cloak. Then, there were those dubious men in the black cloaks who were apparently after her. Maybe also people from the future, trying to get the Hallows? Was that the reason the Mudblood had travelled back in time? To get the Deathly Hallows?

Tom shook his head. Now he was assuming the Ortus potion had worked correctly. That still was not proven. Now, though, all the little inconsistencies came back to his mind. Hermione knew spells and curses even Tom himself had never heard of. How would a Mudblood have gained knowledge that he had never come across? Maybe because those spells were common knowledge where she came from? Her behaviour had always been strange. Tom had never met a girl behaving like she did. Again, normal where she came from? Still all those odd little details were no proof for a time travel spanning over fifty-four years.

Now another thing that bothered him greatly sprang up in his mind. Actually, this was the main reason he now was reluctant to take any action against her. While his knowledge concerning her might be patchy, Hermione seemingly knew a fair amount about him. He only too well remembered the words she had thrown his way the day she had finally revealed her nauseating parentage.

'What about your father?' she had mocked him. 'He was a Muggle, wasn't he? And that's why you killed him.'

That dirty Mudblood really had had the audacity to mock Tom's own ancestry? How dare she? The memory of that conversation made fury bubbling up in him, but it also managed to invoke a rather unpleasant knot in his stomach.

How did Hermione know?

It wasn't so much the fact that she knew he was a half-blood that made this situation so tense. If someone really wanted to, it wouldn't be difficult to find out about that disgraceful part of his family. No, what really concerned Tom, was the fact that Hermione knew he had murdered his father. No-one was supposed to know that. No-one could know it. Was it common knowledge where she came from? This was very dangerous, because it would mean that sometime between now and the point in time Hermione chose to travel back into the past, his crime had been exposed. He needed to find out when that had happened and how, so he could prevent it.

Tom also needed to find out why Hermione had thought it necessary to actually learn all about his history. Had she done that kind of research on everybody she would be likely to run into during her stay in the past? Or was Tom somehow in her focus of interest? That could also explain why she had put up the whole charade in the first place and had pretended to be his girlfriend. Was there something she wanted from him?

He drummed with his index finger on the leather surface of the couch's arm rest and felt very much short-tempered. The whole situation was messed up. He didn't have all the facts he needed, so he couldn't act without running the risk of exposing himself. He shortly considered using Legilimency to break her mind and extract everything he was seeking for. Though, that probably wouldn't work with her. He had already tried to legilimise her and that hadn't worked out so well for him. The easy way of just forcing the information from her mind was no option. Still, Tom had plenty of other ways to make her spill her secrets.

A dangerous red sheen appeared in his eyes. A group of first years, sitting on another couch nearby, saw that baleful red glint in Tom's eyes. They stared at him, before they quickly scampered away from the scary sixth year. Tom, though, hadn't noticed their flight at all as he still wondered how he would force Hermione to tell him the truth. He was very confident that he could make her tell him everything if he used some of his darker spells on her. Being of unclean blood, Hermione would cave in very quickly. She was weak and would beg him to spare her in no time.

Such weakness! he thought, an evil smirk grazing his lips. A Mudblood will never be able to resist me.

After all, he was the Heir of Slytherin.

When he finally had her grovelling at his feet, he would make sure that she once and for all understood what a big mistake it was to mess around with him. In the end, he would be victorious. A worthless Mudblood didn't stand a chance against him. A creature like her was bound to lose when she dared to match her powers with Lord Voldemort.

The red sheen in his eyes intensified, the insidious smirk still playing around his mouth. Sure, he needed to be cautious. But when the time came, he would strike. He would easily manage to force her to tell him everything. She would lose and he was going to break her.

Lord Voldemort always wins.

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Hermione walked down the deserted corridor. She could feel her wand against the skin of her right arm. It was stored inside her wand holster. Once that feeling had been reassuring, now it just evoked panic in Hermione. What had happened with her magic? Why wasn't it working anymore?

Right now, she was walking once again towards the library. She was still convinced the solution to her problem was written down in one of the books of the library. She rounded another corner and to her horror found herself facing a group of Slytherins. It was a group of three girls, and Hermione stiffened as she recognized two of them. There was Susan Yaxley, a sixth year. Hermione didn't like the girl at all, which was probably mutual. What really concerned her, though, was that Melanie Nicolls was part of that group. There was a rather nasty glare on her pretty face as she scanned Hermione coldly. Hermione didn't know the third girl, but she, too, was glowering at her with an evil look on her face.

"Look what we have here," Yaxley hissed in a snide tone while scanning Hermione. "A filthy Mudblood befouling this school with her mere presence."

Hermione clenched her hands into fists as she stared at Yaxley. She wanted nothing more than to pull her wand and curse these evil Slytherins. But without her magic working properly, Hermione couldn't curse them.

"Yeah, Mudblood, why are you still here?" the girl with the long black hair asked aggressively. "Why don't you go back to your worthless Muggle family?"

Hermione pressed her mouth into a thin line. Why did Slytherins always have to make her life miserable? Since she had set one foot into the magical world, Slytherins had hated her.

"Hey, Muggle!" Nicolls spat at her in an insulting tone.

Hermione's eyes wandered to Nicolls and she nearly groaned in frustration as she found an evil glint in the other girl's eyes.

"She asked you something," Nicolls hissed maliciously at Hermione while gesturing at the black haired girl. "How dare you not answer when a Pureblood is speaking to you?"

Hermione scanned the other girl calmly and then stated in an icy cold and completely emotionless voice, "I don't have time for your racist remarks. Keep them to yourselves and leave me alone."

Then she just continued to walk down the corridor, intending to pass the Slytherins. As Hermione was trying to walk by them, Yaxley bared her way.

"How can you talk to Melanie like that?" she yelled at Hermione. "You stole her boyfriend from her and now you have the nerve to insult her?"

Hermione looked at the anger on Yaxley's face. She really didn't want to get drawn into any fight here. This was ridiculous. So, she turned towards Nicolls and said, her voice laced with frost, "Look, if you are so desperate to get that ungrateful bastard back, then I'm certainly not stopping you."

A furious look crossed Nicolls' face, but before she could reply anything, Yaxley pulled her wand. Hermione breathed in sharply as the wand was pointed at her.

"You ugly piece of shit! You can't speak about Tom like that! Someone should show you your place!"

Hermione didn't pull her own wand. She knew it would be useless anyway. She could only watch as Yaxley brandished her wand and hissed,

"Pulsare!"

Hermione didn't manage to dodge the spell. It hit her in the chest and it felt like she was pushed hard by an invisible hand as she was thrown against the stone wall behind her. She gasped softly as she hit the wall rather painfully. The group of Slytherins in front of her just laughed cruelly as they watched Hermione leaning against the wall and trying to catch her breath. She looked up at them and glared furiously. The evil smile on Nicolls' face told Hermione that the girl utterly enjoyed this whole incident.

"I hope you now realize that Tom never really wanted you," she told Hermione, malice tinting her voice. "He was just playing around with you. If he had known that you are a disgusting Mudblood, he would have never spent any time with you."

The worst part, Hermione thought as she tried her best to glare at Nicolls, was that the girl was probably right. Images of how Tom had kissed Nicolls burned up in Hermione and a strange numbness took hold of her.

Now, Nicolls pulled her wand, turned towards the other Slytherins and drawled, "I think that's the only language those dirty Mudbloods understand." Then she waved her wand at Hermione while she yelled, "Limus!"

Immediately, thick drops of mud rained down on Hermione. It didn't stop until she was completely plastered with the smeary slime. She tried to wipe it from her face, but inhaled some of it and had to cough. The Slytherins were laughing evilly at her distress.

"Ewww. What's wrong, Mudblood?" Yaxley queried in mock concern. Then she laughed cruelly and said, "I think it suits you very well."

Hermione didn't reply anything and just tried to wipe the mud from her burning eyes. Anger was coursing through her as she stared at the malicious glint, visible in Yaxley's eyes. Nicolls was standing beside Yaxley, but a little closer to Hermione, wand still raised. Now, though, she dropped the wand as she started to laugh at Yaxley's nasty joke.

That was when Hermione struck. She didn't think this whole situation could get any worse, so she just tried her luck. Hermione raised her still mud covered hand. A confused look crossed Nicolls face as she saw it, but Hermione didn't give her any time to react. Instead, she brought her arm down again in one sharp movement, as if to hit Nicolls. The Slytherin girl stood too far away to really get hit, but the moment of inertia was enough for the mud on Hermione's arm to be sent as a shower of drops towards Nicolls. Nicolls screamed in surprise as the mud hit her in the face. Hermione didn't stop to enjoy that rather high pitched shriek, but took a swift step towards Nicolls. Hermione grabbed the other girl's wand arm, pulled at her and twirled her, so that at the end of the movement, Nicolls stood with her back towards Hermione. Hermione grabbed her right hand and forced the girl's arm up, so that her own wand was pointed at Nicoll's throat. The Slytherin wriggled and tried to get away.

"Let go, bitch!" she yelled infuriated.

As a reaction, Hermione tightened her hold on Nicolls' hand and pressed the wand's tip into her neck.

"I advise you to shut up now," she told Nicolls in a very calm voice.

Then, over Nicolls' shoulder, she glared at the other two girls, still standing in the corridor. Yaxley had her wand raised and pointed it at Hermione, but she didn't dare fire a curse as she would have hit Nicolls too. The other girl with the long black hair just stared at Hermione in shock. She had obviously not expected this to get so out of hand. As Hermione pressed that wand against Nicolls' neck, she really wished for her magic to not be down. Then this whole thing wouldn't have been just an empty threat. Maybe those three Slytherin girls didn't know it, but Hermione was very much unable to curse Nicolls in any way.

"Now that we all had had our say," Hermione stated, still in that frighteningly calm and cold voice. "I think our little conversation doesn't need to be continued anymore and we come to a close."

Yaxley just glared at Hermione darkly but didn't lower her wand as she hissed, "Let her go."

Hermione cast the other girl a mocking smile while she tried to remember the lay-out of the corridor behind her. She was pretty sure there was a corner not far away where another passage way joined the one they were standing in right now.

Hermione didn't reply anything to Yaxley, instead she whispered into Nicolls' ear in a very collected voice, "In case you haven't noticed, you've won."

With that said, Hermione shoved Nicolls abruptly in the back, so that the girl staggered towards her friends. Hermione saw her crashing into Yaxley, but then, without waiting for any reaction coming from the Slytherins, Hermione turned around and ran away. Not three metres away was a corner. She hastened towards it.

Then Hermione heard a voice behind her shout,"Confringo!"

Unfortunately, she was very much unable to even cast away such harmless spells, so Hermione fell into a sharp sprint, trying to reach cover before the spell would hit her. It took her only a second and she reached the corner. She hurled herself into the new corridor, moments before the Confringo spell would have hit her squarely in the back. Now the spell soared harmlessly down the other corridor while Hermione dashed down the new passage way. She never turned her head to see whether the Slytherins had chosen to follow her but continued to run away. It was only as she had run down three other corridors and entered a more crowded part of Hogwarts castle that Hermione slowed down. If she hadn't still been enraged by those Slytherin girls' attack on her, she would have laughed at the confused glances a group of seventh year Ravenclaws was throwing her way. Hermione was still covered from head to toe in sticky mud. Just for that, she had enjoyed it very much to threaten Nicolls with a wand at her throat. She raised her arm and tried to wipe the dirt away from her face, using her sleeve. It didn't really get her face clean as her sleeve was soaked in mud as well.

Stupid Nicolls! she cursed in her mind. Why did that horrible girl insist on making her life miserable? What Hermione had whispered into Nicolls' ear had been the truth after all. Hermione's heart clenched as she remembered how she had found Tom in that deserted corridor. He had been right in the process of kissing Nicolls. She had no idea what else those two had done together. But knowing Tom, he hadn't stopped with just kissing that snotty girl. Hermione shuddered as she remembered the look Tom had cast her back then. It had been so full of loathing and, even worse, disdain.

It wasn't much later that Hermione entered the Gryffindor common room. She really needed a shower to get rid of all this mud. Luckily, there weren't many people in the common room. The weather was nice, so most of them enjoyed the day outside. Though, there was a group of third years sitting on one of the sofas. They had obviously spotted Hermione, standing by the door, and started to laugh at her. Slightly embarrassed, Hermione raised her hand and again tried to wipe the mud from her face.

"Hey, shut it, you!" an angry voice suddenly shouted at those third years.

Hermione turned her head and found Longbottom, walking towards her. Right now, he glared warningly at the third years. By now they had stopped laughing, obviously daunted by Longbottom, and continued their game of exploding snaps.

"What happened to you?" Longbottom asked her as he had reached her and frowned down at her.

By now, Hermione was feeling cold as her clothes were still drenched in wet mud. She shivered slightly as she looked up at Longbottom.

"Er…"she mumbled softly. She didn't want to tell him about the Slytherins' attack.

"Wait, let me help you," Longbottom said as he pulled his wand.

He waved the wand at her and said, "Scourgify."

Instantly, Hermione could feel the mud vanishing from her. She looked down at herself and found her clothes clean and dry. Looking back up at Longbottom, she smiled at him and said relieved, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Longbottom grinned down at her.

Then he raised a hand and took one of Hermione's curly strands of hair, inspecting it. There still was some mud sticking to it.

"Sorry," his blue eyes wandered back to her. "Seems that charm doesn't work so well with your hair." He scanned around the common room, searching for somebody. "A pity Amarys is not here. I'm sure he'd know the right spell."

"It's okay," Hermione said softly.

Longbottom looked back at her and a concerned frown appeared on his face. Hermione nearly cringed as she saw that worried expression. He took her hand into his and pulled her over to one of the sofas.

"Now, what happened?" he asked her again.

Hermione avoided looking at him and fiddled with a strand of her hair. Then she said sheepishly, "Slytherins."

"Ah, not those evil snakes again!" Longbottom exclaimed angrily after hearing her reply.

Hermione peered up at him. Somehow, his indignation was soothing, she thought as she watched the annoyed scowl on his face. The scowl, though, disappeared instantly as he looked at her. An encouraging smile played around his mouth as he slid closer to her on the sofa and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"You know that they are complete idiots, don't you?" he whispered to her, trying to comfort her.

"Yeah," Hermione replied softly.

She did know that. And yet…

Longbottom's arm around her pulled her gently against him as he heard the hesitancy in her voice. "Bah, they are just jealous," he then said.

Hermione turned her head and looked up at him. He grinned at her.

"How come so?" she asked him.

"Now, that's simple, Hermione," he replied amused. "You get straight O's in every class. Those snakes just can't take that. And now, to get back at you, they are trying to give you a hard time because you are Muggleborn."

Hermione pressed her mouth into a thin line as she had to remember the malice in Tom's voice as he had called her 'Mudblood'. Longbottom was right, Tom was an idiot. Still, his words stung.

"Don't listen to what they are saying," Longbottom's gentle voice pervaded her dark thoughts.

He still smiled at her and continued, "It doesn't matter whether your parents are Muggles or not, you still are a witch." He considered her for a moment before he told her, "Actually, it doesn't even matter if somebody is magical or not. Wizard or Muggle... they would still be human, wouldn't they?"

Hermione couldn't help but feel pleasant warmth wrap around her. She smiled up at Longbottom.

"You know, my first girlfriend ever was a Muggle," Longbottom said cheerfully as he ran a hand through his blonde hair.

"Really?" she asked surprised.

"Yeah. She lived in the same village as me before she moved away. Hmmm… I wonder what she's doing now," he said pensively. Then he chuckled as he continued, "Oh, Andrea. Always thought I am crazy."

"She didn't know you were a wizard?" Hermione inquired.

"No, no. She did know," Longbottom laughed. "But she still thought I'm crazy. Didn't have anything to do with me being magical."

Hermione couldn't stop herself. She had to laugh, too. For once, her dark thoughts were forgotten, as she sat in the Gryffindor common room and just giggled.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

During the rest of the week, Hermione tried her very best to avoid any Slytherins, especially Tom. It wasn't that difficult, in fact, as she buried herself in the library whenever there were no classes she had to attend. The lack of help, she got from the books in the library, though, only managed to darken her mood even further. She still had no idea how to get her lost magic back and was getting desperate. It was only a matter of time until somebody noticed the absence of her magic. Until now, she had somehow managed to muddle through all her classes. But sooner or later, she wouldn't be able to hide the fact anymore that she couldn't do any spell.

Another week passed, without her getting any step closer to solving the secret behind her lost magic. It was Friday again, as Hermione reluctantly walked over to her first class for today. Thank Merlin her detentions had ended, but she still had to attend that horrible class, Hermione thought darkly as she crept towards the Household classroom. She grudgingly entered the room and found the whole class already assembled. Fortunately, Legifer was not yet here, otherwise she would surely have given Hermione another detention. Hermione walked over to her seat and plopped down beside her dorm mates.

"You are rather late," Rose chirped into her ear.

Hermione turned her head and looked morosely at the girl. There was a nosy glint in Rose's eyes as she scanned Hermione.

"What did you do?" she asked in her shrill voice. Then she giggled softly before she asked suspiciously, "Did you meet with your new boyfriend?"

Hermione just grumbled as an answer. Before Rose could inquire more, Legifer stepped into the classroom. There was a sour look on the professor's face, and Hermione sighed tiredly. She must have sighed rather loudly as Legifer threw her a disapproving glare. Then she turned to the class and started with her lecture. Hermione, by now used to droning the professor's piercing voice out, just entertained herself with looking out of the window. Only now and then, bits of Legifer's speech managed to reach her.

Legifer's gaze glided imperiously over her class as she explained, "As you know, your future role will be to support your husband and take care of the household so he doesn't have to trouble himself with such trivialities."

Hermione dimly thought that she should get filled with indignation, but she just didn't want to bother. This whole class was just a joke. She had decided to ignore it a long time ago. So, Hermione continued staring out of the window dreamily as Legifer started to pace in front of her class.

"Aside from those daily chores you'll have to fulfil, you should also know how to not embarrass your husband in front of business partners or other important people." Here Legifer paused shortly and her stern gaze wandered over Hermione. Evil glint in her eyes, the professor said, "Some of you might be unable to ever learn proper behaviour-" Legifer's cold eyes left Hermione before she continued, "-still I have faith that most of you might be able to grasp the importance of what I am teaching you here. Let us now go over the simplest of rules of seemly behaviour."

Hermione already regretted having gotten up this morning. She should have just stayed in her warm bed. It was a good while later that Hermione felt compelled to listen to Legifer again.

"With all that said, I think it's time for a practical approach," Legifer announced in her sharp voice

Hermione's head shot up and she bit her lip nervously as she eyed Legifer. This was bad. But she shouldn't be surprised now, should she? Legifer just had a talent to make her life even more miserable. Lately, Hermione hated practical lessons. With her magic gone, she had little chance to pass them. She felt rather anxious as she watched Legifer waving her wand. Instantly, the tables in the class room, including Hermione's own, grew a bit in size, so that they now resembled proper dining tables. Another wave of Legifer's wand and several boxes soared through the air. One settled on every table.

"I suggest you work in groups on this." Legifer said in her biting voice as she put her wand away. "I expect every group to set your table in the proper way as if expecting very important guests. Use the spells we went over. You may start."

The students immediately got to work. Hermione felt a little forlorn as she watched her seat neighbours starting on the task. Diana waved her wand skilfully and instantly a white table cloth floated out of the box. Diana again brandished her wand, and the cloth softly fell down on the table. It now neatly covered the whole table, without any wrinkle on it. In the meantime, Rose swirled her wand shakily. Plates soared out of the box and arranged themselves on the table. Two of them almost crashed into one another, but Rose hastily pivoted her wand again and prevented a disaster of shards. While her team mates set the table, Hermione didn't know what to do. This task was utterly ridiculous, but still she was required to contribute something. Unfortunately, with her magic gone, she couldn't do much. She stood awkwardly beside the table and just watched her team mates.

After a while, the table was now almost completely set, Hermione still hadn't done anything. She felt really nervous. Hopefully, no-one noticed how she didn't use any magic. Luckily, her dorm mates had just giggled at her lack of help and had insinuated that Hermione was distracted, because she had to think about her 'new boyfriend'. For the first time, Hermione was glad about her dorm mates' ridiculous gossip addiction. Lucia was putting glasses on the table, while Diana conjured up a beautiful floral arrangement. Hermione decided that she could as well do something. So, she walked over to the box Legifer had given them, bent down and retrieved the cutlery from the box. Then she arranged the silver on the table. She had just started as suddenly a sharp voice addressed her,

"Ms DeCerto, please, explain what you are doing here."

Hermione inwardly cringed, turned and found Legifer standing right beside her, a stern expression on her face. To her horror, Hermione noticed how the class had fallen silent. Everyone seemed to stare at her. Hermione looked back at Legifer, who still expected an answer.

"I… er…" Hermione stuttered now. "I was trying to…"

"Enough," Legifer cut across her. She eyed the silver fork in Hermione's hand disapprovingly, before she said, "Surely, you know the right spell to do this by magic."

Hermione stared at the professor. Of course she knew the spell. A simple levitation charm would do. But she wasn't able to perform it. That was the problem. As no answer came, Legifer said, malice oozing from her words,

"Now, Ms DeCerto. Why don't you demonstrate the spell used to arrange the cutlery on the table?"

Hermione still stared with wide eyes at Legifer and didn't know what to do. She could almost feel the gazes of all the other students on her. A heat wave hit her face. The professor continued looking at her expectantly, so Hermione felt obliged to at least do something. She flicked her wrist and her wand landed in her hand. There was no reaction from her magic and Hermione gulped nervously. Her gaze wandered to the table in front of her. The plates were neatly arranged, the white table cloth was completely free of any wrinkles. All that was missing was some cutlery.

"We are waiting, Ms DeCerto," Legifer's piercing voice reminded Hermione maliciously.

Hermione breathed in deeply to calm herself down. She somehow had to wriggle out of this. She cast another glance at Legifer. There was a nasty smirk on the woman's face.

"It's not that difficult," Legifer almost jeered at her.

Hermione's hand tightened around her wand. She could hear stifled giggles coming from the other students. They, along with Legifer actually, probably thought she was an inept idiot. And right now, Hermione had no other choice than to prove them right. She raised her wand, knowing full well she wasn't able to perform any spell, and waved it in the familiar movements of a simple levitation spell. Of course, nothing happened. Hermione was not able to muster up any magic. The silver cutlery remained to lie innocently in the box. After that disastrous performance, she could hear even more giggles. Hermione tried to ignore her wounded pride and dared to look at Legifer. She nearly groaned in frustration as she saw an evil but all the same triumphant look on Legifer's stern face.

"Now, that was informative, Ms DeCerto," the professor said sarcastically, cruel glee tinting her voice. "I think this is five points from Gryffindor for… let's say, shocking inaptitude."

Hermione boiled inwardly, but managed to keep her face neutral as she stared back at Legifer. The woman really seemed to enjoy herself right now, Hermione noted.

"Well, while Ms DeCerto, obviously failed miserably," Legifer said, turned to the whole class. "The rest of you did fairly well."

With a small flick of her own wand, Legifer banished all the crockery so that in the end the room resembled a class room again.

"Sit down," Legifer ordered.

As the class had settled down again, the professor let her gaze wander over them. Hermione cringed as Legifer stopped at her.

"Really, Ms DeCerto, after you have messed up your relationship with Mr Riddle, I would have expected you to have learned something from your mistakes," the professor told her bitingly. "Instead, your incompetence is still as alarming as ever."

Hermione bit the inner sides of her cheek to stop herself from returning anything. Legifer sent her another nasty smirk before she turned to the whole class.

"As you can see, Ms DeCerto here is a wonderful example of how things can go wrong if you don't heed my advice," Legifer lectured them. "A fine young man courted her, but she managed to botch her chance up. She didn't know how to behave and thus embarrassed Mr Riddle. In the end, he had no other choice but to leave her."

Hermione balled her hands into tight fists as she glared at Legifer. She was beyond angry. Though there also was a painful knot in her stomach as she heard Legifer's mocking words. It hurt how the professor was partly right. Yes, Tom was embarrassed of her now. Hermione had to close her eyes shortly to get her composure back. He was disgusted that she had ever been his girlfriend. But had she botched up their relationship by telling him the truth about her parentage? Or was it Tom?

Does it matter? Hermione wondered numbly. Tom was judging her. Just because she was a Muggleborn, he hated her. He was wrong and had no right to do that to her. He had the problem. She was Muggleborn, and Tom couldn't deal with that. But it still was her who had to pay the price for his rejection. He made her feel worthless.

Hermione pressed her mouth into a thin line as she felt her breathing getting ragged now. Tom's view of Hermione was based solely on prejudices. Her parentage, her pure existence, had managed to embarrass him. In his eyes, he really had had no other choice but to leave her.

"If you don't want to end up abandoned like Ms DeCerto, you should accept your role as a woman," Legifer's sharp voice cut through Hermione's thoughts like a knife.

Hermione refocused on the professor. Legifer stood there, as impeccable as ever, and continued lecturing her class about women's inferiority in that sharp voice of hers. Hermione stared at the professor, letting the words wash over her. How wrong that woman was!

And how wrong Tom was. His discrimination against Muggles and Muggleborns could only be called wrong. Yet, his wrong convictions had formed the future and had slowly turned into terrible truth for many, many people. He was able to force the whole world to change, so it would fit into his wrong convictions. Even against her better knowledge, Tom had already managed to shake her own world. She had always been proud of her parentage. Never had she doubted herself. But then she had met him, and now here she was, feeling dirty and inferior to him.

The power of his convictions was frightening.

Hermione could feel her hands shake. She had seen Tom's convictions played out to the bitter end. He had drowned everything in his hate. However wrong he had been, there had been many who had believed him. Only a little bit more, and he would have won. Without Harry, Voldemort would have turned his lies into the truth. In the end, it wouldn't have mattered anymore that his war against Muggleborns was unjust. He would have taken this inequity and would have called it justice.

Hermione shuddered. Her eyes wandered back to Legifer. The professor was still talking about all those duties a woman suposedly had to fulfil. She was telling this room full of young women nothing but lies and untruths about men's superiority. Yet, in this time and age, those lies were the truth, lived and experienced by many.

Hermione felt sick. She couldn't take this anymore. Completely ignoring Legifer and her lecture, she stood up from her seat.

"What do you think you are doing?" the professor's sharp voice addressed her.

Hermione's eyes wandered to the professor and found Legifer glaring at her disapprovingly. She was clearly angered that Hermione had so rudely interrupted her lesson. Hermione didn't care though. She didn't want to put up with the wrongfulness anymore. She needed to get out of here.

She gazed steadily back at the teacher before she opened her mouth and stated, "I'm leaving."

Then she took her parchment and quill, reached for her school bag and stowed everything away in her bag. After that she shouldered her bag and began to walk towards the door.

Before she reached the door Legifer's hissed at her, "And where do you think you are going?"

It was completely silent in the class room as Hermione stood, with her back turned to Legifer, by the door. She slowly turned around to her teacher.

"This-" Hermione explained while gesturing at the classroom in general. "-is not where I'm headed."

She couldn't help but feel a soft twinge of regret as the words left her mouth, for she didn't know if she was referring only to Legifer's class or school in general. How much was she supposed to sacrifice in order to escape Tom's convictions? Hermione watched dispassionately as Legifer's mouth formed an angry, thin line as she stared at her with icy cold eyes.

"How unfortunate for you then," Legifer replied in a very controlled but also frosty voice. "As you don't have a say in this matter."

"You are right," Hermione replied numbly. "I don't have a say in this matter. Never had. Things always just happen and we can only react."

This statement did not seem to enlighten Legifer at all as she still fixed Hermione with a stern stare.

"Then I suggest that you sit down again, Ms DeCerto," she grinded out through clenched teeth. "And cease your disconcerting behaviour."

A hollow smile flitted over Hermione's face but disappeared without leaving anything behind.

"I can't," she simply answered in a soft voice.

Legifer's eyes blazed up with indignation and anger, but Hermione remained to be strangely unaffected by the woman's wrath.

"This, Ms DeCerto, is your only chance to ever lead a normal life and be recognized as a woman. This is your only way to leave this school and become a respectable member of our society," Legifer nearly yelled in anger. "Either you finally accept the expectations, or you will never achieve anything in life. You will always be shut out."

The truth behind Legifer's words cut through Hermione. But she refused to accept the pain. This pain had hit her for so long already. It was too familiar.

"Maybe you are right. Maybe you are not. I don't know," Hermione said in a quiet tone. "But either way you are too late for me." She sighed tiredly. Then she continued in a soft, whispered voice, "I can never lead a normal life. I am neither respectable nor will I ever be recognized by your society. You will always look at me, seeing something that does not belong. I cannot fulfil your expectations for they are out of my hand."

Hermione paused, wondering why she was saying all of this for she knew she was no longer talking about her role as a woman. It wasn't solely her gender that was the problem here. It was her parentage, her whole being. Exclusion and oppression were, after all, very old and cruel but frighteningly effective tools of society.

Her eyes wandered over the classroom. The other students were following this strange conversation with avid interest. Hermione couldn't blame them. Her gaze landed on a few Slytherins, including Yaxley, staring back at her with disgust shining in their eyes. Did they understand the slight shift in the meaning behind Hermione's words? Or did they just stare at her in repulsion by principle?

Hermione's eyes snapped back at Legifer who still glared at her dangerously. Then she continued in her frighteningly emotionless voice, "Even if I bend to your rules, you will never admit that I belong in this world. Maybe someday in the far off future but then, will it be worth it? All this pain and suffering, the fighting, just to finally end a conflict that had been raging for so long that it will leave behind no victors." Hermione's hand tightened around the strap of her bag which was slung over her right shoulder. "I just don't want to play along anymore when I know where it all will, eventually, lead."

She fell silent and just continued to look at her professor. Legifer's face had morphed into a mask of rage. "You foolish girl! Do you really think you will achieve anything by your act of stupid and unnecessary obstinacy? Now, you will stop disturbing my lesson and sit down again."

Hermione looked at the fury displaying on Legifer's face. Then she sighed softly and squared her shoulders. A sad smile played around her mouth as she stared at the enraged woman, then Hermione breathed,

"… yes, foolish…"

She turned around and continued her way towards the door. Legifer screamed at her to stop, but Hermione paid her no heed as her hand clasped around the door handle. She opened the door and entered the corridor behind while she could still hear Legifer's angry voice, accompanied by the students' excited chatter. Obviously, the professor would need some time to calm her class down again. This left Hermione with enough time to get away.

After she left the classroom, Hermione instantly walked towards the Library. She was going to skip Transfiguration. Hopefully, Dumbledore would be lenient with her. She just couldn't go to that class now, Hermione thought and felt still very shaky as she walked the corridors. She wouldn't be able to bear Tom's presence. She couldn't be confronted with his hate right now.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Hermione spent the weekend raking through Hogwarts Library, burying herself in books. She didn't want to deal with the real world. After that scene during her Household class, the castle was once again buzzing with rumours about her. Hermione didn't want to hear any of them. Only Longbottom had managed to make her smile a little as he had visited her in the Library to convince her to come out for a while. He had told her that she had done the complete right thing to oppose that 'evil banshee'. While Hermione had been happy to see him, Longbottom still hadn't managed to make her leave the Library.

She also had received a letter from Dippet, who wanted to speak with her the following week. Busy as ever, the headmaster hadn't even told her exactly when she should come to his office. She wasn't very keen to meet him anyway. Surely, this was Legifer's doing. Her class was, after all, obligatory. Hermione wasn't allowed to just drop it. Dippet was probably going to tell her just that.

To not drown herself into her many problems, Hermione preferred to drown herself into books. The weekend flew by without her finding anything to get her lost magic back. Desperation tucked at her now whenever she had to attend any classes. Luckily on Monday she once again managed to somehow muddle through Potions. Tom had gone back to ignoring her thoroughly, so he hadn't noticed her lost magic. During her next class, DADA, Hermione was lucky again. Professor McGray had decided to have a purely theoretical class and discussed with them yet another dark curse. Hermione, for one, felt sick having to hear about that disgusting branch of magic. She couldn't concentrate on the lesson anyway. Since she had stormed out of Legifer's class at Friday, Hermione felt like in a daze. Her complete failure to perform that levitation spell during the class had frightened her greatly. Until now, Hermione had managed to hide her lost magic, but slowly she realized how parlous her situation really was. What if people found out? What if Tom found out? What would he do if he learned that her magic was gone, that she was a Muggle?

So, naturally, after classes were over for the day, Hermione had run off to the library again. She sat in there for an eternity, going through book after book. After hours, her eyes started to hurt from all the reading and she was tired. But, she couldn't stop. The answer to her problem was still elusive.

She was just reading through another huge tome as she felt someone, sitting down beside her, and a voice scolded her gently, "Now, this is enough, Hermione." She turned her head and found Longbottom frowning down at her. "You've been here the whole day again."

He reached for the book, lying on the table in front of her, and tugged it away.

He closed the book with a thud as he said, "Whatever you are doing here, I'm sure it can wait 'till tomorrow."

Hermione reached for the book in his hand while she said, "I really have to read this."

Longbottom just held the book out of her reach and chided, "No. You've been in here for hours now. I'm sure the books won't disappear just because you don't read them today."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. She really needed to find a way to get her magic back. But now that she stared at Longbottom, she noticed how very tired she in fact was. Her head hurt and her eyes were watering from all the reading. She tilted her head to the side. Maybe Longbottom was right, she confessed reluctantly. After all, she surely wasn't able to find out anything if she was this exhausted. Seeing her falter, Longbottom took the initiative. He quickly waved his wand and all the books, scattered on Hermione's table, soared back to their places on the shelves. Then he took Hermione's hand and pulled her up from her seat. She didn't stop him as he led her out of the Library. She nodded at Ms Peters, the librarian, as they left. They walked through the corridors towards the Gryffindor common room. It was rather late by now, Hermione noticed surprised. The corridors were pretty much deserted.

"Say, is something bothering you?" Longbottom suddenly asked her in a quiet voice.

Hermione's head snapped to him. He was still walking beside her, but eyed her concerned.

"No…" she answered in a soft voice.

Longbottom just cocked his head to one side as he considered her. "Are you sure you are alright?"

"Of course," Hermione insisted. Though, she knew, she was anything but alright. Actually, ever since this whole thing with her magic had happened, she felt horrible.

No, that's not true, an inner voice forced her to realize. Actually, she felt so horrible ever since Tom had left her. She was deep in thought as she, suddenly, felt Longbottom taking a hold of her hand. He stopped and looked softly down at her as he said,

"No, something is wrong. You've been so strange," he whispered to her soothingly. "You can tell me."

"It's nothing. Really," Hermione answered, still looking up at Longbottom.

She didn't want him to be so concerned about her.

"There is something bothering you," Longbottom inquired, even his voice was filled with concern.

As Hermione didn't answer, he leaned a little down to her and whispered, "You are not still sad because Riddle left you, are you?"

Hermione looked at him. Was she sad that Tom had left her? The truth would be 'yes'. She felt very much forlorn now that she was alone again and she did miss him. Or maybe it was this illusion she was missing? As she had been together with Tom, she had been so carefree. She surely missed that feeling. But now she knew that it all had been a lie. Tom had never loved her. Hermione looked up at the worry on Longbottom's face and then she just lied.

"No," she whispered in a soft voice while averting her eyes.

Longbottom didn't answer anything to her statement. They stood in the corridor, while Hermione still didn't look up at him. After some time, though, she felt his hands on her shoulders and her gaze wandered up at his face. He held her gently and even pulled her towards him. One of his hands wandered up and cupped her cheek gingerly. Hermione's eyes widened as she felt his warm hand on her skin, touching her so gently. It was then that Longbottom bent down to her and Hermione's eyes fluttered shut. His lips were touching hers and then he was kissing her tenderly. He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer against him, so that she leaned into his chest. Hermione could feel his soft lips kissing her so invitingly, and she was completely lost in the moment.

It was so nice, having someone kiss her. Someone who cared about her. Someone who didn't bother that she was Muggleborn, who wasn't disgusted by her. Someone who accepted her. She didn't need to feel so alone, did she? She could feel his hand wander from her cheek to the back of her head, where it ran carefully through her hair. All the while he still kissed her so softly. She didn't need to be lost and alone. Here was someone who wanted to be with her. Longbottom wanted to be there for her. Not like Tom who had left her and now hated her with a passion. Tom would never-

Hermione tensed slightly, as she noticed where her train of thought had wandered off to. Longbottom still kissed her so tenderly and here she was thinking of Tom. No. No, she couldn't do this. She couldn't throw herself into another relationship. Not when she still somehow wanted Tom. It would be very unfair to use Longbottom to get over her heartache. He was such a nice guy. She couldn't lead him on like this. Hermione raised her hands and pushed against Longbottom, hands on his chest. He instantly stopped and let go of her. Hermione took a step away and then looked up at him. He looked back at her in confusion, though she could see a little bit of understanding already dawning on his face.

"Marc, I… I…" she mumbled as she stared at him. "I just can't do this. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

A sad expression flittered over his face as he heard her stammered explanation and fear clasped Hermione's heart. She liked him very much. Maybe not in the way he would want her to, but he was still very important to her. He was her friend and she would miss him dearly if he should decide to leave.

"I'm really sorry," she whispered in a soft, scared voice, now avoiding looking at him.

Suddenly, she felt his hand on her shoulder, and she hesitantly peered up at him. There was still sadness and disappointment shining in his blue eyes, but she could also spot a small reassuring smile on his lips.

"It's okay, Hermione," he told her in a kind voice. His eyes scanned her and then he asked gingerly, "You still miss him, don't you?"

This time Hermione didn't lie.

"Yes," she whispered, almost inaudibly.

"I see," Longbottom replied, sadness lacing his words. His hand left her shoulder and ruffled through his blond hair. Then he glanced at her and said in a soft tone, "You know, I hate him even more now." A sad smile ghosted across his lips as he looked down at her. "I told you, he's an idiot. He should have never left you. One of these days he's going to regret it."

"You… you are not angry with me?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"No, Hermione, no," he quickly reassured. Even though Hermione could still see the disappointment in his eyes, he even tried to comfort her, "After all, it's not your fault that you like sneaky Slytherins."

_._._._._

Tom just passed a corridor, as he heard voices coming from that direction. He didn't pay it any attention but continued on his way. He left that corridor behind as he again heard a voice. This time, though, he recognized that voice.

"-told you. I'm okay." Tom heard Hermione's soft voice.

"No, something is wrong," a male voice answered. "You've been so strange."

Tom stopped in his tracks and tried to get nearer. He slid towards those voices, always trying to remain in the shadows. He had no idea why he wanted to eavesdrop on Hermione. He reminded himself of his plan of staying away from her until he had decided how to proceed from here on. Her mere presence was enough to raise his temper, so it would be best to stay away from her.

"You can tell me." He heard Longbottom's voice whispering gently.

Even though he knew it would be better to turn around, Tom continued to sneak towards them. As he finally reached the corner, he cautiously peered into the other corridor. As expected, he found Hermione, standing just a few metres away. She wasn't alone, though. Tom narrowed his eyes at Longbottom. He was standing pretty close to Hermione. Right now, he seemed to even hold her hand in his. Tom couldn't see her face as she had turned her back towards him, but he was sure there was a smile on her face as she looked up at the blond Gryffindor. Tom's hands balled into tight fists. He had always known it, hadn't he? Even as he had still been together with Hermione, he had always suspected it. She liked Longbottom.

"It's nothing. Really," Hermione said, still looking up at Longbottom.

Tom felt sick as there was disgusting concern visible on Longbottom's face. Who would be concerned over a Mudblood?

"There is something bothering you," Longbottom inquired, even his voice was filled with ridiculous concern.

As Hermione didn't answer, the Gryffindor leaned a little down to her and whispered, so that Tom could barely hear, "You are not still sad because Riddle left you, are you?"

Tom edged a little closer, somehow desperate to hear her answer.

"No," was Hermione's reply.

Strangely, Tom's magic was reacting quite violently to that revelation. He had to work to hold it back from swirling around him angrily. Though, he almost lost that fight as he saw a triumphant expression crossing Longbottom's face. Really, what was wrong with his magic lately? Why did it react with so much anger to this ridiculous situation? Tom narrowed his eyes at Hermione and Longbottom. He watched how the Gryffindor's hands took hold of Hermione's shoulders. Longbottom held her gently and even pulled her somewhat closer to him. His hand wandered up to Hermione's cheek and cupped it cautiously. Tom's magic now rushed so violently through him that he started to tremble slightly. He still couldn't see Hermione's face, but so far she hadn't done anything to stop that Gryffindor berk from touching her. Did she enjoy it?

As Longbottom bent down to Hermione, Tom could feel how he lost control. Strands of his dark magic left his body and started to crackle around him, longing to reach out for the other two persons in that corridor. A strangely hollow feeling suddenly overwhelmed him, as he had to watch how Longbottom kissed Hermione. The Gryffindor had his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her against him, while he kissed her. Hermione was flushed against his body, not in the least bit trying to get away from Longbottom.

There was no way Tom would be able to hold his angry magic back any longer. In fact, he noticed how his hand had wandered to his pocket where his wand was stored. There was the irresistible urge to pull his wand and-

… and what? Tom wondered, irritated by that anger, ripping at him. Curse them? Curse Longbottom?

This was ludicrous! Tom balled his hands into tight fists and stopped reaching for his wand. He did not care what this trollop did in her free time. The dark magic, though, was still raging around him while he witnessed that kiss between Hermione and Longbottom.

No, no, he did not care!

Just to prove himself right, he turned on the spot and walked back the way he had come from. He certainly was not going to curse them. He did not care about the whole thing enough to be bothered to curse them. His angry magic, though, insisted in crackling around him furiously, while he tried to get as much distance between himself and Hermione as fast as possible.

Why should I stop that git from kissing her, anyway? Tom thought derisively as he descended the stairs in direction of the dungeons. That empty-headed blood-traitor was probably the only one still willing to kiss Hermione. Seriously, who would ever want to kiss a disgusting Mudblood? A condescending sneer twisted up Tom's face as he entered the dungeons and walked towards the Slytherin common room.

The sneer was quickly wiped off his face, as he started to wonder what those two were doing now. Unbidden, images of Hermione and Longbottom alone in a deserted classroom sprang up in his mind. Those images managed to re-kindle Tom's angry magic. Now that he angrily stomped down a corridor, only one thought unrelentingly flew through Tom's mind.

Hermione was cheating on him with that Gryffindor idiot!

This revelation sent his already riled up magic into another violent fit of temper. Tom had to stop and collect his composure to prevent his magic from crackling around him furiously. His magic was really rather strange lately, wasn't it? He tried to ignore the fact that it only reacted in strange ways when Hermione was around. But it certainly had nothing to do with that witch! The only reason he was interested in her was because she possessed two of the Deathly Hallows and because she was a time traveller.

…and a filthy liar!

Tom nodded sharply in confirmation of that thought. Yes, the Hallows and her time travel, that was the reason he was interested in her. Everything else just didn't bother him at all. Tom stood before the damp wall that was the entrance to his common room. He stared with narrowed eyes at the wall but didn't say the password. Again, the picture of Hermione pressed against Longbottom, kissing him, ghosted through Tom's mind.

Clearly, what made him so angry was that a worthless Mudblood was in possession of one of the most powerful magical artefacts ever. The Unbeatable Wand was part of magical history. On top of that, Hermione was a liar. She had hoodwinked him, and she withheld important information from him. She had travelled through time and had lied to him since she had got here. Only Merlin knew what she really wanted here. A sharp frown appeared between Tom's eyebrows. It was long enough that he had watched this travesty. He should finally take action. He should show that little Mudblood what it meant to defy him. He would get the Hallows from her and he would force her tell him all her secrets. He wondered how he could have tolerated this for so long. A lousy Mudblood should not be allowed to own something as valuable as the Hallows.

I will take that wand from her, he thought while his magic still raged inside of him. As that thought brushed his mind, Tom forcefully tried to regain his cool. He took in a deep breath of air. Why did he lose his temper like this? Hadn't he already decided not to do anything rash concerning Hermione? While his logical side could consent with that, his magic was a completely different matter. It ran wild inside of him, angrily demanding to be set free. He could barely control it anymore. He really needed to calm down before he did something rash. Sure, he had to somehow wrench all her secrets from Hermione, but he really shouldn't do that right now. There was too much unclear yet, he couldn't attack her now.

While he had that rational thought, his resolution was broken as yet another image rushed through his head. Pictures of Hermione in bed with Longbottom flooded his mind and Tom immediately lost control of his magic. It left his body and bristled rabidly around him, tugging at him and ordering him to take action. How dare she cheat on him with that disgusting Gryffindor berk? Hermione was certainly not permitted to kiss or even sleep with anybody else. She was his. His property!

It was then, as Tom stood before the entrance to the Slytherin common room and those images invaded his mind, that his composure finally left him. He didn't say the password to open the entrance to the common room. Instead, he turned on the spot and walked back the way he had come from. His magic still danced around him, crackling with fury. That disgusting Mudblood had played around with him for long enough. He wasn't going to accept anymore of her mockery. What did he need to make plans for anyway? Why would he need to be cautious around her? She was nothing but a worthless Muggle. If he attacked her, she wouldn't stand a chance. She was weak, and he would finally show her how inferior she really was.

By now, Tom had given up on trying to control his angry magic. He didn't stop it from storming around him as a violent tempest. He was going to take the Unbeatable Wand from the Mudblood, and then he was going to force her to finally reveal all her disgusting secrets. She was going to beg him for mercy, but he wouldn't stop. Not before she finally acknowledged the fact that she was his property and completely submitted to him. By breaking her, he would prove how worthless and powerless Hermione really was. She would lie whimpering at his feet, where she belonged.

There was no way she could win against him.

_._._._._

The wind was ruffling up her hair, making it even more of a mess. Hermione stood on the platform of the Astronomy tower. She was in need of a refuge after what just had happened. She still felt very bad that she had had to turn down Longbottom. She knew that he liked her very much, she had known that for quite some time now. But she just didn't feel the same for him. Hopefully he would get over it. She really didn't want to lose him as a friend. She had already lost too much of them.

Longbottom had told her that he was going down to the Quidditch pitch to have an extra training. Hermione had known, though, that he just wanted to be alone. She could understand him. Because she wanted to be alone, too. That was why she now stood here on the Astronomy Tower. It always helped her calming her mind to stand on top of the highest tower and to let her gaze wander over the landscape of Hogwarts' grounds and beyond. The rough wilderness of Scotland made her feel small and insignificant. In a weird way that made her problems appear small and insignificant, too.

That kiss between her and Longbottom had painfully shown her how very much isolated she really was. She was lost. Completely and utterly lost in more than one way. She was stuck in a dead end. With her magic gone and especially without the Elder Magic, how was she supposed to ever find a way back home? Even if Dumbledore now defeated Grindelwald, gained the Elder Wand and Hermione stole it from him, how would she use the wand if there was no magic in her? Peverell's manuscript had been a dead end, too, because she was too stupid to understand it. The only way to gain all three Deathly Hallows would be to defeat Tom and steal the Resurrection Stone from him. It just seemed like she was doomed to remain stranded in this damn time period forever.

"What am I going to do now?" she whispered the question to the uncaring wilderness of Scotland.

To be condemned to stay here in the wrong time was an unbearable thought for her. Was that her punishment? For all the things she had done during the war? She would be forced to witness how the future unfolded in front of her again. She would watch how Tom Riddle abandoned the last human part of him and surrendered himself completely to the dark. He would lose so much of himself that the thing left over could only be called Lord Voldemort, not Tom anymore. Then he would throw the country into a war, kindled and maintained by nothing but hate. Images of Lord Voldemort flashed through her mind. He had covered the whole country with a campaign of hate against all people with Muggle background. Voldemort's hate had been the most terrible thing Hermione ever had to face. She had so hoped never to be confronted with that hate again. Still, his hate had found her here. It managed to scare her to death, that dark force behind his bottomless hate. Lord Voldemort was still as frightening as ever he had been. And Hermione was unable to stop him. She knew that Voldemort's hate could only be stopped by killing him. But Hermione would never be able to kill Tom. Even now that he treated her like dirt, she would never raise her wand against him to kill.

That's assuming I will ever get my magic back, she thought numbly. Was that it? Fate had played a cruel trick on her? 'Too bad, but chin up. It could be worse.'? Not for the first time Hermione just wished she had never been hurled back in time but had just died there in the Ministry of Magic. At least then she would have been together with Harry and Ron.

As Hermione was so deeply lost in her dark thoughts, she started as she heard the door, leading on the platform, being pushed open. Students not often came here, at least not at this time of the day. She turned around and immediately stiffened as she saw Tom standing by the door. He was staring at her and his eyes radiated nothing but hate as they glimmered in a crimson red colour. Hermione's gaze involuntarily wandered over his form and she noticed with dread that he had his wand in his hand. Her eyes snapped back at his face, and she was again overwhelmed by the murderous look she found. His blood red eyes seemed to search the platform of the Astronomy Tower as if he expected to find some-one else here. As he found no-one, he glared back at her and made a threatening step towards her. Hermione shrank away from him. It again struck her how utterly defenceless she was. Her magic was down, most likely never to come back. Pulling her wand would be a waste of time because it was nothing more than a wooden stick to her. She was completely at Tom's mercy and he was looking at her with so much malice that Hermione doubted he would show her any.

Suddenly, he waved his wand and Hermione felt herself being hurled to the floor. She collided hard with the flagstones of the platform. Before she could catch her breath his magic hit her again and she was thrown against the banister. She tried to dampen the impact with her hands, but she didn't quite manage and her head hit the banister hard. Blood was starting to flow down the side of her face. Hermione tried to shakily get up into a sitting position. Then she faced Riddle again. He had walked over to her and stood now just a few steps away. Hermione kneeled before him and looked up into his steel hard eyes.

"Where do you come from?" he asked her. His voice was cold and threatening but otherwise completely devoid of any emotion.

She continued to stare at him. Her body hurt where his magic had hit her, and all she could do was stare at him in disbelief. Why did he ask that? Riddle knew where she came from. He knew at least the cover story she had come up with. 'Hermione DeCerto' came from France. Why did he ask? She stared up at his enraged face and had to swallow hard as a horrible apprehension built up in her. As she didn't answer anything, Riddle took a threatening step towards her, his eyes still glinting dangerously in a malign red colour. Then he continued to interrogate her,

"When have you been born?" His voice was a low hiss, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

This simple question managed to make Hermione freeze in shock. She stared up at him with wide scared eyes, not able to react in any way. His eyes were boring into hers, promising severe retaliation if she were to disobey him and not answer. Hermione could barely breathe as fear constricted her chest.

He knows. Hermione realised frantically. She could tell just by looking at him. He had somehow managed to find out that she was in the wrong time period. He knew that she came from the future.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out? That I wouldn't notice your pathetic attempt to botch up the Ortus potion?" Riddle sneered at her. Then the hard edge in his voice was back as he hissed, "How did you manage to travel back? Did you use the Unbeatable Wand? What are you trying to do here? You are going to tell me everything."

No, he can't know! She had done everything to prevent this. Hermione felt panic slowly taking over. That dangerous glint in his eyes told her that he would force her to speak should she refuse to tell him the truth. Hermione could feel her heart beating incredibly fast as she had to look at that hate, blazing in his grey eyes. This was the thing she had always feared. Since that war had started she had been scared. Scared that one day, she would be alone and would have to face the enemy without her friends by her side. Hermione started feeling very faint. She was so frightened, but at the same time she knew that she could not tell him anything. So Hermione stared up at Riddle with wide, scared eyes and then, without saying anything, she just slowly shook her head, thus condemning herself to whatever fate Riddle had in store for her.

As Riddle saw her reaction his face remained to be a blank mask but then he again waved his wand and said in a soft voice, "Frigus."

Hermione fell down as his spell hit her, biting coldness ripping at her. It felt like every warmth was leaving her body. The cold wrapped around her unpitying. It cut into her like blades, slicing away her skin. Even her breathing was now condensing when she exhaled. Her hands and her feet were slowly getting numb as the cold intensified. Just as Hermione thought she would lose her consciousness Riddle ended his curse. The unrelenting coldness left her again. A hand caressed her cheek and she opened her eyes. Riddle had crouched down in front of her and ran a hand gently over the side of her face while he looked at her softly.

Then he whispered, and his voice was suddenly suave, his tone kind and compelling, "Why are you after the Hallows? You can tell me. I know you are trying to unite them."

Hermione trembled as she felt his hand, skimming so gently over her cheek. Panic coursed through her, but she still remained silent.

Then Riddle spoke again and his voice was still as soft as silk, "Where is the cloak?"

Hermione did nothing but stare blankly back at him. She still lay on the cold stone floor, breathing hard. He knew everything! He knew about her time travel, about the wand and the Hallows. He even knew that she had stolen the cloak. How had he managed to find out so much about her secrets? Panic had a tight grip on her.

"Where is the Invisibility Cloak?" Riddle asked again in that suave tone while a disarming smile graced his features.

Hermione knew she had to keep a clear head, so she forced herself to calm down. However he had managed to learn the truth, there was no way she would ever surrender the cloak to him. She could not, would not, tell him. Not about the cloak or the future. Grim determination took hold of her and she suppressed her fear and steeled herself for whatever Riddle would do to her.

"You better tell me everything, love." Riddle shrouded his threat with a sympathetic tone.

She balled her hands, which were still icy cold, tightly into fists. Fear was coursing through her but she looked up at him defiantly.

"Fuck off," she hissed aggressively.

As he heard her reply, frightening anger twisted up Riddle's handsome face. He stood up abruptly and stared darkly down at her.

"It's time to end your pack of lies, Muggle," he hissed at her, his voice filled with cold malice.

Hermione stared up at him while fear ripped at her. That bottomless hate in his cold eyes scared her to death, but she was not going to tell him anything. As she remained silent, Riddle whirled his wand and threw the next curse at her.

"Dilaniare."

A searing pain wandered over her. It felt like an invisible force tried to wrench her very skin off her flesh. Then the pain wandered deeper into her and it felt as if that force really tried to rip her body in shreds. Hermione whimpered painfully. She wasn't able to scream, the pain didn't allow it. She squeezed her eyes shut while it felt like something from within her body ate her alive, gnawed at her flesh and mauled her. Violent coughs shook her, and she could taste blood in her mouth.

Finally, Riddle ended the curse and the pain slowly released her. Hermione remained to lie on the ground, curled up in a ball while the coughs still shook her. Her insides hurt terribly, and she felt sick from the after-effects of the pain. Tears were running down her cheeks. She hadn't even noticed when she had started to cry. She was still lying limply on the stone floor as she noticed how Riddle grabbed her right wrist. He forcefully rolled up the sleeve of her uniform robe and her blouse. Hermione was powerless to stop him as he pulled her wand from its holster. She just numbly thought how he didn't even have to take the trouble as her magic was gone anyway. She certainly didn't pose any threat at the moment.

"What are you trying to accomplish here?" She heard his icy cold voice saying.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see his face any longer. Though she could not blind out the soft sounds of his steps as he slowly circled her fallen form. Next Hermione felt Riddle grabbing her by her hair and yanking her up. She screamed in pain as he wrenched at her so brutally. Riddle held her by her hair tightly and forced her to look at him. She did look up at him but the only thing she could find on his face was terrible hate and a murderous sheen in his cold eyes.

"I will only ask you one more time," Riddle hissed at her in a frightening voice full of hate.

Hermione could feel more tears, running down her cheeks, as she stared at him with wide eyes. Her body was trembling uncontrollably as he looked at her, his eyes cold and uncaring. The darkness in those deep wells told her that they were not Tom Riddle's eyes any longer.

"Why did you travel back in time?" Voldemort's voice was icy cold.

His tone made it very clear that he would never tolerate any disobedience. Hermione knew what he was capable of and this knowledge made her tremble in fear. Still, there was no way she could tell him. A sharp pain came from her head where he wrenched at her hair so violently. His eyes were boring into her. Hermione couldn't say anything as she stared up at him. The hate still burned behind his eyes and had completely displaced the grey but now shone in that terrible blood red colour. Hermione could barely breathe as she looked at that ghastly flash in his eyes. He abruptly wrenched at her hair again, forcing another scream of pain from her.

"Answer me!"

Hermione threw in a shaky breath of air. She actually wanted to divulge everything - just to get away from him, from Voldemort. She wasn't ready to face him again. Her heart was hammering away in her chest and she felt sick from fear. He still wrenched achingly at her hair as he glared down at her, demanding an answer. He wanted her to tell him everything. He wanted her to give up and surrender completely to him. He was Lord Voldemort. He would stop at nothing. She had seen what he could do.

"If you don't tell me what I want to know, you will regret it," Voldemort told her. His voice was terribly calm and his eyes hard as steel as he looked pitilessly down at her.

Hermione stared at him. Suddenly she couldn't anymore see past that hate burning in his grey eyes. Everything else was gone, only he remained, Lord Voldemort. Pictures of the war were rushing through her head. She saw the remnants of her home, smoldering before her. The corpses of her parents lying somewhere under the debris of her childhood. She again witnessed the gruesome battles she had fought in. People were dying around her while she tried to stay alive. Lord Voldemort's hate was so strong it had torn a whole country apart. It had spread like a highly infectious illness and had left behind a destroyed and broken land.

How could she fight against such hate?

Even though she had known how deep his hate ran, she still had tried to fight against him. He had been a terrible enemy. Overwhelmingly strong, terrifying...

…inhuman.

Hermione could see it again, burning in his eyes, the hate. It still managed to make her tremble in fear, that bottomless hate. She was again confronted with his darkness. Since the war had started- No, since she had entered the magical world as she had been eleven, she had feared the hate.

"You will tell me, Hermione," Voldemort hissed at her, cruelty lacing his cold words. "You can speak now, or I will force the words from you. But you will speak."

Hermione trembled heavily as she looked up at him. She didn't want to fight against his hate ever again. She just wanted to give up. In the end, she had to obey him. He had won, hadn't he? She was unable to stand against his hate and cruelty. How could she defeat such darkness? She was powerless.

Hermione opened her mouth to finally submit to him. But as she looked up at the hate, raging in his eyes, she suddenly noticed something.

… something is different, she thought hesitantly as she stared up into Voldemort's red eyes. That all-consuming hate was still smoldering in those eyes. Its ferocity threatened to devour her. She could barely breathe. But still… something had changed. It was just a feeling, but it was unmistakably there. Hermione was still afraid, still scared. She was at the brim of breaking and finally surrendering herself to him. But it was now, as she was confronted with his abysmal hate so directly, that she realised, something had really changed. It wasn't his hate that was different, for it raged with the same cruelty like it always had.

No, it was something inside of her that was different. At the very moment, as she was ready to bow down before him and submit to him, Hermione found that she wasn't able to do that. It was only now, that she finally understood. She didn't really have a choice in this matter. Whether she wanted to or not, she had to fight. Whether she was alone and abandoned by everyone, she still had to fight on. She was stripped off her power and completely defenceless, but she would not give up. She missed her family, her friends, Harry, and Ron, but it was time to go on without them. They had accompanied her as far as they could go, now was her turn to stand alone. Hermione knew it would cost her a lot to oppose him, to stand against him, but she was finally ready to pay the price.

Whoever he was, enemy, friend, lover …or monster, she was not going to let his hate touch her ever again. He thought he could destroy her with his hate? He thought he could mistreat her, break her and force her to submit to him?

No. She wouldn't let him! He had already taken so much from her. Here was where she drew the line.

Hermione didn't avoid his steel hard eyes, but met his gaze squarely. Her heart was thumbing away in fear, but she was able to stand above the fear. She could feel it, but at the same time she was able to distance herself from it. Fear was a good thing. It served to warn of dangers. But Hermione chose to face the danger, she didn't need the fear anymore. A new found resolution backed her up. Then she opened her mouth thus sealing her fate,

"I will never tell you anything."

Voldemort just hurled her at the floor. She collided hard with the flagstones and whimpered in pain. She hurt all over and remained to be lying on the floor.

"Do you think I am playing around here?" Voldemort asked in an eerily quiet voice.

Hermione remained to be silent. She knew well enough that this had stopped to be a game a very long time ago. She also knew that, she could do nothing against him. He had all the advantages on his side. Her magic was down, and he had stolen her wand anyway. He didn't even need magic to subdue her at this point in time, because physically he was the stronger one, too. She was neither able to escape him nor to beat him. Hermione knew that she had already lost this battle.

Maybe the battle…

It didn't mean he was going to win everything. His objective was to get her to tell him all her secrets, to make her tell him the truth. By forcing her to speak, he wanted to show her that, being a Muggleborn, she would always lose to him.

He wanted to break her.

That, she wasn't going to allow.

It was then that his next curse hit her. It hurt. She could feel his magic slowly creeping over her body until it enclosed her completely. Every contact his magic made, hurt. The magic didn't stay on the surface. Hermione gasped in pain as there were strands of dark magic invading her. It was even worse than the curse he had used before. It felt like sharp knives were mercilessly rammed into her. She had to cough. This time, though, her mouth was instantly filled with her blood. She rolled up in a tight ball and pressed her hand over her mouth as she continued to cough violently. Hot tears were running from her eyes as the pain intensified. It felt like those knives were turned inside the wounds they had inflicted. After an eternity, finally, his magic left her again. Hermione cried out in pain as the knives were ripped from her body. She didn't have time to catch her breath as she could feel a hand, grabbing her shoulder tightly, then she was brutally turned around so that she lay on her back. The hand clutched her by the collar and pushed her hard into the stone floor.

"Why are you here?" a steel hard voice hissed at her.

Hermione opened her eyes and found Voldemort looming over her. He had crouched down beside her and held her tightly by her collar. Hermione looked up into his crimson eyes. They were filled with so much malice.

How strange, she thought as she examined that malice with an odd detachment. Strange, how his hate didn't manage to touch her anymore. Her mind was calm as she stared up at him. His hate could not hurt her anymore. For so long she had had to fight against this hate. It had frightened her and had even followed her into her dreams. Now, though, the hate could burn and rage, but she knew it would never touch her again.

As Hermione looked up into those cold red eyes, the fear was gone. She was not going to let him break her. He was Voldemort, an unspeakable monster, who only spread devastation and fear. But he was also Tom, a boy who had feelings and was human. The monster had somehow lost its horror.

With an effort, Hermione raised her arm. It hurt, but she didn't care. Blood was staining the hand she extended towards him. Voldemort seemed to be taken aback by her actions as he didn't immediately curse her when she cupped his cheek in her hand. Only his eyes widened slightly as she made contact with his skin. Otherwise his face remained to be completely free of any emotion. Hermione could still feel the tears running from her eyes, but she knew that her face mirrored the same indifference he was exhibiting. But unlike him, she wasn't putting up a mask anymore. Then she spoke. Her voice was rasped and soft, but it was also firm and deadly calm.

"Try as you might, I will not yield."

That was it, her truth. He was not going to win. She wouldn't let him. He might be stronger now regarding magical and physical strength, but aside from that he held no power over her.

As a reaction to her declaration, he tightened his grip on her collar to the point where she could barely breathe. There was still blood trickling from her mouth as she looked up at him. They stared at each other for a long time. If he wanted to end it now, she could do nothing to stop him, but she would never tell him what he wanted to hear. He could rage all he wanted, in the end he wouldn't get what he was seeking for.

As she looked up into his crimson eyes, she could suddenly feel a soft tickle of another presence in her mind. It was his mind that now brushed against hers. He obviously tried to legilimise her. Hermione should have been concerned now. Her magic was gone and with that her Occlumency shields. She was not able to keep him from entering her mind. She should be concerned,

…but she wasn't. Her mind was calm. He wouldn't be able to sort through her memories, because she had them under control. She could feel him searching in her mind, trying to find what he was seeking for. Her thoughts and memories, though, were like a vast ocean. He could plunge into them, but he wouldn't be able to get a grip of them. Whenever he reached something that could be of interest to him, Hermione calmly pushed it away from him, never disturbing the still surface of the ocean of memories, never leaving behind any tracks. Faced with her predominance, his attempts to force the essential memories from her were getting more and more violent. Her head started to hurt piercingly from his attacks as she could feel him ripping through that ocean, churning up its surface. His presence in her mind was pure hate, fury and anger as he ravaged through her memories. He was losing control over himself. Hermione, though, remained to be perfectly composed as she moved her memories calmly around him. The angrier he got, the easier it was to follow his destructive force and push the memories out of his reach. He was getting no-where.

He was losing.

As that thought – or more like, conviction – echoed through Hermione's mind, she suddenly felt his presence pulling itself completely from her mind. She blinked as she felt him retreating from her. Then she looked up at him. He was still bent over her while he grabbed her tightly by her collar. A blank mask concealed his every emotion. Only his eyes radiated off the familiar hate. It burned fiercer than ever, but its power was broken. The disdain, visible in the stare he hit her with, made her feel like burning to cinders. His hate was still overwhelming and horrible and cruel. But it did not touch her anymore. It could not disturb that peace of her mind.

She would not break.

Suddenly, he yanked her up by her collar. Hermione cried out in pain at the unexpected movement. He forced her up until her face was mere inches away from his.

"Do you really think a Mudblood could ever stand up to me?" he hissed at her in a low, dangerous voice, while the murderous glimmer never left his eyes. "You will never achieve anything. You are scum and you will always be scum. You are worth nothing."

As she locked eyes with him, Hermione couldn't stop it. It was completely out of place. But now a smile slowly curled up the corners of her mouth as she stared up at him. The smile never reached her eyes. It was cold and unconnected with any positive emotion, but it still was there, proclaiming her triumph.

She was free.

She could see his eyes widen marginally as he saw that smile on her face, but then Voldemort didn't say anything and just threw her at the floor. Her body screamed at her in pain as she collided hard with the flagstones of the floor. She raised her head slightly and just saw how he ended some spell he had cast previously. Maybe a notice-me-not charm, judging from his wand movements. Then he walked over to the entrance into the castle, but before he opened the door he turned around to her again. His fury and hate were still hidden behind a cold mask as his eyes wandered over her fallen form.

Voldemort opened his mouth, and his voice was disturbingly normal as he spoke. Still, Hermione could hear traces of his anger, lacing his words, "I advise you to not tell anyone about our little talk."

He turned and left Hermione lying on the platform. She wondered why he had stopped his attempt of forcing the truth out of her. But she knew that he would have never found out anything anyway. Maybe he had, for once, accepted his defeat. She didn't really care.

Her breathing was laboured as she remained lying on the ground. Her whole body hurt. It felt like her insides were broken somehow and her head hurt fiercely. But she could still feel it: a smile, tugging at the corners of her mouth.

It was impossible for him to win. He could do whatever he wanted, there would be no victory for him. Lord Voldemort was the most dangerous wizard she had ever met. In her past, he had always been this dark and shadowy menace. Something terrifying. Something that they had to stop but was actually too powerful and too evil to ever be defeated. A dark figure in the background, responsible for all things evil in the world. Now, though, this abstract picture of the dark monster was gone. It was broken, as much as the power his hate had had over her. He had lost, and he would always lose. In the future, he had thrown a whole country into war, he had tried to pull them all down into the darkness where only his hate existed. In the end, though, he had been defeated. People had fought and died to overcome him. From the start, he had been doomed. Here in the past, it was the same. He might be incredibly powerful and very resourceful, but that didn't change the fact that he would never win.

Hermione tried to get up into a sitting position. Her body protested against the movement and nausea hit her as she shakily sat up. But she had decided to just ignore the pains coming from her body. She grabbed the banister and pulled herself up. And the Scottish landscape was still there, she noticed. Unaffected and beautiful.

She reached into the pocket of her robe and produced a handkerchief out of it. She used it to wipe her face clean of all the blood and tears. There seemed to be a cut at the side of her head. She pressed the handkerchief against the cut to stop the bleeding. She would need the bruise and cut ointment later. And a painrelief potion. Hopefully there still was one of those in her trunk. She didn't want to go to the Hospital Wing. Hermione leaned her aching body against the banister. She felt shaky and weak.

How had he found out? Hermione shook her head slightly as she stared vacantly in front of her. She had tried so hard to cover up her tracks, but he had seen right through her. He now knew almost everything about her. No, not the most important part! He might know that she came from the future, but he didn't know anything about his own future. He didn't know about Harry or the prophecy. And she certainly would never tell him.

She breathed in deeply, causing her insides to throb painfully. She bit her lower lip sharply. It was only now as she had escaped him that she realized how much power Tom Riddle had always had over her. Back in her time period, he had dictated her whole life. Here, in the past, he had again dominated everything. How had he been able to control her so much?

Because I gave him that power! she answered her own question. That was over, though. She was not going to let his hate dictate her life any longer. He could still attack her, hurt her and maybe even kill her, but he would never break her. Maybe he had found out about her secrets, Hermione thought grimly. He did know where and when she came from, but what did that change? Nothing. The knowledge of the future was safe with her.

She again breathed in deeply. This time she ignored the sharp pain coming from her insides. Then she removed the handkerchief from the side of her head. It was soaked in blood and Hermione could feel new blood, trickling through her hair and down her temple. She folded the handkerchief anew and pressed it against the cut. Then she pushed herself away from the banister and stood unsupported. The pain still tore at her. Her whole body was sore. She staggered towards the entrance door anyway. She was going to head back for her dormitory. It was still early, if she was lucky, her dorm mates were still down in the common room or somewhere else. If she was really unlucky, then her friends would be down in the common room. They would surely ask her what had happened to her. If she hadn't lost her magic, she would have been able to just apparate into the dormitory. Then again if her magic wasn't down, she would probably not be so hurt.

Hermione walked towards her common room. Luckily the Gryffindor common room wasn't too far away from the Astronomy Tower. She didn't think she would be able to walk much longer. She limped to the common room, while trying to ignore the pain. Finally, she arrived before the portrait of the Fat Lady who seemed to be having a nap. Hermione stood before the portrait and breathed in deeply. Then she wiped with her handkerchief a last time over her temple. Hopefully there was no blood visible anymore. She cautiously knocked against the frame of the portrait. The Fat Lady opened her eyes, yawned and stretched her arms tiredly.

"Why do they always have to disturb my beauty sleep?" she complained accusingly to no-one in particular, then she looked at Hermione.

Hermione didn't reply anything but just whispered the pass word, "Nutria."

"All right, all right," the Fat Lady responded, her eyes already closed again.

The portrait sprung forward, thus admitting her in. Hermione entered the common room and was greeted by the noise of chatter. There were quite a few Gryffindors in the room. They were playing some card games, talking with their friends or just doing their homework . Hermione didn't pay them any attention but made her way towards the stairs leading to her dorm. Her body hurt all over and vertigo made her almost stumble. She just wanted to sit down and rest.

"Hermione, wait!" a voice suddenly yelled as she had almost reached the stairs.

Hermione suppressed a groan and turned towards that voice. Weasley was walking towards her.

"Hey, 'Mione," he said cheerfully as he had reached her.

"Hey," Hermione answered, trying to make her voice sound strong.

Now that she looked at the redhead in front of her, she noticed how she had problems focusing her eyes on him because she felt so dizzy.

"Did you see Marc anywhere?" Weasley asked. "We actually wanted to work on that essay for Kettleburn, but he never showed up."

"I… I think he's down… on the Quidditch pitch," Hermione answered. She couldn't prevent her voice from sounding heavy and somehow breathless. She really needed to sit down. The pain was unbearable.

"Hmm. The Quidditch pitch…" Weasley said contemplatively. Then his face lit up and he said, "That's a good idea. I think, I'll join him."

"Mhm," Hermione made. She really felt sick.

Weasley was just about to turn around as he hesitated. "Something wrong?" he asked worried. "You don't look good."

"…no," she replied and forced a reassuring smile on her face. "I've just got… got a head ache…that is all. I think I'll… lie down for a while."

"Oh. Okay," Weasley said, eyeing her still with concern shining in his eyes. "If you're sure."

"Yes, yes. Don't worry," Hermione replied.

There was blood slowly trickling from the wound on the side of her head. She quickly raised her hand and put it on her temple so Weasley wouldn't see the blood. She cast him another smile before she turned around and continued her way to the stairs. Pain ripped at her and Hermione moaned softly as she climbed the stairs. Then she finally reached her dorm and cautiously opened the door. Her dorm mates weren't here. She tumbled into the deserted room and breathed out in relief. She had made it.

With unsteady steps she limped towards her bed. Cautiously she sank down. As she bent to sit, she was instantly hit by a piercing pain which resulted into another fit of coughing. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, but that didn't stop tears of pain from running from them. She desperately tried to get her breathing back in control by taking in steady breaths of air. The pain deep inside her didn't completely vanish, but at least it eased to a more tolerable level. The coughing slowly subsided, though her breathing remained to be rattled. Hermione opened her eyes and released the murder grip she had had on the fabric of her blanket. This agony she was in scared her a bit. She had no idea what spells Tom had used on her. She hadn't recognized any of the curses he had thrown her way. It had clearly been Dark Magic, of that she was sure, but she had no idea of the extent of damage it had caused.

A sharp pain suddenly seared through her, mercilessly bringing her back to the problem at hand. She whimpered painfully and wrapped one arm around her stomach. It hurt and that still scared her, but hopefully she was already over the worst.

Maybe I should have gone to see Madam Dulan. But how would she explain her injuries? Madam Dulan would instantly know that Hermione had been hit by Dark Magic. And then what? Tell the truth? That her ex-boyfriend hated her to the point where he obviously wanted to see her dead?

Hermione swallowed hard at her bitter thoughts but there were no tears falling from her eyes. Tom had attacked her. She had been defenceless and hadn't even tried to strike back, but that hadn't stopped him in any way. Was she shocked by his cruelty? Yes. But was she surprised?

No.

In the end, he was Lord Voldemort. Of course he didn't have any scruples to hurl dark curses at another person. He wouldn't care if he injured anyone. He had attacked her. In his eyes, she was nothing more than a worthless Mudblood.

Hermione wiped with her hand over her face. She shook her head, as if to finally dispel her thoughts. It was horrible. Then again, everything he did, hurt, Hermione thought callously. She deserved something like this anyway. She should never have trusted him, and now she was paying the price for her sentimental mistake. She should really go to the Hospital Wing and show everybody what a twisted and evil man Tom Riddle really was. Instead of getting up from the bed, she just reached for her trunk and pulled it towards her. Then she angled her first aid kit out of the trunk. She opened the wooden box and started to sort through her somehow reduced stock but all she came up with was a bottle of painrelief potion. Without being able to cast any diagnostic spells, she didn't dare take the risk of worsening her condition by drinking random potions.

A painrelief potion was all she would dare to drink. She uncorked the bottle before she downed its content. She sighed in relief as she felt the sharp pain in her stomach and chest slowly subside. Then she relaxed slightly and leaned back in her bed.

Hardly five minutes had passed as suddenly a burning pain flared up in her and Hermione cried softly out. The burning intensified and the piercing pain returned with a vengeance. The pain got worse to the point where she started to feel sick. Hermione got up from the bed and hurried, as quickly as she could manage, over to the bathroom. Her head spun and the pain had a brutally tight grasp on her as she staggered to the toilet. She sank down on the tiles of the bathroom and had to throw up. Hermione gasped for air but neither the sickness nor that horrible pain left her, so she curled up into a ball to reduce the agony she was in. It seemed she was in for a rough night.

Her whole body hurt, but she didn't feel despaired. It had taken her a long time and she had had to sacrifice a lot on the way, but in the end she had prevailed. Finally, she had been able to break down that wall of fear and hate Lord Voldemort had erected around her. His hate would never touch her again.

She was free.

_._._._._

Tom sat on his bed in the Slytherin dorm and eyed the black wand in his hand suspiciously. He could feel his magic flowing pleasantly through the dark wood. It definitely was a fine wand. It felt easy in his hand and seemed to support his magic fairly well. He gave it a testing swish. His magic coursed promptly through the wand and formed into a spell. A book, lying on his desk, floated in the air. His Levitation charm worked quite good with the black wand. It almost felt as familiar as if he had used his own wand. Definitely a wand that supplemented with his magic, Tom thought as he looked at the wand, lying on the palm of his hand.

A good wand... but is it more than that? He hadn't felt anything special while using it. No boost of power, no incredible enhancement of his magic. He held the wand properly in his hand again and then summoned all his magic. The familiar angry current of power surged through him. It was so forceful that parts of his dark magic bristled viciously around his body. It was very powerful, but it was not changed at all. His magic was as it always had been.

He let the flow of magic die down as he looked annoyed at the black wand. If that stick of wood was indeed the most powerful wand ever created, then it certainly hadn't sworn allegiance to him. Why was that blasted wand serving the Mudblood but refused to work for him? Tom felt anger, bubbling up in him, and he closed his eyes to block out the sight of the wand. Now, the only thing he could see were her eyes. They were gazing at him. Pain was swimming in those brown eyes. There was more, though. Her eyes bored into him with an unbroken resolve. Even after he had beaten her, and after he had forcefully plunged into her very mind, she still refused to budge even an inch. She did not give him anything. She was never going to break. He couldn't win…

Tom's eyes flew open. That was utterly ridiculous! A Mudblood would never be able to resist him. He lowered his eyes. The black wand still lay innocently in his hand. This was so odd. He had won, hadn't he? Finally he had defeated Hermione. He had showed her that he was superior to her and had taken the wand from her. It had been a success. He had won!

But then why was that stabbing pain still in his chest? Why wasn't he satisfied, now that the wand was in his possession? Why did he feel so dejected? This had been his aim, hadn't it? The wand. He had wanted to own it because it was valuable and powerful. Since he had found out about Hermione's Muggle parents and about her possession of the Elder Wand, that well-known avidly feeling inside of him had shifted from Hermione to the wand. Now, he had obtained the wand, but it didn't feel like a success. He didn't feel satisfied at all and he didn't understand it.

He pensively let his index finger skim over the smooth black surface of the wand in his hand. It was polished and shiny. Obviously the Mudblood had taken good care of her wand. It was grotesque, he thought. She wasn't even supposed to own a wand. Yes! It was utterly disgusting, how all those Mudbloods were allowed to run around with a wand of their own. Tom wanted to, but strangely enough he wasn't able to muster neither fury nor indignation. It really wasn't a crime, that he had taken the wand from her, was it? He had done the magical world a favour by taking the wand from someone so impure.

Still, there was no feeling of triumph as he scanned the black wand in his hand. Instead, he wondered what Hermione was doing right now. Did she manage to reach the Hospital Wing? Or was she still lying on the Astronomy Tower? Suddenly, he felt the urge to go back to the tower himself and check. He shook his head in frustration. Why should he check on her? He didn't care! All he cared about was the wand, Tom decided angrily.

Was this small piece of wood really the Deathstick, the Unbeatable Wand? If so, then it had decided not to serve Tom. He furrowed his brow as he looked down at the wand in his hand. He had been so sure that this was the secret behind Hermione's impressive magic. She could do things with her magic even he was unable to compete with. Just now, even as he had apparently been the superior one, she had again proven that she could easily outdo him. He didn't have any chance to ever wrench her secrets from her by using Legilimency. There was no way a Mudblood could be stronger than him, the Heir of Slytherin. Tom had been so sure that it was the wand. He was disgusted with himself as he felt doubt, boiling up in him.

It just had to be true! In the future she had somehow managed to gain the Elder Wand. Why didn't its power work for him, though? Tom wondered angrily as he stared at the black wand. That the wand didn't react to him, frustrated him. Or rather it should frustrate him, but somehow he couldn't really concentrate on the wand in his hand. Instead, his thoughts flew back to Hermione. Was she still lying on the Astronomy Tower? He had used some very dark spells on her. She might be in need of help…

With a hiss of anger he slammed the black wand down on his bed and then glared at it darkly. Why would he care whether the Mudblood needed help? She didn't mean anything to him. She was beneath him, a lesser being. Yes, that was why he had attacked her, to finally show her how inferior she was. And he had succeeded.

Tom narrowed his eyes at the black wand lying on his bed as if he expected any objection from it. Of course, nothing came and Tom averted his eyes from the wand. He surely had won, but the expected feeling of triumph still didn't want to well up in him. Instead, he could again see the unbroken determination in Hermione's hazel eyes as she had stared at him. He could still feel her cold presence, wrapping around him, as he had searched through her mind. But he had defeated her, hadn't he? he thought in frustration. He had wanted to get the wand from her. His eyes wandered back to the black wand lying on the green quilt of his bed. And he had gotten the wand. That's all he had tried to get from her.

Ah, but that is not entirely true, a nasty voice hissed at him. Sure, he had wanted to steal the wand from her. But his main goal had been to make her tell him her every secret. He had expected her to submit to him. He had wanted to break her and prove that she was a worthless Mudblood, unable to resist him. He had cursed her, but Hermione hadn't broken down. She had refused to tell him anything. Tom had then decided to take the information directly from her mind. Again, Hermione hadn't divulged anything. He had been allowed to search through her mind, but he still hadn't managed to find anything.

Tom's eyes wandered over the black wood of her wand and he balled his hands into tight fists as realisation hit him.

He had lost.

{{{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}}}

Author's note: Another chapter. I am so sorry it took me so long. But you know... there was the world cup and... I had to watch it. Congratulations to Spain! I would have preferred Germany. But, well, you can't have all you want. ;-)

Now, to the chapter: Hope you could get over how cruelly Tom has attacked our Hermione. Sadly, at the current stage of the story, there wasn't much room for him to react otherwise.

I want to thank thisobsessioniscontagious and M3dUSa for being kind enough to become my beta readers. Thanks M3dUSa for correcting this chapter for me!^^

And, of course, a 'thank you' to everyone who took the time and wrote a review for me. I really love reading them. I feel bad not answering all of you, but be sure that I enjoy reading them very much.

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