"Shit, shit, shit." Hermione wrung her hands together. It was gone 9pm, she was hovering outside the Transfiguration classroom in the freezing cold courtyard, and she was doing her best to be inconspicuous. The disillusionment charm helped.
The entire weekend had been a washout. Rhonda had passed around the information that she was muggleborn, making her a pariah in her fellow Slytherins' eyes, and Dumbledore had done a spectacular job of avoiding her every time she tried to speak with him. She had tried to search the library again for any time-travel related information, and had also begun a new search on the Deathly Hallows, now that she had a name for the mark plaguing her unconscious moments. Her searches had been just as fruitless as before, turning up nothing useful.
But with the information she already had, a plan had begun to form in her mind. A reckless plan. A shot in the dark, really, but shots in the dark were all she had at her disposal.
Her dreams now consisted of simply watching Harry and Ron as they sat around in the tent and speculated on her disappearance. She knew that if she could get a message to them somehow, from the past to the future, then a line of communication could be set up. She needed them to visit Xenophilius Lovegood, the only other person in the future she knew had some knowledge of the Deathly Hallows – she was sure it was important somehow. Why else would Dumbledore chuck her out of his office so promptly?
Once she knew what she wanted to tell the boys, she needed to figure out how to tell them. She had racked her brains for a long while. She needed something that existed both in the future, with them, and now, with her. And then it had clicked.
A cold gust of wind blasted against her from over the dark grounds. Any minute now, she thought. Then at last the door to the classroom opened, and Dumbledore stepped out. She pressed herself harder against the stone wall to avoid detection. She watched and waited, too scared to breathe, as Dumbledore locked the door behind him, walked across the courtyard and disappeared into the main castle. Once she was sure he wasn't coming back for any reason, she turned to the classroom door.
"Alohomora," she whispered. She slipped inside without a sound.
She rushed across the room and to the back door, which opened into Dumbledore's cramped office.
"Lumos."
It took Hermione a little while, searching from bookshelf to bookshelf, before she found the book she was looking for. She gingerly pulled it down and sat at the desk. She ran her fingertips over the outer page; the embossed runes glinted in the wandlight, a little less worn-out than she knew them, but they still read the same words: 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'.
Having stolen what she had come here to steal, she exited the Transfiguration classroom as quietly as she could. The tingling in her fingertips indicated the disillusionment charm was starting to wear off. The plan now was to find a quiet place alone, write a message in the book for Harry and Ron, and see if it turns up in the future. It was risky business, meddling with time like this, but she didn't see what choice she had. Hermione just hoped that it didn't attract any unwanted - she shuddered at the thought of ghasts - attention. She reached up and clung to her necklace, praying it was enough to protect her in what she was about to do.
She was halfway back across the entrance hall when she collided with someone. She knew, without looking, exactly who that someone was.
"What are you doing?"
"What are you doing?"
"Whatever I like. I'm head boy," Tom growled. He clearly hadn't expected company this evening.
"Isn't it a bit late for a stroll, head boy?"
Her mocking tone pissed him off. He lunged forward and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her tightly into him. "I'm getting tired of you being under my feet all the time, little witch," he said, his grip tightening. Hermione fought against him, wriggling for her wand.
"Get off me!"
"Or what?"
"I'll curse you into next week, that's what!"
Tom barked out a laugh, releasing her. Hermione immediately yanked out her wand and pointed it at his throat.
"This, I'd like to see. Go on, Granger," he said, his gaze full of fire. "I dare you."
She didn't hesitate. "Expelliarmus!"
Tom deflected her easily. "Protego," he muttered, and her spell bounced away. "I've a feeling you can perform something much more potent than a disarming spell. Go on," he baited her.
"Titillando!"
This time Tom dived out of the way, and shot her a counter-attack.
"Ventus!"
Hermione screeched and lunged behind a suit of armour. The spell bounced off the armour, hitting the wall behind Tom's head and taking a large chunk out of it. The cracking sound echoed around the room.
"My, my! You need to brush up on your counter-jinxes, Granger! That was an easy one!" He then threw two silent jinxes her way, each one bouncing off the brickwork either side of her as she cowered behind cover. Not wanting him to have too much of an advantage, Hermione pointed her wand at the back of the suit of armour's head. "Oppugno!" She cried.
The suit picked up its sword and ran, clanging and banging, towards Tom. Delighted surprise lit up his face as he dodged it.
"Intuitive!" He laughed, transfiguring the suit into a harmless rubber duck.
Hermione felt a wave of both fury and pride at his words. Fury, because he was belittling her like she was his pupil, learning the tricks of the trade. Pride, because the darkest wizard of all time was impressed with her duelling skills.
Now that she had no cover, Tom turned his wand on Hermione. Impressed as he might be, he wasn't about to lose the fight.
"Don't even think about it, Riddle," Hermione muttered to herself. She darted sideways past him, throwing a silent hex as she went. He just about yelled "Protego!" in time.
"If you play dirty, then I play dirty, witch," shouted Tom, as Hermione crouched low behind the banister of the marble staircase.
One, two, three, four spells came flying at the top of her head, carving out chunks of the marble in front of her. She covered her eyes from the dust. She would have just run out and faced him, but she didn't trust her own shield charm against his assaults. If she could only catch him off-guard...
Hermione took a bold move and stood from her hiding place. She drew a deep breath to cast her hex-
"WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU BOTH DOING? THROWING SPELLS AROUND – AND AT THIS HOUR!" The shrill shrieking of Professor Merrythought stopped them both in their tracks. They turned to her, wincing.
"How dare you! Look at the damage you've done to the walls!" She was incoherent for a minute as she surveyed the little piles of dust and rubble around them.
"Detention. Double-detention. You are both going to have so much detention, you won't see the outside world until after Christmas!"
Tom turned on the waterworks. "But, Professor... You know how much I struggle with my emotions sometimes... Being raised in that orphanage..."
Merrythought started to back down in front of the forlorn young man. "I quite understand, Tom, but this is taking it a little too far..."
"Exactly! Wouldn't you agree that this is out of character for me? I humbly, deeply apologise. I get so worked up when I think of that awful place, I didn't mean to-"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, you think your life is so tragic," she snapped. She could hear the edge in her voice but couldn't help it; he brought something out in her that, if she was honest, scared her half to death.
"Don't you dare talk to me like that," he snarled, and the thrill of competition rose once again in Hermione's chest. She had prodded the wasp nest.
"Stop it, at once!" Shouted Merrythought, none too early – Tom was again raising his wand towards her, and Hermione had a white-knuckle grip on her own. "If you two young ones cannot get along, we'll have to figure something out to make you."
...
The something, it turned out, surprised both Tom and Hermione alike.
...
"Welcome to the Hogwarts Dramatic Arts Society!" Crowed Professor Beery at them the next day, as they entered a disused classroom on the fourth floor.
"Heaven, spare me," Tom muttered under his breath.
The room was decorated ceiling to floor with multi-coloured silk curtains, and was littered with broken stage props, battered old trunks overflowing with costumes, and in the middle stood a wild array of students ranging from first to seventh year. They all smiled and waved in greeting, looking just as painfully cheerful as Beery himself.
"Come in, come in!" Said Beery. "I know this is meant to be a punishment, but there can be no punishment when it comes to the sweet, sweet caresses of the theatre!" He clapped his hands together. Hermione and Tom walked carefully into the room, taking their place next to the other students.
"Now, everyone, where were we? Ah, yes! We were discussing what show to perform this year!"
"I still think that The Fountain of Fair Fortune is the best option, Herbert! Maybe our new guy and gal here can take the lead, as well," one of the students said with far too much enthusiasm.
Hermione did a double-take. Herbert?
"Don't look so shocked, my dear!" Beery said to her. "I always encourage my students to call me by my first name. Don't consider me a teacher when you're with us at the Dramatic Arts Society… consider me one of your friends," he winked. Hermione tried to smile back at him, but found she couldn't muster the energy.
"Aaaand yes, Colin, that is an excellent suggestion. Miss Granger and Mr Riddle can play our leads, since they're new. We don't break anyone in gently round here, do we chaps?" Beery laughed and so did the others.
Hermione felt as though the rug had been pulled from underneath her. She started to protest. "While Tom and I think your pantomimes are probably great, Professor-"
"Herbert," interrupted Beery.
"Um, yes, Herbert… While we think that your work is really good, we are actually here for detention. We shouldn't be in the play itself."
Tom, clearly not keen on the limelight either, backed her up. "I completely agree with Miss Granger, Professor," he said.
"Herbert." Beery's eyes twinkled with the tiniest bit of annoyance.
"Yes, Herbert," Tom ground out through gritted teeth. "We're here for detention only. Write lines. Clean things. All of that."
"O-ho! Look what we have here, chaps!" Beery grinned round at the drama students. Hermione shuddered at the glee on all their faces.
"Introverts! Introverts!" They all chimed.
"I'm sorry?" Said Tom, looking alarmed at all of the talking in unison.
"In-tro-verts! A male and female Apollo, right here! We do not accept shyness at the Dramatic Arts Society. No, we do not," Beery tutted, shaking his head at Tom and Hermione. "Now, I have a splendid idea for the two of you. Not only will you be my leads, but we will be performing The Warlock's Hairy Heart."
The drama students cooed around them.
"The Warlock's Hairy what?" Tom's mouth was pulled down in disgust.
"I see it now!" Beery said, gripping Hermione and Tom by the shoulders and pushing them together. Hermione was hit with a wave of that cedarwood aftershave. "The dashing, clever young warlock, who sees any and all emotions as a weakness, trying his best not to fall in love… And then he meets a fair young maiden," he smiled down at Hermione. "Who is both fascinated and disgusted with the warlock at first… she says she will fall in love with him only if she knows he has a heart…"
"Is this going somewhere?" Asked Tom, his voice like a knife-edge.
"Oh, and that warlock showed her his heart, which had been locked away for many years," Beery continued, ignoring any interruptions. "So many years, in fact, that the warlock's heart had grown old and hairy!"
"No! What happened then!" Cried the drama students.
"The warlock can no longer use his old heart, he must take a fresh one… And he betrays his beloved, and rips out her heart for himself!"
Hermione glanced up at Tom. He was looking down at her, his face unreadable.
"But he could not handle the power that came from both of them, and so he dies, a heart held woefully in each hand!"
The students burst into applause. Hermione couldn't believe the ridiculous situation she had got herself in.
The rest of the evening was spent writing up scripts and trying on costumes. Tom seemed to be deliberately avoiding her gaze, his face impassive as Beery danced around him. She was glad when the 'detention' was finally over, and they could leave. She and Tom walked down to the Slytherin common room in stony silence. Only when they were each heading to their dormitories did he speak to her.
"Goodnight, Granger."
She turned to look at him so fast her neck cricked. The fierce curiosity was back, smouldering in his dark eyes. She knew who he was, and yet she couldn't help herself from replying.
"Goodnight, Riddle."
She watched him disappear into the boy's dormitory. She was alone, at last.
Surreptitiously, Hermione pulled the copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard out of the pocket of her robes, where it had been hiding since last night. It was time to carry out her experiment. She grabbed a spare quill and ink bottle from a coffee table and sat down by the fireplace.
She started to write on the back page… Then stopped herself. If she left a note now, one that she needed Harry and Ron to read in the future, wouldn't she have noticed it herself? Every time she picked up the gift from Dumbledore, she would have seen her own note. And that would have created a paradox.
Stumped, Hermione put down her quill. If she didn't remember the note, it had never been written. Unless…
Hermione flipped back to the front of the book, and using a transfiguration spell, added in extra pages. She then cast a charm over them to make them invisible. Now nobody could see her hidden notes, unless they were specifically hunting for them. She would figure out a way to get the boys actually doing the hunting later. One step at a time.
She bent over the hidden pages and wrote down her instructions. She knew she would only get one shot at this.
It's Hermione. Horcrux made me time travel, stuck in 1944. Go & talk to Xenophilius Lovegood. Ask him about Deathly Hallows. Need to know what they are.
Hermione paused. Her eyes swam with tears as she wrote,
Ron, I forgive you for leaving. Thank you for coming back.
She swallowed the lump in her throat.
Be careful. X
Hermione double-checked her invisibility charms, and then snapped the book shut. She left the common room and went straight to bed. Hermione pulled up the covers and closed her eyes tightly, cradling the book close to her chest.
"Fall asleep," she murmured to herself. "Go on, fall asleep..."