Part 7
Dumbledore's office was a madcap as usual. Metallic instruments of indeterminate origin whirled and pinged. Past Headmasters peered from under their lids as they pretended to sleep and the scent of lemon drops pervaded the air. Garishly colored or printed cushions only added to visual mayhem. Not for the first time, Hermione wondered whether the office was a carefully contrived front, or the natural result of nearly a century of teaching in a wizarding school. If the latter was true, Hermione swore never to don Professorly robes.
"You're looking at Dumbledore's office as if you expect something to jump out and bite you."
The familiar tenor was laced with dry humor. Hermione turned to regard the speaker. Tom Riddle seemed as unruffled ever. It was a talent that Hermione was beginning to resent and covet. She certainly wished she could look as confidant as that. Her earlier doubts were busy hatching butterflies in her stomach and she was certain it showed.
"You never know with Dumbledore," Hermione finally replied.
"I suppose that's true. We should count ourselves lucky, then, that mangy bird of his isn't here. I don't think it likes me."
"Here I thought you'd be Fawks' favorite person," Hermione said wryly.
"It's me that ought to keep a grudge. He did blind my basilisk."
"A tragedy, I'm sure."
They lapsed into silence. Tom watched the girl surreptitiously as possible, all the while wondering where Dumbledore had gotten to. He doubted that the Headmaster's absence was coincidence. Well, it didn't matter. It gave him time to mend what their argument had destroyed. A little annoyed at the girl's uncomfortable pacing, Tom sighed heavily.
"Sit down, Granger. I won't bite and we need to talk."
"Except with words, but then the same goes for me," Hermione replied tiredly.
"That is exactly why we need to talk."
She couldn't deny that and so Hermione sank down into one of the chair before Dumbledore's desk. Beside her, Tom also sat. He rested his head on one of his hands and regarded her with a slit gaze. Hermione had the feeling that she was being assessed but then she was doing the very same to Riddle. Ginny and the others had returned her sense of hope but this first meeting after last night, would be difficult no matter how optimistic she was feeling. Hermione had honestly expected Riddle to be all barbs and stings. A relatively jovial Tom Riddle wasn't something she'd expected. The more cynical part suspected that was exactly why he was acting that way. It certainly was effective but Hermione wasn't going to let him wrong foot her again.
"Well?" Hermione prompted, wanting him to make the first move.
"The way we acted last night was below us."
Hermione felt her eyes widen in surprise.
"What? You thought I was incapable of admitting when I was wrong?"
"Something like that," Hermione replied honestly.
"There is a lot you don't know about me, Granger. I suppose the same applies to you and because of that I'm sure we'll step on each others toes again. I have a temper and I don't... react well when it's roused," Tom spoke flatly.
"No, you don't. Temper or no, I'm not going to let myself, or those I love be insulted," Hermione replied.
"Just as I won't stand for your insipid self-righteousness," Tom snapped and then visibly gathered himself. "I am trying, Granger, I truly am, but if we are going to be forced into each others company for the rest of our lives, perhaps we need to set down some rules."
"Maybe we should just promise not to insult each other," Hermione grumbled.
"Do you really think that's possible?"
"No," Hermione admitted with reluctance. "I would like to believe, however, we can act our age."
"A delusion I'm rather fond of myself," Tom murmured.
Not even five minutes in her company and his peace of mind was shattered. Tom gritted his teeth. At least he had managed to maneuver her where he'd wanted... so far. That was some solace. The problem was that he disliked having to yield anything. He'd had enough of that as a child. Now he was being force to accept this foolish girl as a partner. Tom refused to consider the word 'equal' in regards to her. No matter how clever, she was a mudblood and that was all she would ever be, Tom reminded himself.
"What rules were you thinking of?" Hermione asked.
"First we must try to avoid personal insults. I'm sure we have enough to throw at each other without adding that."
"I can agree to that," Hermione replied.
"Then we should... advise the other if our conversation turns to subjects that we feel strongly about."
It was almost amusing how close their conversation was coming to sounding like something from a book on communication for couples. Hermione caught the almost hysteric chuckle just as it left her throat. Unofficial as it was, they were suffering from an arranged marriage. The whole situation seemed too strange to be true. Rubbing at her eyes tiredly, Hermione wished she was anywhere but where she was.
Riddle's suggestions were logical. They would argue and they had to find some way of surviving it. She had known these were the kinds of compromises they would have to make. That it was Riddle who was the one to bring it up was good. That helped her to avoid the pitfall of having to cajole Riddle into making a concession. At least he was willing to do some of the work, if only for his own good. Hermione managed an agreement and was not sure of what to think of the pleased quirk of lips her response gained.
"Ah, it's good to see you are working out your differences," Dumbledore's voice said from the entryway. "I apologize for being delayed. Peeves was misbehaving again."
The Headmaster's arrival was not as welcome as Hermione thought it would be. Hermione had the sneaking feeling that he'd been eavesdropping on their conversation. She wasn't surprised to see her distrust mirrored on Riddle's face. While she did her best to cover up her reaction to Dumbledore's meddling, Riddle was all too happy to let his displeasure show. Taking a breath, she waited for a scathing retort from the Slytherin. It surprised her when he remained silent while Dumbledore settled behind his desk.
"Now, why don't you tell me how you're doing this fine morning?" Dumbledore said as he proffered a platter of lemon drops.
"We're perfectly fine, Headmaster," Hermione said politely and refused a sweet.
"Good, good. I'm aware that you haven't had breakfast yet, so I will have the house elves bring something up to us."
"It would be better if you just told us what we need to know," Tom said with barely restrained annoyance.
"Certainly but I think explanations will go over better with some crumpets and jam."
With as much patience as she could muster, Hermione nodded and accepted the plate that was offered her when a house elf popped into the office. Crumpets were not her choice of breakfast foods but Hermione ate them anyway. When Dumbledore acted the way he was, there was little choice but to go along with his whims. It also suggested that he was up to something and Hermione was careful to keep herself on alert.
"Now, I'm sure you have noticed that the bond has had some interesting effects. I'm afraid that you'll be a little temperamental for a while longer yet," Dumbledore said.
"You knew this and you didn't tell us?" Riddle questioned.
"It would have been nice to have been told," Hermione agreed.
"The side-effects of a newly formed bond are varied. The most common are either heightened emotional volatility or a sense of lassitude. From what the portraits from the Heads' suite say, it seems to be the former."
The remnants of his good mood from maneuvering the Granger girl where he wanted her, vanished. Tom clenched his hands into fists, just so he could feel the sting of his nails against his palms. The slight pain anchored him to something other than the rage that pulsed at his temples. He'd woken to a nightmare but he'd played along. He'd even told himself that the humiliations forced upon him were passing. Most of all he'd scraped together what dignity he had left. This latest deception was too much.
"You've been spying on us!" Riddle spat, jolting to his feet.
"For your own good," Dumbledore agreed evenly. "While I hope the best will come from this, I cannot ignore the possibilities for conflict that arise from the initial creation of the bond."
"I'm tired of your interference, old man," Tom hissed. "Isn't it enough that you've turned me into some kind of pet and leashed me to your precious mudblood?"
When the slur passed Riddle's lips, Hermione stiffened in anger. She was inclined to ignore it, however, as it was directed towards Dumbledore. It was impossible for her not to agree that Dumbledore had yet again purposefully manipulated them. Undoubtedly, Dumbledore had her safety in mind but Hermione found it difficult to forgive the highhanded way he'd conducted himself.
Why had Dumbledore done it? What could be gained from not telling them? Hermione wasn't sure what to think. All they had done was argue. That argument had pulled all their differences out into the open. Was that what Dumbledore had wanted? Hermione realized that was a very likely. Reluctantly, Hermione realized that he'd been right. Pretending those differences didn't exist would have inevitably caused problems later on. As for the spying... if they'd known they were being watched, Hermione doubted they would have been so free with their words or actions. Looking at Tom, who was fairly vibrating with rage, Hermione realized he was about to do something rash.
"Tom," Hermione said in a soft but firm voice.
The scowling boy turned and fixed her with an indignant look. Standing, Hermione laid a hand on his arm and pleaded with her eyes for him to understand. Their truce was yet a fragile thing and he had little reason to trust her judgment but she had try. For a long moment, Hermione thought he would ignore her mute appeal. Riddle was clearly infuriated that she would dare interfere but slowly she could see his control over his temper return. He nodded sharply before shrugging off her hand and returning to his chair.
"I understand why you did it, Headmaster, but it is difficult not to be angry. There is only so far that we can be pushed and we've found our limit. If there is anything you haven't told us... now would be a good time to tell us," Hermione said, in a cold tone she'd never though she would use on the Headmaster.
"You'll be glad to know that there is nothing more I am concealing up my sleeve," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling. "Why don't we discuss the operation of the bond?"
That they didn't quite believe Dumbledore went without saying. The Headmaster seemed to sense that and his eyes gleamed all the more. He began with a more elaborate outline of the bond's history before delving into the more practical aspects. Hermione found the history fascinating but rather typical of Roman Wizarding culture. The different Houses and factions were constantly feuding and without ironclad alliances and contracts, they might have wiped themselves out totally. She just wished the bond was a little less restrictive.
"So we can't be more than a mile apart in any direction?" Hermione verified.
"That is correct. I realize that this might be difficult at certain times and there are certain methods of extending the distance for a short time. I will show you those shortly."
"Exactly how is our proximity enforced? Are we physically incapable of moving further?" Tom questioned.
"Ah, I was expecting one of you to ask that. I think the best way to answer that is through a demonstration. Why don't we adjourn to the lake."
Once they had assembled by the lakeshore, Dumbledore instructed them walk away from each other in a line, along the bank. They were to keep walking as far as they could. Hermione did this without complaint, curious as to what would happen once they reached the end of their metaphysical tether.
After a few minutes of walking, she began to feel edgy. Soon the feeling bloomed into full-fledged nervousness. Her stomach twisted and cramped with nausea and her heart began to palpitate. There was something nagging at her as if she'd forgotten something she desperately needed. Breath coming in gasps, Hermione forced herself forward, whimpering at the effort. Desperately, she wanted to rush the other way but she pushed herself onward. Merlin, she had to turn back! Unable to help herself, Hermione spun and dashed back the way she came.
The horrible feeling gripping her seemed to magnify, just as it promised to ease, but she couldn't stop moving. Then, finally she collided with something. Instinctively she grabbed out at what she'd stumbled into and suddenly the world righted itself. Relief washed through her and she sobbed as she clung to the source of her comfort. Panting from the strength of the release, she slowly regained control of her faculties. When she did, Hermione realized she was clinging to Tom's robes. Her face prickled with embarrassment but if he hadn't been bruising her ribs with his embrace, she would have been far more humiliated. As one they pulled away and looked away.
"I think you understand that particular property of the bond," Dumbledore said with aplomb.
Trying to ignore the fact she'd been clinging to a teen Voldemort as if he was her teddy bear, Hermione fixed her gaze steadfastly on Dumbledore. Her head clear, she began to analyze what she'd felt. It was very similar to a panic or anxiety attack. She guessed that it had begun as they passed the mile mark until the bond had compelled them back. That it hadn't eased until they'd made physical contact was very telling.
"We had to touch to end the induced panic," Hermione began with a blush. "Is that because of the bond's foundation in sex and blood magic?"
"As insightful as always, Miss Granger. It is not physical contact precisely that ends the panic. Rather, physical contact is the medium through which your magic blends."
"That suggests that if there was another way to transfer our magical auras, then we could more easily exceed the mile mark," Tom replied quickly.
"You are correct, Tom, but it is only temporary and will greatly exhaust you. You might also have noticed that the symptoms of separation can be withstood to a degree, allowing you greater freedom at a price. That is what you must learn to do first."
The dismay she clearly saw on Riddle's face matched her own. What she'd just experienced had been thoroughly unpleasant. It was not something she wanted to repeat anytime soon. The necessity of it, however, was self-evident. They had to control the bond, rather than the reverse. If they didn't, then they would have to rush back to touch each other the moment they accidentally moved further than a mile away.
With resolve, she let Dumbledore put them through their paces. He had them move to various distances outside the mile mark and stay there for increasing amounts of time before they were allowed to turn back. By the time he was done with them, Hermione was a sweating, shaking mess. Even Riddle looked worse for wear, his customary unruffled exterior nowhere to be seen. At least they had come to endure an additional distance with better control. The embarrassing clutching had reduced in frequency too. Now all that they needed was a far more dignified holding of hands to end the panic.
"I think you both deserve a good rest. We've worked past lunch and you'll need your strength for tonight. After classes are done for the day, you'll need to make an appearance at dinner. I intend to introduce Mr Riddle to the rest of Hogwarts. Then Professor Snape will continue your instruction."
"What will he be teaching us?" Hermione asked.
"I'm sure he'll tell you, Miss Granger. We'll continue on tomorrow morning. Just keep in mind that you will only be able to exceed the mile limit to the bond if you are both willing to allow it," Dumbledore replied with a significant look towards Tom.
Wearily, Hermione nodded, purposefully ignoring the subtle message that accompanied Dumbledore's parting remark. Together they made their way back to the castle and their rooms. They were both too tired to talk or argue, which Hermione was grateful for. Her whole body ached and she felt strangely numb after so much emotional upheaval. Back in her rooms she flopped on the bed. With great effort she managed to set her alarm for a half an hour before dinner before she collapsed into sleep.
From the stiffness of Riddle's shoulders, he had not forgotten the awkward side effects they'd experienced earlier in the day. The few short hours they'd had to rest seemed to only highlight their earlier activities. The hugging and whimpering were not among Hermione's favorite recollections, either, but she had given up fretting about it. They had both made fools of themselves and it wasn't as if they'd had a choice. Not to mention that they'd probably have to do it again under Dumbledore's direction. Alas, Riddle, ever mindful of his dignity, was not so accepting of what happened.
"Oh relax, would you!" Hermione growled in frustration. "I won't mention it if you don't."
"Easy for you to say, I'm sure you're quite loose with your charms," Riddle replied acidly.
That did it.
"I'd think you'd know very well that isn't the case. If you can deal with Dumbledore and the other professors watch us shag, you can get over a little hugging!" Hermione barked defensively
"Figures you'd be an exhibitionist," Riddle growled shiftily.
"You're unbelievable! I can't believe this bad mood of yours is because of that. What is it that you're really upset about?" Hermione snarled back, sensing something else was bugging the young Slytherin.
"Dumbledore's office."
Hermione rocked back on her heels. With everything that had happened since, she'd almost forgotten. The tight tone of Tom's response made her want to twitch uncomfortably. Had she overstepped herself and their truce? That he had gone along with her request suggested that she hadn't but of course the prickly boy wouldn't let it go easily, particularly not after their ego bruising lessons in controlling the bond. Biting her lip, Hermione wondered if he had ever differed to someone else's judgment before. Surely he'd had to- Professors if no one else?
"Ah," Hermione replied with a lack of finesse.
"Yes, 'ah'!" Riddle replied crossly. "What possessed you to think that you could interrupt me?"
"You were about to lose your temper."
"Whether I lose my temper or not, is none of your business."
"It is when you might do something unforgivable," Hermione retorted.
"Do you really think I lack such self-control!"
"Yes!" Hermione yelled.
The straining muscles of Riddle's jaw made Hermione's teeth ache in sympathy.
"You're a bossy, sanctimonious fool just like your precious Headmaster!" Riddle bit out.
"And you're a hypocritical, egomaniac with a chip on his shoulder!"
They both paused, their anger fizzling out. Exactly how they'd degenerated into childish name-calling, Hermione didn't know. They'd been sniping at each other all day to relieve their frustration but what had just come out of their mouths was outrageous. Abashed by what's she'd said, Hermoine prayed it had been the side effect of the bond. Not that the argument had been particularly mature in the first place.
"Feel better now?" Hermione asked dryly.
"A little," Riddle admitted, sharing her self-depreciating tone.
"We better leave. Dinner will begin soon," Hermione muttered uncomfortably.
"And we wouldn't want to disappoint Dumbledore," Riddle acquiesced reluctantly.
They entered the Great Hall side by side. The whole population of Hogwarts was soon staring at the unfamiliar presence within the heart of the ancient school. With the paranoia engendered by the war, any new arrival was looked upon with great suspicion. Tension seemed to reverberate through the Hall and more than a few hands reached for concealed wands. Hermione found it disconcerting. Riddle seemed to take the attention as if it was his due. With a lopsided smile, Hermione reminded herself it had been his dream to inspire fear from the wizarding population.
Dumbledore stood and moved to welcome them, neatly defusing any possibility for conflict. They were promptly led to the Head Table where Hermione took her usual seat and Tom was directed to the Head Boy's chair. Several professors nodded in greeting, which told Hermione that Dumbledore had already informed them of Riddle's fabricated reason for being at Hogwarts.
"Attention everyone," Dumbledore spoke up. "I would like to introduce you to Mr Tom Riddle. He is here to do complete a research project in Defense of the Dark Arts. I sure you'll make him welcome."
Students obediently clapped when Dumbledore indicated. Hermione could see Harry, Ron and Ginny scowl and whisper but they did nothing to indicate Riddle's presence was anything unusual. A sliver of apprehension Hermione wasn't even aware she'd been feeling, eased. Snatching a glance to Riddle who was sitting beside her, she saw him coolly survey the House tables. A casual observer would never have noticed the special interest he paid to the Slytherin table, but Hermione saw it.
Whether his interest in Slytherin House was of concern or not, Hermione couldn't tell. A multitude of reasons for his attention could be found. Hermione wondered if it was wise to assume the worst. Then again a little paranoia never hurt anyone, especially when dealing with someone well on the way to becoming a Dark Lord. She would have to watch and see if he tried to get into contact with anyone. A revival of the Death Eaters was the last thing she needed.
"I would also like to announce that our Head Girl is going to be completing a project of her own. With the expert help of Professor McGonagall, Miss Granger will attempt the animagus transformation," Dumbledore continued.
Another round of polite applause filled the hall. This time her friends' applause were wholehearted. Hermione couldn't help but smile. They knew very well she was already an animagus. So were the boys and Ginny had resolved to complete her own transformation by the end of her seventh year. Still, it was nice to have their support.
"Now, enjoy your meal and have a good evening," Dumbledore finished and food appeared at all of the tables.
Knowing that Snape ate quickly and would want to begin their lessons as soon as he finished, Hermione ate lightly. The food was as wonderful as always but she found she couldn't appreciate it. Hermione hoped that whatever Snape had in store for them wasn't as physically demanding as their earlier lesson. Her nap had restored her energy somewhat but she was still tired. As she finished the last bite of her berry tart, Snape flounced his way towards them.
"I expect you in my office immediately. Don't dawdle."
"Is he always so unpleasant?" Riddle asked as they hurriedly excused themselves.
"Usually he's worse. I suspect you won't be his favorite person," Hermione replied.
"Oh?"
"He was a Death Eater."
"Snape was one of mine and Dumbledore let him teach?" Tom asked incredulously.
"He was Dumbledore's spy," Hermione corrected.
"So he is a traitor," Tom said flatly.
"I really, really suggest you don't say that to his face," Hermione said with wide eyes.
"Afraid of that poor excuse for a Slytherin?"
"Professor Snape knows how to keep a grudge and he can be very unpleasant if he chooses. Don't underestimate him, Riddle. We don't need to complicate our lives further."
"Pity. He looks as if he knows how to use his wand."
"You want to duel Snape?" Hermione asked in shock.
"I admit it occurred to me. I can recognize the Dark Arts in him and I find myself curious."
Hermione found it difficult to restrain her misgivings. From experience, she knew that Snape was a very vicious dueler. He had helped train Harry, Ron, Ginny and herself and even after their training was complete, only Harry had been able to defeat the potions master regularly. Hermione still found him a challenge. A part of her was curious to see how the once future Dark Lord would do, pitted against a man who had survived years of service to his older self.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Hermione cautioned.
"Probably not, but where is your Gryffindor sense of adventure?" Riddle sneered.
"Where's your Slytherin sense of caution?" Hermione retorted.
Any reply Riddle might have made was lost as Snape appeared from within his office, glowering and irritated. Hermione prayed that he'd not heard their full conversation. She suspected that Riddle wouldn't be able to help himself when it came to Professor Snape. If she wasn't mistaken, he considered Snape something of a challenge. By the way Snape was scowling at Riddle, the feelings were reciprocated. Hermione only hoped she would be able to avoid the fallout.
"I said not to dawdle. Gossiping in the corridors like first years, qualifies dawdling," Professor Snape drawled with malice.
"I'm sorry, sir," Hermione replied, knowing there was no argument they could make that would divert his bile.
"Get in and sit down," Snape demanded.
"Yes, sir," Hermione spoke up again before Riddle could open his mouth.
Snape's office had a sense of permanence that Dumbledore's did not. The walls were bare of tapestries or portraits and radiated chill. Without padding or embellishment, the furniture was austere and impersonal. Except for the odd addition to the collection of embalmed creatures, the potion's professor did not suffer alterations to his carefully organized domain. Hermione found herself longing for the cheerful chaos of Dumbledore's office.
"You are here to learn the foundation on which your later work with the bond will be based upon," Snape pronounced.
"And what, pray tell, is that?" Tom asked with the slightest hint of challenge.
"Watch your lip, Mr Riddle. I will not tolerate insolence. What you will be learning is how to focus and draw upon your magic. Miss Granger is already familiar with some of these techniques. I will have to ascertain where your understanding is lacking."
"I think you will find that my... understanding is quite adequate."
Tom's purr promised bad things. A shiver went up Hermione's spine. The two men eyed each other with glacial defiance. Hermione wanted to bury her face in her hands and groan. The conflict she'd dreaded was now a certainty. She just hoped that seven years of potions with Harry had tempered her endurance enough for her to deal with two pigheaded Slytherins. Finally the staring contest ended with a draw and Snape began to pace the length of the room as he lectured.
The subject of the lecture was familiar to Hermione. In her third year, she had read the theory of sensing, focusing and then drawing on magic. Such abilities could enhance many forms of magic and so Hermione had done her best to teach herself how to do it. It wasn't until the summer between the sixth and seventh year that she'd been tutored in it formally. Her rudimentary abilities had blossomed and Hermione had been surprised by how much of a difference it could make. It also helped her to grow into her magic faster than most, something much needed in a war.
"Now, I want you to both draw and hold your magic."
Taking a deep breath, Hermione closed her eyes focused herself inward. Her mind obeyed and she could feel the pulse of life within her body. Easing deeper within herself she felt the hum of her magic. It welled from deep within her soul, silken against her mental caress. Immersing her awareness into the quicksilver pool of her magic, Hermione drew it outward until she opened her eyes once more. As always it felt as if she had been gone far longer than the barest instant the mental journey had really taken.
Filled with her magic, if she concentrated, Hermione would be able to see the glow of Professor Snape's wards and the residue left from spilled potions and old spells. Not wanting to be distracted, Hermione refrained. Finally, Hermione turned to Riddle and her breath caught.
Only the strongest of wizards and witches had physical manifestations of their magic. Such manifestations were rare and usually only occurred when the witch or wizard was drawing significantly on their power. Even then, most only manifested when using their magic in the area they were most talented. That was why Professor Snape had greasy hair when making potions and Kingsley Shacklebolt seemed to radiate warmth when dueling.
Manifestations that were present to a degree when a witch or wizard wasn't channeling their magic were something very different. That was the indication of a truly great degree of power. When developed to the highest extent, such manifestations would become permanent. That was why Dumbledore's eyes always seemed to twinkle. Until now, Hermione hadn't realized that Voldemort's red eyes were his manifestation. She had simply assumed that they were the result of the magical transformations he'd gone through. She now chastised herself for not realizing sooner.
The crimson orbs that regarded her curiosity sent a chill up her spine. All too clearly she remembered the flecks of red that remained in Tom's eyes even when he wasn't channeling his magic. Snape was not so unaffected either. He had paled a little before hiding behind a sneer. Calming herself, Hermione ran a hand through her hair. The spark and flash of electricity followed the path of her hand. Riddle's eyes traced the movement with interest.
Hermione had been much chagrined when she'd found out her manifestation was her hair. She had always been self-conscious of the wild mane that refused to be tamed except by the strongest of charms. According to Dumbledore the reason it was so bushy was because it was the beginnings of a permanent manifestation. That news had both embarrassed and pleased her. She would never have Dumbledore's, or even Harry's level of raw power but if she developed her magic, it would be nothing to sneer at.
"So that's why it's always such a mess," Riddle remarked.
"Better than a glorified case of pink eye," Hermione bit out.
"Enough! You'll keep your foolish bickering out of my classroom," Snape interrupted.
Abashed at how her tongue had, yet again, gotten away from her, Hermione forced her attention back to the professor. He guided them through a series of more complex exercises meant to build control of their magic. They had to draw and release different amounts of energy and then direct it to their hands, feet or whatever body part Snape could think of. Then they had to focus on making their auras visible and retract and extend them.
Snape watched them all the while with beady, avaricious eyes, waiting for the slightest mistake. It made the whole procedure an even more daunting trial, for all her experience with Snape's looming presence. During the lesson, Riddle seemed to take great pleasure in performing perfectly. This, combined with Riddles overly innocent expression, made Snape all the more irritable and determined to see Riddle falter. By the time they were released, Hermione was teetering on the brink of absolute collapse.
The journey back to their rooms was completed in the haze of exhaustion. Several times they stumbled but dazedly they kept each other upright and moving forward. So great was their fatigue, they didn't hear the quiet scuff of shoes on flagstone. Nor did Hermione notice the familiar whisper of fabric particular to an invisibility cloak.