Hey, everyone! This took longer than expected, but here it is.
Oh—for thankyous:
SoMe wEirDo: haha, yeah, I am updating now!
Sivaroobini Lupin-Black: I did look at her story, and, yeah, it was pretty good!
PandylBas: thanks, and bravo to you too!
Chou hime: thank you so much, and I will update soon!
Super kai-chan: thanks for the comment, and thanks for not completely getting mad at me for writing however people think I did.
Amy Lee: I am not going to continue our little online argument, but I still have one lingering question and comment. SPECIFICALLY, what terms/expressions did I use that were so 'americanized'? and, secondly, I don't want to look up british customs and stuff because it is not only british people that read fanfic, and I don't think I have to conform to a specific country, so sorry. Also, not to be completely sadistic, but I have no interest whatsoever in a beta-reader, so please don't suggest it. Lastly, Hermione did fight her feelings, if you read paragraph 7 of chapter 4, and others, you'll get it. But, this is a TRHG fic, so she can't be hostile towards him all the time. Thanks.
Pozest-Illusion: thanks ash, and hopefully 'Tommy' wont do that!
Flashback:
She looked back for a fleeting instant at the previously silent ghost, who was now holding in rolling fits of laughter as she was watching the seen. She was shaking with attempted control. Finally, she let loose in a fit of loud, piercing giggles. Her pigtails were waving back and forth as she struggled for breath. Tom looked at her like he wanted to strangle her right there. Fortunately for her, she was already dead.
Hermione just smiled at Myrtle who now was recovered enough to look at her, though still chuckling hysterically. Hermione gave her the smallest wink as she left in a spin of robes and bag, leaving a speechless Tom Marvolo Riddle in her midst.
Now, to continue where we left off…
Hermione walked away from the dank, damp, unused bathroom, the smell of both Tom and years of neglect still faintly lingering. She could hear Myrtle's unique but somehow oddly comforting laughter, shortly accompanied by Tom's soon-to-be-merciless voice yelling at her to stop. She ceased, being followed by an immense splash, telling Hermione she had gone back into the U-bend.
Hermione hastened her footsteps, not wanting to be caught by Tom. She knew he had much faster strides, and so she hid behind a tunnel pretending to be a wall—one that Harry had shown her last spring. She relaxed a little, shrinking down into the shadows so only the faint flickering of light shining through a chink in the wall gleamed off her hair. Unfortunately for her, Tom was well accustomed to the goings-on in Hogwarts, and, as a result, knew all the shortcuts.
So, while Hermione was getting ready to check if he was anywhere near there, he burst in through, looking directly at her small form. "So…" he raised an eyebrow, smirking. "We meet again."
Hermione simply looked up at him, his immense figure staring down at her. To her surprise, he knelt down next to her, his face but six inches from her own. Slowly, she backed away. "Y—Yes. We do." She stammered.
"What was with that, by the way?" he asked, intrigued.
"W—What do you mean?" she asked innocently.
His eyes darkened to the pitch-blackness of the dimming room. It was eerie to see almost no whites of his eyes. "You know perfectly well what I mean." He answered, trying to be intimidating.
He was partially succeeding, but Hermione already knew which things touched his nerves. "Oh really?" she said, gaining back her voice. "Voldemort."
He glowered at her, flaring his nostrils, his eyes blazing with fury. Suddenly, he grabbed her upper arm with such force she gasped. He made no effort to release her. "Just like that. How do you know?" he asked, his voice low and horrifying.
"I've already told you, Riddle. Unless your overly-enlarged, Muggle-hater brain has already forgotten. But somehow I don't believe that. Am I to be mistaken?" she said, quite calmly.
He changed his expression of that to match hers. "Last time I checked," he sneered, "I know more about magic and the Dark Arts than you will ever hope to."
Hermione simply laughed, her eyebrows raised in fake surprise. "Well, well, well, we have finally found out what young Tom has been up to. The Dark Arts, you say? I guarantee you that I know more about them than you do, Mr. Riddle. Test me. Well? Go on!" she tempted, her eyes widening to tell him to question her.
He refused. "Stupid witch. Leave the more complicated subjects to me and you go on with your useless, know-it-all, redundant tendencies to show off your unimpressive memorizations."
He got up to leave, with Hermione letting his insult slide off her like the slime he would become, but wracking her brain for something to say. She put on a both pleading and sympathetic voice, shockingly true. "Look. Tom. Could you please just try to be the least bit civil to me? I mean, what reason is there for us to be enemies? We hardly know each other."
To her surprise, and his, he stopped, his hand on the tapestry already. He started to turn stiffly, his face impassive, his eyes showing apprehension, but softer than they were before. He said nothing.
Hermione looked at him expectantly, aware of their awkward position—her on the floor looking very odd, most likely, and him in complete control, though she could not for the life of her tell what he must be thinking. She stood up, a force beyond what she knew coming over her.
She gazed at him for a moment, before wrapping her arms around him in a light but sympathetic hug. He turned rigid, and started to pull away, but then stopped, the basis for it unknown to both of them. He did not move to further it, just stood there. Before he could say anything, Hermione hastened away, his slight cedar and apple-cinnamon scent on her still, even though their contact lasted only a few seconds. She did not know what stupid energy possessed her to do that, but oddly enough did not regret it. She knew now that what he needed was to be shown that someone did care for him, even if he did not return it.
"So this is how I'm supposed to help Harry!" Hermione realized suddenly. Sure, she had forced herself to come back here, but still hadn't known why exactly she had done so. It was foolish, she knew, and she hadn't really thought it all through. She just had to help him, without her understanding the consequences. "Well, Harry, I'll do whatever it takes to help you. I just hope I'm doing the right thing!"
She was both pleased and disappointed at the same time to only hear her own small footsteps echoing in the eerily empty school. Of course Tom wouldn't follow her again, yet she wondered with a passion what he was thinking right now. Whether he was hating her now more than ever, or, by some force of nature, did not loathe her as much as he used to.
Well? Sorry it's pretty short again. Tell me if it's too much, too little, or just enough Tom/Hermione action, okay? Thanks, and until next week!