Yay! I got reviews like really soon after I posted! Anyway, I know the last chapter was darker than the others, but this one will be a bit better, I hope. Some quick thanks to:

PhanPhic-adict, Mrs Pierre Bouvier (haha, so we both have a thing for cedric, huh? lol.), hermionegranger2007 (sorry if it was confusing!), Angelic Bladez (thanks a lot!), and Twilight Elf-Maiden

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"So can I go?" Tom asked Madam Pomfrey anxiously.

He was tired of being in that dreadful place. All white and sterile with no company except the sick and wounded, many just mourning and screaming in their sleep. It was rather depressing. Tom had counted—literally—the hours he had been there. It was not like he'd anything better to do anyway. According to him, he had lain in that awfully clean bed (could you even call it a bed?), for four days straight now, and frankly, he was getting very, very, bored. And he'd had no visitors. Not even his savior—Hermione. It was like it had happened just an hour ago…

---Four Days Previously---

"Oh my God, Tom!" she had cried out, wrapping her arms around him. He coughed from the sudden pressure on his already aching chest. "Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't—I mean—I—" she trailed.

"It—It's fine." He had gasped, breaths coming in extremely painful intakes. He had never been in this kind of agony before. Never in his wildest dreams. And, quite honestly, he never wanted to experience this again. "I'm fine."

She smiled that beautifully straight smile, and it made him want to return it. However, once he made to go do so, his side cracked excruciatingly, and his face contorted into an almost evil-like grimace. Though that was his only visible sign that he was hurting, Hermione's honey-colored eyes bore into his deep brown ones. He twinged at her overpowering concern, and his eyes started to reflect horribly his emotions. Unfortunately, he didn't have the strength (physical or mental) to shove off his feelings.

After asking him many more times if he was okay, she tried to get him to get up. Obligingly, he made to do so. However, due to his now broken rib and sprained wrist, he could not move very easily. Not to mention his throbbing, merciless migraine mixed with killer muscle cramps. She almost started crying at his condition, and that, more than anything, made him delve into anguish more.

"H—Hermione, stop crying. I'm alright, really. I just need to go to the Hospital Wing. I'll be okay. Stop worrying!" he tried to console her, though with every syllable, his head felt like it shattered again and again.

"I—hiccup—know, Tom! I know you'll—hiccup—be okay! It's just that I—" she managed to say in between sobs.

Muttering a pain-killing spell (and wondering why he hadn't thought of it before), though with his side still burning, he managed to walk over to her shaking form. "Hermione. Shhh…" he whispered.

She gasped, taking her tear-stained face from her equally wet hands. "I thought you couldn't get up!" she squeaked.

His lips twitched, hers trembling slightly. Ignoring the anguished screeches of remonstration coming from his upper arms, he touched her face with his now steady hand. She visibly shuddered, and somehow that pleased him. He had every intention of making his feelings known to her; goodness knew she probably felt the same way. It was then as if something had worked its way into her brain and she suddenly realized it.

"Oh! Tom! I—We—I have to go!" she said, and with out so much as a glance back, she ran, the only trace of her left was her light cinnamon scent.

---Present---

Tom could still feel the warmth of her glowing skin on his hand, though it was in reality no longer there. He wanted that feeling back, much more so than he wanted to be glacial. When she was with him, it was like some sort of electricity sparking in the air; the humidity of it being almost unbearable. Then when she would leave, everything was suddenly dry, eerily silent, and, worst of all, cold.

He shrugged his feelings off; he was going soft. He pulled his perfect lips into a smirk, that part of his face not recently having been used. It felt awkward and wrong to him, for some reason he could not yet fathom in his wildest nightmares. He just about felt like laughing at the absurdity of his situation. Without waiting for Madam Pomfrey's confirmation that he could leave, he strode out the impeccably clean doors with renewed force that shook his previously occupied bed.

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Hermione lay there with her head in her hands, while she silently wept. Her once bright and cheery eyes were now watery with shed and unshed tears, her flawless features marred by her sobbing and heartaches. As she let her tears freely fall, she began to think of how much she really did miss Ron and Harry and even Lavender and Parvati. As she was pondering all of this, she wished she had a Pensieve. Her mind was getting so full of thoughts that she was now starting to share that one particular want of Harry's.

Stubbornly, she realized that there was nothing left for her here. Sure, there was Tom, but after all, she just had an intense attraction for him. It wasn't as if they loved each other or anything. And even if she did stay, how would Harry and Ron feel? They would be missing her terribly, probably worried sick by now about her. Whereas if she went back, the only person that might miss her would be Tom. These thoughts were ailing her terribly as she began to develop an erotic, pounding, blazing headache. Hermione's eyes started to well up again, though only one droplet of water fell down her cheek, making it's descent onto her pillow.

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Tom stood in the middle of the Entrance Hall, looking up and around, bewildered. He subconsciously ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. Only five words were running through his mind right now: I need to find her. He could scarcely imagine where she could have gotten off to.

"Women are so confusing." He muttered to himself. "One minute they're throwing themselves at you…and the next they're running away, acting as if you're some crazed, deranged murderer." He shook his head in disbelief. "Where to start…"

He bit his lip, wondering if he should perform the spell. No one had done it before, so the effects were inaccurate and not well tested. But he was desperate. "Here goes nothing." He said, toasting an invisible champagne goblet. "Succurro reperio altum!" he yelled.

Feeling like he was in the eye of a fierce hurricane, Tom wanted to move out of the way. He didn't like the way the spell was looking. Trouble was, he couldn't travel one step in any direction. His eyes darted helplessly around, waiting for someone…anyone…to do something. Funnily enough, nobody seemed to hear him. Internally he was cursing the living daylights out of himself for becoming an ass to her. Not that he wasn't always, but now it mattered for some reason.

It felt as if a raging fire tore through his every fiber of his being, and he wanted to cry out in anguish for the pain was so intense…then it was gone. He was left with a feeling of burning passion—passion that could only be satisfied by one thing. With set determination in his eyes, they were blazing ferociously. The once calm and collected (with occasional outbursts) Tom Riddle was now replaced by an intransigent, steadfast young man with one goal.

This new personality was not visible by any means physically—he was the same on the outside. Same brown, wavy hair…same muscular build…same smarts…even the same fiery attitude. The only thing that led you to his changed soul was his eyes. Yes, the dark chocolate colored pools of beauty that had everyone attracted to him. The eyes that would someday lose their ingenious quality and turn crimson. But most importantly…the eyes that told you Tom Riddle was only human. No matter how tough and rigid the exterior, on the inside, he was still the same.

He knew he had it in him. All along. He had just needed some sort of push or encouragement. The spell had done that for him. It gave him a feeling of power…like he could do absolutely anything. Like he could get whatever the hell he wanted. He felt…seditious. He walked purposefully towards one corridor which had a flickering light bulb over one of the ceilings; he walked as if he knew where he was going.

Somewhere, out in the near distance, he heard a scream, and, snapping foolishly out of his entrapment, he jerked his head towards the sound. A sound that was oddly familiar…

I'm proud of myself. I got two decently-lengthed chapters out in one day! Ahem…anyway, you know what to do. Tell me what your opinions are, yadda yadda yadda. I'll leave you to your imaginations, and I'll update as soon as I can!