Damn! I was overcome with reviews! A lot of them had questions about the story, so after this chapter I'll post an faq kind of thing. I hope that'll clear things up. So, for now, I'm happy you guys liked that chapter and I hope you'll like this one!
Hermione and Tom had fallen asleep closely following their confessions, though with clouds of guilt and suspicion hanging over them constantly. Tom, for the first time in his life, slept soundlessly, with the occasional switching of positions. Hermione, on the other hand, had the most restless night she could ever remember. Constantly twisting and turning, paying no mind to the flaring pains shooting through her side, but to the looming nightmare surrounding her.
The cold, merciless laugh filled the air, shattering all hopes of redemption or survival. "You think you can outwit me, boy?" Voldemort cackled. "You think you can outsmart the great Lord Voldemort?"
Hermione watched helplessly, her hands and feet bound by tightening ropes, as she was held by a strong Death Eater; if she was not mistaken, it was none other than Antonin Dolohov, the one who had cursed her in the Department of Mysteries. She was gagged so carelessly that she could feel the rough fabric cutting into her flesh. Next to her was Ron, who was similarly imprisoned by Avery.
"Harry!" Hermione desperately wanted to shout, but all that was coming out of her was a muffled shriek, and for all the good it would do, might as well have remained unsaid.
Voldemort again laughed his trademarked high-pitched screech, nearby crows cawing and fluttering out of sight. "Come on, boy, let us finish this! You have nowhere to go, Harry Potter. No one to run to. You come out now and your little friends here might be spared. You come and join me, Potter, and I will consider sparing you. Fight like a man, Potter! Your dear old Mudblood-loving father wouldn't want you to crumple like your mother, would he? Join me or DIE, Harry!"
Hermione started crying for Harry, her tears being absorbed by the dirty cloth occupying her mouth. Voldemort was paying no attention to her or Ron, and the Death Eaters holding them captive were laughing just as ruthlessly as Voldemort. Straining her eyes to look at Ron, she found his face was screwed up into a look of utmost hatred; a look she knew could deliver the most painful Cruciatus Curse ever recorded.
Harry came out from behind his gravestone cover—the tomb of his mother. He cast a saddened look at the writing.
LILY POTTER
1960-1981
Beloved mother and wife
Voldemort laughed horribly at Harry's face, only making Hermione both want to cry and to kill him more. "How sweet! Even in imminent death, The Harry James Potter looks upon the wreckage of his filthy Muggle mother. How heartwarming."
Harry fixed Voldemort with a scary, murderous look, that made Hermione have to cast away her gaze. His beautiful green eyes bore into Voldemort's red ones, without even a flicker of fear dissolved in them. "You want me, Voldemort? You've got me."
Hermione tried to shake her head 'no', but the ropes binding her were too tight. "HARRY! NO!" she tried to yell in warning, but to no avail.
"Sectumsemp—" Harry tried, but it was blocked by an effortless wave of Voldemort's wand.
He cackled again, this time in an even more mocking tone. "That's the best you can do?"
"And you, Voldemort? Not even wanting to fight? All talk and no action, I see. What a way to find more followers." Harry said sarcastically.
Hermione's eyes widened as she realized what was going to happen. Voldemort looked up at Harry with a frighteningly sinister smirk, and raised his wand. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" he yelled.
Harry's emerald eyes were open in shock, and though all of the light had gone out, Hermione could still detect a faint flicker of the laughing, confident, loyal Harry that she had grown to love to pieces.
"NOOOOOO!" Hermione yelled painfully as she started weeping over her helpless friend.
"My dear! A—Are you alright, dearie?" Madam Pomfrey came running over to Hermione's writhing form.
Hermione was covered in a cold sweat, her bedsheets sticking to her, the blankets twisted and encasing her. "Not Harry! NOO! Kill me instead! NOT HARRY!" Hermione screamed, squirming more.
Tom suddenly woke up, looking at the bed adjacent to his. Face contorted into one of both insane concern and wonder, he could hardly speak. "Wha—What happened?" he asked Madam Pomfrey.
"You tell me, Mr. Riddle!" Pomfrey snapped, not looking up at him once. "Hermione, dear? Hermione, sweetie, it was a dream."
Hermione was still twisting and moaning, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's actions. "Noo…not…not Harry…Voldemort, please!" she muttered.
Tom's insides suddenly froze and his brown eyes no longer held concern, but shock and disorientation. How did she know? She couldn't. Right? But she had said she was from the future…but it was just impossible! No one knew that name except for a couple of his "closest" friends. It was starting to severely unsettle him now.
Hermione suddenly shot her eyes open, her body stock-still, but her heart and breaths coming in rapidly and staggeringly. She had a look of utter fear and sadness written over her face, and her eyes darted around powerlessly. It had seemed so real…the nightmare…was Harry okay? He had to be. He was with Dumbledore. And Dumbledore would never let anything happen to him…ever.
Her gasps of air were very slowly coming in at regular intervals, though her heart continued to pound inexorably. She finally settled her gaze on the ceiling, though she could only look into a pair of worried blue-gray eyes. Madam Pomfrey. Hermione was okay. She wasn't in the graveyard. She was at Hogwarts.
"Hermione? Dear? You alright, sweetie?" Madam Pomfrey asked tentatively.
Hermione didn't feel fit to answer. "I—I'm—" she stuttered.
Her eyelids fluttering, her head fell back onto the pillow, and she fell down asleep again; though this time with no horrifying nightmare.
Tom continued to gaze at her in astonishment. She was a maze of colors and feelings and emotions and actions, and, frankly, it was frightening him. Yes, he who was supposed to be invincible and indifferent to those inferior to him. Some might say he had an egoistical disorder, but he merely stated that 'Those who do not realize their true calling hold naught but empty lives.'
His mind was torn, though he realized that this was the best way for all. Casting a Silencing Charm on his body, he slowly got up from his bed and walked out the Hospital Wing door. Though not without first sparing a moment or two to watch her sleep, her delicate features again illuminated in the dim moonlight. And then the room was suddenly ghostly still.
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Hermione shut her brown eyes tighter, in effort to block out the effervescent sunlight positively streaming through the window. Fatigued, but realizing her attempts were not going to work, she opened her eyes, squinting from the bright light. She could still feel the gashes in her side, but the pain was a dull, ignorant one. However, looking around the room, she frowned, her eyes squinted slightly, and her lips formed into a fine line. Something was missing.
She suddenly sat up in panic. "Tom!" she called quietly, looking over to the unkempt bed next to her. He must have left during the night.
Immediately, someone came hurriedly through the door on Hermione's left, but Hermione sagged her shoulders, for it was not who she wanted it to be. "Oh, excellent, dear, you're awake! You were positively scaring everyone last night, sweetheart! Oh, but none more so, I think, than young Mr. Ridd—" she stopped, her face growing into one of anxiety, and, for a reason Hermione didn't know, disappointment.
"Pomfrey?" Hermione asked questionably. "May I ask what is the matter?"
"Oh. Yes. Well. Nothing, dear, nothing you need to worry about. Now just lay back down and I'll get you something to dull the pain there." She replied absentmindedly.
Hermione slowly relaxed onto the pillows, but started as she heard a voice from the bed next to Tom's. "Don't worry about him." The voice said.
Hermione tilted her head barely to the left. It was a low voice, almost reminiscent of Tom's, though vaguely different. Like the man had had either true sadness or horror in his past…or both. She couldn't, however, see his face, for the shadow of the plant by the windowsill was cast over him.
"Ex—Excuse me?" Hermione asked, enthralled at this stranger talking to her. She turned on her good side to get a better look at him. He didn't move.
"I said," he continued, his voice patient, "don't worry about him. Tom Riddle…is one of the most accomplished people I've had the great—ahem, fortune—to meet. And no one would want a pretty little thing like you to get worked up over someone like him. You know, you slowly lose the ability to laugh by worrying so much? It wouldn't suit you."
Surprisingly, Hermione was flattered by this obvious yet hidden compliment. She felt herself blushing. "I—I—yeah, sorry. I just—I get that way about things sometimes. It's a quirk of mine that unfortunately must stick with me."
Even through the shadow, Hermione could see he was smiling. Astonishingly enough, she could see the whiteness of his teeth glistening in the penetrable sunlight. He laughed. It was different than anything she had heard before. A combination of happiness and humor, though you could tell there was some disappointment hidden inside. It was an odd mix, she admitted, but she was pretty sure she liked it.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I've forgotten my manners. I'm Hermione Granger." Hermione said, though refraining to hold out her hand for they were twelve feet apart.
He turned to her, revealing the most astonishingly green eyes she had ever seen. Greener than Harry's. Hermione felt herself gasp despite everything. "Antares Black."
Hermione swallowed hard, her breath coming in sharp seizures again. "Antares Black…" she breathed in horror and recognition. "I know that name…he—Sirius!" The truth sinking in horribly fast, she wracked her brain for the answer. Bellatrix Lestrange. Her maiden name was Black.
She vividly remembered a day in Number 12 Grimmauld Place when Harry had mentioned Sirius's family tree in one of the rooms they had been cleaning. 'Toujours Pur' it had read. From the little French Hermione had taken, she suddenly remembered what it meant. 'Always Pure'. She scoffed at the thought and what that simple belief had done to her and, most of all, Harry.
She remembered wanting desperately to go and look at the tapestry, for family history had always interested her. As she read down the tree and came upon names she recognized, she either snorted or grimaced or screwed up her face in anger at the names she came upon. Lucius Malfoy…Narcissa Black…Draco Malfoy…Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange…Bellatrix Black…they all frightened her.
The name of the man she had just met stirred something in her memory. She hadn't focused on the name directly, for it meant nothing at the time. Now she couldn't have seen it more clearly in her mind. The name 'Antares Black' connected with a double golden line to 'Cassiopeia Apocrypha'. Sickeningly, Hermione saw a single gold line from the joint leading to the name 'Bellatrix Black'. And that was as far into the story as Hermione wanted—or needed—to remember.
She tore herself from that horrible night in the Department of Mysteries to look at him. What infuriated her more was that Antares and Bellatrix looked remarkably alike. They both had a beautiful facial structure, with tanned skin, dark brown, thick hair, and a full, perfectly-shaped mouth. The only jarring difference was that while he had gorgeous, forest-green eyes, she had dark, obliterating, merciless brown ones.
Hermione couldn't bring herself to apologize for tuning him out. Even if he hadn't necessarily committed any crime (though he damned well could have), he was still related to a murderous, self-centered witch who would kill her own cousin without a spare thought. His eyes pored into her, making her feel uneasy, though telling her everything would turn out right in the end. Strangely enough, this was the exact same effect that looking directly into Harry's eyes had on her.
"It's alright, Miss Granger. I have that effect on people." He said. Hermione couldn't figure out whether he was being cocky or just confident.
"And what are you meaning by that, Mr. Black?" she asked playfully, mimicking his formalities.
He laughed again. "Nothing. So, if you don't mind my asking, what exactly is your relationship with Riddle? He's not a very easy guy to get along with, if you know what I mean." Antares said with a hint of cynicism.
"As a matter of fact, I do mind!" Hermione snapped acidly. "Our relationship cannot be defined by a name, and that is all you need to know, Black!"
He wasn't fazed in the least bit. Only seemingly amused by her outburst. "Yes, well, I apologize for upsetting you. And I am leaving with you my request that you forgive me." He said with regret and sincerity.
Hermione blinked at his politeness. Either this was some low, diabolical scheme he had set up as his future Death Eater profession, or he was just being nice. "Yes, well, fine." She settled, though could not help but feel a bit of guilt washing over her at her apparent bluntness.
"So, uh, can I ask what you are in for?" she asked politely.
His eyes flashed venomously with hatred and loathing, but it was gone after a moment. "Ah. Yes, back to me. Let's just say it was a misfortunate…accident…on my part involving three broken ribs, a sprained ankle, and a few deep abrasions here and there." He said nonchalantly.
Hermione's mind was absolutely reeling with possibilities at what—or who—could have happened to him. "Sounds painful. So I take it you're in seventh year, too?" she asked for lack of conversation topics.
"Yeah." He answered with a grin. "Yeah, I am. Been fun, though. You know, I've noticed you haven't indulged much information with anyone so far. Any particular reason, Granger?"
She was surprised at his abrupt thirst for her past. "Hmm…well, yes, there's one big reason that comes to my mind." She said ambiguously.
"You're not going to tell me, are you?"
She shook her head playfully. "I haven't told Riddle, and I'm not about to tell you."
Her eyes widened at her mistake, and she was chagrined to notice that he put on an obvious smirk that she could see through his now half-visible face. "Ah hah." He said triumphantly. "Been a Black tradition for years. Through some way or another we find out what we need to know. So, are you planning on telling me anything else about yourself?"
She shot him a dirty look as she shook her head slowly twice. "Not before you tell me."
He nodded his head slightly in agreement. "Fine. Name: Antares Nebadon Black. Age: 17. Born: a long ways away from here. Parents: Persephone and Circinus Black. Sibling: a brother named Avior. House: Slytherin, obviously. Occupation: Student, Captain, and Seeker of the Slytherin Quidditch Team, at your service, Miss." He recited.
Hermione was impressed. Though it was nothing special, she was still surprised that he had told her his most immediate information when they had met but 20 minutes ago. She smiled. "Hermione Jane Granger. Age: 16. Born: in a city you wouldn't recognize. Parents: Cedric and Lea Granger. Siblings: none, though two best friends who might as well be my siblings. House: Gryffindor without a doubt. Occupation: Student, Head Girl, and 'Insufferable know-it-all' as is known to everyone else. Pleased to meet you." she reflected.
He smirked—though it was almost a smile—as he continued to stare interestingly into Hermione's amber eyes. Completely against her will, she utterly melted in his brilliant gaze.
Well, there you go. Chapter 15 (are we there already? damn). I want to add that i took painstakingtime and researched constellations on the internet for sirius's uncle's name. i also made up any other unfamiliar names, and could not help myself in naming Hermione's dad Cedric. :)I'm sorry I obviously haven't been clear in my chapters, so right below this note I've made up an f.a.q. section. Again, I'm so sorry! But I hope you liked this chapter.
Oh! Thanks to: Angelic Bladez (as always), sweet-essence03 (wow, thank you SOOOO much! Yeah, I've had that Tom fantasy also…), Monica, howrude2u, .D.i.S.c.O.n.N.e.C.t.T.e.D.d.O.t. (even though I didn't really like your review :( ), hiya, hermionegranger2007 (as always), Mrs Pierre Bouvier, and Twilight Elf-Maiden.
Q. Why did Tom collapse, where was he, and how did Hermione find him?
A. I'm sorry for not specifying. Tom went into the Room of Requirement, hoping to find Hermione, but it was not at all like he expected. He stepped inside of the stone archway, only to be faced with another corridor. The door sealed behind him, so he was forced to keep walking. He finally got tired, looked around, and, at one end of the hallway saw a rounded exit. This would be the archway he entered from. So, he ran towards it for a while, but it did not seem to be getting any closer (because this is magic, y'all!). He cast the "Extraho Sulum" spell, which in effect Apparated him to outside the door to the Room of Requirement. Only this spell (since you can't Apparate inside Hogwarts) has a side effect—it makes you insanely tired and can even, depending on where you landed, cause injuries. Which is where Tom's broken ribs and sprained wrist came from.
Hermione found him because he had then performed the "Solacium" spell, which alerted the person in the closest vicinity to him to that person's presence. Hermione happened to be that person, so she ran to help him, and, ultimately, did. Sorry for not spelling this all out in the chapters! I really, really, really am!
Q. Does Hermione plan to help him? Because it seems their meetings are random.
A. Again, I apologize. Yes, she will help him, obviously, since this is their fic. I've been a bit slower in her assisting him than I meant to, and I feel bad about it because I do not want this one to go on forever. I wont tell you guys everything, just that this chapter and the next will be turning points, so to speak, in this story.
Q. You said your story was "Definitely not cliché, but so far it seems so and it's misleading. Can you at least change your summary?
A. Yes, I'm sorry it appears that way. I plan to make it different very soon, but I'll admit, I suppose when you are writing your own story you become a bit oblivious to a 3rd person view. For that I'm sorry, and if you would like to not even start or to discontinue reading, I'll understand, but I want to continue. So, I'm sorry for the seeming repetitiveness, but you don't have to mention it again, seeing as how I've heard it.