The first bit of Tom/Hermione action...enjoy!

Transfiguration was her first class.

Transfiguration. She loved Transfiguration. It made sense to her. All it took was a bit of willpower and the wand skill she easily possessed and she found she could do many of the complex transfigurations that even McGonagall found impressive.

But why she particularly loved transfiguration today was because Hermione was eager to learn from Dumbledore. Dumbledore would be an amazing teacher, and she had always admired the man. Being a student in his class was Hermione's idea of honour. He offered her a special smile as he entered the classroom and she accepted it eagerly, titling forward slightly on her desk.

Dumbledore did not disappoint. Immediately the whole class was silent. Dumbledore's fluid movements and gentle words held them all transfixed and Hermione felt she couldn't quite breathe properly. He held a quality McGonagall never had.

Dumbledore wasn't one to skip the hard stuff. Immediately he wanted them to transfigure hard, complicated objects. Hermione felt a sort of frenzy build inside her to impress Dumbledore.

By the end of the class, only two students had mastered all of the transfigurations.

Hermione was one.

Tom was another.

Draco sat frustrated beside her.

Tom's eyes flared with something that made Hermione tingle as Dumbledore praised them both.

Classes continued in what she felt was the longest day she'd ever suffered through and Hermione found many of the lessons had not changed greatly. The only thing that really bothered Hermione was the hostility she was receiving from all the other houses. That, and the fact that Draco and Tom always seemed to be in her eyesight.

It bothered her, because it meant she could never relax.

After classes had finished, Hermione ran to the library.

She needed to get away from them both. They were in every one of her classes, apart from Arithmancy, which she didn't have on Mondays but was greatly looking forward to it, and she felt she couldn't take much more. Every minute of the day her skin had crawled. Malfoy's expression had changed today, with something new like wariness in his face. Tom's eyes seemed to grow darker every time he looked at her. Every class she had excelled and every class she had never beaten or been beaten by Tom. Malfoy had sat beside her every class, and his movements were jerky and frustrated. He was used to be second best to Hermione, she presumed, but not third best.

Ash seemed to have warmed to Hermione. She seemed a little warmer, any way. Her smile was not as much of a smirk anymore. She chatted to Hermione and, although both girls were hyper-aware of all their words, a weakfriendship was being established.

Sally, on the other hand, annoyed Hermione that day. She seemed a little moody, constantly blowing hot and cold. She was awfully quiet, when she wanted to be, and normally followed Ash's rule without question. She also seemed completely obsessed with her looks and infatuated with herself.

Law Weasley was not in many of Hermione's classes, other than Potions and Arithmancy. She wondered whether he was smart and, if not, why he would pick Arithmancy when it was, of course, known for its high level of difficulty.

She sank into a cushy chair and finally felt her muscles unclench. Her neck ached and she rubbed at it tiredly. She wasn't even in the mood to read and, half-heartedly, threw a random book in front of her, put her head in her hand, and let herself daydream. Her tired mind needed a break.

Five minutes later, she realised she'd actually drifted off and, opening her eyes with a shock, realised somebody was leaning over her. She jerked back, they were much too close, and gasped loudly.

"Relax." Not a request, an order.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" she whispered loudly.

Tom smirked. "I know."

"How long have you been there?" She tried to keep her voice level.

"Not too long." He was still smirking.

He was very close, bending over the table to be face level. She realised suddenly that this was the first time she'd ever been alone with him. The realisation made her stomach flop and she felt sick. She was afraid of him, because there was something inhumane and weird in those dark eyes.

The whole library was quiet, and she felt like she was on the edge of the world, with only him to grip on to. The isolation of this sensation was not pleasant, but Hermione knew she couldn't just run from him, no matter what her instincts shrieked at her.

And he was so good looking. His hair was a shock of darkness, tossed but in a neat sort of way. His face was a sculptor's dream, but his features were touched by coldness and chiselled in ice. His skin was white, pale to the point of ridiculous, and completely and utterly clear of any faults apart from one nearly invisible small scar on his cheek. His eyebrows were thick and arched and raised slightly. His nose was thin and narrow. His lips were straight and thin yet curled up slightly at the ends naturally. He towered over her, even when she was standing up. His eyes were the eyes of a shadow's, and endless, full of light and space and thought.

She couldn't take her eyes off him.

What was unusual was that he seemed to be having the same dilemma. His eyes seemed to drain the life from her, sucking in every one of her features. She couldn't move, petrified yet again by him just like when she'd been in second year. She wondered, illogically, if he really was a Basilisk in disguise. What would she do if a snake's forked tongue left those lips now? What would she be able to do? She'd never felt so defenceless in her life, stripped of all her power and left aquivering twelve year old girl.

"There's no need to be afraid of me, Hermione," he whispered to her. His voice was the voice of nightmares, the voice that tries to draw you into the darkness in your dreams, the voice that wants to steal your soul or do something unknowably dreadful. She was afraid and his words were not reassuring.

He reached out and gripped her wrist lightly. The touch threw her and she felt something surge through her, rendering her dumb and stupid. She stared at his hand supporting her now limp wrist.

"You're shaking," he told her in the same hushed voice, bringing her eyes back onto his face. "Why are you shaking?"

"I'm not," she said in a steady voice, surprising even herself by her words.

"You're not what?"

"I'm not afraid and I'm not shaking," she said, her eyes still glued on him. "I'm just cold."

He seemed to take an age to react to her reply and, when he did, she could tell he was amused.

"You're difficult," he finally said.

"Most people are," she replied, quoting him from their tense conversation that morning.

"But not everybody." His smirk was growing by the minute, as he repeated her words, her philosophy of the day.

"Are you?" She returned. His question that he'd asked her, the one she'd been saved from answering by Malfoy this morning, the one he'd asked with both amusement and seriousness. His face was so close to hers, him leaning on the table for support, her still seated, gripping the side of the chair with one hand, the other still hanging in his.

"Yes," he said and there was no amusement in his tone anymore. He looked at her one last time, before he leaned in and kissed her.

Wasn't that a quick update? C'mon, for me! It was like two days!

I want to get far enough in this so i don't feel it's possible to change everything when the sixth book comes out! What are we writers going to do? I don't think it will effect this story but it will if, for example, Dumbledore dies or something. Because he's died in mine already. See? What are all you writers planning to do?

Hopefully the next update's going to be out soon! But I'm going to be working every day from now on, so be patient with me!