Dedicated to everyone that reviews. It's such a nice thing to do. You can really have no idea how much it does mean….
Hermione lurched from the library as if she'd drank gallons of Butterbeer. Her heart thudded dimly in her chest still, and a terrible giddiness was overriding her senses. The world seemed foggy and full of unimportant objects. She stumbled through the hallway, taking in nothing except her thumping heart beat.
She didn't know what to do.
She didn't really understand what had just happened. She didn't understand how her opinion of someone had changed so much. She'd thought of him as a boy, born evil, and ready to do bad things, biding his time. Now…now she was confused. What if, beyond anything she'd ever imagined, Tom wasn't as simple as that? What if he was actually able to feel emotions? What if, despite everything, he wasn't as evil now as he was to become? What if he was indeed falling for her?
But he'd tried to open the Chamber of Secrets already, hadn't he? He'd killed Myrtle!
Hermione realised she'd never actually heard the full story of that. With a determined air, she changed direction and headed down towards the Girls' bathroom, the one that she knew Myrtle haunted.
Hermione swung her bag around her shoulder, adjusting it so it was a little more comfortable, and opened the door, taking a deep breath.
"Hello Myrtle!" she greeted with every appearance of cheerfulness.
The bathroom was as dark and dank as it was in her own time. Miserable place, and flooded with water. All the small windows were open and cold air wrapped itself around her. Myrtle floated in front of her in a seated position, and looked the same as she did in the future. The sight of this miserable, transparent girl brought back warm memories to Hermione – no distinct ones just a sense of familiarity; red hair, broken glasses and lopsided, lazy grins.
"Here comes the new girl," Myrtle spat out the words bitterly, "coming to have a laugh at poor Myrtle, are you? Have they all told you about my sad, lonely time in this smelly bathroom? Have they all been gossiping?"
Hermione spent the next few minutes reassuring the ghost that this was indeed not true. When Myrtle began moaning then about being forgotten, Hermione finally cut in, and raising her voice a little, looked straight at Myrtle and hissed, "Look, you silly little ghost, I do not want to waste my time with you any longer. Just tell me what I need to know, now!"
"What can you do to me?" sobbed Myrtle, looking startled and miserable at Hermione's outburst. "I'm already dead!"
"Let's see, shall we?" Hermione raised her wand. Something was crackling through her, a sparkling energy that was drawing her into doing something rash. Her voice sounded harsh and deeper. Her heart wasn't beating at all and, in one dizzy moment, Hermione felt like it wasn't there anymore. It was no longer the cold air that was making her feel so stone-like and cool, and she was suddenly prepared, and almost excited, at the prospect of being able to do anything.
Myrtle seemed to sense this too, and swallowed down her tears.
"All I want to know," Hermione continued, "is how you died. Was it the boy or was it the snake?" She had received the details off of Harry, but she still wasn't sure.
"I-I don't know. It wasn't the boy. He had disappeared. It had been some kind of creature. I don't know what though."
"Did you know Tom Riddle? Do you know him now? Has he ever come by here again?"
"I don't know any Tom Riddle, and I have never seen a boy in here since that one night."
"And," Hermione asked finally, losing her threatening eye contact with the ghost, "what was your heritage? Were you Muggleborn or a Pureblood?"
"Half Blood," Myrtle replied, as Hermione stalked over to the taps and began examining them.
"And your house?" Hermione prompted, her eyes finally finding the little snake decorating one of the taps. She looked at it closely, taking in its immaculate detail.
"Ravenclaw."
Hermione straightened and stepped back to Myrtle. So she had been right; Tom had no meant to kill Myrtle, it had not been because of any grudge or maliciousness. Just a out of control pet and unfortunate timing. Hermione knew it wasn't right, it wasn't logical or morally correct, but she felt better, knowing it hadn't been Tom's wish to kill an innocent silly girl. It made the tightening in her chest ease a little and she was able to swallow again.
"Can I go now?" Myrtle said, and there were tears rolling down her face. There were no sobs or wails, only small, rolling tears. "Only you're really rude and mean. I hate you." With that Myrtle swirled away down a toilet and Hermione was left standing on her own. Despite Myrtle's often over-dramatic behaviour, Hermione still felt rotten. She'd never been told somebody hated her.
Was she really changing?
Before, would she have spoken to Myrtle in such a way?
Was it the influence of being in Slytherin?
Or was it from becoming friends with a Malfoy?
Or was it from kissing Tom?
She continued down the hallway, thinking about a lot of things at the same time so everything became very muddled and she wasn't really thinking properly about anything at all. Her footsteps echoed in her ears, and she'd never really felt so alone. The hallway was dark and, as always these days it seemed, cold.
She heard crying all of sudden, coming from an empty classroom not far. By the human instinct to see anything terrible – like when passer-bys stop at an accident to see who's hurt – she edged closer, careful to be quiet.
For some odd reason, Hermione thought it might be Ash. It was just her first thought. As if the girl was really hiding a whole side to her – a side of emotions and sadness, bitter loneliness and regret at her part behaviour – but she'd never really seen any such proof and certainly held none now. She knew, instantly, that this crying girl was not Ash but was almost as surprised to find it being McGonagall.
Somebody was with her. A friend, obviously, a girl, shushing her and muttering some unoriginal, comforting nonsense.
"I don't really think it meant anything to him!" McGonagall was crying, in a tone Myrtle might have used. "But…when we kissed…it felt as if I was coming alive. Like I wasn't just boring Minerva McGonagall, I was somebody wild and dangerous and…," a slight hesitation, "beautiful."
The other girl continued with her shushing and muttering, but Hermione knew McGonagall couldn't hear a word she said.
"Law Weasley is a pig!" she exclaimed now. "How embarrassing! I've never felt so embarrassed in my life, so humiliated! Wait until I see him next…I'll get him back…what a complete mockery of everything I stand for!" An angry hiccup followed. "And that new girl – Hermione Zabini! How dare she just play with people's feelings like that, as if she owns the school already. Thank Merlin she was sorted into Slytherin – but then I can't imagine any other house accepting her! What a bitch!"
Hermione had never been called such a thing before. It felt like a slap in the face. Nobody – nobody – had ever thought of her in such a way!
But then Hermione had never acted in such a way. She'd never stopped to think of McGonagall's feelings, after being snubbed by her earlier on. She hadn't realised what an effect it would have on the Gryffindor, nor did she ever imagine that McGonagall might have feelings for a Slytherin, let alone one who embraced their house so enthusiastically as Law did. She'd never stopped to think – but Hermione always stopped to think! It was what she did! She was an excessive worrier, she could guess what everyone was feeling before they even opened their mouths, and she was sensitive to everybody in a situation!
"You're changing, do you know that? You're changing, becoming something…something darker. Don't forget who you are, Granger."
Oh shove off, Malfoy, thought Hermione crossly, although becoming increasingly anxious due to the fact that Malfoy's voice was in her mind and that she was actually responding back to it.
Hermione slipped away from the doorway and walked down the hallway again, head buzzing. She felt like she was trembling from the inside, trembling so much, the pressure increasing, that she was going to explode. The hallway might have been quiet but Hermione's mind was alive with noise and flashing lights, and she realised almost instantly that she was going to have a break down. She reached a dark corner and leaned against the wall, before slithering down it and bringing her knees to her chest, doing nothing but trying to breathe normally again.
Draco had left Ash more than an hour before and returned to his bedroom. Tom was fast asleep in the other bed. Draco put up the curtains around his bed and breathed deeply into the silence, hands under his head, sprawled out, ankles crossed lazily.
He couldn't help wonder where Hermione had run off to.
Or where Tom was.
And whether they were together…
The door creaked open.
"Draco?"
Not Malfoy, but Draco. Just like he'd been calling her Hermione. A subconscious change – they'd had to most of the time after all – but still, it was strange, her using his first name when they were in nobody's company but a sleeping Weasley.
His curtains were pulled back to reveal her. She looked calm, and taller than normal. She was smiling, a weird sort of smile, oddly twisted. He didn't dwell on it much though. His eyes were focused on her – she was wearing very little close for who she was. Her black cloak and school jumper were nowhere in sight, instead she was simply wearing her white crisp school shirt and kilted school skirt, which she seemed to have rolled up to quite a high angle. Her hair was louse around her shoulders, untidy and uncombed – he'd never seen her like this before.
"Hermione?" His voice was uncertain and weak and he was ashamed of its lack of coolness. He tried to retrieve his indifferent manner, but he couldn't quite stop staring at her. "What are you doing here?"
"I couldn't sleep," she said, closing his curtains around them. "I feel so restless tonight." She threw another smile in his direction.
What a strange thing to say…and what was he supposed to do with it?
He swallowed, as she drew closer.
"Hermione? What- what are you doing?"
She kneeled up on to his bed, and he just couldn't stop staring.
"Draco…you like me, don't you? I mean, you really, really, really like me?" She began crawling towards him.
He wasn't sure what to do. "I don't know what you mean," he replied back pathetically.
"You do," she said, and smiled at him again, her hands surrounding him, her body over his. "I can see you do, Draco." The smile of a snake.
His face flushed.
She kissed him. She was different than what he'd have thought. A bit wild – confident – and tough. There was no tenderness, but skill and a sort of determination. Her hands roamed, and he knew she was not afraid.
He panicked. What is she doing? Has she changed so much? Why is he kissing her back? This isn't like how he imagined at all!
Was he really admitting to himself that he'd been imagining such a scene with Granger at all?
A horrible giggle broke cut through the silence of the room, and he, before he had even shoved her off and opened his eyes, knew it was not Hermione at all, but Ash.
So Polyjuice potion existed back at this time too, eh? What a Pansy-like thing of you to do, Parkinson.
"I can't imagine a reason," Ash said, brown hair turning back to milky blonde, curves turning back to straightness, and the brown and ordinary turning back to the wicked and glinting, "but I knew you fancied that Hermione. I just needed proof and now, my dear, dear, new friend, I am going to blackmail you."
Old AN:Sorry this was a bit of a short one – short, but the start of two new twists, so it's beneficial all the same. I'd liked to have made this update longer but I'm really, really, really tired. You know my job I told you all about ages – well, anyway, I got promoted. But, well, I get no extra money, I just have to put up with loads more crap and do loads of extra work. So…it's all extremely crappy, and I'm working non-stop (tomorrow I'm working a thirteen hour shift, including my break) so, to be honest, I'm just too tired to write. But…I quite yesterday so I have to finish my two weeks notice, but then school is starting, but I should still have more time to write. Plus, then it's all rainy and stuff, so I'll probably need writing as a form of some kind of enjoyment.
Can't believe the summer's past so quickly! Yucky or what!
Anyway…yeah. Things are crap. So, you know, cheering up by review would rock! And I can't stress how much the last chapters reviews shocked me! I know that this one was a weak gratitude but…hey…I try.
That AN up there was from a couple of days ago. Things have gotten worse. Something really bad has happened, and I just don't want to write much anymore, at least a for a little while. Nobody's died or anything….it's just bad. It's to do with my best friend and, well, I think of her as a sister and I really hope she's okay, and I'm just not bothered writing at the moment.
Actually, I will talk about it here but if you review, please don't mention it (if you really have something to say, send it in an email). I don't want to think about it, that's all I do these days. My best friend was raped a couple of days ago. And, afterwards, she had a shower – if you are ever in such a position, and I hope you never are – please, please, please don't shower – all evidence will be gone. Secondly, don't try to hide the pain – the people who love you can see it, and it hurts all the more. Thirdly, don't ever be ashamed. My friend won't even tell her family that she was raped, she didn't just have sex, because she feels guilty because she thinks she lead him on. If you say NO, and he goes ahead (even if you do not physically throw him off or scream – it can go sooo quickly you might not even realise what's happening – it is still RAPE! Finally, tell the police and even if the raper does get away with it in the end, having the police knock on his door will give him a much-deserved scare and hopefully he will not do it again.
I know I'd never let you read this, Jes, and I know you wouldn't want to but I love you, and I hope you'll be okay. I know how strong you are, but don't just block it out.