A/N: Wow, you guys totally rock! I've gotten so many reviews for this fan fic, and it's so awesome! I mean, Stop Calling Me Malfoy took forever to get 50 reviews, but everyone has been so good! Keep reviewing! Anyway, read on, my friends, read on. This chapter is sooo long, so it is probably going to take me forever to update. I wouldn't know because I've just started typing.

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

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Chapter 8: An Album

Tom was once again panicking. Hermione was passed out in his bed, and was blissfully unaware of the turmoil she had caused. He paced in circles around the room and put the pieces together. Her strange muggle clothing, her unexpected knowledge of the Hogwarts library, her reluctance to open up to him, her occasional fear of him at times, her reaction to the trip who had cornered her. She was from the future, and she knew all about him! He became the Dark Lord Voldemort, and had killed all her friends and family! He had gone on to ruin her life! The thought made him want to blow something up. He had sworn he would never do that to him! Well, he would change that; he would never hurt her, or anyone else for that matter! He was not Voldemort!

How had she come back? Why had she come back? What the hell was he going to do? He couldn't look at her the same, he could only imagine her knocked out, lying in the snow, bruised, battered, and bloody. When he had first seen her she had been wounded badly, and he now realized that he had done that to her. There was no doubt in his mind, he loved her, and he couldn't bare knowing that she had hated him, and could possibly still. Her mystery had expanded now, and he still found himself searching for answers. It was like going one step forward and then two steps back.

She looked like an angel, spread out on his bed, the green covers pulled up over her, covering her so that only her hair and face erupted from the silk. He had slid off her boots and socks with some difficulty, his hands had been shaking, but left on all of her clothing. Waking up to find Voldemort had taken off your clothes would be more than a little disturbing, he had reasoned. So he had pulled back the covers and laid her gently down on the bed, before pulling them back up to her chin. Now he was pacing continuously, waiting for something to happen. She hadn't woken up.

It was well past dinner, but he still wasn't hungry. He used a charm he had learned of in class that filled his stomach and sat on the foot of the bed, leaning against the bedpost that held up his gray canopy. Should I talk to her about it or just pretend I didn't hear anything? He thought, watching as her stomach slowly rose and fell. It's not like I'll be able to act the same around her. She coughed, but didn't wake up just yet and he received déjà vu. This was like that first night in the hospital wing, waiting for her to wake up. Except this time he wasn't excited, he was scared. She hadn't judged him yet, and she probably wouldn't know he knew about his path, but he was scared that she would notice the change in him. After all, he knew what it was that she wanted to forget. She wanted to forget him. That Tom understood. He looked down at the floor, ashamed. He wanted to forget so many things…

Hermione sat bolt upright, scaring the stuffing out of poor Tom, who jerked his head up so fast he got a head rush. For a second she forgot she was in the 40s and thought that Zambini had dragged her into his room or something, but then she saw Tom, who was massaging his temples, and everything came speeding back, hitting her like a freight train like it had every other morning. It stung.

"Um… hi?" she said, a little lost for words and way to aware that she was once again waking up in Tom Riddle's bed, with no memory of how she got there. He blinked and scowled at his sheets, still sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed. "Tom?" Does he know? Did he guess? WTF? Strands of his dark hair fell down into his eyes, resembling Draco Malfoy's haircut, since the gel from his hair had made it fairly greasy. "You there?" she added with a nervous laugh.

"It wasn't Grindelwald who killed your friend, was it?" he muttered, not looking her in the eye. She gasped and stammered incoherently, at a loss of what to say. He didn't look up, just continued his staring contest with the silk. "Was it?"

"I- uh… Well- I- um…" She fiddled with the collar of her polo shirt and looked at him nervously. He looked up and glared at her.

"It was me, wasn't it?" His scowl faded into a frown as Hermione sat speechless, wondering how on earth he had known, and what on earth she should tell him. "Did I do this to you?" She took a deep breath and pushed back the bed covers slowly, and crawled down the bed like a cat, to rest on her knees in front of him.

"I don't blame you," she whispered, before extending a hand to push back some of the slick hair from his cold eyes.

"How can you not?" The words hung around her as he subconsciously leaned into her touch.

"Ever since you healed that bruise on my side, I knew you weren't Lord Voldemort." She caressed his cheek with her palm, and pushed his head gently back so she could stare into his eyes. There was no protest as she leaned forward to softly brush her lips against hers. Pulling away she said, "Would I kiss you if you killed my family?" She bent forward again and kissed him, with more passion. Tom let her deepened the kiss and she resuming what she enjoyed most, making out with the teenager who would never be known as Lord Voldemort.

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"Stars, the truth. Ah, it seems Ms. Granger has told Mr. Riddle of her secret, Fawkes." Within the mist of Dumbledore's borrowed crystal ball tiny silver stars could be seen twinkling in unison. The man sucked on a lemon drop as he gazed intensely at the orb in front of him. The mist turned pink as Dumbledore chuckled under his breath. "More passion, I see. Young love, my dear friend."

The man twirled his long ginger bear around his wand absent mindedly as the mist cleared, leaving the ball just an empty glass sphere. "I must say I quite like crystal ball reading, my dear friend. Perhaps Divination is worth study." He reached for his cup of tea, but stopped as an image appeared in the orb. It was hazy and unfocused, but he could make out whom it was. It was the couple, Tom standing protectively in front of Hermione, arms spread so he blocked her from harm. They were both facing a person wearing a long dark robe and a hood, Dumbledore couldn't tell who it was from his position. The figure was in duel stance, but Tom and Hermione seemed defenseless. A jet of green light beamed from the wand, heading towards the girl, but before it made contact, the image faded into the mist.

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By early mourning Perry's calming drought had worn off. She sat in her bedroom at her desk, crying silently as she leafed through a scrapbook her boyfriend Gabriel had made for her. This was absolute misery. Gabriel was missing, probably dead or dying, and yet she couldn't do anything but sit and wait. Dipet had refused to have her help. Her parents were dead, her boyfriend missing, and best friend Kristyn was still on vacation. All she could do was look at their pictures and hope for the best. Everything had turned upside down, it seemed. Her parents, who had always been separate from the world of magic, had been killed by said magic. Her boyfriend, who had always been in control, had been imperioused and kidnapped. And she was powerless as to how she could help at all. Much more disturbing was the fact that when she needed help Riddle was the one to come. Riddle! Muggleborn hating, Gryffindor torturing, antisocial Riddle had helped her in her hour of need. And he had a make-out buddy! WTF was with that? Hermione something. Who would have thought Riddle would get close to a Gryffindor? At least, she was probably a Gryffindor; her trunk's colors were red and gold. But what was a Gryffindor doing with a Slytherin? What was she doing with Tom Riddle, king of Slytherin? Didn't she know?

He must be using her somehow. He didn't have feelings, so he couldn't care about someone else, so he couldn't have a real kiss. Maybe she was rich or had some powerful lineage or something. Well, she would just have to step in. She was head girl after all. No cunning Slytherin could fool her.

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"Mione?" Tom said while she sorted through her trunk for more pjs. She turned, resting on her knees on the black carpet.

"Yeah?" He was picking through the bookcase, facing away from her.

"How did you get here?" He's testing you to see if you trust him. Tom turned and met her nervous gaze. A small smile crept across his face. It wasn't mocking, it was encouraging. She was seeing so many new sides of him. She needed a camera. "You can tell me." Sighing, she raised a hand to the back of her neck and slid a finger under the slim chain. Carefully, she slowly pulled the time turner out from under her polo shirt before lowering it onto the fabric. His curiosity peaked and he abandoned the bookcase, crouching down in front of her. The hourglass Prof. Dippet had mentioned that first night sparkled in the weak candlelight. There was nothing he had seen or read about like it. He looked up to her in awe, eyes voicing his question.

"This is a time turner." She let him guide it off of her and pull it closer to him. "Normally you can only go back a couple hours, but I guess it adapted to the situation." Running a finger of the glass, he let all small noise of fascination. "I used it to get here."

"Here as in Hogwarts or here as in 1944?" he asked, still caressing the small object with his long fingers.

"Here as in 1944." He wasn't surprised. "You do understand that I can't tell you more, right?" He nodded, finally looking up. She looked like he had for years, lonely.

"You miss them, don't you?" She didn't need to ask who.

"How could I not?" She entwined her fingers in the gold chain, remembering her other experiences with time travel. Harry hadn't understood at first, but Tom was fast. Surprisingly, he was much more understanding of her privacy (ignoring his use of legimins of course) than either of her friends had been. Rom gently lowered the time turner back over her hair and onto her neck. She guided it back under her frame.

"Tell me about them." He sat down across from her, cross-legged, showing he would listen if she would talk.

"One second." She swiveled to face the trunk and pronounced, "I wonder where I can find pictures of my friends?" It popped open and a photo album she had never seen before rested on top of her assorted clothing. Like most of the other books that had appeared in the trunk, it two had a red cover. She gently picked it up and turned back to the teen behind her, putting it on the floor in front of her. He scooted over and turned the cover to reveal a large picture of Hermione, with bushy hair and buckteeth. It was her first year, and she looked awkward in her Hogwarts uniform. "That must be from my first year." The girl was sitting at a desk glaring in the direction of the photographer over her book.

She turned the page and was greeted by the smiling faces of Harry and Ron, also first year. Harry was so young and untroubled. He didn't know about the prophecy, he didn't know about the horcruxes, and he hadn't seen the death of everyone he loved. He was the image of innocence. And Ron was… Ron. Gawky, freckled, and ginger haired, he looked just as she remembered him. "This is Harry," she murmured, pointing to her lost friend. "And that's Ron." Her finger lingered on his figure. Tom picked up on her reluctance to pull her eyes away.

"He was more than a friend." She nodded slowly. "And Harry was like a brother?" She nodded again. "Keep going, it will make you feel better. The next one displayed Luna, just staring into space while eating dinner at the Ravenclaw table. The people around her laughed and pointed to her famous roaring lion hat. Hermione released a laugh and Tom raised his eyebrow.

"That's Luna. She was fairly strange." The hat growled noiselessly and several smaller students fell off the benches around her. "I forgot it did that."

"Keep going." The next one was of the golden trio in second year after the mandrakes had been given out. They were happy, close knit, and not yet plagued by the curse of puberty. She realized that Harry had recently met Tom, and she could see the fear and vulnerability in his eyes. The trio in the picture sat catching up in the hospital wing and she also realized that even at the age of twelve, almost thirteen, Harry was loosing his childhood. "Second year?" She nodded. "Keep going." After that was Ginny, staying with the over stressed exhausted Hermione, who was once again cramming. Ginny sat next to her, while Harry and Ron glared at her from the other side of the common room, third year.

"That's Ginny."

"Keep going." The fourth year snapshot was of her and Ron fighting at the Yule Ball. Ron gestured wildly as her hair fell out of its elegant bun. A tear fell to the floor of the great hall as Ron stormed off, and a real tear fell onto the picture. "Keep going." Another fourth year, Hermione screaming as Harry appeared in the center of the maze clinging to Cedric's body. She stood forgotten as the people around her rushed to help. "Keep going." Fifth year, Harry screaming his lungs out at her and Ron. "Keep going." Another fifth year, Hermione falling in the Department of Mysteries. "Keep going." Sixth year, Hermione sending a flock of birds at Ron. "Keep going." Seventh year at Bill and Fleur's wedding, Hermione finally kissing Ron, but looking empty and confused. More tears were coming now, and she knew what was left. "Keep going." Seventh year, her cowering in McGonagall's office. "Keep going." Standing with Ron on the astronomy tower, waiting, praying for Harry to return. "Keep going." Watching as Ron fell, Harry fell, before falling herself. There were no pictures left. "You have to keep going, Hermione, just keep going."

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A/N: So Hermione came clean. Comments? She really has been through a lot. Well, at least Tom kind of knows what she's going through. But now he has to come to terms with the fact that she has a whole life he isn't part of. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. And Perry, you do have a bigger part in the next chapter. Teaser?

"You should go back home, back to Ron," he spat bitterly. "You love him, don't you?"

Then later:

"She tried to turn you against me, didn't she?" "A little paranoid, Mr. Riddle?" "Just answer the damn question, Hermione."

All right, you better get off your butts and review now. And read A Well-Kept Secret. I promise you'll like it!