Hermione went to the very back of the library, showing her pass to Mme. Wiber before she entered the Restricted Section. There weren't too many students in the library today and the few that were here were hiding out in aisles looking for books. She was alone.
She sneezed once at the scent of thick dust and old print, tied back her hair, and got to work. The volume she was looking for didn't exist in the Hogwarts library of her time – most books on the Dark Arts had been banned by then – which was why she needed it now. She checked three rows of books before her eyes lighted on 'Destruction of Dark Texts.' Excellent.
Ten minutes later she was sitting at an empty work table, working on an essay for Arithmancy with the book safely tucked away in her beaded bag, which she'd brought with her for the ritual she was to perform later.
"It's good to see you here…again," a voice said softly from behind her.
Hermione stiffened when Riddle's hands covered her shoulders, shoving her back into her chair when she tried to get up. She swallowed. "How did you find me?" she asked shakily.
He scoffed and then his face was next to hers, one brow raised condescendingly. "You're not that hard to find, darling." A long finger trailed across her collarbones and she shivered. He chuckled above her. "You've been trying to get rid of me."
She didn't answer and he gracefully moved to perch on the table before her, crossing his legs at the ankles. He wasn't smiling. "Care to explain why?" he said nonchalantly.
Hermione looked down. "I-"
"Look at me."
She blinked and did so, staring up at him with wide, bewildered eyes. "Er, what?"
"It's terribly rude to look away when someone is speaking to you, Hermione," he said. "And when you do it makes me…very angry."
Fear spiked through her, but she remained indifferent on the outside. Or tried to. "I see," she said, nodding.
"Do you?"
She looked up at him through her eyelashes and smiled angelically. "Yes and I'm sorry," she said softly.
He narrowed his eyes at her. "You're mocking me."
"Well, what am I supposed to do!" she exploded. "Fall at your feet and kiss your damn shoes? You're not my master, you conceited-" His wand was suddenly pointed right at her and her words dried up in her mouth like sand. The look on his face was unforgiving. She gulped. "W-what are you doing?"
"Nothing…yet," he said coldly. He eyed her thoughtfully. "What if I did want you to kiss my shoes?"
"I wouldn't do it," she said firmly.
He leaned closer, until his face was right in hers and she could count every long eyelash framing those dark merciless eyes. "But I could make you," he whispered.
She knew that well, which was why she wasn't supposed to mix up with Tom Riddle in the first place. What would Dumbledore say if he saw her now? On second thought, she didn't even want to think about that.
"Go ahead," she challenged, shaking back her hair like a lioness raising her hackles. "Make me."
Surprise glanced across his features, but it quickly melted back into that impenetrable mask. He smirked – and just like that the anger was gone, replaced by amusement and a normal schoolboy. "Don't be silly, Hermione," he said, his lip curling into a handsome smile, and tapped her nose lightly with the tip of his yew wand before pocketing it. A red spark glanced off her cheek. "I wouldn't hurt you."
Yeah right.
The bell suddenly rang and he stood, taking her bag before she could and slinging it over his shoulder. He jerked his chin at the exit doors, eyes glittering. "Lead the way."
They walked to dinner silently after DADA and Ancient Runes, both classes which they unfortunately shared, and the silence hanging between them scared Hermione. What was he thinking? Was he planning something? Was he going to do anything to her? Paranoia clouded her thoughts.
When they entered the Great Hall and sat down for dinner Hermione remained quiet, while Riddle played the charming schoolboy and endured Elfy's fawning. Every other minute Hermione saw the idiotic girl reach over to stroke his arm or bat her lashes at him – all the while keeping up a steady stream of glowers just for Hermione. Riddle didn't seem to notice, as he was speaking with Abraxas.
Midway through dinner, Hermione asked Meredith for the gravy.
Meredith looked up and flashed her a smile. "Sure, Hermione," she said sweetly, passing her the gravy boat.
Hermione accepted it with a gracious smile. Who knew, maybe Meredith was warming up to her? She was about to pour the gravy over her mashed potatoes when a strange scent hit her nostrils, and she paused. It smelled like dirt and wet earth. It smelled like… She peered inside the gravy boat and her mouth fell open.
Mud.
It was brown and slimy and swishing inside the ceramic bowl murkily. Hermione looked up at Meredith, who was watching her with a smile that quibbled with laughter on the edges. "Taste good, doesn't it?" she asked innocently. The girl with rat-like features beside her – Fabia, Hermione had learned by now – burst into hysterical laughter.
The whole table was staring at them now. Hermione tried to speak past the hot lump of anger and hurt balled in her throat, but couldn't. Meredith's grin turned nasty and she was reminded of Bellatrix, peeling a dagger across her skin and carving that hateful word into her skin forever.
Mudblood.
The reddish glint of a bloodied knife coming back down to drag over her skin. Bellatrix's insane, black eyes and that terrible laugh that sounded more like an evil cackle than glee echoing all around when she screamed. Ginny, falling dead at her feet, followed shortly by a mortally wounded Mrs. Weasley. Greyback, tearing into Lavender Brown with his long talons and asking Hermione – dirtylittle Mudblood, he had called her – if she'd like a taste. His voice echoing around the Great Hall, telling them to turn over Harry. His voice, casting the Cruciatus Curse-
And now beside her, his voice said, "Hermione, are you alright?" and brought her back to the present. Or the past rather.
Ha.
She looked at Riddle slowly and he blinked at what lingered in her hooded gaze. "I'm fine," she said, smiling a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'll see you later." With a flick of her wand, Hermione Transfigured the mud back into gravy and gently put it down on the table before moving to her feet.
"Where are you going?" Riddle persisted.
Hermione avoided his eyes. "Oh...on a walk." She shrugged. The Slytherins around them exchanged odd looks, but Tom ignored them. He had a bad feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know what it was, but it told him not to let Hermione go outside alone. Not when she had that...look...on her face.
"Shall I escort you?" he said smoothly, trying to hide that indiscernible emotion behind another mask.
He didn't need to however, because while she seemed to be looking at him she wasn't really seeing him at all. "No thank you, Tom. I'll be fine," Hermione said, her voice strangely hollow, and left without looking back.
Riddle stared after her. The others knew better than to interrupt his thoughts.
Hermione stormed out of the castle into the chilly night, edged with autumn and fierce winds that blew loud and strong and made her shudder. She almost hadn't been able to hold it back in the Great Hall a few minutes ago: the rage. She'd almost lost it completely, just barely holding onto that blank façade, and would have cursed Meredith right then and there if she hadn't gotten out of there.
Hermione clutched her bag to her body and threw on the Invisibility Cloak, headed for the Forbidden Forest. She felt ready to kill. Fury charged through her, making her eyes burn and angry tears churn down her cheeks. She slapped them away a second before the wind could. How dare she! That stupid, idiotic girl who thought she was so much better than her just because her parents were full-blooded wizards looked down on Hermione. It infuriated her. She was no better than Bellatrix or any other Death Eaters – or Voldemort.
They were all going down.
She entered the vast, ominous forest and lit her wand with a mental Lumos!, snaking through the rippling foliage and flickering shadows as fast as her feet would allow. She stumbled to a stop, gasping, in a small clearing that was empty save for a healthy layer of browning grass and a rabbit, and she dumped all eight books she had on Dark Arts on the ground. The rabbit looked around, startled, but seeing nothing.
It was twilight, just light enough for her to be able to see what she was doing without too much trouble. She took out 'Destruction of Dark Texts' and lay it down before her, waving her wand over it. The book snapped open, pages whipping with the wind and swirling dead leaves until they stopped on the ritual diagram.
Hermione felt black as she set up the required ingredients. Her insides were black with hurt and rage, coldness punctured her skin, her eyes saw nothing but darkness, her hands shook with it. She gritted her teeth and rocked forward onto her knees to read the text, eyes glancing over the warning and zooming in on the instructions quickly. In record time she made a circle of unicorn hair around the cauldron containing the books she would set fire to and bit her thumb until it drew blood, letting three drops plunk into the basin. The winds gained fervor and charged harder around her, whipping her hair against her pink cheeks. Hand trembling, she pointed her wand at the books and fought to steady it.
How dare they think her weak? How dare they judge her based on her blood? She was the brightest witch of her age! They – knew – nothing.
"Incendio!" she shouted and a blazing fire consumed the books so fast her eyes hardly registered it. Hermione didn't need to look at the book for the last step though, so putting all that black rage into the incantation, she threw open her arms and said, "Relinquo mihi." She saw the fire rise and roar from behind her shut eyelids, red and furious, before it almost immediately deflated and collapsed back into the cauldron just as quickly. She opened her eyes, watching as a thick black smoke slowly unfurled from the cauldron, and was distracted from her rage for an instant. Was that supposed to happen?
Hermion made to glance at the book, but a coil of black smoke struck out and snatched her forward. She gasped. Ouch! It was blistering her skin, frosting her over. Burning her. What was happening?
More smoky arms threw themselves around her, twining around her legs and going down her throat. She couldn't breathe. She was dying! They lifted her above the cauldron, and staring inside it she didn't see anything – not even ash. There was nothing but black smoke and wind churning around her, the sound of her heart pounding against her chest and someone screaming.
The smoke swallowed her eyes and the sky went black, too.
AN: Thank you all for the reviews, favorites, and all that jazz. I love to see that you guys are enjoying the story! (Or are you? *whips out secret stash of Veritaserum*) Anyway, leave me some love...feedback...constructive flames...sexy pics...etc...