A/N: I still have great plans for this story and though it may take more time than anticipated, this story WILL be told and not abandoned. I hope I still have some fans and readers who stuck around for this long. I can't wait to get started on writing the next chapter, there are a few key points in here I have added that will be important later in the story. I hope you guys enjoy!

-VS

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the characters, locations, or cleverness. It all belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Studios.

As the week came to a close, Hogwarts' students had settled in quite nicely. The classes were already issuing their semester projects and plans for a Halloween ball were already in the works. Everything was finally going smoothly—save for the world of Hermione Granger.

Between focusing on her studies, not blowing her cover, and keeping a steady eye on a sneaky, corrupt, young dark lord, she had her work cut out for her from the start. Juggling these three feats at once was already making Hermione exhausted and feeling spent. There was only so much she could take after all she had been through in the past few months.

With a deep sigh, she allowed her head to fall into her hands. Nyoka slithered among the towering books upon the desk until she came face to face with Hermione's hands. Nyoka's tongue flicked in and out with curiosity.

"You are weak," Nyoka said plainly. Instantaneously, Hermione's head rose out of her hands and she shot Nyoka a look of contempt.

"I am not weak…" she said defensively—the statement, striking an unknown chord within her, "I am simply tired. That's all…"

"So that's what you humans refer to near-death as… tired, simply," Nyoka concluded in doubt.

"No… Maybe I am a little drained. I could use a break from this madness," Hermione said shoving a book of astronomical theory away from her.

"And I could use a break from this dingy boarding room." Nyoka began to slither toward Hermione.

"Who said you were coming along?"

"The mice I find within the walls are satisfactory, but what I crave is to feel the earth once more. You know I ask for little, Miss Hermione." Nyoka hissed in a reminiscing manner.

"Using your charm to appeal to my sense of kindness and guilt. Clever. But, you'll have to do better. Next time I won't be won over so easily." Hermione smirked and held open the pocket of her robes, allowing Nyoka to slither off the desk and inside with ease.

Hermione left the room and crossed the common room where a group of students sat, chatting about and wasting away their Saturday afternoon over boxes of Bertie Bott's and wizard's chess. Hermione felt a lump rise in her throat as she remembered wasting away what little break time she had in front of a similar fireplace with two distant faces. She swallowed hard and focused on her destination so the sadness wouldn't consume her.

She quickly walked down the hall, saying hello to a few students she had become acquainted with over the past week. Making it to the entry way of Hogwarts was a relief. She quickly jogged to the two large, wooden doors and opened them both allowing the afternoon overcast to light the foyer. She breathed in the air rushing off the lake and smiled.

She clamored down the steps and ran to the grassy banks off the lake. She shed her robe and laid it on the ground so Nyoka could slither out in an unsuspicious manner. She plopped down and reclined back into the hillside—ignoring the fact that her hair would collect the grass and twigs like a fleece blanket in winter.

She let the cool air fill her senses with such a familiarity that if she dared to close her eyes, she would almost believe everything was alright again. Hermione scoffed at her own thoughts. Her longing for home was something that continuously broke her heart with every slight pang of nostalgia.

She brought her hands up to her head, allowing her fingers to gently massage her temples, calming her nerves and easing her all in one. Not once had she contacted Riddle to begin work-despite having picked up the supplies Slughorn had prepared for the groups. Their semester project for Slughorn seemed to be challenging, but if she had to, she would do the whole project herself just to avoid coming in close contact again. She knew her duties; she knew the path that would lead her home sooner. But the path paved with good intentions was shrouded in darkness and worst of all—uncertainty. In accepting this mission, though Dumbledore had never mentioned it, a silent acknowledgement was within the fact that she might not return.

She may never see her friends and family again; she might never feel their hands in hers as they walked on a sunny day. The warm laughs that filled the common room as Fred and George did something absurd—and hardly legal. The look of embarrassment on Ginny's face as she often ran into the Boy Who Lived. Ron chasing Pigwidgeon as the fluffy snitch teased him with a parcel he just brought to be delivered. Mrs. Weasley's homemade tarts she served oft on winter holiday. The dusky evenings Hermione spent with her parents walking about the London shops. The feel of Crookshanks' bushy tail slapping her repeatedly in the face as she lay on her stomach studying during the summer.

She even missed butting heads with Draco Malfoy. She never considered him as truly evil—or even a threat. He was more of a nuisance to her and the rest of the trio, but even now, Hermione missed the simplicity of dealing with such frivolous things. She missed having the chance to become spastic over small things. She missed laughing until she couldn't take it anymore, she missed being able to let her emotions show, she missed life. She missed what it felt like to live, to be free. She wished she had never taken those things granted like she once had, for she would give anything to have them back now.

Hermione rolled onto her side and let the tears flow freely. They poured down her face haphazardly as she lay on her side. She tasted the salty sweetness as they slid past the corners of her mouth. She began to feel choked sobs nearly escape her lips, and in response, brought her hand to her mouth and bit down with fervor in order to disable them.

As the sorrow waned, her sobs began to become more out of anger than sadness. She had been on this mission for only a week, and already she is breaking down at the scene. If Dumbledore were here, he'd be ashamed at the sight of my weakness. And I wouldn't blame him. Hermione scolded herself with lies.

She continued to lie on her side, the sobs were now stifled, but the tears still flowed steadily. Her mouth was set in a hard line and her brows furrowed in thought as she felt a small, sleek familiar body slither up beneath her chin. Nyoka flicked her tongue against Hermione's chin a few times in small attempts to console her master, and then instead, decided to coil up into the underside of her cheek and provide company.

"Nyoka… did you have any family back home?" Hermione asked the small snake, her voice shaky from the bout of crying she had just had.

"I do… or I did. They all moved on. Where you had found me, Miss Hermione, was my birth home—where I originally hailed from... My home is no longer here, Hermione," Nyoka hissed quietly in a solemn tone. "I know the smells of the salty lake, the feel of the grass on my underbelly, the taste of home, but my home is no longer here."

Hermione's brows knitted tightly in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"Beneath the willow tree, was my home. It was my safe haven, my place of rest. My home is not here."

Hermione looked up. The tree that should have rested by the rocks of the lake was not there.

"No wood rooted deep into the ground, no soil disturbed. I have never witnessed anything like this. I have always known my home. It's as though time has reverted itself."

Guilt flashed across Hermione's face. She had not been the cause for usurping the serpent from its home, but she could have been more careful. Now there were two beings out of their proper place in time, and this was not good at all.

"I… I'm sorry Nyoka. You're right. Things have changed and neither of us should truly be here… but we are," Hermione sniffled up the last bit of sadness within her, then sighed and sat up. She looked at Nyoka who now was uncoiled, and on her haunches, paying close attention to the brunette-haired girl. "We are a long way from home, and I am sorry this happened, but truthfully, I am glad to have someone by my side." She offered Nyoka a small smile.

It was true, the snake may not have been the best companion, nor the most useful or resourceful, but she was someone Hermione knew. Someone she could talk to at the end of the day.

Nyoka looked up at Hermione swaying from side to side. Hermione knew that if snakes had the ability to smile, the broadest grin would have rested on the small serpent's face.

Neither of them needed to speak anymore. It was clear. A silent bond was formed between them—one that was more than master and servant. No, it was certainly more than that. It was friendship. Something Nyoka's kind never knew from her master's ancestry. It was an odd friendship, given the circumstances, the past, the present, and the future before them, but it was a friendship nonetheless. Hermione knew that she would never admit she was a parseltongue, but for now, she settled with accepting it.

Hermione stood up and brushed off her skirt. She felt the essence of earth entwined within her curly, bushy locks in the form of leaves and twigs. So she begrudgingly picked out the largest pieces and vowed to brush her hair as soon as she made it back. Nyoka slithered passed her and back into the pockets of the robes upon the ground. Hermione then picked up the cloak, pulled it on with ease, took a deep breath, and walked along the shore back toward the castle feeling a little bit lighter and more at ease than she had for days.

Later that night, Hermione found herself in the library studying the art of creating love potions and the different levels of love potions in existence. She was studying in the hope that she may be able to finish Slughorn's project on her own with Riddle interfering only slightly. But in the pit of her stomach, she knew there would be more complications than planned. She pulled out the pamphlet containing the new love potion study that Slughorn had copied for the students from Potions Today.

Upon her reading, she had found that the milder forms of the potion that they would be brewing could be worn like a perfume or cologne—making the wearer more appealing to their desired suitor. So that is why Slughorn put the students into pairs that hardly liked one another... Clever. Hermione silently praised Slughorn's cleverness. She noticed that the ingredients listedwere almost exact to a modern day love potion—save for the fact that they were in smaller doses and a lot less concentrated. The only true difference was that the brewer—whom is also assumed to be the wearer—has to add a 'piece' of the desired suitor, such as a hair, toenail, or skin even.

She then moved onto a book that she had pulled from the libraries shelves called Liquid Love by Selpha Marvick. Hoping to find love potions that could act as perfumes, Hermione flipped to the index. Once she found the page she needed, she turned to it and dove in. The chapter on potion that could be applied externally carried a lot information on past failed experiments and successes. As she read on one of the successful potions, she flipped the page to continue reading, but the passage ended abruptly.

"The Ministry of Magic has still yet to identify this rather simple potion as a certified, safe-to-brew love potion due to the long-term, drug-like and addictive effects of its usage. Though it is still rumored that the product is brewed and bottled in the underground markets and often make their way into stores without the knowledge of officials. A number of witches and wizards have believed this due to the love-at-first-sight feeling when meeting a stranger on the town after purchasing and applying bottled perfumes and colognes. These cases are still under investigation. –circa 1896"

Finding hardly any helpful information for the project, Hermione closed the book with a huff. She might be on a mission, but she was still at school, and being Hermione Jean Granger, she would strive to do the best in her class—regardless of circumstance. Even though the pamphlet included the base ingredients and brewing instructions that were considered "safe as tested by master potioneers," she wondered how Slughorn got Dippet to accept his request of allowing students to conduct an experiment to be submitted to be submitted to Potions Today-even if the class was an advanced class. Hermione was left to assume that it was Dippet's hope for a student to be successfully and Hogwarts to be put in the limelight.

Though not so helpful for the project, Hermione still had a feeling that the information could contain somewhat useful material for later on, therefore she tore a black string off the tail of her used, tattered robes and bookmarked the page with it. She slid the book back in place on the dusty shelf for safekeeping and walked to the front of the library.

The day had already grown dark and students were filing back to their dorms. A lot of the first year students scurried frantically to enter their common rooms—whether it was from fear of the dark, isolated halls, or older, patrolling prefects, Hermione didn't know, but she remembered having the same feelings as a first year.

She shook her head and laughed to herself. If only had she known the true evils she would come to see in these past few years, she wouldn't have been so frightened of such simple things. She now knew of the true evils that walked the earth. The true evils that stood by your bedside while you slept. The true evils that waited for you to hit your lowest point then strike. Just like the true evil that walked these very halls. When it came down to it, she felt just like a frightened first year all over again—her knowledge going against her. Rather than comforting her, her own wisdom had brought back the fears she had once thought were unfounded. The nightmares and the monsters that were under her bed, the ones that had never existed, she found to be coming alive slowly with each passing day.

She felt the fear creep up her throat in the form of bile. She rested her head in her hand and found herself slightly dizzy. What Hermione thought was her own doing of scaring herself sick, she found to be very much real. A heavy weight crashed down on her as she hit the stone wall, searching for support. Her breathing felt labored and time seemed to slow as the empty corridor blurred around her. She sorely regretted not having Nyoka with her—someone who could perhaps snap her back to reality.

Without warning, a voice suddenly ripped through the air in a powerful whisper.

"The answers you seek are hidden in these very walls… I have seen your face… I know you… He knows you… And they are coming..."

She grabbed her head in pain as the voice reverberated off the silent halls of her own mind. She tried to move forward while feeling the wall for balance, but she couldn't. Her body grew heavier. She fell to her knees, hitting the cobblestone painfully. She shakily attempted to raise her hand—fighting the feeling of hundreds of pounds of pressure weighing on her. Hermione moved her hand to the pocket of her robes and grasped the familiar, wooden grip on her wand.

She attempted to withdrawal it from her pocket, but couldn't find the strength. She began to fear the worst, and in her own last attempts, decided to try the only solution that came to mind. She squeezed her eyes tight as pain coursed through her head again.

"They are coming… They are coming for—"

"Libera nos!" Hermione shouted in her mind. The feeling of the weight lifted off of her and the voice was hushed—leaving only a ringing in her ears. She sighed heavily; half in exhaustion from the overwhelming feeling that came over her and half in thankful disbelief: the spell she had just used wasn't even real. Well, not until now anyway.

The previous year when Harry's nightmares had become more and more intense, she had grown progressively worried. Their fears were realized when Harry found himself embodied as Nagini in one of his visions and when Voldemort took control of him momentarily at the Ministry. Hermione then retreated deep into the bowels of the library. After intently researching and going through hours of testing different wand-work and incantations, she thought she had created the right formula for her counter-curse: an anti-possession charm. The only problem was she never had been given the opportunity to try it—until now.

The remaining question was, had she almost been possessed? If so, then by who? The voice that still rung in her ears had not been that of Riddle—or any other wizard she knew first-hand for that matter. But, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had heard the voice before—almost as though in a dream even.

She was clueless, but one thing she was certain of was the fact that she had the wand-work completely wrong. The swishing and sashaying of her wand she had done in the past was not the key. The key was the strength of the mind rebelling against the force.

Or maybe she had just gotten lucky. Hermione didn't know and at this point she didn't even care. She was just thankful for the ordeal to have ended as quickly as it did.

She straightened herself back up on her feet and attempted to tidy her robes. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand to collect the sweat dewing on her now flushed face. She then tried to smooth down her hair the best she could.

"Who knew Hermione Sivad did favors after hours? Certainly not me, but good to know," A sadistic voice dripping with poisoned honey spoke.

Hermione immediately jerked her head up to see who could only be Hadrian Decimus Black followed by Abraxas Malfoy and a small group of Slytherins behind them. They were all laughing, snickering, and looking her up and down—save for Abraxas who chose to roll his eyes at the troublesome entourage. She had once seen Hadrian's face and name upon the family tree in a room within the House of Black. His portrait had clearly not been blasted off, therefore she could only assume if he was awful at this point, he never changed.

She looked down at herself. Her raggedy knee-high socks had fallen down slightly, revealing reddened, floor-worn knees, clothes in disarray, her cheeks still flushed, and hair a mess. Of all times to have been confronted by Riddle's followers, it had to be now. Her face hardened into a mask of anger.

"What are you-? How dare you even accuse me? You have no right—"

"If you're still doing favors later, maybe you and I can meet up in dungeons. I could teach you a thing or two about wand techniques." Hadrian said in a mockingly seductive tone as he stepped toward her, invading her personal space and reaching out to brush her hair from her face. Hermione's lips thinned and her eye grew wild as she was ready to pull her wand out from her sleeve the moment he barely touched her.

"That's enough, Decimus." A stern voice came in from the back. The Slytherins parted like water to allow the young man through. Riddle stood tall and powerful amongst the other boys—his prefect badge gleaming in the light. His eyebrows were furrowed tight and his mouth was formed into a hard-line.

"Tom, you know I am just messing around with her." Hadrian said as he stepped back to appease his leader. Hermione's eyes grew wide.

"Yes and your weak attempts of wooing a woman is quite an embarrassing scene to witness. You really should be on your way." Riddle said lightly with a wave of the hand as the rest of the crowd chuckled in the background. Despite his comedic gesture, his eyes gave away the seriousness of his intent, and Hadrian didn't miss it either. The Black heir frowned and nodded, turning on his heel and leaving the scene, exiting around the corner from which he came.

"The rest of you, return back to your dorms. I'll escort Miss Sivad back safely to her common room." The crowd cleared out. Before leaving, Abraxas placed a firm hand on Riddle's shoulder and nodded. Riddle, in turn made eye contact in acknowledgement.

Hermione didn't know whether to feel relieved or not. One Slytherin was definitely better than a whole troop, but this wasn't any ordinary Slytherin either. Regardless, she let a heavy sigh and prepared herself to procure her wand at any time.

She detoured around Riddle to continue on before he brought her attention back.

"No thank you then, I assume?" Riddle said with a slight smile in his voice. Hermione turned back on her heel.

"Thank you for what? For you calling off your lackeys at an opportune moment?" Hermione laughed at the notion of truly thanking him in any form.

"Quite petulant aren't we? Usually I find others more than appreciative of my services." He said with a handsome smile that Hermione had learned to loathe down to her very core.

"Well, in that case, thank you for your omnipresent existence. May Hogwarts feel safe under your watch tonight." Hermione said sarcastically. All hints of a smile quickly faded from his face as wretched anger masked it.

He strode forward powerfully toward Hermione. At that point she had already pulled her wand out and put it at arm's length—separating the two of them. She tried to look intimidating but fear betrayed her as it crept upon her face.

Her wand poked him in the chest as he stepped once more. He laughed sadistically.

"As cute as this little Gryffindor show of bravery is, we both know you are outmatched. You are afraid, Hermione Sivad. It is written across your face," Riddle hissed through his teeth. "You're emotions are splayed out. You're like an open book to read—except for one thing. There is something I can't place my finger on." He was now circling her, and in turn, Hermione rotated as well—pacing in a circle, never allowing her back to face him.

"Even now you are acting as though I am about to kill you where you stand," Riddle chuckled darkly, almost seductively. Hermione faltered in her steps nervously and quickly found Riddle behind her. She felt his hot breath on her ear. "I could you know. I could kill you where you stand right now." Hermione shook slightly from fright and dreaded anticipation.

"But I won't," he said simply. Hermione felt Riddle step back and circle until he faced her once more. She lowered her wand slowly to her side, but never once loosened her grip.

"I won't because there is more to you Hermione Sivad. More I wish to know. I see potential in you. You may not surpass me in skill, but my… friends are very much lacking. You could certainly be a beacon to them. I can't see why you are so afraid of me, so intent on avoiding me. But you can't hide these things forever."

Hermione swallowed hard and averted her eyes. She was tired, she was finished, she was ready to plunge a knife in his dark heart and end it now. But that's not the way Dumbledore would have wanted it. Dumbledore had looked at her like her thought that maybe she could appeal to his humanity, to the side of him that was good. Hermione couldn't see that, so how could Dumbledore?

She felt a pressure on the walls of her mind—like a force trying to slip its way in. She retaliated by pushing the force back effectively.

"Touchy," Riddle chuckled, clearly impressed. Hermione frowned. She felt the threat fade away and cautiously placed the wand back inside her robes.

"Consider my offer, Hermione, it's nothing short of exclusive, I assure you. But for now, we must part ways; I will see you at the Slug Club dinner next week then, yes? Maybe then we can discuss arrangements for our class project," Riddle said smiling and inclining his head toward her in a way to appease to her sense of reason. "Until then, Miss Sivad." Riddle then walked around her and headed toward the library.

Hermione took a deep breath. The inconvenience of running into him unprepared was becoming more and more frequent—but then again, she began to wonder if she would ever be prepared. He was such a confusing individual. One minute he would be boiling over with rage, and the next a smile would be on his face. His mad-man disposition made Hermione uneasy.

She needed to calm herself. She was never going to complete this mission the way it was meant to be completed if she maintained the same tendencies when facing him. A pointed wand and insults would never go well, she knew this, but then again, she did not want to play niceties with the Dark Lord.

Hermione started walking back toward the Ravenclaw Tower. How would she fix things from this point on? Especially after their most recent confrontation. She needed to come up with a good explanation and fast. It better be a pretty damn good one, Hermione. She chastised herself for her ignorance.

With a reminder to brush up on her acting skills, Hermione thought back to the event that occurred before Black had begun patronizing her. She remembered the voice, the words it had spoken to her. The answers you seek are hidden in these very walls… I have seen your face… I know you… He knows you… And they are coming. It sounded vaguely familiar in concerning the prophecy Dumbledore had spoken of months prior. Could it somehow tie-in? Could prophecies stretch across the laws of time? She had so many questions, yet no answers. But one thing was final: something was coming, and it was coming fast, and if Hermione didn't find the right allies in enough time, she would stand no chance against the force that was to come.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Please review, favorite, or message if you have any questions! I love hearing from my readers and it lets me know how well I am doing and what I could do better on as a writer in helping this story progress. Just feel free to voice what you think, your predictions, and your hopes for this story! I read every review! I will also be more active from here on out! But, I'll see you guys again soon (Promise this time)!

Love and well wishes,

ViperStripes (Bethany)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, the characters, or anything clever. It belongs to the amazing JK Rowling. I am just a devout fan with a crazy plot. Thank you!