Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me
I am SO SO sorry for the horrendously late update! It's horrible of me and I really do apologise. I'm just glad that exams are all over and it's the summer holidays now so hopefully updates will be more consistent from now on.
Just wanted to say a huge thank you to all of you for your patience and kindness. I am continually humbled by your support and how sweet you all are even when telling me to hurry up and post the next chapter. Thank you so much and hope you enjoy!
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Chapter 6
Her footsteps clattered on the hard stone floor, robes billowing out behind her like a ever-present, hovering black cloud as she hurtled down the corridors in a blind daze. Students streamed past her, swivelling and sidestepping out of her way in surprise.
I need to get away from here.
Hermione could barely see where she was going through the haze threatening to blind her. Relying instead on memory, she turned a sharp left, fumbling along the wall until her hand reached the recognizable coolness of the library door handle. Jerking the door open, she slipped inside and hurried towards the far corner of the darkened chamber, not pausing to greet Madame Hartworth as the librarian glanced up.
Huddling in the corner of the stacks, she sucked in some deep breaths, filling her lungs with the comfortingly musty air of old books. The scent of centuries-old magic fizzled around her, the feeling soothing her frazzled nerves like nothing else. Hermione had lost count over the years of the number of times she had sought sanctuary in this same room, the endless rows of oversize books and worn stone walls as familiar as the back of her hand.
Said hand skimmed over the shelf she was leaning against, lovingly tracing out the gold-embossed titles on their spines. Pausing on a particularly hefty dull green book, she whispered the faded block words to herself.
"Beating the Bludgers – A study of Defensive Strategies in Quidditch by Kennilworthy Whisp."
It had been the one library book Ron had ever expressed any interest in, well, other than Flying with the Cannons. Hermione could still remember him flipping though the crisp pages by the fireplace, excitedly discussing the practicability of various techniques with Harry while trying to explain what they were talking about to Hermione as she curled up on the other end of the couch.
Pulling the book out, Hermione opened it to a random page.
"When attacked from behind, be sure to recognise the faint whizzing sound as the Bludger comes within 5 metres of the end of your broom. As they have a tendency of angling to the left after travelling for more than 20 metres, roll over slightly to the right in order to avoid it."
The rest of the words blurred into a mass of curly black ink and moving pictorial examples. Whimpering once, Hermione slammed the book shut, unable to bear the sound of his voice loudly reciting the words to her inside her head.
"Oh, Ron…Harry…"
She missed them so much. It was like an ache that would never go away, sitting there day after day in the same classrooms she had shared with her best friends. Only this time, she was all alone. And it hurt.
Pressing her face against the panelled arched window, Hermione closed her eyes, her shallow puffs of air misting up cool glass. Crying did not do anyone any good; she had learnt that lesson when the people around her had started falling like the withered leaves in autumn. They had all learnt that lesson, some faster than others.
But that didn't mean she couldn't imagine how good it felt to let it out sometimes.
"Miss Granger."
Lifting her head, Hermione turned to see a tall, stern-looking woman peering down at her from the end of the stacks. Her heavily wrinkled face held an expression of concern, the thick black folds of her unadorned robes sweeping lightly across the floor as she drew closer.
"Professor Merrythought."
Hastily wiping her face free of emotions, Hermione straightened as she met the warm violet eyes of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who also happened to be the Head of Gryffindor.
"Are you quite alright, Miss Granger?"
The mild question was as understated as always. The adults had murmured amongst themselves in confusion when their brilliant new Head Girl had exploded at the Head Boy during breakfast. Hermione was well-known for her quiet self-assurance in class; nothing had been suggested that there was anything of turmoil that would elicit such a display of temper.
"I'm fine, professor. Just a headache."
The older witch eyed her shrewdly for a minute, taking in the pale, set face and dark bags under her eyes. Eyes that were far too world-weary for someone her age. Hermione stared back determinedly, schooling her features into an inscrutable mask.
She had had plenty of practice.
"Very well. Take care to see Madame Giggili if you do not feel better. You should head off to class now, I believe."
Nodding, Hermione brushed past the woman, smoothly replacing the book in its place as she did so. The quiet voice spoke again before she turned the corner.
"The Headmaster would like to see you after classes today. You do know where it is, don't you? The password is absit omen."
"'Let an omen be absent.'"
Hermione chuckled, the forced sound bitter and oddly loud in the surrounding quiet. She glanced back over her shoulder before leaving.
"How fitting."
Slowly making her way down the now empty corridors, the girl sighed. She had gotten herself into a rather sticky situation. Chucking things at the future Dark Lord and embarrassing him in front of the entire school had not exactly been part of her plan.
Ah, well. It'll probably only make him hate me more. That's one good thing at least; so long as he doesn't end up killing me for it.
Stopping in front of a heavy carved door, Hermione hesitated, throwing back her shoulders in resigned courage.
Here goes nothing.
She strode into the classroom, the sound of her Charms professor's voice and general chatter of the students falling silent as she headed towards her desk and sat down. Murmuring a low apology to the stout elderly wizard, Hermione conjured up a roll of parchment and a quill, making a mental note to accio her book bag during the break. Unfortunately, she had not thought to return to her rooms to get it.
The hushed whispers started up around her, undoubtedly speculating about the temper tantrum Hermione had displayed a while ago. She ignored all of this, just like she ignored the inquisitive glances her friends shot her from her left and right.
The day passed in a blur, Hermione brushing off their concerned inquiries and keeping to herself during lunch. She figured that she would have to talk to them sooner or later, opting for later for the time being. They were persistent though, that particular Gryffindor trait exerting itself at the most inconvenient of times. But Hermione could be stubborn too, making vague, non-committal replies before slipping off into the crowd.
The hardest part was during the last class of the day. Since this was a N.E.W.T. level advanced course, the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was sparsely filled with no more than twelve or fifteen students. Hermione could feel the icy burn of Tom Riddle's eyes as she took the table next to his, the Heads occupying their regular seats at the front of the classroom.
Completely ignoring him, she focused on taking down notes, well aware of the equally contemplative gaze of her Professor as she lectured non-stop on the similarities between Pogrebin and Dementors and how to distinguish these nasty little critters from regular stones before they managed to infuse you with hopelessness.
A sharp kick on the back of her chair sent her arm flying across the parchment, leaving behind a blotchy black scrawl of ink right over her neat writing. Whipping around to berate the offender sitting behind her, Hermione came face to face with a rather extraordinarily ugly fellow whose sole redeeming feature, his brilliant green eyes, matched the Slytherin tie hanging loosely around his neck exactly.
"What? Going to throw another tantrum, are we?"
The hissed jeer made Hermione want to slap the stupid accompanying leer right off his overbroad face. She really did not need this right now. Almost unknowingly, her right hand crept down towards the wand in her pocket.
"Is there a problem here?"
She looked up to see Professor Merrythought was standing over them, impatiently tapping her fingers on her arm. Hermione's lips thinned. It was tempting to dock the little prat some House points but from the way the other Slytherins were sneering at her, it appeared as though her breakfast antics already had them up in arms. And from experience, she knew that giving that bunch just one more reason for making her a prime target was the last thing she needed.
"No. No problem, professor"
Those violet eyes flittered between the blank expression on her face and the barely concealed smirk on the other's before their owner turned to walk back towards the front of the classroom.
"If that's the case, then class dismissed. Please remember that the assignment is a paper discussing, in detail, the four methods of countering a Pogrebin's attack and it is to be handed in on Monday."
The usual sighs and mutterings sounded as the students filed out of the classroom. Hefting her bag over her shoulder, Hermione was headed towards the door when the older witch motioned for her to wait.
"You do remember that you have an appointment to see the Headmaster, Ms. Granger? If you would wait just a second, I'm sure Mr. Riddle here would be happy to go with you."
Eyes flashing in shock, Hermione forced herself to take a deep breath before even attempting to speak. She could see the tall figure standing motionlessly out of the corner of her eye.
"That's really not necessary, professor. I know the way and I'm…"
"Mr. Riddle has been called too so the two of you might as well go together."
There was not much else to say after that. Nodding curtly, Hermione stalked out of the door, resisting the urge to slam the door in his face as Tom Riddle followed behind her.
Both were completely quiet as they made their way down the corridors. Many of the students had already scattered outside given it was the end of classes on a Friday. Several groups of fourth and fifth-years gave then disinterested looks, the girls usually giggling flirtatiously as they greeted the Head Boy. Tom's expression remained impassive, his only sign of acknowledgement a barely imperceptible nod.
Stuck-up, arrogant prick.
Satisfying herself by calling him any number of childish names in her head, Hermione's scowl deepened. She stubbornly struggled to keep pace with him as he strode on ahead of her as though she was not even there. Perversely though, he stepped back to allow her to step onto the spiralling stairs first.
Shooting him a derisive glance at that obviously sarcastic gesture of chivalry, she briskly went up and knocked on the panelled oak door.
"Come in."
Stepping into the cluttered circular room once again, Hermione stood stiffly in front of the wide desk as the Headmaster peered over his glasses at her. Tom was right beside her, his breathing so quiet that she could almost imagine he was a wax statute.
"Ah, Ms. Granger and Mr. Riddle. Thank you for coming so promptly. I trust you had an educating day today?"
Hermione's lips twitched. Somehow, that just seemed like something the elderly wizard would say, but it still sounded a bit silly. She didn't notice a pair of dark eyes flicker in her direction.
"Yes, sir."
"Good, good. Now then, I do believe we have a small matter to discuss."
Pausing as if hoping either one of them would broach the subject voluntarily, Dippet sighed into the ensuing silence.
"Ms. Granger, if you would like to explain what exactly happened during breakfast this morning, please?"
She knew this would happen. Blinking innocently, she adopted an expression of embarrassment.
"Yes, Headmaster. I think it was just a nervous breakdown caused by the stress of dealing with a new environment and having to handle all the Head Girl duties."
Hermione was well aware that someone like Riddle would not buy such a flimsy excuse but it appeared as though the kindly old man did. Dippet stroked his scraggly white beard, a tired smile giving him a grandfatherly look.
"Ah, that is understandable of course but really, we cannot have another such display in the future, Ms. Granger. Looks very bad for inter-house cooperation, you know."
"Yes, sir. I apologise for making a scene."
Riddle's eyebrow arched minutely. She knew that he would notice that she made no apology for her behaviour to him but to her surprise, he neither pointed that out nor demanded one right away.
"Very well, very well. I'm quite sure you'll settle in just fine soon enough. In fact, Ms. Granger, if you have any problems with your Head duties, I'm sure Mr. Riddle here would be happy to help you. Cooperation between the Heads themselves is one of the main reasons we place you in separate dorms."
"I'm sure he could, Headmaster. Although whether he would be happy to is another matter."
"Oh?"
The old man's expression was one of faint surprise. Clearly, it was rare for anyone to offer any sort of criticism on the Head Boy.
"Mr. Riddle? Is there something the matter?"
This time, Hermione did catch his measured gaze as he shot her a cold glare that she met evenly. It was more than past time for someone to kick him off his high horse. Moreover, stirring up some trouble for him could only aid in prejudicing him against her.
"Not at all, Headmaster. I have no idea what Granger is talking about. Maybe her delusions are caused by her inability to withstand not being adored by everyone she meets."
Her initial surprise at his sharp retort was swiftly replaced by an almost immediate flaring of temper. If the sick bastard thought he could best her at a war of words he had another thing coming.
"Actually, I think its Riddle here who's getting a bit mixed up in his head as usual. Certainly, I'm not the one who suffers from such pathetic delusions of grandeur."
"Well, if it isn't you, then I must say I have no idea who else it could be. After all, you're the only one here who acted like a crazy person in front of the whole school today."
"It takes one to know one, Riddle."
They stood glaring openly at each other, both faces wiped clean of any outward signs of aggression but eyes snapping dangerously. An uncomfortable cough sounded from the background.
"Ahem, well … since it doesn't seem as though there's anything specifically the matter, I'm sure the two of you will be able to sort things out yourselves. I must stress that it is highly unseemly for our Head Boy and Girl to be fighting so please do try to resolve all this as soon as possible. Now, if you'd like to take advantage of the lovely weather we've been having lately…"
Practically chewing on her own tongue, Hermione barely suppressed a sneer before excusing herself. Dippet looked somewhat uneasy but relieved when she departed without another word to the boy who was still standing there in the middle of the room, his eyes following her every movement.
Hurrying back to Head dorms, she chucked her book bag on a chair before flinging herself on the bed. Stifling a pent-up scream in her pillow, the girl lay there drifting in and out of consciousness for hours, the recent events of the day enough to render her completely and utterly exhausted.
Finally, it was the darkening of the room that had her raising her head wearily, scanning the room until her gaze fell on the clock perched on her nightstand.
"8:30? Oh great, I missed supper."
As if in whining complaint, her stomach growled at that exact moment. Sighing, Hermione pushed herself to an upright position, running an exasperated hand through the tangle of curls on her head.
"I suppose I could head on down to the kitchens and see if there's anything to eat…"
"No need, my dear."
The mirror next to her wardrobe spoke, her rumpled reflection looking back out at her.
"Some Gryffindors are at the entrance. I believe they are asking for you."
Groaning aloud, Hermione smiled at the mirror before peeking out from behind the portrait guarding her bedchamber.
Not that I'm afraid of Riddle, mind you. I just don't have the energy to deal with him right now.
Seeing that the coast was clear, she scampered down the stairs. Pushing the door open, she was met with four very concerned faces. It was Allegra and the rest of the girls.
"'Mione! We've been so worried about you! Are you alright?"
"Ugh, you look like you've been run over by a herd of Graphorns. Luckily we managed to convince the others that you wouldn't want a hoard of guys stampeding all over your private rooms."
"Yes, I'm fine. Why don't you all come in; it's better than standing out there in the hallway."
Soon thereafter, they were sitting in a circle in the middle of her bed, the girls exclaiming over the lavish furnishings. Monessa placed a heaping plate on her lap, eyeing the other girl's haggard appearance carefully.
"We brought you some food, Hermione. Everyone was wondering where you'd gone to, especially when you didn't show up for supper."
"Yeah, Wills was clamouring to send the troops out to find you. Although by troops, I suppose he really meant himself since the silly git was going on and on about being some sort of knight-in-shining-armour destined to save his lady-in-distress. Honestly, he's been worse than ever lately, hasn't he? You've a bit of a bad influence on him, 'Mione!"
"Don't let's forget Gideon though. He looked like someone drowned his puppy every time someone entered the Great Hall but it wasn't you."
Merry laughter drifted up from the small group. Hermione welcomed it gratefully; the sense of normalcy, of acceptance, was like a balm to her soul, wiping clean the murky despair of the past twelve hours. Swallowing another mouthful of potato, she felt a gentle hand touch her arm.
"You want to talk about what happened, Hermione?"
Smiling wanly into the clear brown eyes focused on hers, she shook her head softly. The rest of the girls had quietened, their blatant attempts to cheer her up working better than they would have known.
"It's really nothing. I'm sorry I made you guys worry; just a bit of a nervous breakdown. I haven't really been feeling well all day and I guess all the stress of the past month or so just kept piling on until I lost it this morning."
That was true, in a sense. They were all silent for a minute before Mae reached up to tuck a wayward curl sticking up from Hermione's head back in place.
"Next time, you talk to us, okay? That's what friends do. After all, we wouldn't want to have to dig you back up after Riddle's fan club is finished with you."
Chuckles spread over them and Hermione suddenly found herself engulfed in a warm group hug. Laughing in return, she blinked back a hot rush of tears, thankful that in the midst of all this, she had been blessed with such an amazing group of friends.
"Right, although according to what you just told me, it'll probably be Wills doing the digging. So much for your moment of heroic glory."
Giggling, the girls launched right back into wondering whether said Gryffindor was better than a certain Quidditch captain. It wasn't until much much later after they had left and Hermione had finished up her rounds that she managed to collapse in bed and drag the covers over her, just as exhausted but perhaps slightly less drained than before.
Despite everything though, it was a long while before Hermione managed to fall into a restless sleep.
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A/N: I had a bit of a writer's block halfway through this chapter. I really want to include more Tom but I also want to keep things developing realistically between the two of them. It's a struggle but hopefully it's not been too tedious so far.
Anyways, thank you for reading and please do review! Next update shouldn't be too long. (fingers crossed)