Chapter 2 - All these screams; all these voices in my head…

She didn't know where she was.

Hermione Granger, smartest witch of her generation, was lost. Every time she tried to think of how to get back to Hogwarts, her brain would send shooting fissures of pain throughout her head, pain so great that it immobilized her for a few minutes while she caught her breath.

Hermione forced herself to keep her eyes glued to her desk, covered in books and parchment, as she concentrated on doing her homework. She felt self-conscious, having Tom Riddle, the Head Boy and future Dark Lord, sitting at the other end of her desk, watching her doing her work. She couldn't tell him to go away, no matter how much she wanted to. She hadn't said a word to him, not since she "enrolled" in Hogwarts as a "new student," not since she made eye contact with him after the end of her first full week of school.

On the outside she appeared not to be noticing him, continuing to write down the uses of Mandrakes, even though she had already finished that particular assignment within the first hour of getting it. On the inside, she panicked. Her nerves felt as if they were pulled taunt, and the hair on the back of her neck was raised. His presence took up so much space at the end of the table that the Hogwarts Library seemed too small with him in it. The room was filling up with his energy; each time she took a breath, she felt his power cackle as it laced with the air.

She looked down at herself each time this happened, taking note of the long dark robes she wore; robes that most definitely did not belong to Gryffindor, let alone a female Gryffindor. The dark black robes had most definitely been tailored to the male body. Its length dragged across the forest floor, disrupting dead leaves and dirt while picking up debris along the dark emerald green hem. The length of the fabric making up the sleeves hung a full eight inches past the tips of her fingers. In confusion, she lifted up her arms, eyes widening as the sleeves fell back to reveal the dark purple lines that crisscrossed her wrists. Lines that told her, even if her memory couldn't, that she had been held captive at some point recently.

Without any warning, Tom shoved the chair back and stalked towards her, yanking her chair back just before he pounced on her. He slung her body against the bookshelves behind his shoulders; her head flung back so hard, the books on the opposite side of the shelves tumbled over. She felt his hard body pressing to hers, his lips devouring her. She could taste him in her mouth; a dark, bitter taste that reminded her faintly of the dark future ahead.

Why wouldn't he leave her alone? She couldn't shake him off of her; her struggles intensified, her mind screaming at her that he would want not just her body, but her soul as well.

"Stop, please!"

Rearing up against his body, Hermione tried to break free of Tom's hold, thrusting her face to the side to avoid his mouth. Chest heaving, eyes closed, she felt the wetness of her tears splatter against her cheeks and smear across the dark robes covering his chest. When Tom only chuckled, she kept her eyes shut, feeling the fear and the shame rise inside her heart as she felt him watch her tears gather against her shut eyes. Letting herself sag against the front of his chest, she didn't open her eyes until she felt the hold he had on her had slipped, enough for her to squirm out of his arms. Seizing her chance, Hermione shoved past him, hard enough for her to hear his large body slam against the edge of the desk she had originally been working on.

Sprinting out of the library, she ran down the hall to where she hoped to find sanctuary, praying to have bought enough time to hide herself behind closed doors before Tom could find her. There!

As Hermione continued to stumble through the forest, pain lancing behind her eyes, she also noticed that it was normal. Well, as normal as a forest could be. The trees were tall, yet barren of any foliage. The moonlight lit up the entire area around her, illuminating her in a circle of silver threads that gave her an ethereal image. Her hair sprang out of her head with illustrious curls that held shades of brown, gold, and red. Her face, lifted towards the moonlight, was a pale ivory that matched the snow on the ground. Her eyes, which remained closed in deep concentration, was a dark brown that was accented by arched delicate brows and surrounded by luscious eyelashes. Cheekbones, sitting high against the middle of her face, were covered by smooth plump cheeks that suggested the age of the young girl. Although of legal age, her skin glowed with the vibrancy that only the youth was gifted with.

His hand blocked the classroom door before she could slam it shut. Backing away from him, Hermione tried to put some distance between them. Rubbing his hip, Tom stalked her around the room, flinging desks and chairs out of his way as if they were flies.

"Now, that wasn't very nice."

Hermione continued to walk backwards until her back came up against the wall. Terrified, Hermione watched as Tom quickly caged her in, placing his large hands on either side of her head. Oh Merlin, he could move fast. One minute, she was watching him walking across the room towards her, and the next, he had her trapped. Hermione inhaled deeply, keeping her eyes on his broad chest. She watched as he took a step closer, fearful, as he brought their bodies together where she felt every inch of him pressing against her.

Already fully aroused, she felt his erection as he pushed his hips into hers, showing her how much he wanted her, how easy he could take her and no one would ever know.

"I think you should make it up to me, don't you?"

Hermione closed her eyes as she felt his hand stroke her face. When he lowered his head to claim her lips, she gently shoved his hand away. Before she could struggle, Tom captured her lips and kissed her soundly. He seemed to be savoring the taste of her, almost as if he had to make it last, as if he had to imprint his memory of himself into her body.

Subconsciously, Hermione's fingers grazed her lips; her cheeks were flushed, not by a youthful glow, but by the cold winter air that bit against her cheeks and chilled her hands. The robes kept her warm, with the inside covered in a thick layer of soft fur that would have surprised her if she was in her right mind to think about it. Shuddering, Hermione slowly sank to the ground, weakened by the pain shooting through her head and, from her guess, the lack of energy to burn. She couldn't remember the last time she ate, but from the feel of her body, whoever had held her captive fed her very well. As she laid her head against the tree, sitting in the middle of the moonlight, Hermione felt herself falling asleep; her eyes could not remain open, no matter how hard she tried. Whimpering, her final thought, before she lost consciousness and entered the dream world, was a silent scream,

"Tom"