A/N: Hi again! Back with another one! I changed my pen name if you didn't notice already, from Lady Contessa to Elle Cee. Don't ask me why, I just did. So, end of story. Anyway, hope you enjoy this one, I've added a little... well, read and find out. Enjoy and review!
Thanks again to the wonderful people who took precious time out of their daily lives to review my humble story. These people are (drum roll please):
Lady-Delphinea - Thanks for reviewing! You are one of my constant reviewers and I greatly appreciate that! Can't wait to see another one from you for this one! And don't worry about it, take your time to R&R, I understand! So long as I get one: )
Reaper3698 - Thank you for the review! I think you're a new one, so I hope you continue to enjoy TLTL and continue to provide me with your much appreciated reviews! Until next time!
ReineMauvaise - I completely agree with you! Thanks for the review! I hope you find this chapter a good one!
Right or Ryn - Thank you for reviewing each chapter! I don't know many people who do that, though I don't think even I do that myself! Thank you again, and I hope you find this chapter as good as you did the others! Happy reading!
FireChildSlytherin5 - Thank you for reviewing! I think you're a new reviewer too, so I hope you find the rest of the story appealing. As for Riddle remembering what he sees, you'll just have to see.
NOTE: I do NOT credit anonymous reviewers, so if you didn't find your name here or in any list of the previous chapters, log in and I will list your pen name along with a message at the beginning of every chapter, as long as you reviewed the previous one.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that belongs to J.K. Rowling because... well... it belongs to J.K. Rowling. So there.
Chapter 6:
Let's Play Choose
Hermione was surrounded by total darkness. She couldn't see her hands if she held them up but an inch from her face. She tried to call out but it seemed that her voice was gone. Faces appeared before her eyes, the faces of Harry, Ron, and all her friends she had made in this era. As each one of them flashed before her, they glanced at her sadly before turning around and disappearing, another person taking their place. Hermione was so confused; she didn't know why they were looking at her the way they did. Their eyes were full of grief and sorrow, and she thought she saw some spite there too.
Vivian's face flashed before her, and then for a moment, nothing. Then, Hermione could barely make out a face that seemed miles away, zooming in closer and closer every second that passed until it was close enough to recognize; it was the face of Lord Voldemort.
As his image drew closer and closer Hermione could hear his maniacal laughter echoing in her head, growing louder and louder until she couldn't take it anymore. She wanted to run away from the fast-approaching, sinister-looking face, but found that her feet were glued to the floor.
Voldemort's face was now seconds away and the psychotic laughter grew to an unbearable level. The face engulfed her and Hermione finally found her voice and screamed, her bones feeling as if they had been lit on fire, and Voldemort's sinister laughter booming inside her head -
Hermione jolted awake, breathing heavily. She grabbed her wand from the bedside table and muttered, "Horus." The time and date scratched itself into the air in front of her and read:
Monday, September 14, 1944 6:30 AM.
"Too early," Hermione muttered, but decided to get up anyway. She grabbed a fresh set of robes and entered the bathroom. What she needed to wake her up was a nice, cold shower. The water that was streaming out of the shower head wasn't coloured, but it was lavender scented as well. Hermione undressed and opened the shower door and stepped in, breathing in the light scent of lavender while she began to wash her hair.
After ten minutes, she stepped out of the shower and dried off. She put on her robes, which were somewhat different from her time. The skirt was longer and was grey, not black. The emblem on the shirt was still the same, just a little larger than what they had in the future. She liked these uniforms though; they were comfortable and they fitted right.
She checked the time again – it was 7:00 – and she decided to get an early breakfast. Pulling her hair into a high bun and holding it in place with her wand, she gathered her things and headed down to the Great Hall.
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When Hermione got to the Great Hall, only a few students were sitting at their respective house tables. Hermione searched the Gryffindor table for her friends and found them all clustered near the middle. She made her way to them and grabbed a seat next to Samantha.
"Morning Hermione," They greeted her.
"Good morning," Hermione replied. She noticed that Angela was absent from breakfast. "Where's Angela?" Hermione inquired.
"We haven't got the slightest clue. Woke up this morning and she was gone. It was pretty strange too, seeing as she's almost always the last one of us to get up in the morning, especially on a Monday," Vivian said, waving to her friends from the Hufflepuff table when they greeted her.
"Just forget it, she'll turn up sometime," Claudia shrugged.
"Alright," Hermione said, not paying it anymore attention.
After breakfast, the gang headed to their first class: Herbology with the Hufflepuffs.
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"What say we set a few plants on fire huh?" Simon whispered to Charlie and Arny while the professor was giving the seventh years their instructions.
"Are you mental? We'll get a month's worth of detention for that!" Arny exclaimed a little louder than he had planned. The professor had stopped talking and the entire class was staring at him. "Sorry," He said sheepishly.
Hermione shook her head slightly and turned her attention back to the professor, who was another unfamiliar face to her. But she listened anyway, and in the middle of a lecture on the Bubotuber and its pus AND drawing the class' attention to the fact that the boy who Hermione had seen in the Hospital Wing with big red boils covering his face, had handled the Bubotuber incorrectly, resulting in his being splattered with the acidic pus, Angela came hurrying into the greenhouse.
"You're late Ms. Everard. That will be detention with me tonight, after hours," The professor said, shaking his head before returning to the lecture.
"Yes sir," Angela saluted him with a roll of her eyes before taking a spot beside Samantha.
"Where were you?" Claudia whispered.
"Nowhere, I had to do something, but I lost track of time. Don't worry about it," Angela explained, whispering across Samantha to reach Claudia. The class went on as usual, and ended after what seemed like hours.
After the class was dismissed, the students all routinely filed out of the greenhouse. In the corridor, Hermione spotted Professor Dumbledore walking her way. "Hey, I'll see you guys later alright?" Hermione shooed them away and met with Dumbledore half way.
"Good afternoon Ms. Granger, how is your second day of school working out? Good I hope?" the old man asked conversationally.
"I'm doing alright sir," Hermione replied, giving a small smile.
"I would like for you to meet me in my office tomorrow night at 8:00. We will try to solve your problem as best we can. I trust you'll be able to make it?" he asked, while watching the many students of Hogwarts walk past, laughing and chattering away with friends.
"Yes Head- I mean Professor Dumbledore, I'll try to make it," Hermione answered; she didn't have any plans tomorrow night. At least she didn't think so.
"Excellent. Well then, you'd best be on your way, wouldn't want to be late for class," The professor said, and he leaned in to whisper something to Hermione. "But between you and me, I was never one for being on time either," This surprised Hermione slightly, but then she smiled and laughed a bit. Professor Dumbledore? Not one for being on time? Bollocks! And on that note, the two went their separate ways. The Charms classroom was just around the corner when Hermione was stopped by a voice calling her from down the corridor.
"Ms. Granger! Ms. Granger!" It was Professor Dippet. Hermione stopped mid-step and turned on her heel to face him.
"Headmaster," Hermione greeted him with a slight nod.
"Ms. Granger. Lovely afternoon isn't it?" The headmaster asked, looking out of the window at the clear, sunny sky.
"Yes it is," Hermione agreed. "What is it you needed me for sir?" she asked, also following his gaze to look outside the window. It really was a lovely afternoon; the birds were all out and about, the sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. But Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by Dippet's voice speaking again.
"Well, I came here to tell you that you and Tom, with the both of you our Head Girl and Boy, are charged with the responsibility of organizing and running the annual Fall Ball. Think of a catchier name if you feel you must, I'm not so big a fan of it either. So tonight at 7:00, after you've had your dinner you'll need to meet with Tom in the library and start planning. The ball is in less than two weeks, so there no time to waste! The sooner you get started, the sooner you get finished. I want this ball to top Beauxbaton's Fall Soiree this year, so I want you both to work to the best of your abilities in making the decorations, the menu, the theme, and everything else. Hire other students if you need some extra help, but I'm sure you can handle most of it yourself. Good luck," He finished. Hermione shook her head in understanding, and said,
"I'll get to it as soon as I can Headmaster."
"Good. Now, off to class before the professor gives you a detention," he said before briskly walking away.
Hermione quickly entered the Charms classroom and took her seat, taking out a quill and a parchment paper. But her mind was elsewhere, dwelling on what decorations she should choose, or what entrées to put on the menu for the House elves to prepare. Before she knew it, Charms class was over, and surprisingly, Hermione didn't really care if she missed out on the day's lesson, because the more she though about it, the more she was becoming excited about the ball.
"Hermione! What are you doing tonight? Are you free to teach us some more of those handy spells?" Samantha asked Hermione on the way to their next class.
"Actually, I've already got plans. I have to meet up with Tom tonight and start to plan for the Fall Ball," Hermione explained, entering the Potions classroom and taking her seat. She didn't see the odd glance Angela gave her as she mentioned Tom's name.
"Oh, alright then, some other time maybe? Let me know when you're free okay?" Sam said, taking her seat after her.
"Of course," Hermione replied, heaving her cauldron onto the desk.
"You're meeting with Tom tonight?" Angela inquired, had cocked to the side.
"Erm… yes I am. Why?" Hermione asked, eyeing her a little.
"Oh, no reason. I just wanted to warn you, Tom can be dangerous when not handled properly. I just want you to be careful," Angela said, quickly returning to her seat as Professor Slughorn started the class.
Hermione again couldn't focus on the lesson, because now she had another issue on her mind: Why was Angela acting so… strange? And why did she talk about Tom like he was some delicate potion that would explode if not handled properly? Maybe because he was exactly like that. Who knows.
Before she knew it, the class was over. The rest of the day sped by like a breeze, and pretty soon, it was 7:00, and Hermione was getting a little nervous about meeting with Tom.
Why am I getting so nervous over a petty little meeting that will probably be as dull as Divination? Hermione was contemplating ways she could escape should something go horribly wrong, like him losing his temper and whipping his wand out on her, which would probably be the last thing she would ever see. Apparition was out of the question, since Apparition and Disapparition were not possible on Hogwarts grounds. Perhaps she could just push him onto his back and make a run for it. He wouldn't expect it, and if she pushed him hard enough, she could probably buy herself a few extra seconds to get out of there before he killed her or something.
Everything will be just fine. She assured herself for the millionth time that day. As long as I don't aggravate him. Or tick him off. Or provoke him in any way. The best-case scenario's that I'll walk out of that meeting in one piece. "But scarred inside for life," She muttered under her breath as she briskly walked through the open oak doors of the library. She quietly walked through the aisles searching for Tom, but the young murderer was nowhere to be found.
Where in Merlin's beard did that boy go? Hermione was getting frustrated. In the back of the library, where the Restricted section lay with it's big fenced doors, coaxing students to enter its forbidden aisles, Hermione decided to look. So she searched through the dark aisles of the Restricted section, having to eluminate her way with a Lumos spell because there was almost no light at all in this part of the library.
"You're late Granger."
Hermione knew right away who the voice belonged to. She turned on her heel and rolled her eyes at the dark figure of Tom Riddle.
"Well if you didn't choose such a secluded spot, maybe I would've found you sooner Riddle," Hermione said, emphasizing his surname as it rolled off her tongue. She sat down across the table and glared at him.
"That doesn't matter now. I've already begun, so just sit there and try not to get in my way," The handsome teenager said, not taking his eyes off the sheet of parchment laid in front of him. Hermione laughed at this.
"What do you know about planning a ball?" she asked mockingly.
"I suppose you do know more about planning pointless dances like these than I do, but since you chose to arrive late, and I've already started, then you don't really have a say in the matter, do you?" Tom said, turning the sheet around and resuming writing again. Hermione frowned.
I am not just going to sit here and take that. I'm Head girl, and I have just as much right as you to plan this ball. "I have as much say as you do in the matter, and I say that I want to help plan this thing. So if you would so kindly hand the parchment over, there won't be any problems," Hermione said, forcing herself to stay calm and whisper, as not to disturb anyone else in the library and draw the wrath of the librarian.
"I don't take orders from you," Tom said, staring at her directly in the face, challenging her to meet him in a battle of wits.
"Oh really? And who do you take orders from?" Hermione asked him, meeting him head on.
"No one; orders are for followers, and I am not a follower."
"I find that hard to believe."
"Oh? Please, explain." He had a mild look of amusement showing on his normally stoic face.
"Okay. You strike me as the type who hates all Muggle-borns, Half-bloods, and Blood-traitors as Pure-bloods so call them," Hermione said, forgetting about the planning completely. She was now focused on winning this match of wits.
"I do?" There was no surprise evident in his voice.
"Yes, you do. And by hating Muggle-borns, Half-bloods, and Blood-traitors, you are just another Slytherin who thinks they are above everyone else just because they're of pure-blood descent. You're following a crowd, so that makes you a follower." Tom studied her for moment, and this time Hermione wasn't going to crack. She looked him straight in the eye as he gazed at her analytically. Suddenly, he pushed the parchment to her and handed her the quill. Hermione was surprised; he had given up just like that.
Reluctantly, she took the quill and read over what Tom had already written down, and then started to add on her own ideas.
"You know for a Gryffindor, you're not as simple-minded as I thought you were," he said, tapping the table with his fingertips while observing her writing.
"You know for a Slytherin, you're every bit as conceited as I thought you were," Hermione retorted, all the while jotting down notes and ideas.
"Well met." Hermione smiled slightly at this. A comfortable silence fell between them, and when Hermione heard the familiar sound of turning pages, she looked up, and saw that Tom was reading a book. She checked the cover and saw the title, which surprised her: The Forgotten Collection of William Shakespeare.
Tom Riddle, the most fierce supporter of pure-bloods, read Muggle books?
"What Granger?" Tom asked, not looking up from his page.
"I just… I'm just surprised you read Muggle work. I thought you were a proud supporter of pure-bloodedness. And I didn't know William Shakespeare had other works," Hermione said.
"I read what I want to, and half of William Shakespeare collection was stolen by a church boy and given to other writers. Now are you going to get back to work or not?" he said, looking up from his book to stare at her expectantly.
"Yes, I was getting back to it," Hermione began to write as Tom resumed reading. She dipped the quill into the inkpot and continued writing. Soon enough, she finished making the list of entrées for the House elves, then decided to give the parchment back to Tom.
"Here," she said. "I've finished the menu."
"I'll get started on the decorations and the list of students to help us," He said, putting his book down and resuming the work.
After a few minutes of sitting there and staring longingly at the book Tom had just put down, Hermione was hit with a great idea to liven things up a bit. "Let's play choose," She suggested. Tom abruptly stopped writing and looked up.
"What?" he asked, looking at Hermione like she had just said she spotted the Yeti singing in the rain.
"Let's. Play. Choose. It's a game, where one person, say me, asks the other person, you, to choose between two different, but equally revolting scenarios. You then have to choose one of the two. Then it would be your turn to ask me a question," Hermione explained.
"Sounds like a pretty pointless game to me," Tom said, returning to his work.
"Just give it a chance," She said.
"Fine," He replied.
"Alright. Choose, between... kissing a Chinese Fireball on the mouth, or... swallowing one hundred baby snakes," She said, waiting for his answer.
"Why would I ever find myself in either situation?" he asked, putting down the quill and looking again at Hermione in the same strange way.
"But that's the point, you're supposed to choose between two outrageous scenarios. That's the fun of it," Hermione explained. She really got this game off of Lavender Brown, who would talk endlessly with her when she got the chance. Probably to get closer to Ron. Ron… Harry… she missed them both. But right now was not the time to think about them. Now wasn't the time to be weak.
"You're little game is illogical and pointless, and a waste of time," Tom said bluntly, returning to planning the ball.
"You don't know how to have fun do you?" It was more of a statement than a question. You little hypocrite! You don't like the game either! Her conscience scolded. Bugger off! It was just something to do when one has nothing else to do. She leaned back in her chair and drummed her fingers on the table.
"Would you stop doing that?" Tom asked, not tearing his eyes away from the parchment in front of him. Hermione sighed, but obeyed and went about looking around the Restricted section as best she could, because it was very dark, and there were very few lights in that part of the library.
"Would you mind if I took a look at your book there?" Hermione asked, pointing to the book on William Shakespeare.
"Be my guest," Tom answered dully. Hermione reached for the book and flipped through the pages.
"This is a beautiful book," Hermione quietly whispered, more to herself than to Tom. But he heard, and this made him stop for one second. If Hermione had been looking at him, then she would have seen his face soften, and the slightest flicker of emotion flash through his eyes. But it was gone just as quickly as it came, and Tom finally looked up from the parchment and read it over.
"There, I've finished the list of helpers, so all you need to do is round them up and tell them about it," Tom said packing up his things and getting ready to leave. Hermione followed suit and returned the book to Tom. They both walked out of the library, and before they separated at the main stairs, Tom turned around abruptly.
"Granger," he began. Hermione turned to look at him in question. "I'd pick the Chinese Fireball," And he continued on his way. Hermione smiled, and began to climb the many stairs it took to reach the seventh level, where her dormitory was located.
The Chinese Fireball huh? Why?
A/N: That was the tiniest bit of fluff without making it fluffy. (Did that make sense?) Well anyway, see that little made up excerpt from a work of William Shakespeare that doesn't exist? Yeah, don't mind that. I know it doesn't exist, but you'll soon understand why I had to make something up. I couldn't make it Romeo and Juliet or Hamlet because then I would assume that Hermione would have already read that, seeing as she is Muggle-born, and that would ruin part of my story plot. Yes a book can be important too you know. : ) Oppppsssssss... did I just give something away? You tell me. Well actually you can't, so I guess you'll have to find out in the next chapter. And until then, see ya!
With love,
Elle Cee
