Author: Svelte Rose
Rating: K+
Title: Kill Time, Injure Eternity
Part: 02
Characters: Hermione Granger, Tom Riddle, various ancestors
Warnings: The madness that I have pulled from my mind and transfused into this work.
Date: September 2nd, 2007
Note: It was originally one chapter but it become too long so I had to separate it. Thanks to my beta, Nicole for correcting my many grammar mistakes.
Her mouth opened several times and she wondered how she would answer. The Dumbledore she knew, the same that was standing before her, seemed to know everything and this proved it. Even if she did say something, he would probably be able to pick out the falsehood in her words. But what other option was there?
Tell the truth?
That was out of the question.
Finally, she just answered, "I'm not."
It was a lie and if the flash in his blue eyes were any indication, she knew he knew it too.
Professor Dumbledore seemed to consider his answer once more before he nodded in askance, "Alright. That is all, I suppose."
She flinched at the disappointment in his voice and tugged on her bag uncomfortably. Suddenly, she found the floor to be of interest before she brought her head back up again, voice biddable, "I only wish I were as brilliant as you believe me to be," then in an even softer tone, "I am sorry to have disappointed you."
He turned away from her, an uncertain emotion in his eyes, "Not at all, Miss Ronegn, you haven't disappointed me at all, you do puzzle me, however."
She threw him what she hoped to be a confidant smile which really only resulted in being tight and uncertain, "All humans are a puzzle of some sort, I gather."
His chuckle sounded throughout the room, "Yes, yes, they are."
She was relieved he had let the issue go for the moment but that didn't stop the inadvertent thoughts she had tried to keep at bay for so long, come thundering into the recesses of her mind. If she was truly as brilliant as everyone believed her to be, maybe things wouldn't be such a great mess and maybe, she wouldn't be having this conversation.
"I believe that is all, Miss Ronegn."
She nodded before hurrying out the door. Only outside the transfiguration's classroom did she blow out the deep breath she'd been holding.
Nostalgia was a common emotion she found herself feeling, these days.
She never would have said it before but now, she would proudly admit that she missed the spectral entity of her History of Magic professor. It was a reminder of older, happier times when she would be the only one awake, wildly scribbling notes and laughing to herself because most of her class were either napping or drooling profusely on their notes or a combination of both. Mostly the latter.
She never noticed it before, but time did have a sneaky way of making you take notice of things. For instance, when she first came across their one and only ghost-Professor, she had found his voice boring and monotone. Now, she noticed Professor Binns' voice had a deep, rumbling timber quality to it which was peaceful and tended to sooth her sometimes-tumultuous emotions. In fact, she could now tell why he loved this subject so much that even death could not remove him from the position. His intonation, the passion behind his words…he completely, irrevocably enjoyed every moment of his work even if his students did not. For all its dates, all its notes, all its inadequacies…history was the man's life.
Her quill flew rapidly across her page, capturing every single word that dropped from his mouth. She would never deign to disregard him as she had before.
Seamus' horrified face filled her blurry vision as she gasped for air, aware of the intense pain coming from her neck.
"Merlin's beard, no! Hermione, no!" His gruff voice rasped as his hands hovered above her face, tears dripping down his cheeks. "You're the only one left, this can't-," He shook violently, his bruised hands clenching in a tight fist.
Dean knelt down at the other side, his eyes wide as he swallowed hard. Doing a 'Hail Mary' and muttering underneath his breath, he motioned to the stricken Seamus, "I need you to hold her down."
"What?" He asked hoarsely, wet eyes looking up at his best mate.
Dean repeated in a harsh yet stern voice, "Hold her down. Look, we can get healing potions back at the Room of Requirement but I need to get that glass out before it makes it's way any deeper and hits something vital if it hasn't already."
Seamus nodded stiffly, not understanding anything much past having been told he was to restrain her but knowing it was important none the less.
Dean's long fingers touched the bloody area and pulled back quickly when the witch jerked in pain, her mouth opening and closing as her hands clutched her shoulder beneath the wound. "Okay, I'm pretty sure it missed any major arteries but she's still losing a lot of blood. Are you ready?"
Seamus blinked wildly, his hands gingerly grabbing her shoulders, "What are you going to do?"
Dean didn't answer or even look at him. He bent down, fingers slowly closing over the shrapnel of glass as Hermione's steady brown eyes flashed at him in pain.
It was these days that she realized the meaning of her parents' words – her real parents (not the one she'd confounded and only talked to when she needed money) – and what they meant when they had told her not to take things in life for granted. She had been so focused on her studies and extending her knowledge by devouring as many books as possible. In the end, she had made it her priority when other, more irreplaceable things should've been appreciated much, much more. She still loved books and the seeking new knowledge but it was no longer a priority. Now, she did it because she didn't have anything else better to do.
Appreciation was one thing she took for granted. Doing a spell correctly and having her teacher compliment her (whether it was through a word of praise or hidden behind a veil of disdain), she drank it all up and became inspired to work even harder. There was no limit as to what one could do if they put their mind to it. Sure, she was made a mockery of and called many names but she didn't care. She could take care of herself and besides, the taunts had grown lesser with time.
She wanted respect from the people who mattered and to her they were her professors and teachers, even if not recognized by the world as such. They were the ones who had already gone through that superficial stage of school and gossip. They knew what was going to be a valuable asset in life just like she did and they appreciated her all the more for it. As long as they did, it didn't matter what the taunting classmates said about her behind her back or to her face. She could've done without the negative attention; she didn't care for any attention at all but she got it nonetheless and took it with a grain of salt.
Now, she did everything she could to get people from noticing her. From changing her appearance to only speaking when necessary…thankfully, she has had to barely utter a word since she started school. It alienated her house mates from her but that only ended up serving her original purpose.
Everyone seemed fine to not pay her a single moment's notice…except Dumbledore it seems. But that was predictable; he seemed to notice everything and everyone.
But she knew that even he wouldn't know what to do to help her situation.
Friendship was what made her feel the biggest regret of all. Despite their otherwise rocky beginnings, her and her two friends were the closest anybody could be and if there were such things as having two soul mates without any attached romantic feelings whatsoever, then they would be hers. Sure, people thought she would probably get together with one of them- one particular red-headed one, in fact. No mistake, they had tried and it didn't work out but it was alright because their friendship was stronger than ever in the end.
She wished she had gone out with them every single time they'd chased her down in the library, instead of finding company with the books she so loved. 'Another day' she would promise and that day was few and far in between because they soon learned that if she had a book in her hands, nothing would tear her away from it. Not even the promise of butterbeer and fun times just from laughing together and chasing each other around until one of them fell down from fatigue- nothing would make her stop absorbing all she could from the vast books in the library. But they would keep trying though the attempts lessened with time.
She especially detested it when they tried to 'cure' her of her fear of heights by demanding she confront it. When she nearly broke her neck from the ten-story fall, they had realized there was a reason why she had chosen to stay off a broom all this time and why they were the ones who had been blessed with superior flying skills. Oh what a scolding she'd given them. Thankfully, the debacle was forgotten the next day over a bag of Honeyduke's best dark chocolate and bottled butterbeer they had stolen from the kitchens.
She had thought they would be together forever, that nothing could destroy them because they were the Golden Trio.
As she mounted the broom and slowly lifted a few feet from the ground, she wondered to herself.
Can you see me, boys?
Do you see what I can finally do?
Aren't you proud of me?
Even if I've said it before, I'll say it again, I'm proud of you two. I'm so proud of you two.
She missed them so, so much that sometimes, the pain was unbearable.
"Ferchrissakes!" Seamus swore as Dean withdrew his bloody hand and flicked the glass piece over his shoulder.
Dean then quickly pulled out his wand and did a hasty healing charm on her gaping neck wound before he lifted her up by the arm just as the front doors blew open.
"Excuse us! Coming through!"
She promptly moved to the side of the hallway, her hand rubbing gingerly at her neck, as a couple of boys rushed pass her, laughing and shoving each other playfully. Momentarily, a pair of bespectacled green eyes flashed in her mind and a pain thudded deep in her heart.
"Sorry!" One of the boys called out their apologies to her before he was pulled along by his friends.
Inside the Grand Hall, it was a great mess of moving bodies as students pushed and shoved to get a decent seat at their house tables. Some would greet friends sitting at other tables while others just kept to themselves.
It was not at all different from whence she came from which was surprising. The times were different. Very different.
She ate quickly; only a few more minutes left of her lunch break.
She waited until the rest of the class left, many students hurrying to the Grand Hall for dinner. Once the last straggler emptied from the room, she approached the desk of her Potions professor and smiled warily. She didn't mind Slughorn before, in fact, might have even liked him. But if her suspicions were correct, then he would soon be giving her a very good reason to abandon all previous notions of any positive emotion towards him whatsoever.
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Ah yes!" Came the exuberant response as he pulled out a crisp sheet of parchment paper from his drawer and handed it to her. "This is what I called you for."
Her eyes caught sight of the red mark above her name. A puzzling look was thrown his way as she asked, "I don't understand. I'm in trouble because of this grade?"
He chuckled, clasping his hands in front of him on the desk, "You are not in trouble. However, the reason I called you here is because of the grade or rather, the content of the essay."
Her eyebrows furrowed as she quickly glanced at the essay, "Am I to understand that despite the mark-," She motioned to the 'O' on her essay, "-that it was not to your liking? I am confused." She knew her words sounded robotic but she couldn't help it.
His mouth dropped open as though horrified, "Not to my liking? Why, my dear, far from it!"
She was getting impatient now; couldn't he just say what he was up to without dangling her like a limp chocolate frog?
He breathed in deeply and the most beatific smile appeared on his face. Gently taking back the essay, he looked upon it with his eyes shining as though it were the most precious treasure in the world. "My dear," he began. "This is probably the best piece of written work on the effects of the moon on werewolves I have ever come across in my entire lifetime. It doesn't surprise me you know, because the quality of your papers has always been exceedingly superb; borderline genius if not genius itself and seems to only get better with each assignment." Then with a dry tone, "It is the only thing I look forward to reading without worries of my brain rotting on some junk one of your peers has crafted."
Stupid, stupid…she should've written about something simple and stupid like the Amortentia Potion or Pepper-Up Potion. She nodded, a forced smile gracing her delicate features. "Thank you, Professor Slughorn. Although I am sure the compliment is exaggerated."
"Not at all. You are too modest, I fear." He said with a flippant wave of his hand, "Let's not even get started on your actual performance in class, shall we?"
A pink tint dusted her cheeks as she glanced away to collect herself before looking back at him, "Thank you, sir. But is that all you needed me for?"
Collecting himself, he nodded quite vigorously, "Ah yes, there is the matter of that…"