Author: Svelte Rose
Rating: K+
Title: Kill Time, Injure Eternity
Characters: Hermione Granger, Tom Riddle, Abraxas Malfoy, etc.
Warnings: The madness that I have pulled from my mind and transfused into this work.
Date: November 29th, 2007
Note: I finished this far faster than I thought I would. Had to rewrite a couple parts several times and delete some unnecessary scenes but here it is. Darn it, it's finals week too and I really should be concentrating on that. Bah. At least you'll like to know that I've already begun the next chapter to this story. Once again, thanks to the lovely Nicole for beta-ing this! I don't know where I would be without you, poor English that I possess. LOL.
xxxxx
It was strange that despite being in the most fortified castle on the continent, she really did not feel very safe most of the time. War had made her paranoid and although escaping the one she played a particular role in, she landed right in another one that was just beginning to brew.
But that was the least of her problems.
In her room, the bed covers did little to assuage her fears and every time she woke, her wand was already in her hand and held out before her at the unknown assailant.
However, there never was an assailant. Just the figures in her nightmares receding into the abyss of her unconscious while she stared into the pitch dark as her racing heart slowly calmed. Breath hitched and sweat dripped down her forehead, she would try to go back to sleep (and she eventually would) while her wand was always kept tightly gripped in her hand.
Strangely enough, the most peace she felt was when she was hurrying along various students as they rushed to reach their next class before it started. Amongst the robed students, not much stood out except for the color of their ties and the singular patch above their left breast proclaiming their House. Otherwise, bushy-haired or not, she blended in and she was virtually unseen.
Reminiscence generally brought a deep ache to her heart. Gone were the days of skiing in the Alps with her parents, waking up to Ron's snores just the room next to hers, she and Ginny pouring over the latest reports in Witch Weekly…All spoiled by the metallic tang of blood, salty tears, and an unbearable agony over the deaths of her classmates, consequently her friends. It acted like a fog in her mind, clouding over all the good that left her mind sane. She was aware that with each passing day, her feelings became even more and more unhinged. Could she even remember who she was anymore?
No matter how hard she tried, the bloodshed she witnessed would not just go away. Too many times she cast the spell marked by her hateful feelings, too many times she watched eyes glow green, grow lifeless. It was meant to protect but…
At barely seventeen years of age, she was already a soldier. Much like Lady Macbeth in the tragic play, the blood would never wash off no matter how hard she scrubbed.
That didn't stop her from trying to forget. Among these students, even if it was but a minute or so as she hurried to her next class, she could almost forget. That was something at least.
The chaos of her mind readily accepted whatever peace she could get even if it was as menial as walking down the halls of Hogwarts.
xxxxx
She stared up into the canopy of her bed, hands behind her head, curtains pulled back as the girls bustled in and out of the doors, practically half dressed. The air pollution in the dorm room from various hair potions had been wretched before someone had finally flung the windows open, alleviating some of the nauseating fumes. As ribbons, jewelry, and powder lay strewn all about the room, she was reminded slightly of her fourth year experience where her roommates fussed over themselves and one another in the excitement of their first ball.
The chill that followed the autumn wind blew in from the open-windows, occasionally sending a shiver or two down the scantily clad girls hurrying about. She turned her head to the far left of the room where the clock hung, hand pointed at the quote: 'Almost time to leave!'
"Wait…you're not going?" One of her roommates asked, turning around in her stool as the charmed mirror tutted at the other girls crowding its reflective surface.
"More ribbons!" It harrumphed at the brunette she knew to be named Leonore.
She sat up and shook her head, curls rioting against the ponytail she had drawn it back in, "I'm afraid not."
"Oh, but you must! It's the first ball of the year!"
Another one of the girls wrestling with her hair had turned and nudged the first girl on the shoulder, "Leave it, Deirdre. Even if she wanted to, there's no time for her to get ready now."
"Oh, Christine, everyone goes to the first ball. Other than the All Hallow's Eve costume party and the Yule Masquerade, this is a fairly important event." Deirdre chided right back as she waved her wand, adding a few glowing lights interwoven into her hair.
Nope. Not everyone. She smiled faintly to herself while Christine rolled her eyes before turning back to their roommate.
Deidre narrowed her eyes at Christine in the mirror and huffed, "I saw that!"
One curl tickled her nose as she lay back, and she drowned out the sounds of their bickering voices, closing her eyes as vague memories surfaced of chiffon dresses, dashing robes, and an enchanted orchestra playing the light staccatos of a minuet, then moving to the soft, lilting strings of a waltz.
xxxxx
Curled up on one side, the curly-haired witch faded off into a well-deserved slumber while downstairs in the Great Hall, students quickly made their way into the brightly decorated area. There were round tables all about with half the area cleared out where some students could be seen already having taken to the dance floor. Most stood around chattering with each other while others, mostly boys, had gone to the table where once seated, platters of food were charmed to immediately appear.
Wand safely tucked away in the sleeve of his dress robe and eyes surveying the glittering scene, he slowly made his way through the throng of excited students, his date stopping once in a while to chatter about (inane) topics with her many various girlfriends.
Despite the bland conversation she was so eager to partake in, he allowed his gaze to wander appreciatively over the silk-clad brunette, especially on the swell of her breast as she tittered on. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, smirking when she shuddered deliciously against him before she threw a special smile of her own. The conversation stalled and he quickly moved her along, eyes growing cold again as they glanced over the scene.
A glass of pumpkin juice was placed in his hand by his date and he immediately took a sip, entirely bored as his date struck up what had to be the seventh in a series of asinine conversations involving insubstantial compliments and kisses upon the both cheeks. Disengaging himself with another whisper in her ear, he caught the knowing glance that she threw him while her friend slapped her on the shoulder with a giggled, "For shame, you hussy!"
He drained the rest of his pumpkin juice, placing the empty cup somewhere before moving slowly into the crowd, eyes still searching the scene. Out of nowhere, a hand clamped down on his shoulder and he immediately tensed. While his first instinct was to throw the hand and break it clean off, he simply gripped his wand and peered over his shoulder. Catching the arrogant grin of a familiar amber-eyed sixth year, he quickly relaxed and threw a smile at the jovial boy.
"Riddle! Where's the lovely Leonore Farleigh for this evening? Don't tell me you've already become bored of her!"
"The night is still young." Tom responded, shrugging nonchalantly and earning a boisterous chuckle from his roommate as the voluptuous blonde on his arm glanced up at him from beneath hooded eyes. In turn, he saluted slightly with his drink, pleased when the apples of her cheeks flooded with a pinkish tint. Incidentally, her date had chosen that exact moment to turn his head towards the door, missing the entire exchange.
"Malfoy! Black and Black!" The boy shouted, his amber-eyes practically glowing as he waved energetically to the trio that had just entered the ball room.
The girl on his arm had winced before she turned and scolded, "Not so loud, Caspar!" She then threw the Slytherin Prefect another hooded look complete with a nibble on her bottom lip and Tom simply arched his eyebrow, snatching another drink from one of the floating trays.
"Hello Riddle, hello, Crouch," The refined voice of the tall, black-haired boy greeted as the two other boys followed.
"Alphard," Riddle greeted, his eyes glinting at the stiffness of the tall boy.
There could only be one.
Alphard stepped aside, revealing the stoic heir to the Malfoy riches and a seemingly harried second brother of the Black's main family. Abraxas politely declined a drink offered by a group of the girls that had ambled to the table, tugging at his cufflinks. The black-haired boy to his side gave no attention to the greetings paid to him as he turned his head several times, watching the throng of people entering through the door.
Tom offered a stiff smile out of courtesy and Abraxas nodded in return with a polite one of his own. Theirs was not a close relationship.
"I heard she wasn't coming." Abraxas finally said to Cygnus as he sat down at a nearby table. A plate of food appeared before him and went unnoticed, amused as he was by the growing color in his friend's cheeks.
Just as Cygnus was about to retort, Caspar jumped in with his own commentary, "Who is 'she?'" He asked, looking towards Tom as though he had the answers.
The Prefect shrugged, "I've not a single clue. Perhaps his date?"
The rakehell ways of the Black family boys were not unheard of.
Irritated at the lack of attention she was receiving, the blonde simply rolled her eyes and stalked away to a nearby group of girls. He followed her swaying hips, scratching at a cheek as he caught the several suggestive looks from the group before they exploded into a series of giggles. He leaned against the wall and turned back to the boys, watching with an amused eye as Cygnus' complexion grew brighter by the minute at the teasing of his friends.
"No, he didn't bring a date. He's looking for that-,"
"I'm not looking for her." Cygnus immediately interjected in a deathly dry tone. Tom was forced to muffle his snicker. "I was merely taking in the scene."
While Alphard laughed out loud and Abraxas rolled his eyes in a teasing manner, Caspar grinned before throwing an wild arm around the frowning Cygnus, his glass of pumpkin juice sloshing a bit. "I think I heard about this!"
"No you didn't." Came the same dry tones, this time slightly exasperated.
"Yes, yes I did!" Caspar pushed as he winked at the slightly befuddled Prefect, Alphard and Abraxas having sat down and taken advantage of the meal laid out before them.
"This is ridi-," Cygnus started as though trying to halt what was to come next out of his friend's mouth.
Caspar would not allow him to finish as he immediately cut in, "I think everyone saw you trying to make friendly with that new girl during fifth period charms last week and she didn't take very well, if at all. What is wrong, my boy!?" With this, he thumped Cygnus on the chest, earning a hacked cough and a deathly glare. Ignoring it, the only Crouch heir went on, "You must be losing your touch! No matter, more for the rest of us I say!"
A rumble of laughter was heard and even Tom was inclined to chuckle as Cygnus flung Caspar's hand from his shoulders. Indignant, Cygnus had just opened his mouth to respond before a two large bodies ambled by, startling him as they threw themselves into two seats, unsetting the table and earning an annoyed "Hey!" from Alphard.
"Food!" One yelled in an overjoyed tone.
"Duncan, Nicholas, slow down before either of you chaps choke!" Caspar grumbled in frustration while Abraxas stared at the two in disgust before pushing his own meal away.
Having had enough small talk to last him for the entire night, Tom closed his eyes and lazily pushed himself from the wall. He wondered if he could convince Leonore to retire early for the night. He wasn't even sure why he had come to such a bland affair, but now that he had, he wasn't about to leave without getting what he wanted from the evening.
"Leaving so soon?" Caspar yelled just as he had moved towards the crowd.
Tom grinned, "I came here for one reason and one reason only. I'll see you later, gents." He turned back around, having spotted the familiar silk robed figure of his date. With a wave over his shoulder, he slowly made his way towards the group of people she surrounded herself with, ignoring the lewd comments Caspar was always in want of shouting across the room.
"You sly dog!" Nicholas garbled after him through a mouthful of food, earning another disgusted glare from Abraxas and a chortle from Caspar.
xxxxx
A pair of thickly-lashed green eyes cast a bored glance at the sleeping girl draped across his chest before he slowly detached himself from her entangled limbs with the grace of a feline and crawled out of bed, naked as the day he was born. The clothing that lay haphazardly strewn around the closed off area gave hint as to what their prior indiscretions had been but a few hours ago. Had it been him three years ago, he would have winced particularly at a pair of perfectly tailored dress trousers now lying in a crumpled state just at the foot of the bed. Snatching it and shoving one foot into the leg, he hurriedly dressed himself, only slowing when the Ravenclaw turned over in her bed with a small murmur. He waited until her breath stilled once more, signifying that she was still in the throes of the Sandman.
A cold smile crossed his features before he leaned down and pressed a mockery of a caring kiss against the girl's cheek. It was neither loving nor sentimental.
His life had never been an easy path and as was such, neither was his beginning at Hogwarts. Sorted into a house where degradation came just because his mother made a poor choice of her paramour, he was hard pressed not to do to them what he had done to the children that angered him at the orphanage. In all honestly, it had probably been his lack of father rather than who his father was that made them treat him as though he wasn't any better than the dirt beneath their feet. Tradition reigned supreme in the Muggle World and even more so in the Wizarding World; those who bore a child out of wedlock were looked down upon.
It wasn't his fault the bloke deserved to be sent to Azkaban himself. He didn't get to choose who had donated the sperm that allowed his existence.
To their credit, it had gotten better through the years, mainly due to some intervention at the request of their teachers but there was still a lingering sense of prejudice.
As long as they didn't act on it, it was fine to feel the way they did, wasn't it?
This was his home. He had known he was special at a young age and he would die before ever letting a few snot-nosed kids, who'd never had a hard day's work in their life, tell him otherwise.
If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to see it, did it really happen?
He learned very quickly that what the professors did not see, they could not fault him for. As such, he calculated and maneuvered his way into their good standings (except for that one doddering, old fool of a transfigurations professor) and made it such that by his third year, nobody even remembered he was a half-blood especially the inbred gits in his house.
Adaptation was necessary for survival and now and those sodding gits were eating right out of his hands.
He studied, observed, and waited until one day, he finally came across the one thing that he knew would prove his status and push him far beyond that of what even the Malfoy name and Black name could not command. It would allow him to accomplish what he knew he could do all along…
He was the heir of Slytherin and it was time he took his rightful place worthy of the name.
He brushed a finger across the green and gold ring that lay nestled between his knuckles. The shocked faces and the jibing looks that quickly turned into that of reverence quickly flooded the student body of Hogwarts upon sight of the priceless heirloom. No longer was he a half-breed and a bastard child to boot. Now, he was the heir of Slytherin, one of the greatest, if not the greatest name in Wizarding History.
He was nothing like them. He was better
Shrugging on his robe, he grabbed his wand and then moved to slowly peek out from behind the curtains. Taking a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, he surveyed the dorm room before padding slowly across the floorboard separating the two beds. With a softly whispered incantation under his breath, a dim light appeared at the end of his wand, illuminating the navy blue curtains that surrounded his quest's bed.
Though the room was deathly silent save for the evened breathing of its four owners and him, he pressed his ear against the velvety fabric as a safety precaution of sorts. When satisfied, he snuck a hand to pull back the folds of the velvet cloth before slipping underneath them. Once inside, his left hand quickly rose to cup the glowing ball at the end of his wand, allowing it to illuminate the area just enough for him to make out the vague shapes occupying the bed space.
He found himself standing next to the spacious double twin for several minutes, just perusing the delicate features of the mysterious Hera Ronegn. Having never taken such prerogative before, he was somewhat nervous and slightly short of breath as to his next task at hand. A mantra repeated continuously in his head:
It was necessary.
Still rearing from the fateful experience only a year ago, he was wary of any suspicious activity involving the school, especially that of one irritating Transfiguration professor. While he had done everything to cover up his involvement with the bespectacled girl in the girl's bathroom, he knew he had not escaped everyone's suspicion. Such as it was, a sudden appearance of a transfer student at a school that rarely (if ever) received students who were not in their first year had made the beginning of the sixth year at Hogwarts a rather tense affair. He was not happy with the disruption.
While she had seemed harmless at first, her arrival was simply far too coincidental for his liking. Not to mention, though he had not picked up her presence for the first few weeks, he had eventually taken notice of a pair of eyes digging into his back. When he discovered who it was that had been watching him, he returned the favor tenfold. He tried seeking information out about her but it had only resulted in wasted energy and a severe headache. Nobody seemed to know who she was and where she came from. She had so easily slipped through people's notice.
But the emotions that lay behind those whiskey-colored eyes belied a completely different affair. She was hiding something large and he would wager it had something to do with the occurring war in the Wizarding World.
So when he had broken through her glamour charm, he did not care for the pat on the back or the series of congratulations recognizing his efforts. Rather, he simply wanted to know more about the girl who had taken such pains to hide her appearance and why she seemed to shrink back from any social interaction. He was surrounded by hundreds of girls who did many things to be noticed. Ironically enough, it was the one girl who did not want to be noticed that caught his attention.
But…nothing. She had been released with a mild scold and nobody seemed the wiser.
He knew, though.
Thus, he had been pushed to conclude that it had probably been at the behest of the annoying old codger Dumbledore that she had been let off without even being tested by Veritaserum. (That was the least he would've done. How could they blame him, with the threat of Grindelwald looming over their heads?) He had originally surmised her to be an agent of Dumbledore's but even that seemed rather paranoiac on his part. Still, he was never one to leave loose ends hanging.
It had seemed the professor finally found someone to do his bidding. It had seemed. After a week's worth of observations on his part, he found the girl to be as chilly to the professor as she seemed everyone else and while he knew there was a chance she could simply be acting…
He could not be entirely sure. Nobody could be that good of an actor, twenty-four seven. Everybody had to drop their guard sometime and he had not seen anything out of order beyond that of the casting of an advanced glamour charm and the overly private nature.
It seemed silly that he was making such a big case out of someone using the silly charm and even more so because she was female. They were known to abuse the charm many times simply for their own self-interest. Such were the thoughts that flooded his mind.
He held no high regard for their gender. Sure, they provided him comfort many a nights but just like every one of the other lemmings, they were to be used and discarded.
Leonore was a perfect example. The women's movement was non-existent in their world and while they thought they were using the men just as much as the men were using them with some rot about a 'sexual revolution,' he knew better.
Not only that, but she also felt suspicious. Along with the gift of parseltongue, another gift his beloved mother had chosen to endow him with, one seemingly more useless, was the ability to feel what others felt.
Around her, he felt a multitude of feelings and none of which were pleasant, nor were they normal for the average student. Skittish like a colt, she seemed ready to battle with anybody that would dare threaten her own livelihood. It was hardly the characteristic of just any student going to school and that was what she was her for, wasn't it?
It was only through a series of his own observations that he was able to deduce there lay another veneer underneath the gray-tinted skin and the unfashionable, straggly, blonde hair. His confirmation came when the silent challenge she sent him at Slughorn's party was quickly covered up as she tried her very hardest to ignore him that evening. He had not done anything to the girl but had apparently disobliged her in someway. Not one to back down, he seized his chance during the classroom duel and had hit the unknowing student with the simple spell. As predicted, he proved himself correct when the blonde hair fell away to reveal a body of shiny curls. That had simply been the first stage.
He should have expected her anger but was nonetheless, pleasantly surprised. Unfortunately, it only served to confuse him even more as to why the student seemed so defensive. She was not a puppet of Dumbledore's, he was fairly sure of that, so why did she remain so guarded?
Secrets, other than his own, did not exist in this school- he made sure of that. He was aware of anything and everything that went on, from the color of girl's knickers to the bloodlines of each pureblood, half-blood, and muggle-born wizard and witch. This new transfer, as perplexed with her as he was, was an enigma to be solved. Wrapped up in her own world and apparently as harmless as a newborn babe, she had fooled everyone but him.
He had a fair sense she could (nay, would) be fairly dangerous if incensed.
It was the reason he had just waved his wand to cast a deep-sleeping charm upon the already slumbering girl; he was unwilling to take any chances of her waking up.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he gently brushed up a stray curl from her face, his thumb trailing across her forehead. Then with a whispered 'Legilimens' he felt the familiar pull of her mind and released himself to the magic.
Instead of the flood of images as he was used to getting, he felt a painful jolt before a nauseating jerk threw him back into consciousness. A loud gasp sounded from the bed and then a colorful oath. Before he knew it, her wand was stuck so deep in his jugular; it threatened to break the sensitive skin that covered his racing pulse. His arms were already up in clemency as if to sooth the tense girl but he could not help the suspicion that flooded his eyes and showed on every crevice of his face.
She was becoming more and more interesting by the minute. The implications of what had just happened in the last thirty seconds hit him like a 'Reducto' spell; leaving him slightly winded as his mind quickly went into overdrive assessing every part of the situation.
She seemed fairly awake now and if he had not cast the deep-sleep charm himself, he would have thought her awake the entire time.
But that was not possible. Those were not the eyes of a student; the reflexes being far too fast for someone her age without the proper training. One look into those whiskey-colored eyes and he knew.
She was a soldier, trained to kill without any compunction whatsoever.
Then her cold voice clipped at him, cutting through his internal monologue and making him shiver despite the fact that he was usually the one to cause such an effect on others.
"Move and you'll regret it."
He knew that it was not an idle threat.