Disclaimer: All rights and characters belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros™. Nothing is mine but the creativity and storyline.

WARNING: Strong Language.


"Hermione, I am telling you, he has never interacted with someone through a whole lesson as much as he interacted with you in Potions!"

Hermione chuckled at Eileen. "Eileen, I highly doubt that."

"Oh, no, she's right." Roberta called, suddenly popping up from behind the bed she was kneeling beside. She was getting rather good at popping up when you least expected it. "When I sat beside him one time he tried to booby-trap my potion, and he hardly even looked at me, despite spoke two words to me."

Eileen nodded vigorously in agreement, her eyes wide in seriousness.

Hermione just smiled at them both, and placed her folded up uniform on the back of the chair beside her bed.

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Eileen said, a little tiredly, kneeling up on her bed and fiddling with the curtain hanging on one of the four posters, "You can't say you didn't notice it."

Hermione shook her head, and sat in the middle of the bed, facing them both. "Notice what?"

Roberta spoke again, and Hermione saw that she was sat on her bed, too. She was pretty quiet; one of her other talents. "Are you kidding? Didn't you notice the difference between at dinner and in Potions?"

Hermione looked down at her lap, and began picking at the dark green bedcovers. "Well... In potions, he didn't really talk to me, I talked to him. And at dinner, I suppose he was a little overwhelmed by how you were all taking to me."

Eileen pouted her bottom lip. "I suppose..." Her curtain was now off the hook, and it was dangling down beside the bedpost.

Roberta snorted loudly. "Overwhelmed? More like jealous."

Eileen giggled. Hermione peered at Roberta. "What do you mean?"

Roberta looked at Eileen for a second, before switching her gaze to Hermione again sympathetically. Her voice was quieter when she spoke again. "Sorry... Just..."

Eileen discretely cleared her throat, and Roberta's speech trailed off slightly.

"...Just that... Tom doesn't like change..." It was obvious she was longing to say something else on her mind, but it was like her tongue was catching in her throat.

Hermione didn't push anything else, as it was clearly bothering her. She just pulled across the curtains around her bed and climbed under the covers.

Eileen did the same, and Roberta probably did, too, but she was so quiet Hermione wasn't sure. It took a short amount of time for Hermione to drift off, but when she did she wished that she hadn't.

Her dreams were filled with screams, and flashes of green, and those burning red eyes scorched her mind. But then they faded out into the piercing grey eyes of Tom Riddle, and the cackling laugh emerged his lips. It echoed around her ears and bounced off the fringes of her mind. The blood pulsed in her ears and her vision blurred. The colour faded and the screams got louder. And then the greyscale faded to that horrid green light. It intensified, until it was all she could see. The screams faded out, and the cackling got louder. Suddenly, she heard Harry's voice. Far off, quiet, distant. As if he was a million miles away. He was yelling her name, calling her. Ron's voice faded in, too, beside Harry's, and they were both calling her. She longed to reach out for them, hold out her hand for them to take and to yell them, too. But her arms felt like they weighed a million tons and her mouth wouldn't open. The green was burning her eyes, and she longed to see their faces. The cackling then grew so loud it hurt her ears, and with every increased decibel, Harry and Ron's calling turned to screams of pain, hurt, anger, and it got farther away. Until the cackling was all there was. Then the hard eyes of Tom Riddle were back, and his cold laugh covered up the cackle. But then his smirk reached his eyes, and the grey turned red, and he lifted his wand as the words emerged his lips—

"HERMIONE!"

Hermione shot up in her bed. The sweat poured from her forehead in streams and her fringe stuck to it like glue. The tears were still running down her face and her throat was sore and dry from the screaming.

Eileen was stood beside her, on her left, and Roberta on her right. There were a couple of other Slytherin girls stood around her bed, many she didn't know who they were.

"Hermione, are you OK?"

"What happened?? What on earth were you dreaming about?"

Hermione swallowed down the saliva coating her mouth, and sat panting, trying to figure out how she was ever going to get out of this one.

"I heard you screaming last night."

It was Defence against the Dark Arts class, and once again Hermione was sitting beside Tom. At first when she'd seen him as she entered the classroom, her chest lurched and she had the strongest urge to vomit. But then she saw his expression. And he wasn't even looking at her. He was gazing down mindlessly at the table, making absent, invisible patterns with his fingers. He seemed far away, and worried about something. Concerned.

Hermione hadn't asked him about it when she sat beside him, but he was quick to the chase about her nightmare last night. Cold hearted and unbothered. Exactly as she expected.

She lifted her chin just the slightest, cleared her throat and looked down as her textbook as she answered. "Oh..." She'd been hoping to say something with a lot more syllables, but her mouth opened and that slipped out. Then it clamped shut again and wouldn't let anything else through.

Tom looked at her now. And he kept looking until she glanced up at him. He turned away quickly, his face expressionless and unreadable.

"Can I ask, what was your nightmare about?"

He was the first person to refer to it as a 'nightmare', and not a 'dream'. It was clear he had nightmares frequently, too.

Hermione shook her head. "No, you can't. You never answer any of my questions, so..."

Tom stopped with his quill and sat up straighter in his chair. "What questions?" He asked, his eyebrows knit and the wrinkles on his brow setting to their normal positions.

Hermione sighed and slouched in her seat beside him. This time, when she turned to face him, he didn't look away. "The one about the Love Potion." Tom's eyebrows relaxed and went high up his brow. The wrinkled pushed up into his hairline and his wavy brown locks covered most of them. "If you tell me what you smell I'll tell you about my nightmare."

Hermione instantly regretted it, of course. Because now she had to come up with a whole new lie. And it had to be believable, but not too short in case he didn't believe her. She never had to lie to Harry and Ron, so this was a whole new concept for her. How could she say she had a nightmare about him? The very man sat in front of her! But in fifty years to come. No. It wouldn't be ethical for what she had came to do.

Tom hesitated. But then sighed deeply, full of emotion. He placed both elbows on the desk and ran his hands through his hair, lowering his face so she couldn't see him.

He stayed in that still position for a matter of minutes, before shooting up – making Hermione jump. He looked straight at her, into her eyes deeply and she was sure he was searching for her soul within them. Tom's mouth opened and closed rapidly, not sure what he was going to say. Until when the words finally escaped his mouth, in tiny whispers so quiet Hermione had to strain to hear them.

"What if... what if one doesn't smell anything..."

Hermione had known it. She'd known it all along. Tom doesn't smell anything in the potion, because he did not know what made him happy. He was numb inside. No family, no friends. No happiness at all. He was like a rock. Still as stone, emotionless as...

Her train of thought faltered as she realised she was talking about herself as well as Tom.

Hermione tried to cover up her smugness, and looked at Tom sympathetically. "Riddle..." taking the choice of using the preferred name, "...I can understand that. But..." She sighed and gave up. "...Nothing??"

Tom shook his head plainly.

"Not even some sort of flower you may have smelt once? No Honeydukes sweets you like? Nothing??"

Tom shook his head again. "At the orphanage, we aren't allowed to venture outside. And in Hogwarts, I can't visit Hogsmeade, due to the fact that I have no guardians to sign the permission forms for me to go." He'd said it so casually, it was as though they were talking over Butterbeers at The Hogs Head. But the pulse of pain throbbed there. So quiet, so hidden. So painful...

Hermione reached over and took his arm. And this time, he did not flinch away from her touch.

"You'll be able to smell something one day. I know you will." Something in the back of her mind, told her that this was true words of wisdom. But something closer to heart told her that she was just saying it to reassure him.

Riddle shrugged and she took her hand away.

"So," He began, picking up his quill again. "Are you going to tell me what your nightmare was about?"

Hermione laughed humourlessly, nervously. She took her own quill, too, and fiddled with the feathers for a while before speaking. "You see..." she looked up at him, and his eyes were on her. Just as sympathetic as she'd been to him. "...I've got a phobia of heights. And–,"

She stopped, as her head gave a sharp pain and her eyes closed shut. A gasp emerged her lips and her navel jerked. It was a similar feeling to apparating.

Suddenly, her eyes opened, but she wasn't looking back at Tom. She was back home. In that cell. Harry's bloodied head was on her lap and Ron was at her side, entwining her fingers with his.

Oh no.

She realised she wasn't acting that out. She was overlooking it. Seeing it. Happen before her eyes. She knew instantly what was going on. She turned and Riddle was stood behind her. But not the Voldemort Hermione in the past knew. This was the 16 year old one, who had used Legilimency to get inside her memories.

That bastard.

He smirked at her, before turning his cold gaze to the other her, sat on the cold stone floor.

She lived this in her nightmares. Why did he have to bring her back?

"Tom," She snarled. Riddle just ignored her, and kept looking at the other three. Damn! She wished that Harry had taught her Occlumency now.

Suddenly, a hooded figure came in and snatched Harry away and dragged him to the other room. Hermione snuggled up to Ron and cried. The other Hermione. The past Hermione...

Tom's smirk faltered as Harry's screaming quickly started.

The Hogwarts Hermione, the one that had came with Tom, covered her face with her hands and began whimpering. Those screams were the sound of Tom's doing. Riddle was doing that in the other room. Just inches away from them. But he was stood right there. And when this was all over, she had to return to reality with him, and sit next to him in lesson, talk to him in the Great Hall, act as though he were her 'friend' when actually inside whenever she saw him...

...she saw their faces of terror.

Imagine living your life like that. Imagine having to face the person that killed every single human being that you ever cared for and not being allowed to do anything about it. Imagine having to live with them. Sit with them, talk with them, eat with them.

Maybe even sleep with them...

She turned to face the old Tom Riddle, whose face was now a mask of horror, and begged him with her eyes to stop. To take her back down to reality, before Harry died. Before that awful flash of green light burnt her eyes and—

There it was. The green light.

The Boy Who Lived was dead.

Another hooded figure came in, and snatched Ron away from her this time, and threw him into the other room. The other Hermione curled up into a ball, using the palms of her hands to cover her ears, to block out some of the sound. The screaming. The wretched screeching that one should not have to hear in a lifetime.

But she was living two.

Before she knew it, Tom was at her side. Not the present Hermione, the past Hermione, sat on the floor. He reached out and tried to touch her face with his fingertips, but he just passed through her. As though he were a ghost.

He sighed, and stood up to face the other Hermione.

She knew now that if Ron died, and Snape came in and gave her the Time Turner, Riddle would fit everything into place. And that would just make life dangerous.

"Tom..." She whispered, hoarsely, "...please, Tom..." She couldn't finish her sentence, because the sobs following the green light racked her whole body, and she was now imitating the Hermione sat on the floor.

Tom walked over to her, and took her hands with his. She realised how cold his fingers were, but didn't care. She just wanted to go home. She couldn't watch one more person die here.

No more.

When she opened her eyes again, she was sat back on her chair in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Riddle was sat beside her, of course. But their hands were no longer touching, and he was staring wide-eyed at the table, taking quick, short breaths in and out through his nose. With anger, jealousy, hatred or fright, Hermione didn't know. All she knew was she wanted to kill him.

More than she'd ever wanted to kill someone before.

She wiped her tears with the edge of her sleeve, and picked up her quill again. She daren't look round to see if anyone was staring at her, but she just got on with her work, sniffling.

Tom's breathing slowed after a while, and he just stared at Hermione with eyes so huge she was surprised they hadn't popped from their sockets and rolled across the floor yet.

She expected him to apologize. Or something of that nature. But, it's Tom Riddle. Did you ever expect him to apologize for anything??

"They were Harry and Ron weren't they."

Hermione shot up and looked straight at him, horror-struck. "How did you know about them??"

Something in her head was telling Hermione that maybe he'd known, because of something to do with the connection between the two Voldemorts in that room. But when he answered, she realised it was nothing to do with that at all.

"You were screaming them in your sleep."

Hermione's cheeks flushed a magenta red, but she didn't care. She was more worried about what else she may have shouted in her sleep.

She cleared her throat before answering. "Really?? Well... what else was I screaming?"

Tom shrugged. "Just general screaming; 'No Harry, run!' 'Ron, don't!', all that kind of thing."

Hermione was intrigued in spite of the situation. He'd done an imitation of her voice almost perfectly. But she still didn't want to see those words escape his lips.

"Oh, yeah, and someone called 'Voldemort'."

The breath caught in Hermione's windpipe.

"You were shouting at him to leave them alone, stop torturing them, to take you instead. Something about no more information left to give. You were really terrified of him."

Hermione tried to swallow, but her gag reflex was beginning to overcome her.

"And then you were screaming at someone called Malfoy. And Snape. 'Malfoy!' You were yelling, 'How could you! Harry saved your life, remember?!' and at Snape, 'Snape, why are you doing this?! You're supposed to be on the good side! On Dumbledore's side!'—,"

With an awful retching sound, Hermione keeled over and vomited on the floor beside her desk.

Tom stopped talking, and cowered away from her. Anyone would have, that she understood. But she couldn't help but seeing Draco Malfoy's face. The awful sneer he had, with the wrinkles pushed up beside his nose. "Oh Merlin," he'd say, "Mudblood vomit germs! That's just filthy."

But as far as Tom knew, Hermione was a 'Pureblood'.

Professor Dumbledore's voice came from the front of the classroom. "Oh, dear, Miss Granger," He said, his footsteps growing closer. "Come now, we'll get you to the hospital wing. Madam Pomphrey will take care of you. Oh, you poor thing."

Hermione carefully stood up with Dumbledore, and slowly trudged from the classroom, trying to keep the rest of her breakfast down. She left her bag and her parchment and her quill and things, but she didn't care. She didn't want to go back there, under the questioning eyes of Tom Riddle.

N/A: Hey, guys! :D So how was that?? You like it so far? :)

I really think the storyline's picking off, and I know it all seems kind of pointless right now, and like it's not actually going anywhere but trust me it soooooo is. ;)

OMG, thanks SO MUCH, everyone, for all your AMAZING reviews! I love you all so much! x You guys are what keep me writing.

I hope you like reading, and the next update's coming soon.

Kelly xxx

PS, I also love everyone who put me on Author Alert and Story Alert, you're amazing. x