Hermione Granger shuffled in the dark corridor, barely seeing where she was going. Sharp shooting pains assaulted her ribs. She gasped at each breath, her diaphragm refusing to rise and fall without sending more pain down her torso. She would sit right there and refuse to walk if she wasn't sure that she couldn't fold herself to sit and even if she did, her legs would refuse to work again if she stopped walking. Calling out for help was out of the question. Her throat felt like a lump of thorns was lodged inside her larynx. She fumbled with the pocket of her school robes. Her wand was in her pocket, though reaching inside the pocket and clutching at it took more effort with her badly shaking hands than she would ever admit.
Clutching her wand produced no welcome heat she'd always felt before. Her heart squeezed, her eyes teared up. She wanted to let the wand go. She wanted to keep holding on. If only her fingers would move.
It took an enormous effort to keep shuffling. She was almost upon the Fat lady. Just a few more steps. Then she could sit. Or pass out.
Hermione Granger reached the portrait to the Gryffindor tower. She moved her mouth to speak the password Umbridge told her, 'fraternity', but couldn't make a sound. She gulped and had to grab her throat to somehow ease the needles that stabbed her from the inside. She tried breathing, to count her breath and get out of the panic she was crumbling under. Speaking up looked impossible. Breathing deep was impossible too. She fell against the portrait, and beat her fists against the solid wall. The Lady of the portrait woke up with a start and squeaked in alarm.
"Dear me! What is wrong, girl? Speak the password if you know it. I would appreciate it if you didn't slobber all over my new silk dress."
Another sob broke out of the hapless witch. She couldn't speak. She couldn't speak.
She couldn't even use magic to make a bang or a patronus. She slid against the painting and fell in a heap on the floor. Her ribs creaked, her stiff legs protested and pain hit her in another nauseous wave. The cool stone felt nice against her sweaty hands. Slowly, she lowered her head on the backs of her hands and forced her body to curl up. There she lay, eyes closed against the pain.
Harry Potter found his best friend lying on the stone floor in front of the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. Tears had dried up in tracks of dirt on her face. Harry touched her fisted hand. It was ice cold. He tore off his wool school robe and wrapped the small witch in it.
Harry did some quick thinking. He couldn't take her to the common room. Cormac Mclagen was sitting on the sofas with his posse of so-called friends. Ronald Weasley was there too. They would look at the state Hermione was in and interfere in some way, calling the Headmistress or hexing Harry and Hermione just to mess with them.
The infirmary was out. That was the last place he knew Hermione had been taken, right after Umbridge was done with her. He had heard from Parvati, who was in the infirmary getting a burn treated, that they had taken Hermione to Pomfrey's office and from within, Parvati had heard the floo activating for the Ministry of Magic. That was a month ago. No one told him anything about his friend, only that she was getting the help she needed. If this was how Hermione looked after getting help from the government, then fuck the regime and he would not trust them with anything else.
He couldn't go to McGonagall. Her office was being monitored, just as all the head teachers' offices in the school. This directive had come in six months ago. No one liked it but Umbridge.
That left only one safe place he could take Hermione and try to help her. Decision made, Harry levitated Hermione and started towards the Room of Requirement. The room listened to Harry and made an infirmary style room, complete with a bed in the middle, potions lab in a corner, a toilet and wash area behind a screen and a fireplace with a crackling fire to warm up the witch.
Harry gently lay Hermione on the bed and tried calling out her name.
"Hermione?"
"Hermione, can you hear me?"
He got no response. Hermione was out cold.
Harry tried the enervate and a finite incantatum, in case her swoon was magical. They didn't work. He got some water in a tumbler from the wash area and sprinkled a few drops on her face. That didn't work either. Harry paced and clutched his hair. He didn't know any healing or diagnostic spells. He didn't know what was wrong with Hermione. Her face was streaked with dried tears, her throat scratched out and despite the fire and his thick robes, her hands and face were ice cold. Harry Potter refused to lose hope though. He picked up a piece of parchment from the Potions Lab area and quickly wrote a message.
Hermione.
I found you passed out in front of the Fat Lady and brought you here. Going to get help. If you wake up, please wait for me. Be back in a few.
~Harry
He tucked the note under Hermione's hand and left the room to hunt down Malfoy. Draco knew healing. He could also get help from Snape, who would agree to help absolutely no one in the castle but Draco Malfoy. Snape was a master potioneer. Between the three of them, they might be able to help Hermione.
Harry dug out the Marauder's Map from under his school shirt and spread it out on the floor in front of the fire. He touched his wand on the empty parchment and said the password.
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."
Ink started appearing on the map. Flowing out in all directions to form a complex schematic of Hogwarts. Little dots and banners traveled here and there. His eyes traveled over the well- trodden path to the dungeons. A couple of Slytherins were hanging out in the common room, a few could be seen in the dorms. But Draco's banner was nowhere to be found. Harry sighed and started going circles around the dungeons to fan out his search for the missing blond.
He found Draco Malfoy in Umbridge's office, accompanied by Severus Snape and Tom Marvolo Riddle Gaunt. He wondered what was happening. He glanced at Hermione and noted how still she was.
Harry couldn't approach Draco while he was with the Headmistress. But he could catch the Slytherin as soon as he came out of the meeting. Lurking in Umbridge's corridor wouldn't work. Somebody would catch him and make unnecessary noise. Harry decided to lurk beside the house points counter in the Great Hall, in direct line of sight of the entrance of the dungeons instead.
After about ten minutes, he heard footsteps and the low tones of Snape mumbling. Harry straightened up and turned sideways to catch Draco's eye as he descended the stairs. The three Slytherins were discussing something serious, Harry could tell by the somber faces. Tom Riddle saw Harry first. His eyes must've fixated a moment too long for the others to notice and look towards Potter as well. Whatever they were talking about, abruptly came to a pause. Snape glared at Harry in annoyance. Potter cleared his throat to relieve some discomfort.
"Good evening Professor Snape." Harry dipped his head courteously.
Snape nodded in response, eyes narrowed.
"Riddle, Malfoy, carry on then." Snape addressed the other two and walked swiftly to the dungeons, robes billowing behind like bat wings.
"Potter." Draco raised a brow.
"I need to talk to you."
"Alright. See you later Tom." Draco replied, glancing at Riddle, who made no move to go.
"Do you mind Riddle?" Harry huffed impatiently.
Riddle put his hands in his robes pockets and eyed the two boys in front of him.
"I don't mind. Go ahead and have your little talk."
"This is private." Harry protested.
Draco eyed Riddle for two seconds, sighed and nodded and turned to look at Harry.
"You can say anything. Riddle is a- " Draco paused and swallowed before continuing, "a friend."
"I don't have time for your Slytherin games." squeezed out Harry with a locked jaw, "My friend needs help. She might be dying."
Riddle's gaze became intense.
"Who?"
"Hermione Granger."
Draco must have said something but Harry was momentarily stunned by the look on Riddle's face and didn't hear till Draco took hold of his elbow.
"Where is she?"
"Our place." Harry answered Draco's question while still watching Riddle. He could swear Riddle knew Hermione. He didn't know from where, how or why. But Riddle knew Hermione and she carried significance for him.
"Come on then." Draco started moving, dragging Harry.
"Is he coming too?" Harry asked Malfoy.
"Tom can help. He is great at healing." Draco vouched.
Harry nodded in acceptance and ran to the stairs. The Slytherins rushed after him.
XX
She lay on the bed, a small battered thing, hardly a girl, or witch. Her closed eyes were circled with shadows, her hair was rough, sticky with dirt and sweat. So was her face. Her dress shirt seemed too big for the bony collar bone visible under the open top button. The throat had scratches and visible bruises on it. Her knees peeking from under the skirt looked too big for her thin legs, her feet were bare.
He wouldn't have recognized her. But in her was a tight almost concealed beacon, a drumbeat of magic that resonated with his heartbeat. That beacon unfurled and became visible to Tom Riddle. It was his. That magic was his. It was part of his soul. And that part was pulling him to the witch that carried it now.
He walked to the bed, unable to stop himself, grappling with the discordance of her memory and her reality. Riddle sat at her side and touched her limp hand with the tips of his fingers. Her fingers were bent at odd angles. There was blood under all her broken nails. Whoever did this, didn't care whether she held a wand for all her life or not.
Warmth suffused his hand just as his face went cold with fury. Tom ran his hand over hers, healing the nail beds first, then the fingers. Someone had grabbed her arms, wrists. They had used a lot of force with her birdlike bones. The skin was splotched yellow and green in places, the marks in various stages of self repair. Tom touched each bruise to remember it before healing the visible hurts.
"Who did this?" He hissed, the snake very much in his voice.
"I found her this way in front of our common room entrance." Harry Potter replied, "They took her to the Ministry a month ago. This is how she has been returned."
Riddle brushed his thumb over her cold cheek and a cut erased itself.
"And who took her to this Ministry?"
"It started with her fainting in the corridor. I found her that night as well." Harry started.
The whole story or Hermione's run in with Ron, Cormac and the prefects came out in bits and pieces. Malfoy corrected and filled in the details Harry forgot. All the while Tom Riddle found cuts, bruises, broken bones or ribs and fixed them. Finally, he ran a few passes of cleaning spells over her clothes, hair and body. Outwardly, Hermione looked fine, albeit weak and haunted. Riddle withdrew his hands and sat back.
"This is what happens to muggleborns who use magic openly." he surmised.
"Worse." Malfoy supplied, "Most aren't seen again. We've had a few muggle borns who disappeared, never came back to school."
Malfoy glanced at Harry, a weight behind the look, "The witches or wizards who help or try to say something are punished severely."
Harry raised his chin in defiance, "If they are caught."
"It is only a matter of when, not if."
"It is a matter of what we are ready to stand for."
Malfoy ground his teeth, glaring at Harry.
Tom studied Harry. Then Malfoy. It looked like they were duking out an often repeated argument in which neither guy was willing to back down.
"And what do you stand for, Potter?" Tom pondered aloud.
He didn't miss Malfoy's nervous gulp at the question, nor how he subtly touched Harry's elbow with a fingertip.
"She and I, we lived on the same street. I have known 'Mione all my life. My mum is a muggleborn and I don't care what tosh the Ministry is peddling, I know she is powerful and can perform spells my pureblood dad can't. I was there when Hermione first showed magic in kindergarten. I knew what she was then. The problems with their magic only started after the muggleborns had to go through some mandatory sessions at the ministry. I will never accept that she is inferior. I will never accept my mum is inferior. We are already in hot water with the authorities but my dad isn't backing off and neither am I. We are just not being open with the dissent. Sirius tells us to be smart about it and dad agrees."
"Sirius?"
"Black." Malfoy cut in, "My cousin Sirius Black. Harry's godfather."
"Potters and Blacks. What do the Malfoys stand for?"
Draco raised his chin as well, the move exactly like Harry's.
"I stand with Harry. Granger is his friend. So she is mine as well."
Harry had a quick smile for the blond, before it melted away into a frown.
"But your father hates muggleborns. He is the head of your family and one of the school governors."
Draco's chin went down, almost in shame. The two wizards fell silent.
"You two are the futures of your families, not your fathers, not your ancient relatives. You." Tom said, his voice taking the quality of a spell again, reeling in Harry and Draco, "Don't underestimate the power of the youth, Potter. If you have courage to form your own opinion, enough to fight for your beliefs, then for all intents and purposes, you two are the Potters and the Malfoys."
Something loosened in Draco's shoulders and he grabbed Harry's hand firmly, openly. Harry blinked a couple times before his eyes shifted to the unconscious witch again, worry written plain on his expressive face.
Great, Riddle repressed a sigh, more of those empathic ones who couldn't hide their feelings for shit. He'd have to work with them on this.
"What are we going to do about her?" Harry asked.
Tom shifted his complete focus on Hermione.
"I'll do what I can."
"Which is considerable because of who you are. So a Gaunt stands with the Potters, Blacks and Malfoys." Draco observed, sizing up Tom Marvolo Riddle Gaunt.
Riddle wasn't looking at either wizard. He was staring at Hermione. He saw the downtrodden coming at her side. He saw himself standing with her. He saw the injustice, and the people standing covertly against it. Potters, Blacks and Malfoys. He saw the rallying spirit, the focal point that could hold and galvanize a movement.
"We should organize a study group." Tom murmured, brushing a lock of Hermione's recalcitrant hair off her face. "I will tell you when and where. You need to tell me more about what's going on in this school."
"Renervate. Wake Hermione." Tom softly called the witch.
Her whiskey eyes inched open. She squinted, blinked and saw Tom's face. Her hand rose to his cheek, lightly brushing his jaw. Something tight, something cramped, came loose and filled Tom with lightness. Here she was. Here she was at last.
"You're here. I didn't have to take them seriously." she whispered, gaze intently locked onto his.
"No. You didn't have to." Tom murmured.
Hermione sighed.
"Where am I?"
"The come and go room. Your friends call it the Room of Requirement."
"There again?" A smile started on her lips as Hermione glanced around and found Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy standing by the bed. The smile left her eyes as she took in their worry laden faces. Things started coming back. Things she felt wholly unprepared to face at the time.
"Hermione, what happened?" Harry asked gently.
She remained silent and turned her gaze to Tom again. A tear escaped the witch's eye. Tom caught it with a finger tip.
"Hermione?" Harry called again when she didn't answer.
"I don't want to talk about it."
Riddle nodded.
"Rest then, Hermione Granger. I am here now."
He touched two fingers to her forehead and her eyes closed. Her breathing became deep and calm. The witch went to sleep. And she had a night's rest without nightmares.