Author's Note: Sorry this update took so long, but I plan on putting up at least one, maybe two more chapters tonight to make up for it. We're now more than halfway through what I had posted already, so pretty soon there should be brand new material up for you!
"Come on, Jane, do you want to be late again?" asked Elizabeth.
"I'm awake, don't worry," she answered. "What time is it, anyway?" she asked, sitting up.
"Six o'clock. I didn't want to chance you not waking up again," she explained, "so I decided to wake you up before I did my hair." Hermione realized why Elizabeth had looked so awake yesterday morning; she must have woken up by 5:30 at least. "Anyway, it's a good thing you got up, because I was about to pour ice cold water onto your head." She gestured slightly with the wand she was holding, and Hermione was suddenly very glad that she had woken up on time.
"Six o'clock, perfect. Listen Elizabeth, would you mind showing me where the nearest bathroom is?" she asked.
Elizabeth laughed. "Right off the common room, naturally. Here, grab your things and I'll show you." Hermione gathered her uniform, hairbrush, and toothbrush, and followed Elizabeth out into the deserted common room. "Nobody else wakes up until 6:30 at the earliest," she explained, "so we have a bit of time." Hermione was glad for that; she had always hated having to share a bathroom with about fifteen girls, forever screeching for their lipstick. Elizabeth waited until Hermione was safely in the shower before stepping inside the bathroom.
Much better than Parvati and Lavender; they wouldn't step away from the mirror for a second!
Elizabeth warned Hermione that it was 6:20 before she left the bathroom again, satisfied at last with her neat plait. Hermione struggled to rinse her hair as quickly as she could, wanting to be out of the bathroom by 6:35.
She walked out of the bathroom, teeth brushed and hair pulled back out of her face, at 6:32 exactly, just as the first of the mob was waking up.
"That was easy," she commented. "Last year – at Tarnley, I mean – it took almost an hour just to get into the bathroom."
"Yeah, it's like that here, too. That's why I wake up so horrendously early; I like to be able to actually see myself in the mirror when I'm getting ready."
As they were talking, the girls had been gathering their things: extra pieces of parchment they had left laying out the night before, spare quills, and a book or two. Hermione realized that she must've been incredibly distracted the while she was doing her homework to have left such a mess.
For the first time in several days, Hermione was on her way to eat breakfast. She missed the meal; it had always been one of her favorites.
She was growing accustomed to sitting at the Slytherin table instead of that of the Gryffindors, and the green emblem patched onto her robes no longer felt foreign to her. Somehow – though she'd previously thought it impossible – she felt like she could truly fit in as a Slytherin.
As soon as she sat down, however, her mood took a turn for the worst; she saw, once again, Tom Riddle, sitting directly across from her and looking at her more than he had reason – or right – to. What is wrong with him? she asked herself, worried about his undue interest in her. He couldn't know about her, could he? No, it was impossible; but then, why was he apparently so interested in her? There was no other explanation for it – but there had to be. How could he know? And more importantly, if he knew why she was there, then he had to know what he was going to do. And if he knew that, it would be impossible to stop him, no matter what she did.
She forced the thoughts from her head with practiced precision; thoughts like that didn't do any good, and it was likely that they would only discourage her from doing what needed to be done. No matter what, she mustn't despair, or she had an incredibly high chance of proving herself right.
Anyone can change. Even Lord Vol – Tom Riddle. Even if some people here know him as Voldemort, I can't think of him as that. Because Tom Riddle, no matter what he may have done, is still human.
She looked back up from her plate. He was still staring at her. "Can I help you with something?" she asked, trying to sound more annoyed than afraid.
"I was just wondering how you're doing - adjusting, I mean."
Then why didn't you just ask? she thought. "I'm adjusting fairly well, I suppose." Though, she supposed, it was probably good that he was noticing her; taking any sort of action would be harder if he didn't know who she was.
"That's good to hear. I'd hate to have you be unhappy – it would give a bad impression of Hogwarts, I mean. And my offer still stands. If you need any help, just tell me." He smiled and left the table. She knew the nervousness in his voice was put there on purpose; she didn't know why.
There really is something wrong with him, she thought, but I don't think a hug would do him much good. I've got to find out what Harry meant. I just hope the library hasn't changed much.
Hermione found that she was not disappointed by the Hogwarts library of the past. There weren't quite as many books, of course, but the difference was hardly noticeable. All the books were in perfect condition; it seemed that the current librarian was even more passionate about the books than Madame Pince. She also noticed, on second glance, that the Restricted Section held a great deal many more books.
It took her at least 20 minutes to find the section on psychology. She was glad that she had waited until lunchtime to do her research; she had told Elizabeth – who did a much better job of acting unpleasant, mean, and generally evil than Hermione was completely comfortable with– that she was going to take a quick nap. As long as she was back in the Slytherin common room by the time lunch was over with, she'd be fine.
Hermione looked around at the towering shelves filled with thick, dusty tomes and sighed. She loved the library. It had rarely failed her, and she trusted it. She quickly scanned the shelves, looking for something that might be pertinent. She grabbed several particularly thick volumes, along with one or two thin ones that she had a chance of finishing within the lunch hour.
As discreetly as she could, Hermione slipped the thicker books into her thankfully-large bag, scribbling down their titles in case the librarian wanted documentation. She checked the time and saw that there was still half an hour left in the lunch period. She put another two books in her bag and sat down to skim through the one book she had left out. It would take her at least five minutes to get back to her common room, and she couldn't be late.
She settled into one of the large, comfortable chairs and flipped through the book, eyes searching for a key phrase that would catch her attention.
As she went through this usual ritual – which she had performed so many times it was almost unconscious – her thoughts drifted to her problem. She wasn't sure what to make of Tom's apparent interest in her; she found it quite disconcerting. And she was unsure of whether she should be glad, flattered, or downright scared. After all, even though he might still be human, there was still the fact that, to the best of her knowledge, he had every intention and possibility of becoming the Dark Lord, which was a difficult thing to forget – even though, strictly speaking, it hadn't actually happened yet.
She checked the time again, aware that she had looked through at least half the book without finding anything. She had ten minutes until lunch was over. She got up out of the comfortable chair, wishing she would stay and read all day. She walked reluctantly to the librarian's desk and, seeing no one, left the paper with the book titles and authors. Just in case, she told herself. After all, her life would be more than miserable if she somehow for on the librarian's bad side.
Holding the book she had been reading in one hand, Hermione slipped silently out of the library. She suddenly realized how careful she was being – trying so hard to be unnoticeable that it was bound to draw attention sooner or later. Really, I mustn't act so paranoid! she told herself. She walked through the empty corridors as quickly as she could without actually running, knowing full well that if Elizabeth got to the dormitory before she did, she would have some serious explaining to do. Though she – usually – liked Elizabeth, Hermione was beginning to find her constant presence a bit annoying. It would have been perfectly fine if she had actually needed somebody to show her around – she wished she could have had that kind of help in her first year – but it was decidedly inconvenient for her now that she had to do certain things in secret. And no matter how much time she spent with Elizabeth – too much time, in her opinion – she knew she couldn't fully trust her, couldn't fully trust anyone, because her task was simply too important for anything to be left up to other peoples' judgement.
Hermione found herself slowing down when she reached the dungeons. Now which way was it? she asked herself, wishing she'd paid more attention when she had a guide; but her mind had been on other things. She stopped for a moment and cleared her mind, trying to think of which turns she had taken the night before. Left, straight, right… she thought, going over the path in her mind as she carefully began walking. As she became more confident with her path, her steps quickened, and soon she was back to her previous pace.
She was just beginning to regain her confidence and believe that she had made it back before Elizabeth when she stepped out of a tunnel and into the dimly lit common room. When she saw Elizabeth sitting impatiently in a dark green armchair, she gasped silently and felt her face turn red.
"Where were you?" Elizabeth asked crossly.
"I – er –" Hermione stuttered before deciding to just tell the truth. "I was in the library. I passed it on the way down here, and I felt I had to go in – I've always loved libraries. I guess I just – er – lost track of time." Well, sort of the truth, anyway.
"Why didn't you just say so?" Elizabeth asked through laughter, "Instead of trying to sneak in here?"
Hermione didn't know what to say. She hadn't had her 'library habit' laughed at in years. It was an unpleasant feeling, one she had definitely not missed. "Because," she responded, more angry than embarrassed, "most people don't take kindly to my literary endeavors. I was hoping to keep it a secret if I could."
"Jane, everybody's a little odd. But," she added, "if you don't want your… obsession with books to be common knowledge, it's your choice.
"Now let's go. We're going to be late for class."