Author's Note: I know this chapter has taken me forever to get up, and I'm sorry. I had midterms, followed by Spring Break (during which I didn't have time to write anything), and so I finally actually got it written! The next chapter, I'm not sure how long it'll take, but probably not as long as this one did. I also know that this chapter is short, but I just wanted to put something up, since it's been so long.

As always, I hope you enjoy, and look forward to hearing what you think!

Of course, she failed

Of course, she failed. Her dreams were absolutely full of images of Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle laughing; Tom Riddle smirking; Tom Riddle glaring; Tom Riddle with his wand raised at her. When she woke, she knew the last had been a frightening image; she knew how poorly that could have turned out, how dangerous a situation that had been. The most alarming of all, though, was the image of Tom Riddle smiling at her as he had last night; he seemed too…human to her. She knew it was bad.

It took her a moment, at first, to remember what had happened the night before; when she did, she found herself rather pleased. She needed to learn to control her temper, though. She needed to remind herself that, as off-putting as the concept of being close to Tom may have been, the concept of not being close to him was disastrous. This time, she would play nice; she would watch her temper, control her emotions, and not upset Tom Riddle.

She was glad that it was the weekend, and that she didn't have classes. She wasn't sure, after last night, if Elizabeth would have woken her up – she didn't seem very pleased with either her or Tom Riddle at dinner – and she didn't particularly feel like finding out at right that moment. She laid in bed a bit longer, indulging in her desire to not get up – after all, she had accomplished a lot over the past week, and it felt like the longest week of her life; she deserved a bit of laziness if she felt like it. Soon, however, she realized that she did have things to do; she climbed out of bed, showered and dressed, and – seeing that it was still time for breakfast – went into the Great Hall.

She wasn't looking forward to seeing all of her classmates – Elizabeth most especially. But she knew that randomly disappearing for the entire weekend would not be a good idea, that it would make people suspicious, and the last thing she needed was for her personal life to become the concern of the entirety of Slytherin house.

She was, however, looking forward to seeing Tom Riddle. Or…not looking forward to it, per se, as she knew that every interaction she had with him would have to be painstakingly thought out, nothing could be done on impulse, and it was rather tiring after a while. But the thought of seeing him again, after the progress she had recently made, was an exhilarating one. She knew it was dangerous to want to see him, but she also knew that there was nothing she could do about it; besides, if she had to spend all of her time trying to get closer to him, she might as well enjoy it.

She felt a small smile reach her face as she walked into the Great Hall and saw him sitting at the table, but then realized that she had no idea if she was supposed to sit next to him or not. The table was mostly empty – Saturday mornings had never been popular with the students – so she couldn't just take whatever empty seat there was.

If all goes according to plan, she thought to herself, you'll only have to deal with him for a couple of months. Just go for it.

Taking in a deep breath – as she didn't quite consider him a friend, and truthfully was never the most comfortable in most social situations – she walked over to the Slytherin table and sat down across from him.

She considered saying good morning, or some similar greeting, to announce her presence, but decided against it. If he didn't notice her immediately, it was because he was preoccupied, and breaking his concentration was likely not the best way to maintain friendly relations. So she simply started filling her plate, this time determined that she would actually taste some of her food; she'd been forcing herself to eat for the past several days, and for the first time this term she actually felt hungry.

She resisted the urge to just shovel the food into her mouth; she wasn't Ron, after all, and sitting across from the person she was trying very hard to impress was probably not the best time to begin channeling his spirit.

After a few moments, Tom Riddle noticed that she was sitting across from him. "Good morning," he said brightly, sounding far more awake than Hermione would be able to manage for a good two hours. So many morning people, she thought. No way she would ever be able to keep up. There must be a trick to it. She vowed to find out what that trick was.

"Morning, Tom," she said, forcing her voice into as much alertness as she could muster. It wasn't nearly as convincing as she had hoped, but better than nothing. Tom didn't mention it, at least.

They shared a few minutes of borderline-awkward small talk, Hermione trying her best to seem interesting and intelligent – something that she had never had to try for in her life. Thankfully, Hermione had an essay to write, to excuse her from the table; she didn't know what Tom was doing sitting there by himself – she hadn't seen him take a single bite – but she needed a way out of the conversation, to give her a chance to wake up and come back to life before dealing with him again.

And writing an essay, she thought, was exactly the sort of thing Tom Riddle would approve of her doing.

"I'm sorry, but I've an essay to write for Transfiguration," she said as polite as possible, trying to let him know that she really was sorry.

"Oh, certainly," he responded. "Do you need any help?" he asked.

She reminded herself to not be offended; of course she wouldn't need help, but it was probably a very good thing that he had offered. "I think I'll be fine, actually – it'll just take me a while to actually write it. Thank you, though."

"Well if you change your mind, I'll be in my dorm for most of today; feel free to come see me."

She wasn't quite sure of how the culture was, fifty years before she was supposed to be a teenager, but she had a feeling that girls didn't usually go into the boy's dorms. However, she wasn't certain, and even if it wasn't done that didn't mean that there was any reason for it, or that there was any rule against it. So she smiled gratefully and walked out of the Great Hall, towards the Slytherin common room, where she would sit and write and perfect her essay for as long as it took.

She would get perfect marks on it. She had no choice.