Author's Note: So, the chapter came considerably sooner than I realized it would. I hope you like it. And again, if any of you would be willing to beta this, let me know in a review or something. Enjoy!
The feeling in her stomach doubled in intensity at the very least upon hearing that one word
The feeling in her stomach doubled in intensity at the very least upon hearing that one word. She was curious as to what he had to say, but not curious enough to negate the annoyance she felt at having her exit interrupted.
Regardless, she stopped. She took in a deep breath and let it out, forcing herself to calm down before responding. Pleading with her nausea to quell, to subside if only for a few moments, she stood still. Finally, after a moment that lasted forever, she turned.
"Jane, I just wanted to…" he stopped midsentence, a look of something – concern perhaps, were that possible – coming very suddenly and very thoroughly into his face. "Are you okay?" he asked, stepping quickly towards her.
What a silly question, she thought, though for only a moment. It wasn't until Tom put a hand on her shoulder that she realized her temperature was off – whether too warm or too cold, she couldn't tell. "Oh," she said simply, adding a small quick gasp as her balance left her unexpectedly, causing her to grab on to his arms to avoid falling over onto the hard floor.
Maybe it was a good thing, she thought in a vague, distant sort of way, unable to leave the strange embrace with Tom, that he hadn't allowed her to simply make her exit when she had intended.
Her head began to clear a bit. She hadn't realized that her vision was blurry until it suddenly came back into sharp focus. Her grip strengthened on Tom as she got more of her strength back, though he did not release his hold on her.
"I think I'm alright," she said hesitantly, after a moment. "Let me go, I think I can stand."
He did as he was told, though very tentatively, and he kept his hands no more than a few inches from her as he did so. He obviously did not trust her interpretation of her strength, and she wasn't sure that she could blame him at this point.
However, her legs managed to hold her up, and her balance survived the test of releasing Tom's arms. She sighed in relief, letting go a breath she was unaware she had been holding.
Suddenly hyperaware of the distance, or more specifically the startling lack of distance, between her and Tom, Hermione took a quick step back. Running her hands over her face, wiping away the sweat that had formed there at some point during her short-lasted bout of illness, she looked up at him.
"Thank you," she said in barely a whisper, not knowing whether her voice wanted to break and not giving it a chance to. "I'm alright now. I don't know what came over me."
Tom took an equally quick step towards her, putting his hands once again on her shoulders, and this time it did not bring about a fainting spell. The feeling in her stomach continued to multiply, but she paid it no mind. She no longer wanted to escape, to get away from Tom Riddle.
She resisted following the question of whether it was a good thing that she felt safer in his presence than she did alone. She didn't want to hear the answer.
"Are you certain you're alright?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm certain," she said in a significantly firmer voice. To her delight, it held strong.
She told herself very sternly that her happiness was from the dissipation of her symptoms, and absolutely nothing else.
He looked at her suspiciously, still not trusting that she had recovered so suddenly.
"Then perhaps you should be back in bed," he said. "Unless you would rather not be by yourself just yet."
She understood the invitation in his words instantly, and found herself tempted to take him up on it. But she needed time to be by herself, and she really did need to try to get to sleep. Besides, it would be rude to ask him to stay with her, even if he did offer.
"I think rest is exactly what I need, actually. A good night's sleep does wonders for one's health."
He nodded, not seeming upset that she refused his offered companionship. "Shall we?" he asked.
She nodded. This time when he offered her his arm, she knew it had nothing to do with the times, or appearances, or whatever his cause had been earlier; it was a matter of chivalry in the most distinct manner, he trying to ensure her safety.
They didn't speak on the way back to the common room, both of them evidently preoccupied with their thoughts. When they arrived, Tom stopped her for a moment.
"If you need anything, I'll be in my room all night; don't hesitate to ask." He paused for a moment, as if considering something. "Goodnight Jane," he said.
"Goodnight Tom." She smiled at him, a real smile for once, out of gratitude and relief – nothing more – and turned and walked into her room.
She went straight for her bed and laid down. She didn't try to sleep, however – she was still a bit wired after what had happened, and needed a chance to think things through.
She had no idea what had happened to make her so suddenly unwell. But it passed, and she saw no point in dwelling over things that made no difference.
Tom's reaction, however, could make a big difference. He was concerned about her. This was good news, as it proved – as much as such things could be proven – that he cared about her. Caring about people, she decided, was not a trait generally attributed to Dark Lords.
But, she realized with a sudden touch of despair, it was a trait generally attributed to Head Boys. Damn it. He could have just been doing his job. Still, though. He had seemed genuinely concerned…
She remembered having decided to not waste time trying to figure out when he was acting and when he was being honest. She realized now that she was going to have to figure that out, one way or another, else she would never be able to tell whether or not she'd made any difference at all.
She couldn't very well just ask him whether he still wanted to be evil. That would raise suspicion to no end, and he would probably lie anyway – or just kill her and be done with it.
She was restless. She couldn't think in bed – she had to be moving, walking around or some such. She decided to go into the common room, where there was plenty of room for pacing. Who cared if it was full of people who would probably think her completely insane?
Wait. She had to care. Damn it again. Someone would invariably tell Tom of her unusual behaviour – their current degree of interaction couldn't be going unnoticed – and then he would ask what was wrong. And she wouldn't have an answer.
But if she stayed in this bed for one more minute, she was going to explode. Sighing, she grabbed a book from her trunk. She didn't pay attention to which one, knowing that they were all new – Dumbledore had kindly presented her with several books befitting the era, not wanting her to get caught with an as-of-yet unpublished version of Hogwarts: A History or some such.
Knowing that she wouldn't take in a word of the book, and in fact using it mostly as a cover for not being in her room, she went out into the common room to begin pretending to read.
Maybe she should just convince the House Elves to poison his pudding. It would make everyone's life considerably easier – and by everyone, she meant her.
That would never work. The House Elves had to have been instructed to not kill students. Even if they were evil and plotting to take over the world, it probably went against policy.
She could go home right now, and quit. Just hope that she had done enough, and the world was safe. But that would be irresponsible. She didn't think that she had done very much. And besides, even if she had gotten him to care about her, if she left right now it would probably mess him up even more. He could end up hating women as well as muggleborns, and then she'd be doubly persecuted.
So she had to stay. She had to stay and keep trying, keep making sure that he wasn't evil. How she was supposed to do that, she had no idea – but she had to try.
On the upside, she couldn't see him having much time for being evil, what with spending so much of his time with her. Maybe she would just have to make sure that his schedule was so incredibly full that he wouldn't have a moment to spare for plotting and planning and transforming and genocide-ing.
Now she was just being absurd. But really, what else was she supposed to do? She had had a very stressful day – and week, and year, and to be perfectly honest her entire life since age twelve or so had been no picnic – and deserved a chance to be ridiculous for a few minutes.
She sighed. She still had no idea what she was going to do, but she was starting to get a headache. It was time to head back to bed, and hopefully fall asleep before she convinced herself to do something completely insane.
She walked back into her dorm room, book still opened to the first page, and laid down in bed.