Thanks to reviewers:
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Hermione's mind raced. What was he going to do? Mina wouldn't be able to withstand the Cruciatus Curse. She couldn't let Riddle do that to her, but she wouldn't be able to get to Mina before he found her – not if he had an entire network of spies.
Fear for Mina suddenly filled her. The Cruciatus Curse might have been commonplace for that dark, terrible Hogwarts she had left behind, but it was not here. As violent as Quidditch matches were, as violent as Dueling Club sometimes got, Hermione hadn't seen a single Dark curse from anyone except Riddle.
They were on the second floor now. Riddle made his way quickly towards Myrtle's bathroom. Bizarrely, in the deserted hallways, there was Abraxas Malfoy, resting against a classroom door. "She was Disillusioned," said Malfoy, "but I used Finite Incantatem and got her. She ran, but looks like she was headed to that passage up to the sixth floor."
Riddle gave him a swift nod and turned right. Hermione followed him up the dark passage to the sixth floor, and next to the exit was Revelend Godelot, who pointed down the hall. "Seventh floor."
The steady stream of Slytherins eventually led Riddle and Hermione right outside a place that nearly made Hermione go catatonic: the Room of Requirement. The last time she had been in here, she had been murdered. Wonderful memory. Her throat felt tight, and her heart beat fast.
Riddle paced back and forth, his eyes firmly trained on the wall, until a door slowly appeared – a rather nondescript door. Shit. How was she going to get inside without him noticing if he shut it behind him?
Riddle suddenly turned and waved his wand in a wide sweep. Hermione held up her wand and gritted her teeth as his Finite Incantatem smashed into her shield. Riddle seemed satisfied with the hallway's emptiness.
Hermione kept herself a few inches behind him, in painfully, terrifyingly close proximity, as he opened the door. Luckily, he swung it wide instead of just slipping inside, and Hermione had just enough time to roll in silently before he checked outside and shut the door again.
Mina was a smart girl, Hermione thought with a smirk. She'd created a maze, with high, weathered stone walls and flickering torches set in brackets. There was no ceiling, just darkness above, walls rising as high as she could see. She looked at Riddle, and he rolled his eyes, a stubborn look on his face. He stalked off into the maze. Hermione followed.
Hermione wondered exactly how intricate of a maze the Room of Requirement could create. Surely, Mina would have asked for one that was practically impossible, and at the end of the day she would just think that she needed to get out and the Room would accommodate her. Hermione silently cheered Mina's genius, but even as she was celebrating, Riddle took out his wand, and her joy slowly turned to cold disbelief.
He flicked his wand, and Hermione didn't recognize the spell, but a jet of blue light shot out of the end at an angle and leveled every wall in its way with a colossal 'bang'. As they made their way through the dust and the rubble, Hermione wondered how a spell that powerful could possibly exist – it had smashed through a dozen or so two-foot-thick rock walls, for Merlin's sake. Then again, it was never a good idea to underestimate the Dark Lord, as Hermione discovered seconds later when he raised his wand again and fired another 'Finite Incantatem' so powerful that she felt her shield nearly disintegrate under the force. His eyes were suspicious.
Riddle held out his wand again, and Hermione winced as it emitted another jet of blue light, this time at a different angle, as if it were pointing the way. It only broke through two walls this time, and they made their way over the remains. Riddle flicked his wand, and the blue light soared straight down the corridor, ending at the corner without breaking anything.
Hermione's heart sped up as she and Riddle rounded a corner. A dead end lay ahead. There was no passage to the right.
Merlin. Was Mina really at the end of this alleyway? Had it really been that simple? It couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes since Riddle had entered the maze, and already he was coming to his intended destination?
"Hello?" called Riddle, peering towards the end of the corridor as if he didn't know exactly who was there.
He flicked his wand again, and Hermione fortified her shield, wincing as it rattled weakly under the strength of his spell.
With dismay, Hermione saw a figure appear at the end of the hall as the Finite Incantatem reached it. The figure lifted a hand to its mouth – presumably taking more Polyjuice Potion. No, no, no, no no no get out—
From just a few feet away, the tiny smirk at the edge of Riddle's mouth was ominous. The flickering torches washed his pale face with warm light, darkening his strong features and casting shadows onto his eyes. He stopped about ten feet from Mina, the smirk fading quickly into nothing as if it had never been.
"Is that you, Granger?" he called, the perfect amount of puzzlement edging his voice, as if he were slightly confused.
"What do you want, Riddle?" muttered Mina. Hermione hadn't realized before now how similar their voices were, and she cursed the fact.
"Is something wrong with your voice?" Riddle said, walking towards Mina. Hermione prayed that Mina would just tell him that she wasn't Hermione, would just get out of the game. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered right now more than her safety.
"Just a bit sick," Mina replied, and Hermione cursed inwardly. Tell him!
Hermione silently made her way to Mina's side, ready to deflect any curses that might fly from the end of that loosely held wand.
Riddle was always on his guard, always ready to be triggered by the slightest little thing. If Hermione cursed him, there was a good chance that he would fire off a spell at Mina in return. Hermione would have attacked already, but Mina wouldn't know what was happening, and if he attacked her, she wouldn't be prepared. There wasn't a way to counteract the Polyjuice Potion with any sort of spell to reveal Mina as being who she really was. There was nothing Hermione could do except wait for Riddle to attack. If he started to fight, then Hermione would jump in, because then Mina would be pretty much doomed anyway...
"Oh," said Riddle. "Sorry to hear that."
He was now no more than a couple of feet from Mina, who couldn't keep herself from staring at him. Hermione had forgotten exactly how strikingly attractive he was, and Mina had always commented on it – of course she wouldn't be able to resist just looking at him.
"Yeah," Mina said absentmindedly. Hermione looked at her. She looked exactly like Hermione, down to the very last light freckle on her nose, down to the last lock of incredibly voluminous hair. There was nothing to tip Riddle off that this was not the girl to curse. Shit, shit, shit! What should I do?
Worst, Mina was under the delusion that Riddle was a perfectly nice guy. She wasn't on her guard. She wasn't even holding her wand!
GET OUT YOUR WAND, YOU IDIOT!
Why hadn't Mina listened to her?
But Riddle was moving closer and putting away his own wand. Hermione felt a strange clench in her stomach as she observed Mina, who was clearly holding her breath, captivated by Riddle's dark eyes. Every girl must be absolutely identical to him, Hermione thought with disgust. His awareness that he had such a hold over any girl he wanted must have been part of the reason he was so brilliantly manipulative.
Still, though, the glaze of admiration in Mina's eyes was something that Hermione was sure she had never had, and there was no trace of wariness in her face like there always was in Hermione's. Hermione was shocked that Riddle didn't notice the differences, actually, especially since he was little more than a foot from Mina now – what the HELL is he doing – and he could see every detail of Mina-Hermione's face in the torchlight.
"You know, this is an excellent place to hide," he commented, looking around at the maze.
"Yeah," said Mina offhandedly, apparently trying to talk as little as possible so that he wouldn't notice that her voice was not, in fact, congested, but someone else's entirely.
"I've been wondering about the other day," Riddle continued, his eyes flickering back to Mina.
She opened her mouth slightly, but then bit her lip and furrowed her brow. Hermione knew what she was thinking – she was probably wondering which story to go with: Hermione's or the one that was circulating the school. Eventually, she made a decision.
"Why the hell would you do that?" Mina said shortly, and Hermione saw a smirk lift one side of Riddle's mouth. Dammit! If Mina had just gone with the mainstream story, that Hermione had cursed Riddle, then he would have known it wasn't her...
"I think you know," Riddle murmured, his eyes fixed soundly on Mina-Hermione's wide hazel ones.
"Oh?" managed Mina, shooting desperate glances to either side. Hermione prayed for the poor girl, knowing what it was like to be pinned ruthlessly by that stare.
"Well, you do know more than you should, that's for sure," chuckled Riddle darkly, and now a vague expression of confusion made its way onto Mina-Hermione's face.
"What?" she said.
Hermione watched in horror as Riddle lowered his face to within six inches of Mina-Hermione's. Her mouth opened involuntarily, as if she were under the Imperius Curse, and her eyebrows lifted a little.
Restraining herself from cursing the hell out of Riddle, Hermione gripped her wand so hard that its design dug into her skin. She considered a good Petrificus Totalus, but no – that spell was audible, and Riddle had brilliant reflexes. She would be blocked and hexed in seconds. "Don't play dumb," Riddle muttered. "It doesn't become you."
And he lifted his hand from his side. Hermione drew her wand in a flash, but she saw that his hand wasn't holding his wand. In fact, it wasn't even moving fast. What was he doing?
Hermione's stomach swooped as she saw Riddle's pale, long-fingered hand gently place itself on Mina-Hermione's face, moving her heavy brown hair from her eyes, trailing down her cheek. Hermione swayed in place, transfixed by what he was doing even when he wasn't doing it to her. Merlin. Mina-Hermione swallowed, her face tilted upwards, her eyes playing over Riddle's face.
Hermione prayed that Riddle wouldn't give away too much to Mina – Hermione hadn't been planning on telling any of her friends much about her past. She already felt she had already let too much go to R.J. when they had talked by the lake that one day. In fact, she felt like she'd broken the cardinal rule of the Hogwarts back on earth – every person who knows information is one more person who can have that information tortured out of them – and that was not a good thing to forget. Especially now that she knew young Voldemort had the capacity to torture with as much skill as when he was older.
"Wh-what are you doing?" managed Mina-Hermione in a whisper. Riddle didn't answer, just placed his hands on the wall behind Mina-Hermione, trapping her there.
He moved his head towards Mina-Hermione's ear, his dark hair drifting slowly over his forehead, and he whispered, "Look, all I want to know is how you knew that name."
Hermione closed her eyes. This couldn't possibly get any worse. She desperately stared at the pocket that held Riddle's wand, wishing there weren't a fold directly over it so that she could just snatch it and then get them both out of there.
"I..." Mina-Hermione said, and given the look on her face, Hermione was surprised that she could say that much at all.
"Of course, if you don't want to tell me," said Riddle's smooth voice, "we could compromise."
"Oh, really?" whispered Mina-Hermione. Hermione was disgusted to see that look of almost-bliss on her own traitorous face.
Riddle slowly moved his head downwards, speaking into Mina-Hermione's neck as if he were some sort of bizarre vampire. "There's always a compromise," he breathed, and Hermione could see his smooth lips kiss Mina-Hermione's neck, and she felt a little sick. Then he spoke again. "Just do that one little thing I asked you to."
"The … er, the name?" asked Mina-Hermione weakly.
"No. The other thing. You know."
What other thing? Hermione racked her brain, but she couldn't think of a single thing that Riddle had asked her to do. Especially not something he would be attempting to seduce out of her. How much further below the belt could he hit? Hermione nearly snorted in disdain, but then she remembered how she herself had reacted to Riddle in that dark tunnel and she felt herself blushing. It was completely unfair to do that. To do... this.
Hermione saw Riddle's mouth press lightly against the edge of Mina-Hermione's jaw, but she couldn't look away, for some reason, despite the boiling feeling in her stomach and the way her clenched fists were shaking. Riddle's eyes were shut, masking what little emotion he usually displayed, and his tangled eyelashes swept out from those closed eyes, giving him a strangely peaceful look. Then he straightened back up to his full height, his eyes opened again, and he stepped back a little. Mina-Hermione drew in a long, slow breath. Hermione found herself doing the same.
"Well, you know where to meet me," he sighed, "if you change your mind." He smirked before turning around and leaving, leaving Mina-Hermione and Hermione pressed against the stone wall.
Oh, she would meet him indeed. Hermione knew that he meant that classroom where he was brewing the potion, whatever the hell the potion even was. She had so many unanswered questions. And Mina... Mina was looking absolutely stricken, staring after Riddle as if she wanted to sprint after him. Then she walked off breathlessly, leaving Hermione alone in the maze.
Hermione absentmindedly wondered what time it was. A few minutes later, she heard the door close, and walked towards the exit.
What 'thing' had he asked her to do? She honestly couldn't remember a 'thing.' Maybe the fact that he hadn't even attempted torture here meant that it was safe to approach him back in that classroom and ask him what on earth he meant.
Then again, she almost couldn't picture actually going back to that room, as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't been in excruciating pain under the tip of his wand.
As she exited the Room of Requirement, though, she realized that she had already done exactly that.
She vaguely wandered around the castle for a few more hours, taking Polyjuice Potion as needed. A couple hours before the game was over, she ran out of potion, but she didn't really care much anymore. All the fun had been taken from the game. In fact, she was almost glad that she ran out, because it meant that Mina had run out, too.
On the third floor, Dumbledore caught her with her shield down, and her triangle glowed. With a feeling that was almost that of relief, Hermione became a hunter, but she didn't catch anyone, or really hunt for anyone, for that matter. At about seven o'clock, her triangle glowed red. She wasn't sure what that meant, exactly, but she went down to the Great Hall just in time to see Melia Trueblood award a big case of chocolate to the winner, a short, grinning Ravenclaw girl – one of the Marque sisters. Leila, or Lyla – Hermione couldn't tell which.
Tossing her brass triangle into a big pile by the door, Hermione went tiredly to the Gryffindor table to eat dinner, but she couldn't see R.J., Godric or Mina anywhere, so she just sat by Miranda and Albus.
"How was the game?" Miranda asked Hermione with a vague grin. "You look exhausted."
"Yeah, I did a, uh, lot of running," lied Hermione. "How about you?"
Miranda sighed. "I was in the dungeons, but this one caught me." She pointed at Albus, who smiled modestly.
"It wasn't easy," Albus said. "You should go to Dueling Club and show them your talent."
Miranda laughed, "Oh, as if," and helped herself to some casserole. Hermione stopped her eyes from straying to the Slytherin table, as anyone she might look at would probably give her an antagonistic glare, anyway. That, or she would meet a certain face against which she would have to fight absurd attraction.
Hermione hurried back to the Common Room after dinner, and was surprised to find her three friends sitting around the fire.
"Hey, Hermione, something really funny just happened to me," Mina said, with a hard edge to her voice that stopped Hermione still.
"Oh, really?" Hermione said uneasily, walking over to the sofa and sitting down. R.J. was very pointedly not meeting her eyes, and Godric was just staring into the fire. Mina, on the other hand, had an aggressive expression on her face and was looking directly at Hermione.
Mina nodded. "Yeah. I was just hiding in the Room of Requirement, and one Tom Riddle just hunted me down just to say a bunch of weird stuff that I had – well, I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, and he was all over me. Well, you, that is. He was all over you."
Hermione flushed bright red. By R.J. and Godric's blank expressions, she assumed that Mina had already talked with them about this, Merlin knew why.
"Anyway, bottom line is, I'm feeling deeply disturbed, more than a little violated, and I don't know what the hell is going on between you and Riddle, but I don't like it. My advice to you is to just stop."
The words were sharp and loud, and made Hermione wince.
"Why are you even fooling around with a guy from Slytherin?" Godric muttered venomously, and there wasn't even a trace of good-hearted humor in his tone.
"Hold on, wait," interrupted Hermione. "Are you joking? I'm not 'fooling around' with anyone! Even if I were, it wouldn't be any of your business, Godric, and you know, maybe you should try being a little less prejudiced against people in other houses, even if your last name is Gryffindor."
That had been a little harsher than she had intended. R.J. shot her an uneasy glance, and Hermione looked down at her knees, wringing her hands together.
"There is such a thing as 'loyalty', you know," Mina said. "If not to your house, then at least to your friends."
Hermione's hands started to tremble in anger. She couldn't stand injustice, and this was just utterly ridiculous. "How am I being 'disloyal' to you just by talking to a Slytherin?" she said, standing up sharply, her voice a squeal of indignance.
"It was a lot more than talking, dear," said Mina with pure condescension, and Hermione's lips pursed together, her face blushing red.
"I can't believe you!" Hermione hissed. "You think I asked for that to happen?"
Mina rolled her eyes. "You know what, maybe I do think that," she said drily, "because you've never given us any clear indication as to what type of person you'd prefer: us, or them."
"'Us or them?' What are you, five? Are you really trying to give me an ultimatum?"
Mina stood up, straightening to her full and formidable height. She advanced on Hermione, who did not once let her glare falter. "He is the type of person who would curse you for being Muggle-born," Mina spat. "If you're still associating with him, that makes me think that you're either masochistic, a liar about your heritage, or just stupid."
Hermione drew in a shocked breath, unable to reply.
"Oh, and now at least I know the truth about what happened in the dungeon. He really did curse himself. At least you told the truth about one thing. Good job!" Mina said the last two words with a snappy fake cheer. Hermione stared blankly at her. When did Mina get... cruel?
Mina continued, one thin eyebrow raised and her voice trembling in anger. "Now all that's left is for you to explain why he would care enough about you to cast Dark magic on himself. Though I suppose you're not going to tell us, because – right – you've never told us anything about your life. What were you, a mass-murderer or something?"
Hermione drew herself up in fury, electricity seeming to crackle from her hair. "You are completely delusional," she said.
"At least I know who I am," Mina laughed coldly. "At least I'm not afraid to let people know who I am. At least I'm not a coward!"
That last word trembled precariously in the air, and it hit Hermione like a hammer. Coward.
She took a step back.
No. You were tortured for three full days, but you wouldn't back down. Coward. You took it upon yourself to put your friends before you. Coward. You're not a coward, Hermione Granger! You were always a Gryffindor... you were always strong.
But then again... in the last month of your life...
There was that time with Bellatrix Lestrange when you turned tail and fled.
There was that time where you heard a scream for help, and your heart beat so fast you thought you would faint and your stomach churned so hard you thought you would throw up and you turned tail and you fled.
There was that time that you looked down and saw blood pooling all around your Disillusioned feet, but you wouldn't open that classroom door and you TURNED TAIL AND FLED.
Voices, endless voices, from every person who had ever hated her, poured in torrential malice through her mind. Hermione Granger... maybe you are nothing but a low-down dirty shamefaced know-it-all and a lying cheating traitorous Mudblood and a deceptive self-important shielded ugly unimportant strange incompetent unattractive blustery stubborn foolish naïve childish cold-hearted COWARD, COWARD, COWARD, COWARD, COWARD.
She took a step back, attempting to stem the flow of self-hatred that was streaming over its broken dam, attempting to stem the flow of her tears with unsuccessful simultaneity. And she looked at the three people sitting in front of her – I don't even know you – and she turned tail.
And she fled.
xXxXxXxXx
Hermione woke up early the next morning and walked down to the common room, surprised to see that R.J. was sitting in one of the chairs. He greeted her calmly, a cautious look in his eyes.
"Hey, R.J.," she replied quietly, and sat down across from him. "Listen – about -"
He held up a hand, and she fell quiet. "Don't worry about it," R.J. said.
Hermione nodded, her eyes grateful, although there was a look of mild agitation in R.J.'s face that seemed to give away more than he was actually saying.
"Mina said Riddle seemed to know a lot about you," he said slowly. "Is … is that true? Because, I don't know... you haven't really been open with any of us, except maybe that one morning." His blue eyes flickered away from hers. R.J., the most non-confrontational Gryffindor Hermione had ever known. Of course he would be uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.
"Oh, believe me," mumbled Hermione, "Riddle knows nothing about me."
R.J. seemed a bit reassured by the information, and the silence was a bit more content than before. Then R.J. asked, "I've been wondering this for a while – what was Ron like?"
It was as if a large weight had collided with Hermione's stomach, hearing Ron's name, with no lead-up or anything, just sprung on her like that...
"I... uh, I—"
She stared at R.J. as if he were from another planet. What made him think asking that was okay? How could that be all right in his mind? She expected him to follow up with something along the lines of 'if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine', but he didn't. He didn't say anything, just waited expectantly.
"I, um, I don't really want to... talk about it," Hermione stammered, running a hand through her brown hair, bewildered by the boy opposite her.
"Oh." R.J. raised an eyebrow, as if disappointed with her, and looked away.
"I mean, I don't really feel comfortable talking about … back on Earth," she continued. "You don't either, right? Because, er, you don't really ever talk... about it... either..."
R.J. stood up. His skinny body looked awfully frail in the pale of morning. "No, I have my reasons," he said. He was an Unspeakable, right, but he was dead. He could talk about whatever he wanted.
"Well, I mean, so do I," said Hermione uneasily. She really didn't want to sour things between her and R.J., as he was the only one who wasn't incensed with her.
"No. You don't understand," said R.J. sharply, and Hermione's eyebrows rose in surprise. What was wrong with him today? "I have... reasons that I – can't..."
Hermione nodded slowly, and couldn't keep the expectancy from her voice. "And so... do I..." she said.
R.J. breathed out, hard, and looked up to the ceiling, and suddenly Hermione was mad. He was the one who didn't understand her in this equation. For God's sake, she had things in her past that most witches and wizards hadn't even had nightmares about, especially in the last month, when somehow a huge number of Boggarts had made their way into the castle along with every Death Eater... Hermione shook away the thoughts. "Okay, just forget it," R.J. said. "Sorry I asked."
He wasn't sorry. And it was obvious. "I'll see you later," Hermione said, and walked towards the portrait hole.
"Maybe I was wrong," came R.J.'s voice from behind her. Hermione turned. "I tried telling them that you didn't have anything to hide. I tried telling them that we didn't have anything to worry about. But I'm not so sure anymore."
Hermione looked at him. "It's... it's none of your business," she whispered hopelessly. "I'm sorry, but it's not any of your business. It's no one's except mine." She stared at the floor miserably. "I – I have to go." She started to go through the portrait hole, but was stopped abruptly by the next words.
"So, where are you off to, to see your boyfriend?" asked R.J., with a very sudden and very ugly sneer in his voice. Hermione rounded on him, her mouth open in utter shock. Really? Her head spun. This couldn't be happening. First Mina and Godric, and now R.J., the first and only person she had opened up to –
She could barely even manage a furious "no-you-juvenile-GIT!" before she fled, seething.
How had everything fallen apart so quickly? She had been so safely concealed under a network of quietness, a quietness to which she had never been accustomed, but even that hadn't been enough, thanks to damn Tom Riddle. Hermione entered the empty Great Hall, feeling like an amiable breakfast wouldn't really be an option. She glanced up at the vacant teachers' table, wishing it would be filled up – with the lovable Hagrid, the ever-ready Professor McGonagall, the jolly Flitwick – even Snape, with all his usual sneering coldness, would have been a reassurance. But no. The only thing that was sitting there was a large sign that read the date. In this world, it was apparently November fifteenth.
And, looking around the deserted Great Hall, she wished more than anything that her friends and loved ones would surround her. This was not how it was supposed to happen, Hermione thought, as her eyes slowly welled up with tears. The good guy was supposed to beat the bad guy. Harry was supposed to defeat Voldemort, and Hermione and Ron were supposed to get married, and she was supposed to find her parents in Australia and undo that Obliviate, and Hogwarts was supposed to reopen – and – not... this. She wasn't supposed to be trapped here, so why was she? How could this be fair? How could whatever God there was let this happen?
Hermione stared at the November fifteenth sign. Nearly two months since she had arrived... it had been almost half a year since she had been back on Earth, in real time. Half a year. That was... so long... so long.
Hermione let the tears spill over, until they ran dry of their own volition. Okay. That was enough. Enough.
It had been a while since Hermione had spent all day in the library, but she did. She pored over endless book upon endless book on both life and death, but nothing was there to satisfy.
xXxXxXxXx
Riddle smiled to himself. It had all gone exactly how he had planned, as usual. After Abraxas had informed him that the Gryffindor girl, Mina, and Granger would be switching appearances for the day, he had managed to corner the fake Granger and plant a seed of doubt in the Gryffindor girl's mind about Granger's intentions. Perfect, perfect, perfect. He hadn't even seen Granger associate with her three closest friends for days. She sat with that quiet Miranda girl and Dumbledore in the Great Hall, but Riddle knew that Dumbledore was sort of a hopeless case to get on his side, and Granger didn't seem to be too close to either of them in the first place. It was all falling into place.
After all – when one was lonely, one turned to the thing that was the most interesting in one's environment. And Riddle knew that he was the most interesting thing, by far, in the castle. Especially, for some reason, to Granger.
The final stages of the plan were nearly complete. The potion, too, was coming along nicely, although it did need a little guidance in the right direction. In a couple weeks, though, it was practically guaranteed to go swimmingly.
Riddle gazed into the fire, his mind at ease. Except for something small agitating the back of his brain, but he couldn't really place a finger on it, and it was probably overlookable, anyway. With a brain like his, anything that he couldn't immediately identify was most likely useless.
Luckily, the hubbub about Riddle being cursed had died down somewhat. It had been useful in the first place to estrange Granger from the general student population, but it had fast transformed into a nuisance. It had required a little more finesse, a little more subtlety. He would work on the subtlety thing.
The only person who really still seemed to care about the curse was Araminta. Because she had some delusional idea that she and Riddle were meant to be together, she had taken his attack very personally. Riddle secretly hoped that she didn't do anything rash. Not that he wanted to withhold any pain or suffering from the Mudblood, of course, but it would be most inconvenient if he had closed off all paths except the one to him, only for it to be ruined by the flighty Meliflua girl.
xXxXxXxXx
Hermione awoke and let out a shriek. Everything in the room was covered with a thick coating of green slime. This included Hermione herself. "Eugh!" she hacked out. It smelled absolutely repulsive, and as her frantic gagging awoke the other people in the dormitory, more screams and exclamations echoed around the room.
Hermione scrabbled for her wand, which was safely under her pillow, as always. She wrenched the hangings wide and observed the slime-covered room with a sick sort of awe. "Scourgify!" she squeaked, waving her wand, and it was sucked away into nothingness, leaving only an unpleasant odor of remembrance.
"Really, that is absolutely revolting," said Miranda mildly, as if it happened every day, and she turned over and went back to sleep.
"Hermione, this has got to stop," snapped Mina, her grey eyes blazing. "I'm sick of waking up to this bullshit every other day. Just tell the Slytherins you're sorry about not cursing their precious Riddle, and maybe they'll leave us the hell alone."
With that, she snapped the hangings shut. Hermione observed the sullenly silent bed and swallowed. Those were the first words Mina had even spoken to her since the ones after the game – apparently, she was prone to holding grudges. Godric had given Hermione an apologetic glance once, but he seemed too afraid to even suggest to Mina that they attempt to make up, which Hermione thought was ridiculous. It wasn't even that big of an issue. In fact, compared to some of the fights she and Ron had gone through, it was positively microscopic. And now – this. Just when Mina and Hermione's relationship didn't need any more strain.
Thanks, Araminta.
The day only got worse. Mina kept shooting Hermione angry, expectant glances all through breakfast and lunch, as if she actually expected Hermione to apologize to the Slytherins... Hermione should have foreseen the next event.
About halfway through dinner, Hermione looked up from meekly eating her chicken leg to see Mina standing, whacking her glass so hard with a spoon that Hermione was surprised it didn't break.
"Hello," Mina said loudly, her voice echoing throughout the hall. "Since Hermione doesn't have the guts to say this herself, I'll say it for her: thank you, Slytherin, for the daily presents we've been receiving, like today's, green slime, and that of two days ago, itching powder, and then, before that, giant spiders. Thanks ever so much," Mina said, glaring furiously at Araminta, "but we've honestly had enough, so unless you have the stomach to challenge me—or her—to a duel, don't be surprised if you start getting hexed in the hallways if this doesn't stop."
Hermione had heard enough. She dropped her chicken and got up silently, wishing she were invisible, and walked out of the Great Hall, staring at the ground, feeling an uncomfortable number of eyes on her. She hurried off into some hallway and leaned against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. Strangely, she nearly felt like crying again, but it wasn't because Mina was being irrational and furious. No, it was because she had seen the number of people who were staring angrily at her, even though it had been Mina and not her who had done something. More cover blown. Presumably, Mina was going on to say that Hermione was oh-so-sorry for cursing Riddle, even though she now knew perfectly well that that wasn't a bit true.
Hermione wanted to go back to the Gryffindor common room, but it would be filled soon enough with Gryffindors, most of whom thought she had cast a Dark curse on some nice, innocent boy, and a few of whom knew the truth but were mad at her for being too nice to said boy, and two who were too meek really to care at all – and all this when the boy had killed her already.
Was this logical? No. No; it was not.
Hermione bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, fighting back the tears that kept returning to her eyes. Stop being so weak! She wouldn't allow herself weakness. She couldn't. She couldn't allow herself anything.
And with that thought, she broke into sobs.
xXxXxXxXx
Riddle observed as Mina took her seat again. He would not allow himself a quiet smile just then, but he definitely felt smug pride. He surely hadn't counted on further altercations with Araminta making things even better, but they had. Granger had stormed out of the Great Hall, looking broken. It had caused a twinge of something, deep inside Riddle – sympathy? No, he never felt sympathy. Oh, well – emotions were inconsequential.
In fact, Riddle would be surprised if tonight was not the night Granger cracked and came running to him for reasons unbeknownst to her. He smiled a little, then, as he turned back to his food, but no one around him knew why. No one around him ever knew why, but that certainly never made him explain.