Disclaimer in Chapter One

Author's note: Oh my oh my. That was a huge hiatus between chapters. I'm terribly sorry. Life got me once again, muse dead, lost my drive… I'm not going to bore you with details here. Hopefully you're still out there and willing to read this, my lovelies. To my shame I had to go back and re-read a few chapters, because I forgot what I had written. Anyway, I'm sorry this took so long and shame on me that I didn't reply to every review. I love every single one of them and want to give you all a virtual hug. And now, on to the new chapter, finally. Hope you enjoy

Thank you all for reviewing! You made me pull through with the next chapter!

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Chapter Eighteen: Bullet in your Brain

Assassination attempt on Dolores Umbridge

Madame Dolores Jane Umbridge, Head of the Department for Observation of Magical Bloodlines and honourable Member of the Wizengamot, attended a private soiree this last weekend as an attempt on her life was made. Luckily, no-one was injured during the attack. Madame Umbridge herself remains to be unharmed and was able to return to her duties at the Department.

In the official statement, the Ministry's spokesperson, Bartemius Crouch Jr., reports that Madame Umbridge's intention to attend the mentioned soiree was classified information. How the attackers learned of her presence is yet unknown. Although there were no indications to this attack beforehand, Madame Umbridge was accompanied by the Department's own security personnel. These precautions helped to avoid further escalation of the situation. According to Mr Crouch Jr., the identity and motivation of the attackers is yet unknown. However, a close affiliation to the terrorist group known as the 'Order of the Phoenix' and their self-proclaimed leader, Sirius Black, is highly likely. (for more information read pg. 4 to 6)

That, Riddle thought, slightly miffed, might develop into a problem. With a tired sigh he again scanned the article. At least, the stolen locket was no-where mentioned. The Prophet laid the whole blame of this 'terrorist attack' on the Order of the Phoenix – which was perfectly fine with Tom – but was that also what the Aurors suspected? It was laughably predictable that the Prophet should blame Sirius Black. That man had slowly turned into a scapegoat, it seemed. Sooner or later they would go and blame an increase of taxes on the man, too. Tom smirked down at the newspaper. The smile dropped quickly from his lips as his eyes again wandered over Umbridge's name. How annoying. The Head of the Department of Bloodlines had seen Tom's Mudblood. That really was the last thing he needed. Umbridge was known for being quite vindictive. Surely, Hermione's attack on her person wasn't something the woman would forget soon.

Tom peered at his little Mudblood. She sat at the Gryffindor table with her nose buried in another copy of the Daily Prophet, probably stolen from one of her seat neighbours. As if sensing his stare, Hermione looked up from the Prophet. Her eyes immediately sought him out. Tom spotted a satisfying blush settling on her cheeks as she looked at him. Her gaze quickly dropped to the Prophet in front of her, probably re-reading the headline, then back to him. Helplessly, Hermione shrugged her shoulders. Again Tom sighed. That was probably all the apology he would get out of her for that disaster at Smith's manor. To be fair, he couldn't even really blame her. While a bit more stealth on Hermione's part would have been preferable, it wasn't her fault that Umbridge had brought her own team of bodyguards. And in the end, Hermione had managed to secure Slytherin's Locket.

Tom folded the newspaper and slipped it into his satchel. The Umbridge problem wasn't something he would be able to solve straightaway. It wasn't pressing either. It might even disappear without him interfering. After all, Tom had been very careful to not leave any leads behind as he had brought Hermione to Hogwarts. Umbridge would be hard pressed to find any connection between Hermione Rookwood and the Mudblood 'Penny'. Even if Hermione was exposed, there was no way the whole thing could be traced back to Tom. He was safe. Then again, Tom found himself unwilling to lose Hermione. She was very useful. He doubted any of his Knights would have been able to procure the locket for him. Not even Bellatrix. She was too rash for delicate missions.

Tom got up from Slytherin table and trailed towards the doors. He motioned for Hermione to follow him. It was quite satisfying to see her hastily scramble up from her seat to obey him. Tom had already left the Great Hall as the girl finally caught up with him. He glanced at her through the corners of his eyes. Hair messy, face slightly flushed and heavy school bag in her hand, Hermione obediently walked beside him.

"I hope you enjoyed your debut in the Daily Prophet?" Tom asked dryly.

Hermione's dark brown eyes shyly travelled over him, obviously trying to see if he was angry with her. Tom wasn't in the mood to make it easy for her and hid any emotion behind an unreadable mask. The Mudblood worried her lower lip, probably searching for an appropriate apology.

"Well…" Hermione finally said. "At least they didn't take a photo?"

She threw him a disarming grin and Tom cocked an eyebrow. The Mudblood was rather cheeky today, wasn't she? Well, he might let this one slide. As Tom's cold gaze raked over her body, his eyes narrowed as he noticed a slight limp in her walk. His magic flared in irritation as he remembered that deep cut Hermione had received yesterday. Certainly not something he had planned. All because Umbridge had decided to show up, that bothersome woman, and because of Hermione's own inattentiveness. Now riled up even more, Tom's magic greedily reached out for Hermione and he felt inclined to simply follow the magic's lead. Sliding closer to the Mudblood, he snaked an arm around her waist and decidedly pulled her against his body. Wisely, Hermione didn't protest, but accepted the contact.

"See to it that there'll never be a repeat performance of your run-in with Umbridge," Tom said evenly, dangerous tint to his voice.

Hermione's eyes were submissively lowered to the ground as she nodded quickly. It seemed her previous boldness had suddenly drained from her. Tom frowned at her. The girl was suspiciously tense under his touch and a pink hue now coloured her cheeks.

It didn't take him long to connect the dots.

Ah, yes, he thought amusedly. He had completely forgotten about their little romp in that hostel bedroom yesterday. A sly smirk blossomed on Riddle's face as the memories re-emerged. It had been quite enjoyable, hadn't it? He should have taken her sooner. Just to fluster her a bit more, Tom bent down to her and whispered into her ear,

"That school uniform looks good on you. Makes me want to rip it off your body."

He took malicious joy watching Hermione splutter. The pink blush on her face turned a few shades darker and she stared up at him with wide eyes. Tom looked at her, a veneer of indifference hiding his every emotion.

"Erm… that's…" she stuttered pathetically. "You… I really don't think…"

Completely ignoring the girl's embarrassment, Tom asked innocently as if nothing had happened,

"What's your first class today? Ancient Runes?"

Hermione mumbled something and nodded her head, never taking her eyes from the floor. Her fingers fiddled restlessly with the hem of her shirt. The girl was practically radiating nervousness. Tom could feel a smirk curling his lips. Surely it couldn't be him that made the little Mudblood so tense, he wondered sanctimoniously.

"Don't be shy now, my dear," Tom purred seductively. "I know you had fun yesterday."

The embarrassed blush didn't leave Hermione's face, but he could see her peering at him through the corners of her eyes. Then a small, almost unnoticeable, smile tugged at her lips. A self-satisfied expression drifted over Tom's features. By now they had reached the staircase and he turned to descend it to get to his Arithmancy classroom. Before he left, he ordered Hermione,

"Meet me in the Slytherin common room later. Not the Heads' dorm."

Tom expected her to scurry off the her own classroom at his dismissal. Hermione, though, had other plans. The Mudblood suddenly took a step towards him. Without saying anything, not even asking him for permission, she stood on her tiptoes and hastily pressed her mouth against his own. He could feel her lips curving up in a grin. Still with her lips against his, she whispered teasingly,

"The school uniform looks good on you, too."

Tom was paralysed by surprise and didn't react at all. Hermione ended the kiss as quickly as she had started it. Then she mumbled a soft,

"See you later."

Before she turned and hurried away, Tom spotted that small grin on her face. He still hadn't moved, taken aback by her bold actions. Her curly hair bounced agitatedly as Hermione quickly walked away. Involuntarily, a smirk spread on Tom's face.

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For the rest of the school day, Hermione found her thoughts often straying to Riddle. Even after classes, as she sat in the Gryffindor common room, she still pondered her strange master. And he was a strange master, wasn't he? Not that Hermione had had many different masters in her life. Most of her time, she had served at Malfoy manor. Still, she had met her fair share of wizards, and not one had been like Riddle. Yesterday, in that hostel room, Riddle hadn't necessarily been gentle – he had known what he wanted and had taken it from her – but he didn't just take. He never just took. He also gave something back. Sleeping with him had been Hermione's first time. It had been nice, very much so. It hadn't suddenly changed her whole world, but still Hermione had enjoyed herself a lot, which was, sadly enough, a surprise.

Hermione smiled as her thoughts again drifted to that hostel room. Pleasant shivers ran down her spine as she remembered the soft kisses Tom had placed on her skin, his fingers that had fondled her. He hadn't just considered his own desires, but hers as well. And wasn't that simply strange? Just as strange as him allowing her to attend Hogwarts. Or him buying books for her. Yes, Riddle indeed was a strange master. Strange enough, at least, so that Hermione felt weird thinking of him as her master at all. Draco had been her master, or Lucius, but not Tom. He was different.

Hermione flinched as a satchel was thrown beside her on the couch. It was shortly followed by a red-head hopping over the back-rest of the couch and slouching down beside Hermione.

"Hermione." Ginny beamed widely. "There you are."

Hermione threw the red-head a small smile. Ginny, not being impressed at all by the shyness, slapped Hermione on the back.

"Haven't seen you all weekend. Where were you?"

"Er…" mumbled Hermione, grasping for a lie. "In the library? I had to do a lot of homework."

"Yeah, that sucks, doesn't it?" Ginny scrunched up her nose. "Wait? The library is open at weekends?"

Hermione's eyes widened as she heard that. Before she could lecture Ginny, though, the red-head laughed at her.

"Don't flip, bookworm. I was just kidding."

She threw Hermione a wide grin, before she reached for a copy of The Quibbler that was lying on the side table. Hermione watched amusedly as the red-head started to read something, holding the magazine upside down.

"What have you been doing this weekend?" she inquired softly.

Ginny peered at her. "Quidditch."

At Hermione's questioningly raised eyebrows, she elaborated, "We're playing Ravenclaw in three weeks. And they're real good this year." Ginny rolled her eyes. "So, Johnson freaked and we're having extra trainings sessions."

"I see." Nodded Hermione.

"Are you into Quidditch?" Ginny asked, flinging The Quibbler back on the table.

Hermione hesitated, nervousness bubbling up in her. Frankly, she didn't know much about the sport. Did normal witches know this stuff? She remembered, back in Malfoy manor, Draco had often rambled about it with his friends. Together with Lucius he had also visited the Quidditch World Cup's final a few years back. Obviously Ireland had beat Bulgaria back then, but that was as far as Hermione's Quidditch knowledge went.

"Er…" she mumbled insecurely. "Not so much…?"

Immediately Ginny's eyes widened almost comically.

"Not into Quidditch?!" the red-head exclaimed dramatically, grabbing her chest. "How's that possible? You're worse than mum."

Hermione fiddled with the hem of her sleeves, feeling quite insecure. Ginny didn't seem to notice.

"You know what?" she said enthusiastically. "There's a trainings session today, too. You wanna come and watch?"

†

Hermione furrowed her brow as she tried to keep track of what was going on down on the pitch. Red and golden coloured blotches were flying by at high speed, tossing the Quaffle at each other or the goal hoops. Occasionally Hermione could get a glimpse of a Bludger rushing by before it was swatted away by a bat. In short, it was total chaos and she wondered if that sport had any kind of rules.

"Oi, Dean!" a voice yelled from beside Hermione. "Stop the Cobbing!"

Hermione glanced at her seat-neighbour just as Dean flew by and yelled his reply,

"Shut it, Ron!"

Ron, lounging on the bench, grinned widely at his friend and languidly leaned back in his seat, lazily depositing his feet on the back rest of the bench in front of him.

"Aw," he sighed amusedly. "They're lost without me."

Hermione merely cocked an eyebrow at him. Ron, as he had already told her at great length, was the Gryffindor team's Keeper. Unfortunately, he had strained his shoulder during last practice and had to sit this one out.

"You like it?" Ron asked, pursing his lips as he scanned Hermione.

"Well… It's…" Hermione frowned down at the pitch. "A bit chaotic?"

Ron laughed as he heard that. "That's half the fun of it."

Hermione squinted her eyes as she stared down to the pitch. "I see…"

"Pff, you're not convinced?" Ron replied, still grinning. "Let me explain the rules to you."

Hermione listened as Ron jumped into a surprisingly complex set of rules and regulations. The only thing that sport missed was obviously some safety instructions. Hermione really couldn't see how this was in any way fun. They were risking their necks down there.

"And then we lost against the Falmouth Falcons," Ron continued to babble, having long since left the Quidditch rules behind. "You can imagine how annoyed I was. Still, a Chudley Cannon fan through and through. I was also there when we played Pride of Portee. I tell you, we almost won. If it hadn't been for that attack…" Ron shook his head in disappointment. "Game was cancelled and the stadium evacuated."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "What happened?"

Ron unfixed his gaze from the pitch and peered at her. "You don't remember? Ah well, it's almost… what? Three years now? That was shortly after Sirius Black escaped… The Order kinda attacked a Ministry building in Portee. It was near the stadium. So… yeah, cancelled game. And I didn't even get my money back."

Instantly, Hermione's thoughts shot back to that Prophet article. It was Sirius Black, supposed leader of the Order of the Phoenix, who now got blamed for Hermione's break-in at Smith manor. She did feel a bit guilty about it, but also relieved. At least no-one suspected her.

"Like the Order of the Phoenix would attack a Quidditch stadium," Ron huffed indignantly. "That's just stupid."

Hermione nodded absentmindedly, thoughts circling around Sirius Black. She remembered the day he had escaped prison. Lucius Malfoy had been scandalized, badmouthing the lax security in Azkaban for days. On top of that, Hermione had had to listen to Narcissas's ramblings about how such a thing would have never happened if only Grindelwald were still alive. It had been quite tedious.

"Is that already three years ago…?" Hermione mused pensively.

"Yep." Ron nodded importantly. "Time runs by, eh?"

"Do you think Black's really the leader of the Order?" Hermione asked cautiously.

Ron leaned back in his seat and furrowed his brow in consideration. "Well, no-one knows for sure. Aside from what the Prophet claims… it's everyone's guess."

Hermione nodded and asked shyly, "What do you think?"

"Me?" Ron peered at her. "Hm…"

He pondered that for a moment, before he said, grin in place, "You know what? I kinda think it's true. I mean Black escaped Azkaban, didn't he? That's supposed to be impossible. So, he's badass. Why shouldn't he be the leader of the Order of the Phoenix?"

Hermione didn't have an answer. So, she simply nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips.

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"I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses, Rosier," Riddle said, malice lurking in his otherwise unperturbed voice.

Regulus was glad that he stood far away from Riddle at this very moment. Even from the back of the room, he could feel Riddle's dark, aggressive magic saturating the air. Regulus wished he could be somewhere else. The cold stone walls of the dungeon room were horribly oppressive; the gloomy atmosphere didn't help either. He couldn't leave, though. The Knights of Walpurgis were assembled, standing in a reverent distance around their Master. Riddle stood in the middle of the room, dark magic storming around him, while Evan Rosier knelt before him. Regulus was incredibly grateful that it wasn't him kneeling there. Although, Riddle's expression was blank, on the verge of being polite even, Regulus knew it to be a mask. Hidden underneath all that calmness, he knew a monster was raging, ready to pounce.

Considering Rosier through icy cold eyes, Riddle inquired composedly, "I did tell you to keep your mouths shut, did I not?"

There was an indulgent smile twisting Riddle's lips as he regarded Rosier. Cold chills ran down Regulus' spine as he saw that smile. It was a horrible lie. Riddle's real intentions could be seen smouldering viciously in his eyes. It twisted Riddle's innocent expression into something grotesque, menacing. Regulus swallowed nervously. Rosier must have spotted the danger, too, as he now bowed deeply to Riddle, trembling all over.

"I- I didn't revealed anything, I swear," Evan stuttered, desperately trying to ban the panic from his voice. "J- Jugson wants to join. He's genuine. Please, believe me."

Riddle laughed at that. The cruelty of his sadistic amusement echoed mercilessly from the cold stone walls.

"Believe you?" he inquired, faux innocence seeping through his words. "Should I?"

"M- My Lord," Rosier whispered, terrified quiver in his tone. "Jugson is a good spell caster. He'd serve you well."

The twisted smile abruptly dropped from Riddle's face, exposing it as the lie it had always been. His eyes frosted over and a baleful look crept on his fine features, turning them into something dark, sinister. Riddle's voice was barely louder than a whisper as he inquired poignantly,

"What about the term of 'secret society' did you not understand, Rosier?"

Riddle's voice, although quite, could be clearly heard in every corner of the room. It cut the silence like a sharp blade. Regulus could feel the hairs at the back of his neck stand on-end as Riddle's furious magic washed over the room. Rosier trembled violently now. He was kneeling in front of the tall figure of Riddle, bowing so deep his forehead touched the floor.

"P- please, My Lord," he stammered, begging for mercy. "I- I didn't… didn't betray our cause. I w- would never… Jugson is trustworth-"

"Silence," Riddle hissed, his fury tightly wrapped around the word.

Immediately, Rosier obeyed and fell silent. A terrible smirk spread over Riddle's face as he looked down at his kneeling follower.

"How tragic, that you seem to be unable to understand that simple, little request of mine," Riddle whispered, the mockery of concern dripping from his cold voice. "You are lucky, though. I am willing to assist you."

Regulus felt sick as he heard that twisted worry. Even though it wasn't him kneeling before Riddle, he was terrified by that dark wizard. Riddle still smiled as if there was nothing wrong. Then, suddenly, he grabbed Rosier's shoulder and brutally forced him to the ground. Rosier gasped painfully as Riddle, one knee on Rosier's chest, pressed him with his back tightly against the floor. The disturbing smile never dropped from Riddle's face as he scanned the fear on Rosier's face. Regulus felt disgusted as he spotted the vile excitement on Bellatrix face while she watched Riddle with adoration in her eyes.

Riddle smiled serenely as he grabbed Rosier's jaw and forced his mouth open. Regulus could see how Rosier's body twitched, but even though he tried to claw at Riddle, his hands could never made contact.

"What a messy business," Riddle pondered lightly. He peered at Rosier's eyes and added smilingly, "You're lucky to have me to put things right."

Then he raised his other hand and somehow managed to grab Rosier's tongue. There must have been some sort of magic involved as Riddle easily wrenched at the tongue. Regulus watched on in horror as Riddle then raised his wand. Rosier's eyes widened with horrified realization while tears of panic and fear rolled down his face.

Riddle threw a last glance at Rosier and assured, sadistic tinge to his voice, "It is my pleasure."

Without any form of hesitation, Riddle moved his wand over the tongue, magic turning the wand's tip into a sharp blade. A gurgled scream of pain left Rosier as the blade cut into the tissue. The cruel amusement never left Riddle's face as he easily sliced with his magic through Rosier's tongue. He completely severed the appendage and an incredible amount of blood rushed from the stump. It flowed into Rosier's mouth, down his chin and cheeks. Some of it also splattered Riddle's hands, but he didn't seem to care much. He scanned the severed tongue for a moment, twisted curiosity in his eyes, before he threw it away. Regulus winced as the tongue made a disgusting wet sound as is impacted with the stone floor.

Then Riddle seemed to completely lose any interest in Rosier. He stood up gracefully, completely ignoring the agonized screams from the Slytherin on the floor. One snap of Riddle's fingers and the blood disappeared from him, leaving him as pristine as ever. Meanwhile Rosier still twisted and squirmed on the floor, screaming in pain, while blood gushed from his mouth. Riddle didn't even look down at his victim. Terrible smile curling his mouth, he turned towards his other followers. Regulus stiffened, fear mounting up in him. The dark wizard, though, simply stated, smiling contently,

"Meeting concluded."

With that he clapped his hands together and turned for the door, gesturing for them to follow. Neither Regulus, nor any of the others dared to disobey. Before Riddle opened the door, he paused shortly, pondering something. Then, smirk still in place, he turned around again.

"If you are really fast," he told a now crying Rosier. ", and take that tongue of yours to the hospital wing, I'm sure they can stitch it back on. Best of luck."

With that Riddle swept from the room. Regulus trotted after him like a puppet. He felt horrible for leaving Rosier like this. They had never been friends, but still…

Regulus was too afraid to defy Riddle, though.

So, he followed the others, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. The last thing he wanted was to somehow incur Riddle's wrath. They quickly left the secluded part of the dungeons behind and just passed the Grand Staircase as Riddle stopped. The Knights stopped as well, still keeping their reverential distance. Cautiously, Regulus followed Riddle's gaze. He raised his eyebrows as he spotted Hermione Rookwood climbing down the stairs. She stopped shortly as she spotted Riddle, but then quickly walked towards him. Riddle glanced at the girl and Regulus swallowed nervously as he spotted a dangerous glint in the other's eyes. Unfortunately, Hermione didn't seem to notice the upcoming storm but smiled up at Riddle. That innocent smile playing around her lips made Regulus want to grab her and shake her. Was she so blind, so naïve? Didn't she know what she was getting herself into? He wanted to yell at her, make her open her eyes and see the horrible truth. As always, though, Regulus' hands were bound and he was condemned to silently watch.

"Hermione," Riddle said silkily. There was a sinister undercurrent in his tone. "You are late."

Ice cold chills darted down Regulus' spine as he heard that tone of voice. Riddle seemed to be calm, unconcerned, but that was a mask. It always was. Regulus couldn't understand how no-one could ever see the horrors that were sealed up behind Riddle's façade of the innocent Head Boy. To his trepidation he watched Hermione stepping a bit closer to Riddle, still with that innocent smile in place. What she should do, would be cowering away, apologizing.

"No, I'm not late," she dared to contradict Riddle.

Regulus sucked in a sharp breath of air. The corridor they were in was quite deserted and, frankly, Riddle had cursed people for less. Regulus worried his lower lips nervously. Bellatrix, who stood right beside him, had that well-known sadistic glint in her eyes as she watched Hermione like a hawk.

Instead of simply cursing the girl, though, Riddle demanded to know, "Where were you?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. Rather than being terrified by the sharp request, her face lit up. Regulus blinked in surprise as the girl even dared to reach for Riddle's hand and hold it in her own. Oddly enough the Head Boy didn't lash out at the audacity but allowed her to touch him.

"I was at the Quidditch pitch," Hermione informed happily. "The Gryffindor team had their practice. And Ginny wanted me to come and watch."

Riddle's frosty eyes glinted forebodingly as he scanned the girl. With a sharp hand gesture, he signalled for his Knights to follow him. Then he led Hermione towards the Slytherin common room. The girl walked beside Riddle, completely oblivious to the dark magic flowing around the wizard. Regulus couldn't understand it. How could she not notice that aggressive magic in the air?

"After the practice," Hermione continued chattily. "Ginny allowed me to try riding on her broom."

The Gryffindor smiled blithefully up at Riddle, still grabbing his hand.

"Did you ever ride a broom?" she asked merrily.

Regulus furrowed his brow in concern. If it hadn't been so dangerous, he would have called the situation almost funny. Here Riddle was, surrounded by his henchmen, and had a chatty Gryffindor girl hanging from his arm. A Gryffindor girl who didn't seem to be able to see the darkness lurking underneath the surface.

"In fact, I did," was Riddle's curt reply to Hermione's naïve question.

His tone was low, venom lacing the words. Yet again, Hermione didn't notice the danger she was in. She beamed up at Riddle and continued unconcernedly,

"It's difficult. I don't think I'm going to try it again. And it's dangerous, too. I almost dropped. Are you sure it's okay allowing students to ride brooms? Quidditch seems to be rather injury-prone."

By now they had reached the common room entrance and Riddle entered it, dragging Hermione. There was a predatory smirk hanging from his lips as he looked down at the girl. Regulus was quite concerned. Maybe he didn't want to do anything out in the open and waited until they reached the safety of the common room?

"I'm not necessarily a fan of Quidditch either," Riddle finally replied. "Unfortunately, not even the Head Boy can ban that sport from Hogwarts."

Hermione shrugged and said reasonably, "Well, I guess a lot of people like it. I mean, there's the Quidditch Cup and everything. Ginny told me Gryffindor'll win it this year."

She pursed her lips contemplatively, before she jumped right into a rather lengthy explanation on how the Quidditch Cup was awarded and which house was most likely to get it this year. Regulus watched in bemusement as Riddle sat down on one of the couches, Hermione beside him, and let her chatter wash over him. Regulus knew how much the other detested Quidditch, and yet the dark wizard didn't do anything to stop Hermione's flood of words. Riddle didn't exactly seem to listen to the girl, but Regulus knew that normally the Head Boy would have cursed anyone who dared to heap that much chitter-chatter on him. Surprisingly, the dark wizard didn't harm Hermione in any way. What was he playing at?

"It's some kind of hovering charm on the broom stick and an acceleration spell on the brush," Hermione explained, not discouraged by Riddle's inattention. "And a cushion spell. But I don't really know how you are supposed to control them. My broom just bucked, you see. I almost fell."

"It's just a sport," Riddle remarked, while flipping in a book. "You don't have to be good at it, Hermione."

"Yes, you are probably right," Hermione said contemplatively.

Regulus almost choked as he heard that. 'You are probably right'?! No-one dared to speak to Riddle like that. He always expected complete deference. Again, the wizard didn't seem to mind the insolence and simply shrugged dismissively. Through the corners of his eyes, Regulus could see the others following this bizarre conversation as well. Every pair of Slytherin eyes was focused on Riddle. Bellatrix even fiddled agitatedly with her wand, obviously wishing to curse Hermione.

"I prefer Apparition," Hermione continued. "It's faster and a lot safer. What do you think?"

Riddle peered at her and supplied boredly, "It's definitely better than using a broom stick."

His eye narrowed at the girl. Then he abruptly changed the subject, inquiring sternly, "Didn't Beery return your essays today? What grade did you get?"

His voice suggested that he wouldn't be pleased at all, should Hermione's essay not meet his standards. Yet again, the girl didn't seem in the least bit jittery under Riddle's scrutiny. If possible, her face lit up even more. She dove for her bag and pulled a roll of parchment out of it. Pride dancing in her eyes merrily, she handed the roll to Riddle. And before the wizard could unroll the parchment, she blurted,

"I got an 'O'."

"Hm," was Riddle's only comment as he skimmed over the essay.

Hermione watched him as his eyes flew over her essay. Then she had the audacity to interrupt Riddle by suggesting hopefully,

"Maybe we can work together on the next essay."

Regulus held his breath, fear bubbling up in him as he stared at Riddle. Disturbing Riddle when he was reading something was the single most stupid thing anyone could do. Yet again, the Head Boy did not react to Hermione's insolence with violence, but just glanced at the girl. Regulus almost shook his head in surprise. He couldn't imagine what could be worse than working with Riddle on any essay. Riddle simply cocked an eyebrow at the Gryffindor girl and decided imperiously,

"We will write the essay about the Confusing Concoction together. You're lagging behind in Potions."

Now the girl was pouting at Riddle. Seriously, pouting. Regulus didn't know what was happening anymore. If Riddle had raised his hand now and punched the girl, Regulus wouldn't have been surprised at all. Once again, though, there was nothing. Just a smirk curled the Head Boy's lips.

"I am not lagging behind," Hermione insisted sulkily. "…maybe in the practical part. But certainly not in potions theory."

She didn't even wait for Riddle's reply. Instead she pursed her lips, obviously thinking about something.

"What time is it anyway?" Hermione inquired.

Without asking for permission, she grabbed Riddle's arm and checked his wristwatch. By now, Regulus had stopped being dumbfounded by Riddle's lenience. He simply continued to fearfully watch this disaster-in-progress.

"Rather late…" Hermione pondered. Then she looked up at Riddle and asked, "Are you going back to the Heads' common room soon?"

Riddle scanned her with his frosty eyes as if contemplating to murder her. But then he just nodded and declared, "I'm finished here. I'll accompany you to the Gryffindor tower."

"Okay." The Gryffindor girl smiled at him. "Thank you."

Smiling happily, Hermione reached for her bag. As she grabbed the bag's strap, her brown eyes fell on Regulus. He stiffened as her attention switched from Riddle to him.

"Regulus," Hermione said amiably.

"Yes…?" Regulus whispered cautiously, trying to ignore Riddle's gaze resting heavily on him.

Hermione completely ignored Riddle now in favour of Regulus. Still smiling softly, she said,

"Do you remember, we wanted to study for Ancient Runes together? Do you still want to? I have time tomorrow. We could meet in the library."

"Erm… okay?" Regulus replied without thinking.

Too late, he threw an inconspicuous glance at Riddle and stiffened anxiously as he found the Head Boy was glaring at him darkly. Riddle obviously did not appreciate how Hermione paid Regulus more attention than him. Quickly, Regulus averted his eyes, heart thrumming fearfully in his chest.

"Great," Hermione said happily. "See you then."

Then she stood up from the couch and slung her bag over her shoulder. She looked back down at Riddle who still glowered darkly at Regulus.

"Are you coming?" she prodded the dark wizard, almost impatiently.

Riddle's frosty gaze finally left Regulus. He glanced up at Hermione, nodded and stood up. Regulus watched with confusion as Riddle quietly followed Hermione out of the common room. He wasn't by far the only one who had observed this whole conversation. All the other present Slytherins had similar expressions of surprise and disbelief on their faces.

†

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked concernedly as she peered at Riddle.

The Slytherin walked beside her and hadn't said anything since they had left the common room. Now Tom's blue eyes blinked down at her. A smile appeared on his features. It was strangely thin, though, as if simply conjured up without meaning.

"Of course," Riddle replied in his velvety voice.

They continued up the stairs, again in silence. It was only as they reached the seventh floor and sauntered down a deserted corridor that Tom spoke again.

"So…" he said, innocently raising an eyebrow at her. "Do you like Black?"

"Regulus?" Hermione inquired, furrowing her forehead. "Yeah… I guess so."

After that, Tom was suspiciously quite. He walked beside her, apparently deep in thought. Hermione was confused by his behaviour.

"He's your friend, isn't he?" she finally asked. "That means he's alright, doesn't it?" Shortly Hermione hesitated, but then couldn't stop herself to add ominously, "Then again… not to be insulting or anything, but some of your friends are kind of… erm, scary?"

That finally managed to banish the dark scowl from Riddle's face. The corners of his lips curled up and he laughed softly.

"Are they?" he inquired sanctimoniously.

Hearing that, Hermione grinned up at him. She rolled her eyes and said, sarcasm thick in her voice, "Yes, I'm sure it comes at as a surprise to you."

Smirk still in place, Riddle's white teeth glinted down at her and he teased, "So, you're scared of my friends, are you?"

"Pff." Hermione made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "No, certainly not."

"Hm… Is that so?" Riddle purred, now a seductive tint to his voice.

He had stopped walking and pushed Hermione roughly against the corridor wall. The smirk never slipped from his face as his hands ran over her arms, pinning her against the wall. He bent down to her and whispered to her, lips lightly brushing the shell of her ear,

"Maybe it's me you should be afraid of."

Hermione felt pleasant chills running up and down her spine as she felt him so near. Before she could retort anything, Riddle grabbed her chin, raised her face and forcefully crashed his mouth against hers. The weight of his body grinded her hard against the stone wall while his tongue explored her mouth. Tom's kiss was very demanding and he held her tightly so she could not escape him. Surprisingly, Hermione realised that despite Riddle's… a wizard's aggressive acts there was no fear welling up in her.

Sure Tom was her master, but had he ever hurt her? She had to admit that he could be intimidating at times, but he had never really raised his hand against her. It was strange but even now as Riddle was so close to her and engaged her in a rather bruising kiss, Hermione did not feel frightened. On the contrary, she enjoyed it. She enjoyed his nearness and felt quite safe in his arms.

One of Riddle's hands found its way into Hermione's curly hair. He grabbed a fistful and pulled harshly, forcing her head back. She gasped softly. Tom bent down to her and placed kisses on the line of her jaw. Hermione closed her eyes and a small smile appeared on her face. Although Riddle held her tightly and her throat was exposed like this, the ever-present fear still did not come back to her. Hermione imagined this happening a few months ago as she still had been in Malfoy manor. Before she had known Riddle, she would have died of fear if a wizard had forced himself on her like this.

Riddle's touches were still possessive and demanding. His lips reached the sensitive skin of her neck and Hermione felt teeth nipping her. A hand was still tangled in her curly hair, holding her in place, while Tom's other hand had grabbed her waist, effectively stopping her from moving. Strangely enough, Hermione found that she did not want to get away from him anyway. His nearness felt wonderful.

As Tom continued to plant possessive kisses on the skin of her neck, Hermione couldn't hold back anymore. His soft lips tickled her and a giggle burst from her. Hearing this, Tom stopped abruptly and straightened up. He stared down at her and Hermione couldn't help but grin. His eyebrows shot up as he saw the amusement twinkling in her eyes. A look of genuine surprise washed over his handsome features. The grin on Hermione's face widened until she was positively beaming at him. She raised a hand and ran her fingers through his thick black hair, completely mussing it up. Tom still just stared at her, flabbergasted and completely frozen in place by her 'audacity'. Hermione's hand reached the back of his neck and she tugged at him. He didn't resist her and let himself being pulled down to her. The smile still stretched across her lips as she brushed them against his. As he felt her against him, Tom was pulled from his stupor and started to return her kiss.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

The next day after classes, Hermione strolled into the library. Holding her heavy school bag tightly, she turned her head, searching for her study partner. A smile drifted over her face as she spotted Regulus Black, sitting at a table directly under one of the large windows. Quickly she scurried over to him.

"Hello," Hermione greeted.

Regulus looked up from his book. A shy smile played around his lips as he scanned Hermione.

"Hey," he said.

"I'm not late, am I?" the Gryffindor inquired, flustered.

"No, no," Regulus assured. "I was here early."

"Oh, okay." Hermione sat down beside him at the library table. "Did you already start?"

Regulus looked a bit nervous at her close proximity, but simply shook his head. "No, I was working on the Herbology essay. We can start Ancient Runes now, though."

"Perfect."

Regulus reached for his runes textbook and flipped it open. "I thought we could start with Bureus' aphorism."

Hermione nodded and pulled a roll of parchment from her bag. Her gaze was caught by a huge old tome Regulus had stashed away in his pile of school textbooks.

"What's that?"

"Hm?" Regulus looked up from the aphorism. "Oh, that. I actually asked Professor Wenlock for additional coursework. She gave me that book."

He pulled the old tome from the pile and handed it to Hermione.

"Oh." She stared down at the beautiful book, feeling a bit left out.

Regulus seemed to notice her awkwardness and smiled. "If you want, we can work on it together."

Instantly, Hermione perked up. Still, she timidly pointed out, "I don't know… I don't think Professor Wenlock would approve. I mean I only recently joined her class. I'm probably not that good anyway…"

"Nonsense," Regulus assured. "I'm sure she'll be fine with it. From what I've heard you're already top of your class anyway."

Hermione blushed under his praise. Then she carefully opened the old tome, instantly engrossed in the text. They quickly started their translations and Hermione found it was quite refreshing to work with Regulus. He certainly knew his runes and together they managed to translate a rather complicated passage in the old tome. They had already worked for more than two hours as they both agreed to take a short break. Hermione tiredly leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes, and watched Regulus pull a copy of the Daily Prophet from his satchel. Again the picture of Dolores Umbridge greeted Hermione from the front page. She shuddered uncomfortably. The photo beside Umbridge's showed Sirius Black. Dressed in what could only be prison clothing, he sneered into the camera. Hm… Sirius Black. Hermione had only noticed that now.

"Say…" she inquired curiously, peering at Regulus. "Sirius Black… is he in any way related to you. I mean, you have the same surname."

Instantly Regulus tensed up, avoided eye contact and started to nervously fiddle with his quill. Seeing that, Hermione regretted ever asking the question.

"He's… well…" the Slytherin mumbled awkwardly. "Sirius is my… my brother."

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "Your brother?"

Regulus nodded, still not looking at Hermione. Although the situation seemed to be quite embarrassing for him, he still continued,

"He's older than me. Sirius was in his fifth year at Hogwarts as I was born, you see. I actually don't remember much of him. Anyway, there was a huge argument between him and my parents. He moved out after that. He was still a student back then. I think in his last year."

"Oh," Hermione mused, pensively staring at the photo. "That's sad."

At that Regulus' head snapped up and he stared at her, surprise in his wide eyes.

"Sad?" he asked confusedly as if that was the last reply he had expected.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. He's your brother and you never really got to know him."

Regulus laughed nervously and ran a hand through his black hair. "You know that's the first time someone said that to me?"

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Really?"

"Most people think it's a disgrace, actually, to be related to a criminal like him." Regulus replied tensely. "My parents never talk about him. It's like he never existed."

"Are you ashamed he's your brother?" Hermione questioned tentatively.

"I don't know," Regulus sighed. "Sometimes, I guess. I grew up with people telling me how much of a disappointment Sirius is. Sometimes they also looked at me funny, because I'm the brother of a Mudblood-lover. They probably thought I'd be just like my brother."

Something constricted around Hermione's chest as she heard that. The emotion weighed heavily on her, but she couldn't – or maybe didn't want to – identify it. Somehow her mouth opened and she noted quietly,

"But you're not… not like him?"

Regulus stared at her for a moment. Then he said slowly, suspicion burning harshly at the edges of his tone,

"No, I am not."

"I see," Hermione whispered, negligently ignoring the dangerous turn of this conversation. "You still want to meet him?"

Now the Slytherin's eyes narrowed at her, a shadow of anger in them. Then Regulus snapped indignantly, "Why would I want to meet someone like him?"

Hermione peered at him and stuttered meekly, "I'd… I think, I'd want to meet my brother. If I had one. Just to… I don't know… talk with him."

Regulus didn't reply. Instead he reached for his parchment roll and continued to work on his translation, completely ignoring the Gryffindor girl. Hermione blinked owlishly. She hadn't wanted to insult him. Quickly, she lowered her gaze to her own parchment. How could she have suggested something like that? she chastised herself. Now Regulus was angry with her. Hermione's body was tense as she sat on her chair. The silence was painfully pressing down on her as she tried to work. After a while of silently scribbling down runes, Hermione couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry," she whispered timidly.

Regulus' quill stopped dancing over his parchment. He didn't immediately reply, but after a while he said softly,

"You don't have to be sorry, Hermione. I'm… It's kind of a sore topic for me. Sirius is just-"

He stopped himself and awkwardly cleared his throat. His gaze left his work and he looked at Hermione. Even a small smile tugged timidly at the corners of his mouth.

"It's not your fault," Regulus assured kindly.

Hermione nodded, cautiously returning the smile. "Still, I'm sorry I brought it up. It was not my place." Bashfully, she gestured at the runes book. "Shall we continue the translation?"

Regulus sent her a smile, obviously grateful for the change of topic. "Yes, please, let's do that. I'm actually stuck right here…"

He pointed to one sentence in the book and Hermione leaned a bit closer to read it.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

It was Thursday the same week as Hermione walked towards the DADA classroom. She was running late. Unfortunately, the deep cut Umbridge's curse had left behind in her side just a few days prior was acting up again. It had been healing nicely these past few days, until that stray Dissendium had hit her during Charms today. Dean had immediately apologized for it. Still, the impact had disturbed Hermione's cut and it hurt again. It wasn't too bad, though. She certainly wasn't going to miss out on DADA.

Hermione was late as she finally slipped into the duelling hall. Everybody else was already there and Lupin stood in front of his class, explaining the wand movements of the Attonitum Curse. His bright yellow eyes fell on her as Hermione stepped into the room. She blushed slightly under his scrutiny, embarrassed to be late. The werewolf grinned at her.

"Well, if it isn't Rookwood," Lupin commented dryly in his raspy voice. "Take your time, take your time."

Hermione ducked her head. "I'm sorry for being late, Captain Lupin."

Lupin merely shrugged, yellow eyes glinting mischievously. "You only missed the boring part. Can't blame you for that."

He threw her a smile, baring his sharp teeth, before he simply continued his lesson. Hermione released a breath of air and stood quietly, trying to follow Lupin's instructions. After a few minutes, he concluded his explanations and encouraged his students to try the curse for themselves. Hermione was relieved that she remembered reading about the Attonitum Curse in an old book in the Malfoy library. Otherwise, she would have had problems now, having missed all of Lupin's explanation.

The other students started to stroll over to their trainings dummies, chatting with each other and pulling their wands. Hermione hastily followed, not wanting to again lag behind. Looking for a free dummy, Hermione jumped slightly as a hand sneakily found its way underneath her school robe, coming to rest on her waist. Her head snapped up just to be met by a smirk on Tom's handsome face. Hermione relaxed the tightened grip around her wand.

"Hermione," Riddle greeted in his velvety voice, pulling her closer.

"Hello," Hermione replied politely.

The Slytherin scanned her in contemplation, his hard gaze wandering over her form. Finally he asked, his voice lacking all emotion,

"How are you? You're limping again."

Hermione could feel his fingers, which still lay on her waist, softly skimming over the spot where Umbridge's cutting curse had injured her. Quickly, she pasted a reassuring smile on her face.

"I'm fine."

Tom's icy blue eyes lingered on her side. They were sealed and gave nothing away. Then abruptly, his hand left her and Tom took a step away from her. There now was a genial smile on his face, but Hermione got the distinct impression that it was even more of a mask than the emotionless look from before had been.

"That is good to hear," Tom replied blandly.

The small smile on his face didn't waver, even his eyes glinted with it. Still, it was fake and Hermione wondered what he tried to veil. She pondered whether it would be safe to ask Tom, as Ginny stepped over to them. The smile instantly dropped from Riddle's face.

"Oh, Riddle," Ginny chirped, faux enthusiasm painfully obvious in her voice. "Always such a pleasure to meet our Head Boy."

There was not a hint of emotion on Tom's stoic face as his blue eyes wandered over Ginny.

"Indeed," he replied composedly. "A good day to you, Miss Weasley."

Ginny's fake smile didn't waver. Instead she replied in an overtly polite voice, "How about you stay on the Gryffindor side of the classroom today? I'm sure that would set everyone at ease. If anything, we can trust our esteemed Head Boy to ensure that no-one gets accidentally hit by a stray curse."

There was sarcasm in Ginny's voice and a good bit of innuendo, still Tom acted as if he hadn't heard it.

"I think you will do just fine without my assistance," he reassured in a decidedly kind tone.

Ginny abandoned her faux friendliness and simply sneered at Tom. The Slytherin ignored her and turned to Hermione. Once again his gaze skimmed over her injured side. His eyes snapped to Hermione's and Tom ordered in a voice that brooked no room for argument,

"You are not duelling today, Hermione."

Hermione was shortly taken aback by the harsh command, but then slightly inclined her head.

"Yes, Tom."

His deep blue eyes narrowed at her, but then he simply turned and, without another word, strode over to Malfoy and Dolohov. Ginny shook her head and sneered,

"Well…" Her eyes followed Riddle to the other side of the classroom. "That was a tad weird. Who does he think he is? The king of the castle?"

"Erm…" Hermione ran her shaky fingers through her hair. "He's just… a bit overprotective, because I kinda strained my… er… back?"

Ginny's gaze wandered to Hermione. She stared for a moment, before a thin eyebrow arched up to her hairline.

"Strained your back, huh?" Ginny asked, sardonic tint to her voice. Then she clapped a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "You know what? I really don't want to know. Really don't."

Ginny pulled her wand and sent an Attonitum curse at her trainings dummy. The curse crashed right into the dummy's face and detonated with a violent explosion. The dummy wobbled precariously, but kept its balance, probably protected by some kind of shield.

"I like you, Hermione," Ginny informed, attention completely on her dummy. "So, I won't comment on the choice of your boyfriend. It's probably just a phase and I'm going to pretend Riddle's not there at all."

Hermione drew her own wand and proceeded to work with the curse. Ginny was right, Hermione didn't want to discuss Riddle either. Instead, she waved her wand.

Attona!

The magic tingled all over Hermione's body before it washed through her wand and formed into the curse. With force it rushed through the air before it crashed into the chest of Hermione's dummy. The dummy was hurled away, almost falling over, but then bounced back.

"Neat," Ginny said casually.

Hermione smiled shyly at the red-head. The girl grinned right back.

"Watch this," she said mischievously.

Ginny's wand danced through the air. The yellow light of the Attonitum Curse flew through the air. This time, Ginny's curse only slightly grazed the dummy's arm. The force behind that light impact sent the wooden figure spinning. It finally tipped over and crashed into Parvati's dummy, sending them both to the floor. Parvati glared at Ginny, who could barely hide her laughter.

"Weasley," Parvati shrieked angrily. "Stay away from my dummy."

"Sorry," Ginny said, not sounding apologetic in the least. "Just trying to be effective and all that."

Parvati was not at all amused by the turn of events. With an angry slash of her wand, she sent a levitation spell at both dummies and returned them to their proper position. Then she stuck her nose in the air and tried her best to ignore Ginny. The red-head chuckled, unimpressed.

"See," she whispered gleefully to Hermione. "You don't really need much power. All you need is good aim."

Ginny's grin was quite infectious and Hermione giggled softly. Both girls were only silenced as Lupin gazed at them, his yellow eyes glowing sternly. They quieted down and Hermione returned to her own dummy.

"Oh, I see," Ginny whispered wryly, still grinning. "You're his favourite now, eh?"

It was half an hour later, that Lupin ordered them to stop the training. Hermione was grateful for that as her injured side had started to throb painfully. Lupin pulled his wand from the holster at his belt. With sharp and precise movements he brandished it. Every wooden dummy in the huge trainings hall obeyed him. They rushed to one side of the hall and stored themselves away in neat rows. Meanwhile Lupin pounced on the duelling platform. His yellow eyes glowed in a feral light as they wandered over the students. A grin stretched his lips, baring his teeth.

"Now, my dear students," Lupin growled, ragged humour in his words. "Who wants to duel this time?"

Hermione didn't move, remembering Tom's order. This time, it was Ginny who raised her hand. Hermione watched as her friend hopped on the platform, grinning widely, and proclaimed she wanted to duel Marcus Flint. Hermione raised her eyebrows. She knew Flint from her History class. He was a rather tall, brawny seventh year and also the Slytherin Quidditch captain. The evil grin on Ginny's face told Hermione that this was probably some kind of sports related revenge. And she was right. The duel turned out to be very violent, not to Hermione's surprise. Both opponents were anxious to win. In the end, it was an incredibly strong Bat Bogey Hex from Ginny that hurled Flint off the platform, thus making Ginny the winner. Eagerly, Hermione clapped along with the other Gryffindors, smiling at Ginny's victory. Flint just walked back to the Slytherins, angry scowl in place.

"That was a good duel," Hermione said as she and Ginny left the classroom.

"Thanks." Ginny grinned, all teeth. "I've been waiting for the opportunity to show that jerk how it's done." She shuddered with disgust. "Bah, Slytherins. Can't stand those snake-people."

Hermione chose to say nothing, but Ginny didn't seem to mind. Obviously in a good mood, she simply continued to chatter,

"So, Hermione. You've been to Hogwarts for some time now. And I still know next to nothing to you."

That made Hermione tense and throw a cautious look at the red-head. Ginny was oblivious to Hermione's upcoming anxiety.

"Where do you actually live?"

"Er…" Hermione stuttered, desperately trying to remember every detail of her cover story. "I… you know… live in London. My father had an apartment there. He's… before he died, that is… I lived there, too. So, I guess I'll just… yeah… stay there?"

She glanced at Ginny, seeing if she bought the story. The red-head looked at Hermione, a hint of sadness in her pretty eyes.

"You are so brave, Hermione," Ginny finally said. "Living all on your own now. Must be difficult."

"Erm… It's alright. Not that bad," Hermione tried to play it down.

Ginny nodded. "Still. You know, I always say I can't wait to move out. What with seven brothers and all that. But I'm actually a bit scared of it, too."

Hermione smiled at her. "You've still got time."

"Yeah." The red-head laughed. "I'm only in sixth year. I still have to whole seventh year to come to terms with it, eh?"

The girls climbed the staircase in direction of the Gryffindor common room.

"Anyway. Can I come and visit you in London some time?"

Hermione could barely suppress a gasp and disguised it as a very nervous sounding laugh.

"Um… yes, sure. You can visit me."

She gritted her teeth as she looked at the happy smile on Ginny's face. Too bad that there was no apartment in London for Hermione. Hopefully, Ginny would forget about this until the summer break.

"Neat."

Ginny sauntered over to the portrait of the Fat Lady and whispered the password. Entering the Gryffindor common room, she said casually,

"So, what I wanted to ask. Can you show me how you do that Attonitum Curse? Yours is incredibly powerful. What's your trick?"

She cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at Hermione. Feeling quite self-conscious, Hermione mumbled,

"It's not that great."

"Nah." Ginny shook her head. "It really is. Can you teach me?"

Hermione smiled weakly. A real witch asking her for help? She wasn't sure whether Ginny was making fun of her, but the girl seemed to be honest. Did she really think Hermione's spell work was good? The expression on Ginny's face was open, though. No hint of deceit visible. The smile on Hermione's face widened.

"If you want to," she whispered timidly. "I'm not sure I can help you, but I would try."

"Aw, you're awesome," Ginny exclaimed as she threw herself on one of the couches. "Let's do that tomorrow. Not today. Today I need to bath in the after-glow of how Flint got his ass handed to him. By me."

She threw Hermione a mischievous grin as she reached for a box of chocolate frogs on the side table.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Hermione remembered the day she had told Tom how scary his friends were. It seemed that Bellatrix Black was out to prove her right. So, it was rather unfortunate that Hermione, searching for Tom, tried to enter the Slytherin common room and was greeted by none other than Bellatrix in the otherwise deserted room.

Crazy smile in place, the Slytherin greeted Hermione, "Oh, what is this? A little lion came down to the snake pit. How nice of you."

Hermione felt quite alarmed by the mad glint in the other girl's eyes. She stumbled a step back from Bellatrix, her back colliding with the entrance door.

"I- I was just searching for Tom," Hermione mumbled nervously.

She still hadn't forgotten how Bellatrix cursed her with the Cruciatus Curse all those weeks ago. Back then, Hermione had still been 'Penny' and quite helpless.

"I see, I see," Bellatrix replied, smirking ominously. "You're searching for Tom, do you? Well, Tom is not here."

"O- okay," whispered Hermione. "I'll leave then."

Before she could turn, Bellatrix grabbed her shoulder.

"No, stay a moment," the Slytherin said, smile twisting her lips. "I think we should have a girls' talk. Yes, yes. That would be lovely, don't you think?"

"I… I don't know." Hermione squirmed away from Bellatrix touch. "I'm in a hurry."

"Of course," Bellatrix scoffed disdainfully, abruptly abandoning the fake smile. "You've got to run back to Tom. What was I thinking? You obviously need to discharge your conjugal duty for the day. Go on, then. See to his needs." Bellatrix snickered meanly. "After all, you think you're his precious girlfriend, do you not?"

Hermione pressed her mouth into a thin line as she was hit by Bellatrix' scorn. This was not Malfoy manor, she angrily reminded herself. She was not 'Penny' anymore and Bellatrix held no sway over her. Hermione's temper flared as she remembered the cruelty with which Bellatrix had always treated her. Narrowing her eyes at the witch, Hermione snapped heatedly,

"You seem to be quite obsessed with Tom. Jealous?"

Instantly, Bellatrix' magic aggressively pressed down on Hermione. She stumbled a step away from the furious witch, ready to pull her wand.

"Jealous? Of what? You?" Bellatrix hissed darkly. "Do you really think I want to be his girlfriend?

She stared at Hermione as if she thought the other girl was stupid. Baring her teeth, Bellatrix stepped closer to Hermione. There was a crazed glint in her eyes as she whispered, dangerous tint in her voice,

"I do not want to be Riddle's girlfriend. How ridiculous."

Hermione was confused by this denial. She furrowed her brow and remarked firmly, "It's painfully obvious that you like him, Bellatrix."

"Like him?!" the Slytherin exclaimed before she broke down in cackles.

Hermione took a nervous step away from the girl, her previous anger deflated. Bellatrix' giggles abruptly stopped and she fixed Hermione with a hard glare.

"I don't like Riddle," Bellatrix hissed, distorted softness in her otherwise sharp voice. "I don't want to be his little girlfriend." She eyed Hermione disparagingly. "That's your job. Keep him entertained. Distract him a bit. Warm his bed…"

The witch eyed Hermione through her heavily lidded eyes. Her tongue licked over her full lips. A strange look crossed Bellatrix. It twisted her pretty face into an insane mask.

"Riddle and me," Bellatrix all but purred in content. "What we have is something deeper. We are the same." Another sinister laugh tore from her lips. "I don't care what he does with his girls …with you. He can keep fucking you. It doesn't change anything."

She raised her hand and twirled a lock of Hermione's hair around her long-nailed finger. A dark smirk curved her lips as she suggested huskily,

"Or maybe I can sleep with you."

Hermione's eyes widened as she stared at the other witch. Bellatrix snickered deeply and skimmed her fingernails slowly over Hermione's cheek.

"What a fun idea," Bellatrix mused merrily. "You look hot."

The witch bent a bit forward coming very close to Hermione, who was somehow paralyzed.

"Hm," murmured Bellatrix contently. "You even smell good."

She scanned Hermione with dark amusement in her eyes. Her fingers had by now left Hermione's cheek and stroked gently over her shoulder.

"I wonder," Bellatrix hummed. ", how much Riddle likes his plaything. Maybe he is willing to share…"

Abruptly Bellatrix stepped away from Hermione. She ran a hand through her black hair, mussing it up, grabbing fistfuls.

"Him and me," the witch sang insanely. "Me and him. It does not change. Do you understand that?" Her eyes narrowed angrily and she suddenly screamed enraged, "DO YOU?!"

Hermione flinched, finally pulled out of her stupor. Her hand wandered to her robe pocket and she was immensely reassured as she felt her wand through the cloth.

"I think it's better I go," Hermione said, forcing calm into her voice.

Bellatrix merely sneered at her. She didn't lower herself to give an answer. Her interest completely left Hermione and she lazily threw herself down on a nearby armchair. Hermione hastily exited the Slytherin common room and quickly left the dungeons behind. It didn't take her long to reach the Heads' common room. She was relieved to find Tom sitting on the sofa. Hermione walked over to him and plopped down beside him. He didn't acknowledge her but kept reading his book. There was a stretch of silence, interrupted only by the spitting from the fire. Hermione stared into the flames and watched them consuming a log of wood. After a while she asked Riddle colourlessly,

"Do you know that Bellatrix is insane?"

Tom arched his eyebrows and now turned towards her. His face was a blank mask as he studied Hermione. Then he supplied calmly,

"Yes."

Hermione held his steady gaze for a second. Then shrugged and said, "Okay then."

With that she reached for her school bag and pulled out her Arithmancy textbook. Not saying any more, she started on her essay.

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"Therefore, though the best is bad,

Stand and do the best, my lad;

Stand and fight and see your slain,

And take the bullet in your brain."

- Alfred Edward Housman

(*1859 † 1935)