Disclaimer in Chapter One
A/N: Another chapter? O.o that was fast. I didn't even blink -.- yeah, right… don't call me a liar. I don't know what happened. It was like I lost all ability to write anything at all. I wrote and it was crap. I slept on it a day, still crap. So, I let it sit for a week, no change. Hmm - I thought to myself - clearly this needs more procrastination time. Then it'll get better.
…contrary to popular believe, that strategy does not work, people. I'm as surprised as you are. It sounded fool-proof.
Thanks to all of you lovelies who left me a review!
CraftyK13, RaeRae9, MaiWishes, Elliesmeow, ZabuzasGirl, messy-hair-day, SiriuslyPink, TheLightningScar, everlastingtrueromance, LillianMarie2, HereToRead84, reader204, linalove, Atlantean Diva, animato22, KnoKnayme, Gullb3rg, Dimensional Roamer, DarkBlueSong, Ceralyn, Crazymusician22, Guest, THESE VOICES WONT SHUT UP, brighteyes2889, alannalove1990, Paritheikae, Polki, thinair, beware i am a fangirl, snowkiss94, shelleyz, The water is warm, Kat-Knife, dramionelives, HelloIamGracie, KamiaKeller, Alice's a fibber, Guest, cottonmuffin, justy13, Fancollector, Shubhs, Zombie Reine, Diane Potter, jade, daniel, KhaalidaNyx, summerful21, Anna. B. L, Jen103, nikif, CrazierThanYouSince96, ConfettiRiot, freebird4, Bob-geko, fanfictionswhore, Imaginneeee, wintersalad, Anahera46, peacock33, Lady-Delphinea, Lady Uchiha, Hana, Gaia v, Divergent-Slytherin-Victor, Hermione Salvatore Potter, Smithback, icarus enjoyed the view, Bella, sakurarules4eternity, iwillwrestleforbacon, Paprica Salt, FemmeFerret, Dat anon, Guest, jonie92, FadedSunset, Cassie-D1, TwilightGirl100195, Jessica, kbcollegbound, amaryl8, Stella Purpledelena26, ale2703, imperioash, Tomionia1021Chinchilla, Maiwishes, EisForElephant, einna16, TheNewCompanion, love-warmth-life, kalafina, Mademoiselle Dara, THEPrincessx
{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}
Chapter Nineteen: You Smile at Me
Hermione idly rolled her quill in the palm of her hand, her other propping up her head in a lazy slouch. Her gaze wandered from the quill to the clock. Five thirty already. Tom had told her to meet him in the library at five. He still hadn't showed. His tardiness wasn't really that bad – after all Hermione got to wait in a library – but still, she wanted to start with the potions essay. Tom had said they would write it together. Hermione sighed softly. If she had to wait anyway, she could get started with the essay for History of Magic. She furrowed her brow in distaste as she glared down at her parchment. Once again Carrow wanted them to write about Grindelwald's so-called good deeds.
It was quite some time later that Hermione scribbled down the finishing sentence, feeling a bit dirty. Now in a considerably worse mood, she again checked the clock. Almost seven. Still no sign of Tom and to be honest she felt slightly miffed by that. Maybe her absent master had ordered her to wait for him in the library, but Hermione didn't feel much like waiting anymore. There was a little ball of annoyance growing in the pit of her stomach. Why should she miss dinner because Tom was obviously unable to read the clock? With a final huff, Hermione stood from the table. She was done waiting. Order or not, master or not, she wasn't going to wait any longer for Tom to deign her with his presence. Stomping her feet angrily, she left the library. Maybe she could still grab something to eat.
As fate wanted it, Hermione's temper had no chance to calm down. On her way to the Great Hall, she ran into Tom. Hermione's eyes narrowed as she took in the scene in front of her. As if he had no worry in the world, Tom stood there and lazily chatted with Bellatrix Black. An adoring and rather disturbing look lit up Bellatrix' face while she hung on Riddle's lips. Gritting her teeth in anger, Hermione stepped closer. The pair of them, absorbed in their conversation, didn't notice her presence. Impatiently, Hermione cleared her throat. Finally, the two Slytherins looked at her. Hermione couldn't help but glare at Riddle, hot anger mounting up in her as he simply gazed back at her, cocking a questioning eyebrow.
"What are you doing here?!"
The brusqueness in Hermione's voice painted a sharp frown on Tom's forehead. His confusion only managed to raise Hermione's temper further.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" he finally voiced, not at all impressed by Hermione's rudeness.
"You know we had planned to work on the potions essay, yes?" she asked angrily.
A disinterested look slid over Tom's face and he replied loftily, "I had to take care of something."
Hermione felt her churned-up magic give an angry budge and she sniped, "Well, isn't that convenient for you?"
Riddle cocked an unimpressed eyebrow and said dryly, "In fact it wasn't."
Hermione's frustration had mounted up enough and she openly scowled at him. In response, Tom asked, hints of anger now wrapped around his words,
"What's your problem?"
Hermione ignored the dark look on his face and replied curtly, "For your information, I've been waiting for you in the library the whole day. Couldn't you have told me that you wouldn't drop by?"
The accusation in Hermione's words was as obvious as was the irritation smouldering in Tom's blue eyes. The Slytherin took a step towards her and now towered over her. As he spoke, his quite voice was controlled and calm but laced with vitriol,
"Do you really think I would waste my time running around the place just to cater to your abandonment issues?"
Disregarding the lethal tone in Tom's voice, Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and snapped, "You know what? I don't have time for this anymore. Because of someone I am late for dinner."
With that she turned on her heels and stomped down the corridor. She could hear Bellatrix snicker in sick amusement,
"Uh-oh. What do I see, Riddle? Trouble in paradise?"
Hermione managed to march down the entire corridor and the next until she felt a firm hand on her shoulder. None too gently, she was twirled around and greeted by angry blue eyes.
"What exactly do you think you're doing?" Tom demanded to know.
Hermione shrugged, throwing him a defiant look. She was still too angry to back out of this confrontation. Seeing her stubborn behaviour, Riddle smirked disparagingly.
"What now, Hermione?" he asked, scorn hidden behind a wall of fake concern. "Upset that your boyfriend stood you up?"
Hermione bristled, her hands balling into tight fists. Riddle's nasty smirk only widened as he saw her reaction. Mean tint in his voice, he sneered,
"In case you've forgotten, I'm certainly not your little boyfriend. That would be ridiculous, wouldn't it?"
A derisive smirk stretched Riddle's lips as he sneered down at her and Hermione snapped caustically,
"If it's so ridiculous, why did you make that lie up in the first place?"
The condescending smirk died on his face as he was hit by her continued defiance. Hermione knew she should back down now but strangely enough Tom's upcoming anger only managed to infuriate her even further.
"Do you want me to tell them the truth about you?" Tom hissed, menace in his silky voice.
His blue eyes danced with his ire as he glared at her. Despite his veiled threat, Hermione didn't feel like cowering away from his cold presence.
"You can't do that," she informed cuttingly. "It would compromise you as well. In fact, it's probably better we keep our distance from now on."
Hermione felt her Dark Mark tingling forebodingly. She gritted her teeth and stubbornly didn't avoid his penetrating eyes.
"What do you mean?" Riddle asked, voice hard as stone.
Hermione crossed her arms defensively before her chest. Her mark now burned painfully. Ignoring the pain, Hermione suggested flippantly,
"We should break up." The painful pull at her mark intensified, but she still didn't react. "If you break up with me, your precious male ego wouldn't even get hurt."
If Hermione's mark had hurt before, it now felt as if a knife stabbed her left forearm. She couldn't completely mask that painful gasp from escaping her. Tom reached for her, grabbed her arm and gruffly pulled her over to him.
"You have no say in this matter, Hermione," he whispered venomously.
Hermione's stomach curled up in a tight knot as she looked into Tom's steely eyes. She knew she had already gone too far, but it was too late to stop now. So she opened her mouth and replied scathingly,
"We should end this fake relationship as soon as possible." Hermione forced a nasty smile on her face. "In case you hadn't noticed, you have quite the dubious reputation in this castle. Some even call it dissolute. If you keep a fling… excuse me, girlfriend," she scoffed and put air quotes around the last word. ", for longer than two weeks, people will get suspicious."
As soon as she stopped speaking, Hermione was hit by a wave of Tom's dark magic. He still held her by the arm, his cold eyes screaming murder.
"Watch your mouth," Tom ordered in an ice cold voice. "Don't forget what you are and who I am."
A red danger signal blared in Hermione's mind, but it wasn't enough to stop her. Her magic already boiled too close to the surface. They were probably both teetering on a dangerous cliff, magic crackling agitatedly around them.
Before either of them could take action, a group of Hufflepuffs entered the same corridor. Their oblivious chatter happily echoed from the walls and dispelled the suffocating silence. Hermione automatically pulled her magic back from Tom. Simultaneously, Tom released her arm, the murderous expression slipping from his face to be replaced by an eerily fake smile. Hermione glared at the act he pulled so fast.
"I don't want to talk about this anymore." she hissed at him under her breath.
The threatening glint in Tom's eyes darkened. Some of the Hufflepuffs smiled at their Head Boy in greeting as they passed. Tom returned the greeting with a curt nod. Hermione ignored the other students and whispered acridly,
"If you don't mind," Her tone left no doubt that she did not care either way. ", I'll be on my way. I've wasted enough time today already."
With that Hermione turned on her heels and left Tom standing in the corridor the second time today. Her Dark Mark smarted horribly, but she didn't care. Whatever had made her mouth sprout that insolence, it hadn't burned out yet. The white hot anger still raged through Hermione. She didn't even know where the rage came from. Waiting a few hours for her master to show up had by far not been the worst thing that had ever happened to her.
Hermione stalked through the Entrance Hall. Her appetite had been thoroughly spoiled. So she forewent dinner, left the castle and stepped out into the brisk night air. The sun had long since set, leaving the castle and the grounds cast in darkness. Hermione's anger burned hot in contrast to the coldness outside. Her hands were curled into tight fists as she irately kicked at a pepple.
"Uh-oh," a deep voice being her chuckled. "What got your knickers in a twist?"
Gritting her teeth in anger, Hermione whirled around, ready to send a hex at the brash person. She only just managed to stop a Diffindo from detaching from her wand as she recognized Lupin. Wide grin in place, the werewolf lounged lazily on the stone stairs to the front door. His yellow eyes scanned Hermione with interest.
"Now what's gotten into my favourite student?" Lupin inquired teasingly.
Casually, he flicked the ash from his cigarette before he took another drag. All the while he leered at her wolfishly. Hermione blushed and, rather pointlessly, hid her wand behind her back.
"Erm… nothing…" she mumbled. "It's really… just nothing."
Lupin laughed throatily at her pathetic display. He patted the spot on the stairs right beside him and said in his raspy voice,
"Sit down, Rookwood. You're making me all nervous here."
Hermione creased her forehead at the invitation and she threw suspicious glances at Lupin and the offered seat. Her hesitation made the werewolf once again bark out a laugh.
"Come on," Lupin assured, mischievous glint in his eyes. "I don't bite."
This time, Hermione couldn't hold back a small laugh. She put her wand back into her robe pocket and plopped down beside the professor. For a moment they sat in silence. Lupin casually leaned against the stairs and enjoyed his smoke while he looked up at the night sky. Hermione sat beside him and stared into the darkness of Hogwarts' grounds. The silence was kind of relaxing and soon her violent temper decided to abate. It was a clear night and the moon's silvery light merrily played with the shadows. Hermione breathed in deeply, the cold air clearing her mind further.
"Are you going to miss DADA next week?"
Lupin peered at her through the corners of his eyes. "Why would that be?"
She gestured at the silvery disk in the night sky. "It'll be a full moon."
Lupin nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. "You sure know your lunar calendar."
"It's for Herbology, actually," Hermione replied. "We need a waning moon to collect the henbane. We'll have that at the end of next week."
"I see…" Lupin hummed pensively. "To answer your question, though, yes, I won't be here next week." A grin crept on his face and sarcasm crept into his voice, "The horror. I'll surely miss teaching so very much."
Hermione simply rolled her eyes at him, making him laugh out loud. Then she pursed her lips at the werewolf and asked curiously,
"When do you have to take the Wolfsbane potion?"
Lupin scratched his head. He didn't seem to be offended by her inquisitive nature and replied, "The same day of the full moon. Usually in the afternoon. Long before the sun sets and the moon rises."
Hermione nodded excitedly. Her anger about Tom completely dropped into the background and she blurted, "But you're still going to turn, are you?"
"Of course. Nothing is strong enough to stop a werewolf from turning." Lupin bragged.
"How does it feel?"
The werewolf smirked, baring his teeth. "What? To turn or being a wolf?"
"Both." Barely, Hermione could reign in her excitement.
"Hm." He tapped his index finger against his lips. "To turn… how to describe that? I guess it's like that moment after your tenth shot of tequila. You're dizzy as hell and know you should probably stop. But then you just think, 'Fuck it!', and continue."
"I… see," said Hermione and couldn't help herself to throw Lupin a reproachful look.
He merely grinned at her unapologetically. "What? No fan of tequila?"
"I actually never tried it," said Hermione dryly.
"Merlin, that's horrible," Lupin lamented in mock outrage. "Don't tell me no-one smuggles alcohol into the dorms anymore. Oh, Hogwarts, what hast thou become?"
Hermione giggled at his antics. The werewolf merely ginned at her widely and took another drag from his cigarette.
"So, turning into a wolf, that's like getting drunk?" Hermione summarized sceptically.
Lupin laughed, his yellow eyes shining with his amusement. "Oh, no. No. It's far better."
Hermione decided to not prod further. "Okay. Then how does it feel, you know, to be a wolf? I've read about Animagi. When they turn into their animal form, it's supposed to be like slipping into another body. Everything else stays the same, they just have another body."
Lupin glanced at her roguishly. "What's that? You trying to become an Animagus, Rookwood?"
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "No. I was just curious and read up on it. There's also a lot of paperwork involved. The Ministry registers all Animagi and which form they take."
The grin on Lupin's face suddenly gained a rather fierce streak. There was a strange, almost sarcastic, tint in his voice. "Oh, yes. The Ministry has to take record of everything, doesn't it?"
"Er… yes, I assume it does," Hermione replied, a little confused by the werewolf's behaviour.
Lupin simply snickered in face of Hermione's befuddlement. "You didn't want to talk about Animagi, though, did you?"
She shook her head, drawing her thoughts back to her inquiries. "No. The… er… transformation? How does it feel being a wolf?"
Lupin leaned back on his hands and stared up at the waxing moon. The mischievous grin melted from his face as his eyes took in the silvery light.
"If we want to stay with my tequila metaphor," he finally said, now a serious streak entering his voice. "Being a wolf, that's like having drunk so much, you wake up the next morning and can't remember anything of the night before. Could have been fun, best night of your life. Or could have been you huddled over the toilet throwing up all night… You just don't remember."
Lupin flicked the cigarette stub away, not caring where it landed. There was no easy smile on his face this time as he added heavily,
"You must know, during the full moon when we turn into wolves, we are at our weakest."
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "But I thought… That doesn't make sense. People are afraid of werewolves… when they are turned. Without the Wolfsbane, they could rip a wizard apart without any effort."
Lupin laughed roughly, baring his teeth in a wild grin. "I don't need to turn into a wolf to be able to do that."
Hermione glanced at him, not doubting his words. Still, she was confused. It must have shown on her face, because Lupin clapped her shoulder.
"Being a werewolf has many advantages," he stated, a hint of pride in his raspy voice. "We are physically stronger than humans and faster. Our magical abilities expand as soon as we receive the bite. But," His yellow eyes flicked back to the moon high up in the sky. ", when we turn during the full moon, we lose our strongest weapon."
"What is that?" Hermione asked cautiously.
He grinned at her and stubbed his index finger against her forehead. "Our mind."
Lupin chuckled at her surprised face and explained, "When werewolves turn, they become beasts. Very powerful, maybe, but there are no thoughts left. No ability to plan. That beast is only ruled by its desires and base instincts."
Hermione nodded slowly, considering the man. Then she inquired timidly, "The Wolfsbane Potion… does it stop this?"
"Not quite." Lupin peered at her, amusement glinting in his sharp eyes. "Tequila metaphor aside, I would say my thoughts get clearer, sharper when I turn. But at the same time they simplify, focus on only a few things. At the end of the process, there's barely a 'me' left, but only the wolf." His brow furrowed slightly as he thought. "A beast does not have need for much, but the few things it does want, it pursues with ferocity."
Hermione nodded, fascinated by the picture he drew.
"With the Wolfsbane," the werewolf continued. ", the beast is still the same, ruled by nothing but instincts. But the potion ensures that a tiny portion of 'me' remains conscious."
Lupin scanned her, his yellow eyes wandering over her frame searchingly. He furrowed his brow as if contemplating something. Hermione shifted a bit, self-conscious under the heavy gaze. After a moment of silence, Lupin grabbed another cigarette. Taking a deep drag, he told her seriously,
"You know, I have a bit Wolfsbane to spare."
Now it was Hermione how furrowed her brow in confusion. "What?"
A sleazy smirk curled the werewolf's lips. "Just a few minutes ago, you stormed out here and looked like you wanted to rip someone's head off." His smirk widened and he teased, "I'm no expert, but maybe the Wolfsbane'll calm you down nicely."
Hermione harrumphed and threw Lupin a dark glare as he broke down in laughter.
†
Hermione avoided Tom the next day. She wasn't sure why she did it. Maybe out of fear. It certainly wasn't her place to talk with her master in such a way. Then again, fear or not, a main reason for her ignoring him, was caused by Hermione still feeling cross with him. And wasn't that the strangest thing?
Angry with my master?
It was a new occurrence for Hermione and its possibilities made her feel strangely giddy. In all her life, she had despised her masters. She may have bowed to the Malfoys, but she had hated them. Never, though, had she been angry with them. At least not like this, with the opportunity to have an outlet for that anger. It had felt so good to rage at Tom.
Still, Hermione felt a bit anxious as she walked into the Heads' common room after classes. Riddle already sat on the sofa, scribbling on some parchment. He looked up as she entered. For a moment his gaze rested heavily on her, but then Tom's attention dropped back to his parchment. Feeling rather awkward, Hermione walked over to him and sat down beside him. For a moment, the silence in the room was almost palpable. After an eternity, Tom raised his head and peered at her. Hermione stiffened and couldn't help to stupidly stare back at him.
"Did you already write the essay for Slughorn?" Tom asked, his voice composed.
Hermione raised her eyebrows. She had expected something else from him. Then again, she was certainly not going to insist on talking about the incident. Gladly, Hermione followed his lead.
"I started it," she replied, in a controlled tone. "Do you want to work on it together?"
Icy blue eyes flashed at her and Tom replied calmly, "That is acceptable."
{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}
A few days later, Hermione had completely forgotten about her confrontation with Tom. It was a Saturday and she happily strolled down Hogsmeade's high street. It was the first time that she could visit the village and Hogsmeade was bursting with students. Hermione fully enjoyed walking amongst all the witches and wizards as if she were one of them. Occasionally staring at a shop window, she meandered through the village.
"Hey! Rookwood!"
Hermione stopped and turned around as she heard her fake name. Tom's friends were walking towards her. She glimpsed Regulus, Dolohov and – her heart sank – Draco. It was Dolohov who had called her. Handsome smile in place, the tall Slytherin fell in step beside her, the other two following suit.
"What's a pretty lady like you doing here all by herself?" Dolohov asked, throwing Hermione a flirtatious look.
She blinked up at him, slightly put off balance by his behaviour. Then she cleared her throat and replied,
"Er… I wanted to see Hogsmeade…?"
Dolohov's face lit up with realisation. "Oh, of course. You haven't been here before, have you?"
"No," she replied absentmindedly, eyes wandering over a shop window.
Herbs and plants were piled in the display. 'Dogweed and Deathcap', Hermione read the shop's sign. This could be useful when she had to restock her potions ingredients. Then again, Tom would probably insist she stole from the school's stocks again.
"So, what do you say?" Dolohov's deep voice seeped into her ear.
She looked up at the Slytherin. "Er… excuse me, what?"
Dolohov grinned down at her. "We could show you around?"
Hermione blinked at the three Slytherins. She didn't mind Regulus and Dolohov so much, but as her eyes came to rest on Draco she felt slightly nauseous. Still, she dutifully nodded her head.
"Yes, that would be nice."
It surprisingly really was. Dolohov and Regulus were good company and, as it turned out, Draco was at least able to act civil.
"You have to try those," Draco told her, gesturing at a pile of what looked like mice made of sugar.
"Yeah," Dolohov commented, hungrily staring at the sweets. "They're not bad."
Hermione shrugged and put a handful Ice Mice into her already overflowing bag. You could say whatever you wanted about the Malfoys, but they weren't known to have bad taste.
"I haven't been here in ages," Dolohov said, fondly scanning Honeyduke's interior.
"That's because you prefer to hang around Madame Puddifoot's," Draco said, scorn seeping through his voice.
"Gotta please the ladies," replied Dolohov, sleazy smirk hanging from his lips.
"Come on, Hermione." Regulus gestured at the bag of sweets in her hand. "It's my treat."
Then he tucked at her sleeve and pulled her towards the cashier. A few minutes later, all four left the shop, happily munching on the sweets from Hermione's bag.
"Mmh, lasht time I 'ad those," Dolohov mumbled around a Jelly Slug. ", was fourtsh year."
Draco crinkled his nose at the other in disgust and nibbled at his Cauldron Cake. Feeling another argument boiling up, Regulus butted in,
"Why did you come here alone, Hermione. Didn't your friends have time?"
Now there was a crinkle on Hermione's nose that rivalled Draco's. "No. Apparently, there's a Quidditch trainings session."
Dolohov grinned at her. "Don't like Quidditch?"
Hermione cocked her eyebrows at him and lectured, "It's dangerous. Why can no-one see that?"
"Well, I think that's part of the fun," Doholov drawled, still smirking.
Hermione shook her head in exasperation. It was Draco's voice that then inquired innocently,
"Why didn't Riddle accompany you?"
Strangely, the question made the grin drop from Dolohov's face and Regulus shuffle nervously. Hermione ignored the strange mood and said, opting for the truth,
"I asked him, but Tom didn't want to come."
"Oh, really?" Draco commented lightly. "And he was okay with you strolling around on your own?"
At the question, Dolohov threw him a sharp glare as if wanting to shut the other Slytherin up. Draco's face remained to be perfectly schooled into a mask of innocent curiosity, but there was mirth maliciously dancing in his grey eyes as he met Dolohov's angry glare.
Regulus cleared his throat and said, turned to Hermione, "How about we check out Tomes and Scrolls?"
Hermione nodded slowly, frowning at Dolohov and Draco. Still, she allowed Regulus to lead her towards the bookshop.
"Ignore them," Regulus told her softly. "They could never stand each other."
"Yeah…" said Hermione distractedly, glancing at the two Slytherins in question.
They still glowered darkly at each other. Hermione wondered what was up with that, but the unease brewing in Regulus' eyes stopped her to ask him. The shop's bell jingled merrily as they entered Tomes and Scrolls. The sight of the shelves full of books made Hermione forget all about the suspicious argument. She almost danced through the aisles, Regulus following smilingly.
"How didn't you end up in Ravenclaw?" he commented amusedly.
"The same way you didn't end up in Hufflepuff," was her teasing retort.
"Touché." Regulus smiled at her. "Don't let my mother hear that. She'll skin you alive… and me too."
A blissful smile hovered around Hermione's lips as she started to browse through the books. Unfortunately, she couldn't afford to buy anything. Tom had given her a few Sickles, but they were for buying a new quill. Longingly, Hermione's fingers trailed over the spines of the books as she wandered to the section with stationeries while Regulus was engrossed in an Arithmancy book. She just wanted reach for a new quill as she spotted a pile of leather-bound books. Hermione picked one up and flipped through the pages. They were all empty. It seemed to be designed to be a journal or diary. Pensively, she stared at the empty books. They were quite beautifully crafted and – she checked the price tag – not horribly expensive. If she didn't insist on buying a new quill… after all, her old one may be a bit bent, but it still worked. Nodding to herself, Hermione put back the quill and reached for one of the empty books, choosing one with a black binding.
{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}
"Oh shit." Ron hastily apologized, "Sorry, Hermione."
Quickly he dived down and picked up the books Hermione had dropped as he ran into her.
"It's fine," she replied, smiling as he gave her the books. "What's got you in such a rush?"
"I'm searching for Ginny," Ron replied, scratching the back of his head. "You haven't seen her, have you? Little beast stole my Quidditch helmet. I need it for training."
Hermione shrugged her shoulders and continued her way down the corridor, Ron following.
"Not since lunch."
"Oh man," Ron groaned. "Spinnet's gonna kill me."
They reached the Gryffindor common room and Ron rudely snapped the password at the Fat Lady. The portrait sprung forward, hitting Ron in the shoulder.
"Why'd she steal the helmet?" Hermione asked as they both sat down on a sofa.
"Because she's a pest," Ron replied, his head flopping against the back rest as he stared up at the ceiling.
"Watch what you're saying," another voice butted in.
As if popping out of thin air, Ginny had slid over to them. Grinning widely, she threw herself in one of the armchairs.
"Where's my helmet?" Ron promptly asked.
His sister's grin grew positively nasty. "You'll never find it."
"Ginny!" Ron growled warningly.
"Of course I'll give it back," the red-head continued. ", as soon as you give me back the galleon I lent you."
"Merlin have mercy!" Ron hissed through gritted teeth. "Do I look like I have money?"
Ginny shrugged indifferently. Then she refocused her attention from her infuriated brother to Hermione.
"What's this?" she said with mock surprise. "You here? Aren't you and Riddle usually joined at the hip?"
Hermione squirmed nervously. "Er…"
"Leave her alone," Ron sighed, turned to Ginny. "Hermione doesn't have to spend her whole time with that- …Slytherin."
Ginny smiled at Hermione disarmingly. "Yeah. You need to spend more time with your friends."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Friends? Were they… friends? She stared at the two red-heads and a warm feeling filled her chest. Slowly a smile curled Hermione's lips. Never had she thought a real witch or wizard would ever want to be friends with her.
"How's it going with Riddle anyway?" Ginny asked.
Still pondering her friends, Hermione replied, "Okay, I guess."
"Well, that sure sounds romantic," Ron sassed, sour look on his face.
Ginny regarded Hermione in contemplation. Then she mentioned innocently, "You know, I hear Katie broke up with McLaggen. Just if you wanna re-orient yourself… He's a hottie."
Both, Ron and Hermione, threw the red-head a dark glare. Ginny merely grinned and raised her hands in defeat. Before they could continue to discuss, the portrait hole opened and in stepped Dean, drenched from head to foot.
"What happened?" Ginny asked as her boyfriend sat down beside her.
"Fucking Neville." Dean rolled his eyes.
Ginny frowned up at him. "What were you doing in a girls' toilet?"
Dean peered at her, grinned and jumped into an explanation, "Here I was, walking down a corridor, when I spotted McGonagall. I flung myself into the next door I saw. What was I supposed to do? Flunked the test and didn't fancy getting a lecture."
"Neville's toilet?" Ron asked, shaking his head at his friend.
"Damn right," Dean groaned, wringing water from his shirt.
"Who's Neville?" Hermione asked as she pulled her wand and sent a drying charm at Dean.
"Thanks," Dean said. "Neville's a ghost."
"Remember? We told you about him?" Ginny reminded her. "Nagging Neville? Poor guy died two years ago."
"Ah yes," Hermione replied. "He was killed by that girl's Erumpent. What was her name?"
"Luna Lovegood," Ron supplied.
"It wasn't her, though," Ginny stated darkly.
"Here it comes," Dean sighed tiredly.
Ginny threw him an angry look. "You know it wasn't her."
"Yeah, yeah." Dean peered at his girlfriend. "Tell us all about your conspiracy theory and the Heir of Slytherin."
"It was the Heir," Ginny huffed. "Not Luna."
"There is no Heir of Slytherin," Dean said, shaking his head.
"Oh yeah?" Ginny snapped at him. "Then who attacked all those students, hm? Was that also Luna's Erumpent?"
"I don't know, okay?" Dean replied, sounding as if this wasn't the first time he discussed this with his girlfriend. "But it wasn't any heir or a mysterious monster of Slytherin. I mean, seriously, where would a monster hide? This is a school, for Merlin's sake."
"Why would Luna hurt Neville?" Ginny inquired sharply. "They were friends."
"It was an accident," Dean returned in exasperation.
"How would you know?" Ginny challenged. "The only witness was Riddle."
"Tom found the Erumpent, right?" Hermione asked, trying to remember that story.
"Yeah," Ron said. "He captured it and also found out it was Luna's"
"Doesn't proof anything," Ginny hissed stubbornly.
"Well, the attacks stopped after the Erumpent was taken away," Dean remarked only to receive a furious scowl from his girlfriend.
"You mean the attacks stopped after someone found a scapegoat."
†
Somehow the conversation with the Gryffindors didn't want to leave Hermione alone. Only a few hours later, she found herself stepping into the girls' toilet on the second floor. Cold chills darted down her spine as she entered the room. A boy had died here and it was as if the room itself screamed that at everyone who dared visit. Apprehensively, Hermione peered at the rows of toilet stalls. All were empty. The silence pressed down on her. Only a dripping tap from the sinks could be heard. The steady noise echoed numbly from the walls. Hermione wanted to turn around and leave, but somehow her feet urged her forward. Puddles of stagnant water had gathered on the tiled floor.
Her anxious steps led Hermione to a row of sinks. Time had turned the mirrors above the sinks dusty and clouded, witness to the abandonment of this place. As Hermione blinked at her indiscernible reflection in the mirror, she spotted a dark blotch hovering over her mirror image. Suddenly, the blotch moved and Hermione gasped in fright. Hastily, she whirled around.
"What are you doing here?" a strangely distorted voice spoke to her.
With wide eyes, Hermione looked up at the figure hovering in front of her. The silvery body of the ghost was translucent. Hermione glimpsed the Hogwarts' uniform, grey and colourless, hugging the boys form. Milky eyes stared down at her, suspicion glinting in them.
"Y- You are Nagging Neville," Hermione whispered softly.
The ghost took her in, distrust colouring his transparent face and corrected in a quiet voice,
"My name is Neville Longbottom."
Quickly, Hermione nodded. "Of course. I'm sorry."
The ghost continued to hover in front of her, never getting any closer. After a moment's silence, Neville asked hesitantly, almost as if not expecting to get an answer,
"Who are you?"
Hermione smiled up at him. "Hermione Rookwood."
"Her-my-o-nee…?" Neville mused, running a hand through his colourless hair. "I've never seen you before. What year are you?"
"Seventh," Hermione replied. "But I only came to Hogwarts this year."
"A transfer?" Neville inquired curiously, floating a bit closer to her. "Where do you come from?"
Sticking to her lie, Hermione said, "London. I was home-schooled before."
Neville nodded in understanding. "That explains why you walked in here. No-one warned you about me?"
Hermione bit her lip, but decided to this time stick to the truth. "They actually did. But I wanted to talk with you."
Honest surprise crossed Neville's face and he whispered shakily, "Talking with me? No-one wants to talk with me."
"Well, I do."
Neville shook his head in disbelief, before his empty eyes again fixed on her, "Why?"
"I… I was wondering…" Hermione mumbled, not sure how to breach the subject. "Erm… how you died."
"Oh," Neville breathed.
He flew a bit away from Hermione and turned his back to her. It was obviously not something he liked to talk about.
"I… I heard the story," she told Neville cautiously. "And there's so much unclear. I thought, maybe, you can tell me what really happened."
The ghost heaved a deep sigh, before he reluctantly turned around to her. His gaze shyly skimmed over Hermione as he replied,
"Something killed me."
Hermione nodded. "Do you know what it was?"
"No." Neville nervously wrung his hands. "But they say it was an Erumpent."
"And you believe that?" Hermione inquired gingerly.
"Why would they lie?"
Raising her eyebrows at him, she asked, "Well, what's the last thing you remember before you died?"
"The last thing?" Neville's gaze wandered up to the ceiling as he thought. "I was hiding away in this bathroom. Luckily, I had a few chocolate frogs stuffed in my schoolbag so-"
"Wait," Hermione interrupted him. "You were hiding? Why?"
Neville squirmed at the question. He floated a bit higher as if aiming to disappear through the ceiling. After a while he squeaked out,
"Malfoy. I was hiding from Malfoy."
"Draco Malfoy?" asked Hermione, confused.
Neville peered at her. As he found no scoff on her face, he drifted a bit closer to her.
"Since I entered Hogwarts, Malfoy was picking on me," he disclosed awkwardly. "That day, he cornered me and threatened to curse me if I didn't give him my Herbology homework."
An embarrassed sheen entered Neville's eyes as he continued, "So, I ran for it. Herbology's the only class I was really good at. I didn't want to get a bad grade because Malfoy stole my essay."
Hermione looked at him and replied wryly, "Well, I can't blame you. Draco's a right prick."
Neville chuckled softly. Then he continued his story, "So I ran away. Somehow I ended up hiding in the girls' toilet. I figured he wouldn't think to check there."
"And he didn't?" assumed Hermione.
The ghost shook his head. "No. He probably gave up searching right after five minutes. Still, I waited a bit longer in one of the toilet stalls. I think I was there for half an hour as I heard someone talking."
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Draco?"
"No," Neville supplied. "It was a boy's voice, though. But not Malfoy. And the guy was speaking an odd language. It was strange. I mean, what's a guy got to do in a girls' toilet?" He scratched his head and laughed sheepishly. "Other than hiding from bullies, of course."
Hermione grinned up at him. "Sometimes, hiding is the best option."
"Yeah." Neville smiled but it quickly slipped from his face as he continued his story, "I actually thought all the students were down in the Great Hall for dinner. But then, what's the guy doing here? So, I cautiously opened the toilet stall to see who it was." He blinked at Hermione in confusion as he ended, "That's when I died."
"Wait," said Hermione in bewilderment. "How did you die? I don't understand."
Neville shook his head. "Me neither. The last thing I remember is looking into a pair of big yellow eyes. And that's it."
It didn't clear up anything. Hermione wasn't sure, but she doubted Erumpents had big yellow eyes. There was another thing not adding up though.
"If it was a boy's voice you heard," she questioned suspiciously. ", then why did Luna Lovegood get blamed for your death."
The ghost scanned her thoughtfully. "I really don't know. My memory is hazy. I'm quite sure it was a boy's voice but…"
"It's no good as proof," Hermione ended for him.
Neville shrugged his pale shoulders. "Not enough, apparently."
She worried her lip as she looked at the ghost. Neville hovered a bit closer. After hesitating shortly, he suggested,
"You could ask Luna, you know."
Hermione blinked at him in surprise. "Luna Lovegood? Do you know where she is? I thought, she was expelled after… you died."
"She was." Neville nodded. "But she didn't leave Hogwarts. Professor Trelawney took her in as her apprentice."
"Trelawney?" Hermione echoed pensively. "She is divination teacher, isn't she?"
"Yes," said Neville. "I hope Luna likes being her apprentice. I know, she always liked divination."
Somehow, nothing around Neville's death made sense. The more Hermione heard, the less added up. Tom had insisted that Hermione didn't take divination. Secretly, she had been grateful. But maybe be should visit Lovegood...
"You were friends with Luna?"
The ghost nodded solemnly. "Yes. We were good friends, although we were in different houses."
This was getting more and more complicated, Hermione decided as she scanned Neville's ghost.
"So… you were hiding in here and then heard a boy's voice," she resumed cautiously. "Then you saw those yellow eyes. And that's all you remember? What happened after you saw those eyes?"
"I was floating," the ghost replied quietly. "Like I was in water. I couldn't breathe. But then again, I didn't need to."
His eyes fell from Hermione and he stared down at the white tiles of the floor.
"I floated forever. And looked down at my body. I couldn't believe it was me. I recognized myself, but it wasn't me." Neville's voice was suddenly toneless. "It was just lying there. I've never seen my body like this. It looked so strange."
His eyes focused on Hermione but somehow he still wasn't looking at her. The shyness and embarrassment were completely absent on his face and had left behind a blank.
"My eyes were closed," Neville said softly. "It's funny because the last thing I remember is them being open wide, staring into those yellow eyes. Then… nothing. I don't remember closing my eyes."
The ghost sent Hermione a thin smile. She couldn't help but notice how hollow it suddenly was.
"I just lay there," Neville continued in a level voice. "On the tiles. With closed eyes. You know, my body wasn't broken or anything. It was whole. No injuries. No blood. You could have thought I was sleeping there on the floor. Although… it was painfully obvious that I was not. Sleeping, I mean. I couldn't say what it was, but you only had to glance at me and knew I wasn't sleeping …knew that I was dead. There didn't need to be any blood. It was obvious."
"Did it hurt?" Hermione dared to ask.
"I don't know," Neville sighed. "I don't remember. Just like I don't remember closing my eyes or how I fell on the floor."
Hermione eyes Neville and asked tentatively, "What happened then?"
His blue eyes wandered back to her and a sad smile slightly curved his lips.
"I was found."
Hermione nodded. Silence stretched between them. Her gaze was involuntarily drawn to the spot on the tiled floor. Hermione was glad it hadn't been her to find him. After a while, Neville's soft voice destroyed the silence,
"My parents never visited me."
Hermione looked up at him and was surprised to find no accusation on his face.
"They could have come here to see me," he stated colourlessly. "But they didn't."
"M- maybe they couldn't bring themselves to do it," whispered Hermione.
"I know," Neville replied. "I don't blame them. It just would have been nice to see them."
"They might change their minds," she said cautiously. "In a few years, they might just come and visit you."
"Yeah." Neville shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sure they will. But… it wouldn't be the same. Not like before."
Hermione nodded as her thoughts were forcefully tugged towards her parents. Would she want to see them again as ghosts? Maybe they would blame her. Or would be disappointed in her…
"I'm really sorry this happened to you," Hermione finally said, her voice hoarse.
Neville glanced at her. "Me too," he said, his tone again so controlled. "Sometimes I'm really angry about it."
Hermione gulped down a lump in her throat as she looked up at the ghost. "Thank you for telling me."
"No problem," Neville said, now smiling again kindly. "If you find the time, come visit me again."
{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}
Tom disinterestedly looked down at Black's form. The other Slytherin lay on the floor, twisting and squirming in pain. The nice feeling of the Torture Curse reverberated merrily through Tom's magic as he held Black under its power. With detached curiosity, he watched Black's fingers desperately clawing at the floor, futilely trying to get away. His fingernails scraped over the stone tiles, snapping and breaking into a bloody mess. Still maintaining the curse, Tom admired the strange patterns the red blood painted on the floor. He only wished he could enjoy this more.
Sadly, though, Tom needed Black and his familial ties. Tom had reached the point where he had exhausted the knowledge of the Founders' book and needed to expand. Frankly, it was pathetic. The greatest wizards of their time and they had not seen fit to leave behind anything of importance? There were no clues that might lead to the last two missing objects. Ravenclaw's Diadem and Slytherin's Locket might be Tom's, but he was no closer to the other objects than he had been months ago. In fact, he didn't even know what it was that Hufflepuff and Gryffindor had left behind.
The situation certainly was a bit… aggravating.
Tom's gaze swiped over the trembling form lying at his feet. The power of the Torture Curse violently ripped at Black. Indifferently, Tom watched tears of pain running down the other Slytherin's cheeks and wondered if he was wasting his time. The Blacks' library was quite comprehensive, but maybe it couldn't provide Tom with the information he wanted. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were quite troublesome. Tom had never liked the two houses. Stupid and rash. He crinkled his nose in disgust, but finally ended his curse. Thankfully, Black's piercing screams ebbed away and turned into repulsive sniffles.
"I need that book," Tom declared coldly, as he scanned the fallen Slytherin. "I don't think you appreciate how much."
Black's reply was shaky, pain wrapped around each word, "I- I need more t- time."
"My patience is wearing thin, Black," Tom stated, his soft voice contrasting with the underlying threat.
"I p- promise," Black snivelled pathetically, heaving himself into a kneeling position. "I'll find t- the book for you."
Tom almost rolled his eyes at his follower's submissive behaviour. It was embarrassing. If Tom hadn't been so irked by this whole situation, he would certainly have enjoyed Black's humiliation a lot more. As it was, though, he simply wanted to get his point across.
"Of course you will," Tom hissed icily.
He promptly raised his wand, just to reinforce his order. The incantation hummed through his magic, eager to inflict pain. The Torture Curse hit Black and his agonized screams were back. Tom watched the Slytherin squirm, but not for long this time. A voice interrupted him.
"Tom!" the voice cried pleadingly. "Stop!"
Instantly, the curse collapsed. Tom tensed and whirled around to the door. Witnesses was the last thing he needed. His wand was raised at the newcomer, ready to attack, as he recognized the figure. Of course, it would be her to undo his secrecy charms. Tom relaxed a bit. He had already seen himself cursing Slughorn. That would have been a nightmare to cover up. Thank Merlin it was only his little Mudblood.
"Hermione," Tom greeted her, cocking an interested eyebrow at the shock colouring her face. "How did you get in here?"
Hermione stared at the scene in front of her. Regulus was lying on the floor, tear tracks on his cheeks. Tom was standing over him and his wand casually lay in his hand. As if she had stepped into a still life, Hermione stared at it all. The scene was bizarre. The pale wood of Tom's wand, Regulus' tears glistening in the torch light and the remnants of Dark Magic dancing through the air, painted a surreal, almost beautiful picture. It made Hermione's breath hitch and turned her thoughts into a jumbled mess. All the snippets and images swirled in front of her and in the eye of the storm was that one little curse. That curse which was designed solely to inflict pain. A curse that Hermione had neither seen nor felt for a very long time – a different life time actually – and a collision would be unwanted and decidedly devastating.
"What are you doing?" she asked in a voice that didn't sound like her own at all.
Tom smirked at her, amused as if the situation didn't solicit a certain amount of sobriety.
"I thought that would be quiet obvious," Tom replied, his velvety voice inappropriately calm. "Now, how did you find me?"
"I… I…" Hermione furrowed her brows. "I walked by and I felt…"
She had felt her Dark Mark reverberate with Tom's magic. Hermione glanced at Regulus, shakily getting up. He was Tom's friend. Was that the way Tom treated friends? Feeling almost painfully numb, Hermione shook her head.
"What are you doing?" she repeated, again in that terribly strange, scratchy voice.
Was there even an explanation that could justify this curse washing back into Hermione's life? It… it did not belong here. Not in Hogwarts, not in this other life.
"What are you doing, Tom?" Now accusation seeped into Hermione's tone. "I… How can you use that curse?! It's- Do you know what it does?"
Tom's icy blue eyes took her in, wandered over her shaking frame, and the smirk dropped from his lips. Hermione had no way to read him as he replied in a cold, perfectly controlled voice,
"Of course I do."
Glancing at Regulus, Tom ordered in a tone that brooked no disobedience, "Leave us."
Hermione noted with cold horror how Regulus bowed to Tom. Then he turned and threw her a fearful look before he disappeared through the door, leaving Hermione alone with Tom.
"Tom…" Hermione looked at him pleadingly. "You can't- can't use that curse. Never. Do you understand?"
Tom remained to be completely unimpressed by her dismay. His eyes were two expressionless chips of ice. Ignoring her statement he said, a dangerous tint entering his voice,
"It's almost curfew. You should return to your common room."
Although phrased like a suggestion it was an order. Cold and sharp it cut into Hermione and fear – an old and well known fear – mounted up in her. She knew she had to obey.
And yet, Hermione found she could not. She was afraid by the baleful shadow lurking behind Tom's eyes, but she just couldn't comply. That curse could bring back many memories, but Hermione wouldn't let her lives collide. Future and past must be separated. Fierce determination made her raise her face and look Tom squarely in the eyes. Wasn't it him who had promoted this separation? So, Hermione opened her mouth and told him what had to be truth,
"I don't care what I should do."
Instantly, the expression on Tom's face turned lethal as her defiance filled the silence. He took a threatening step towards her. He stood so close now, she could feel his warmth seeping through her own clothes. But there was no warmth, only menace, in his voice as he hissed,
"Don't defy me."
Maybe he was right, Hermione wondered frantically – her thoughts being all mangled and distraught – but if he was right, what did that mean? That everything would collapse like a house of cards?
"No," Hermione enforced, her voice firm. "I don't care. I'm done taking orders."
Tom's magic gave a violent budge as he heard her words. Hermione wasn't expecting it and was completely taken off guard as he suddenly reached for her and grabbed her wrist tightly. With his other hand he took a hold of her sleeve and shoved it up her arm. Mercilessly, Tom forced her arm up so she had to look at the horrible mark which was tattooed into her skin, standing out like an abomination.
"You belong to me," Tom whispered dangerously. "Don't mistake my leniency for freedom."
Shock clenched tightly around Hermione, threatening to devour her, as he forced her to look at the Dark Mark. For so long, it had had power over her life. That mark, black ink and magic cut into her skin, had been the truth. Until she had been able to recognize the lie. Tom… Tom had taught her. Turning that lie back into truth was not an option. Hermione gritted her teeth as her fear turned into anger. Violently she ripped her arm away from Tom's grip.
"Don't touch me!"
Her eyes flashed up to his only to find the same angry fire blazing back at her. Hermione bared her teeth and snapped,
"Stay away from me, Tom Riddle."
Angrily she tugged her sleeve down, hiding the Dark Mark. It was still a lie and it would remain to be a lie. Hermione rushed past Tom to the exit. She had barely taken a step as she again felt Tom's hand on her arm. His fingers painfully bit into her skin as he twirled her around. Ice blue eyes glinted with a disturbing light and Tom's mouth was twisted into a snarl as he hissed,
"Don't you dare walk out on me, Hermione."
Hermione's magic crackled in the air, mirroring her fury, and pushed against Tom's dark one. Tom still held her in a brutally tight grip. Then he opened his mouth and the word was frosted over with ice as he ordered,
"Apologize."
For a second Hermione just stared at him in disbelief. There was poison in his penetrating gaze. Poison and threat.
"No!"
Fury made her blood rush loudly in her ears. She pulled at her arm, trying to make Tom release her. He merely tightened his hand painfully. Hermione's free hand fisted around the lapels of his black Slytherin robe and pushed violently. Tom wouldn't budge, nor would his vice-like grip on her loosen. An angry snarl left Hermione and she rammed her elbow forcibly into his chest. Tom groaned and released her abruptly. Hermione stumbled away from him and crashed into a near-by table.
Shakily, she rubbed her aching side where she had made hard contact with the edge of the table. The pain only reinforced the fury that already stormed inside of her. Eyes burning with wrath, Hermione glared at Tom.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!"
"Nothing is wrong with me," Tom replied, his voice eerily calm despite the murderous tint colouring it. "But you seem to have forgotten your place."
"My place?" Hermione echoed his words, disgust ripping at her. "My place…? Pray tell, what exactly is my place?"
"You are a Mudblood," Tom whispered, his voice low and dangerous. "You're nothing, Penny."
That name hit Hermione like a slap to her face. It was her past life and her old name that made Hermione's anger flare. Just like the mark, it was a lie as well.
"I am Hermione."
An ugly sneer crossed Tom's face. "Only because I allow it."
"So I am nothing, am I?" Hermione scoffed derisively. "Is that why you keep me around? The reason why you need my help to find the Founders' objects?"
"I don't need your help," Tom replied darkly. "You're nothing but a tool I avail myself of."
Hermione stared at him for a moment and suddenly her anger turned ice cold. As she spoke next there was poison dripping from her controlled words and she hoped they hurt,
"You know what they do with Halfbloods?" A smirk distorted Hermione's lips. "They kill them, Mr Riddle."
She could see his hands balling into fists, shaking with suppressed rage. Tom didn't reply anything. He pulled his wand so swiftly Hermione could barely follow the movement. The pale yew wand flashed through the air, followed by Tom's cold voice,
"Crucio."
The curse hit her and Hermione instantly crumbled to the floor. Knives were stabbing her face, meticulously cutting her eyeballs out of their sockets. Her tongue was ripped from her mouth, her teeth pulled from her jaws. Sharp blades sliced into her skin. From her throat down to her belly, she was cut open. One after the other her rips broke and bone splinters pierced her lungs. Her abdomen ripped open and the organs were wrenched out. Hermione felt her lungs filling up with her own blood, choking her. Deeper the blades cut, dissecting layer upon layer of Hermione's body. Torturously slow, the skin was peeled from her limbs. Blood flowed as muscles and tendons were severed and ripped from the naked bone. Hermione screamed and screamed as she felt her body collapsing, dying.
Then the agony was gone. Hermione's eyes were still intact, her teeth still in her mouth. No blood gushed from deep cuts. Her body was whole. Only hot tears flowed down her cheeks. Limply she lay on the floor, her body shaking violently.
So familiar. Her past life, like a twisted resurrection.
The thought made Hermione lips curl up into a smile. She couldn't control it. Giggles left her mouth, first quiet then louder, while pain wracked her body, bringing with it past truths. She was laughing out loud now. The guffaw brought tears to her eyes. Like a broken puppet, she lay on the cold stone floor, and laughed. She struggled for breath between her mad laughter. The lack of oxygen made her hiccup. Desperately, she gulped in air.
There were soft steps on the stone floor, but Hermione couldn't hear them over her hysteric laughter. An unforgiving hand was on her arm, then she was pulled up. Hermione winced painfully as she was forced to stand.
"Shut up!" a sharp voice ordered her, finally stopping her laughter.
Hermione's head swirled and she felt sick, but she still raised her face. Cold blue eyes gazed down at her. Hermione couldn't say anything as she stared at Tom and he glared down at her. She could feel tears running down her cheeks. They must have been caused by her laughter.
"Never doubt my authority!" Tom hissed, menace twisting his voice cruelly.
Hermione trembled as the echoes of pain pulled at her. That pain was – although she hadn't felt it in a long time – oh so familiar.
"You are mine, Hermione." Tom's voice mercilessly cut through her misery. "And you will obey me."
Hermione was unable to voice anything. Her throat had tied up as the truth pulled her away. She was ripped from Hogwarts and thrown into her past. A past that had no place for students but only for slave girls with no rights at all. Hermione stared up at the wizard, eyes wide and uncomprehending.
Had she been dreaming?
Something flickered through blue eyes, then Hermione felt her arm being released. She didn't try to get away. There was no fury on Tom's face anymore. He was devoid of any emotion as he stated,
"You belong to me. I can do with you whatever I want."
Once again, Hermione's lips twisted up into a smile. She didn't know what was wrong with her. Why did she smile? Hermione felt numb. There was no fear nor panic and she smiled. The truth pressed down on her, constricting, taking her breath away. Hermione felt dizzy and small and useless. Memories overwhelmed her. Cruelly and relentlessly, they infested her mind, trapping her in her past. The misplaced smile on her face stayed fixed in place. So, Hermione bent her head to hide it and whispered in a hollow voice,
"Yes, Master."
She didn't notice nor cared how she addressed the wizard. His heavy gaze rested on her for a long moment. He didn't say anything and Hermione stared down at the floor, that cursed smile still distorting her features. The remnants of his curse tugged at her painfully, but she didn't move a muscle. Finally, Tom ordered,
"Go to your dorm, Hermione."
"Yes, Master," was what she replied and her voice was as emotionless as his had been.
Then she turned and left the room. Through dark corridors and empty hallways she walked. She lost the unwelcome smile on her way and as she arrived in her dormitory the red and gold was mocking her.
{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}
"Now let us walk back, slowly, as we came.
We will light the room with candles; they may shine
Like rows of yellow eyes.
Your hair is like spun fire, by candle-flame.
You smile at me – say nothing. You are wise.
For I think of you, flung down brutal darkness;
Crushed and red, with pale face.
I think of you, with your hair disordered and dripping.
And myself, rising red from that embrace."
- Conrad Potter Aiken
(*1889 † 1973)