Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows! Please feel free to leave me comments on my writing style, good and bad. This is my first time writing in something other than first person. I enjoy the challenge. Please leave your thoughts.
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to JK Rowling. I merely mess around in her world.
Hermione woke with a start, breaking herself away form the nightmares that plagued her sleep. Her hand immediately gravitated towards her wand, a relic of wartime habits. Hermione realized she was alone; also that it was in the middle of the night, by the moonlight trickling through the window.
Hermione slumped and let her head fall back onto her pillow. She couldn't believe that she was in the medical ward. She feared that this was just a dream, if it was then she never wanted to wake up.
She let out a gusty sigh, a wince of pain confirmed that this was her reality, not her illusion.
Hermione shifted her body a little bit and thought about the scenes that stole her restfulness. Many nights, Hermione relived the torture Bellatrix Lestrange had inflicted upon her. To this day, glamour charms were only so effective is masking the scratchy word Mudblood.
Other nights, it was as if Hermione could divine the future, something she did not believe. This did not stop the nightmares from scaring her. She saw Ron, her secret crush, dead at her feet and Harry, her best friend, reaching out to her with a look of pure panic and terror on her face.
The dream that haunted her this night had never before made an appearance, to her knowledge. In this dream, there was no Harry or Ron. Hermione was by herself. She looked all around and only saw darkness with a misty floor. The intense black of her surroundings frightened her and for the first time she understood why people felt claustrophobia.
Hermione, in her dream, made a full rotation. At the end of it, she saw her nemesis, Voldemort standing opposite her. His face seemed to flicker between one of angelic beauty and on that was the pale snake like body that had terrorized her childhood.
Quickly, Hermione drew her wand. She aimed it at Voldmort's heart, the Killing Curse n her lips. With a disinterested flick of his hand, her wand flew off in the distance. Hermione started casting wandless, nonverbal magic that she was grateful she had learned.
It was all to no avail. Her spells had no power on him. It was the thing she feared the most, being weak, unable to protect herself or her friends. Tears began to well up in Hermione's eyes. She was devastated. Voldemort let out a cruel, cold laugh, if it could be called that at her distress.
Hermione took a deep breath, calming herself for the inevitable. If she would die now, she would not give Voldemort the pleasure of seeing her break.
Voldemort looked curiously at her, as if she were a new species he had never seen. He raised his wand and wordlessly a bright green light shoot out of the end.
Hermione's perception of time seemed to slow. It seemed to take ages for the curse to hit its mark. In fact, she swayed forward, just wanting her struggle to be over.
Finally, it hit. While being shockingly anticlimactic, Hermione thought, her death came not as slow as she as had thought. Hermione remembered falling backwards and the last thing she saw was not the faces of her friends and family, or even blackness. Rather it was the face of the Dark Lord, with a flicker of emotion Hermione couldn't identify.
As Hermione fell back, she woke with a start and found herself sitting wide awake in the medical ward.
Hermione roused herself from her thoughts and inspected the medical ward around her once again. There were as many bed as in her time, but they looked unusually tidy, as if they were not used often. Hermione supposed with the largest threat being Gellert Grindlewald, who is supposed to be in in Eastern Europe at this time.
Hermione thought back to her conversation with the future Dark Lord. She suppressed a shudder. Hermione didn't reveal anything about herself, so she could make up any story she needed to.
Hermione felt a migraine rumbling in her skull. She reached behind her and fluffed her pillow a bit. Hermione threw herself back and securely gripped her wand under her covers. She covered her wand and rested her other hand on top, over the covers. It looked like she was resting peacefully, but Hermione knew the value of being prepared, as much as one could while being asleep.
With disturbing thoughts of dying without her friends in the forefront of her mind, Hermione reluctantly slipped back into a restless sleep.
Hermione was awoken by the sounds of soft footsteps approaching. Ever cautious, Hermione kept her breathing deep and steady, but she peaked through her eyelashes. A robust, kindly looking woman made her way over to Hermione, softly humming. Hermione relaxed, realizing this was Madame Hopkins, the current medi-witch.
Madame Hopkins gently roused Hermione from her slumber. Hermione, keeping up pretenses, blinked lazily a few times.
"Hello, ma'am," Hermione greeted in a rough, sleep-clogged voice.
Madame Hopkins smiled gently. "Hello, sweetie. Come on, can you sit up for me?" Hermione struggled into a sitting position with the aid of Madame Hopkins.
Madame Hopkins offered Hermione a cup of grotesque green liquid. Hermione recoiled from the sight and smell of the drink.
"It's a Pepper Up potion along with some things to help your body heal and a body warming potion. You're still so cold, dear," Madame Hopkins said with a look of concern on her face. "Plus, if you drink this, I'll give you breakfast in bed, just this once."
Hermione's stomach grumbled eagerly at the thought of food. Hermione plugged her nose and inspected Madame Hopkins and she forced the potion down her throat.
Madame Hopkins was a small, plump woman with thick curves. She had curly hair that bounced uncontrollably as she busied her self with tidying the medical supplies. She was very tan; she probably gets her own herbs from the greenhouse, and had a lovely smile that lit up her whole face. Madame Hopkins had warm brown eyes that seemed to be melted chocolate.
Hermione set down her cup with a thunk. Madame Hopkins turned towards Hermione with a smile. "Oh, thank you so much. I know that didn't taste good. Now, if you please, might I have your name and what you would like for breakfast?"
Hermione considered for a moment. She hadn't yet come up with a solid enough backstory and her stomach was rebelling because it hadn't had a proper meal in very long. There were more important things when one was running from the Dark Lord.
"My name is Hermione. May I please have some eggs, bacon, oatmeal, and hashbrowns?" She replied pleasantly. Hermione always minded her manners; one of the things her mother was strict about. It seemed that in this time, whenever it precisely was, polite was the way to go.
"Of course you can, Hermione. Just give me a moment." Madame Hopkins turned and walked with a speed that was shocking given her small stature. Madame Hopkins' heels clicked loudly on the floor.
As she left the medical ward, she almost ran into Albus Dumbledore. Hermione smiled gladly at her old Headmaster, one good thing to come out of this disaster. Dumbledore seemed puzzled as her approached her.
He sat at the chair that was to Hermione's right. Hermione wordlessly cast silencing spells around them.
Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow. "I must say I am intrigued. Wandless magic and you appear to know who I am. I find myself at a disadvantage, might I know who you are?" Dumbledore finished with a twinkle in his eye.
"Hea- Sir, my name is Hermione Granger." Dumbledore appeared to notice her slip. "I'm, uh…" Hermione wasn't sure how to continue.
"Well, Hermione, I know you are not a student here, however, you appeared inside Hogwarts. We have wards against this."
"Professor, I do not know how I got here. You are wrong. I am a student here, just at the wrong time." Hermione cringed at the ridiculous claim. Dumbledore merely nodded and looked thoughtful.
"Assuming you are not lying, how do I know you are not a spy for Grindlewald? I'm sorry to be so crude, but we are at war." Dumbledore looked vaguely regretful.
Hermione understood she would have to resort to drastic measures. "Professor, I know you are a stunning Legilimecist. You taught be how to protect my mind. Sir, I will open my mind to you and show you certain memories. It's the only proof I can give."
Dumbledore nodded. Hermione made fierce eye contact with Dumbledore. She allowed him in the front of her mind. She couldn't allow anyone, even Dumbledore, to have so much knowledge of the future.
As the memories played out in her mind, Hermione recited Dumbledore's words back at him. "You will find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."
Dumbledore skillfully retreated from her mind. He sat back in his chair, deep in thought. "Hermione, we have quite a situation on our hands." The door opening interrupted Dumbledore's speech.
Much more cheerfully he continued, "Well, Miss Hermione, I trust that we can meet in my office. It has been lovely chatting with you. We can discuss your situation and your options." Dumbledore excused himself and greeted Madame Hopkins on his way out.
Madame Hopkins placed a large tray on my lap. The plates held heaping mounds of food. Hermione's mouth watered, especially at the sight and smell of the sizzling bacon.
Hermione ate as rapidly as she could while having her manners. While she ate, Hermione and Madame Hopkins chatted.
"Professor Dumbledore, wonderful man, isn't he?" Hermione nodded her agreement. "We are very lucky to have him as our Transfigurations professor."
"Indeed. From what he was saying, Hogwarts has many talented staff members, including yourself, Madame Hopkins."
"Oh Hermione, you flatter me."
"No," Hermione insisted. "I had several dislodged bones and bone deep tissue damage. It's amazing that I'm even awake right now."
"You're welcome Hermione," Madame Hopkins patted Hermione's knee affectionately. When Madame Hopkins saw that Hermione was finishing her breakfast, she asked, "Since you feel so much better, what would you like to do today?"
Hermione swung her body to the edge of her bed. She gingerly stood and stretched. "I would like to go meet Professor Dumbledore and continue our chat, if that is ok with you?"
"Of course, you have been a wonderful patient." Madame Hopkins smiled kindly again.
Madame Hopkins went to her chambers and retrieved a plain black dress for Hermione. Hermione slipped it on and it fell to halfway down her thigh. Hermione washed her face and brushed her teeth. She brushed her large mane of bushy hair. It was tamer than it had been in her childhood, but Hermione still considered it to be a hassle.
After slipping on a pair of simple black shoes, Hermione began to walk out of the medical ward.
"Oh, Hermione," Madame Hopkins stopped her, "Let me get you a guide. Our Head Boy, Tom Riddle, should have a free period."
Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "Oh, no thank you. I wouldn't want to intrude. Plus, I would like the opportunity to explore Hogwarts. I have read so much about it."
Madame Hopkins smiled easily. "Okay, dear, go on then. Have fun."
Hermione waved good-bye and started to wonder around Hogwarts. Even in this time of war, it was more vibrant and youthful than how she remembered. Hermione couldn't wipe the grin off her face and she walked through the corridors she thought she would have never see again, after she ran off with Harry and Ron.
Tom Riddle was in a foul mood. He brought in that woman who was on the verge of death yesterday. It was the first time he couldn't get rest at night. Never before had he not had complete control of his thoughts.
Tom ran a hand through his hair this morning. He quickly did his ordinary morning routine in the privacy of his Head dorm. The Head Girl had mysteriously disappeared and no one had stepped up to fill the position.
Tom left his room after ensuring his image was in its usual state of perfection. His smooth black hair was parted to the side above his alabaster forehead. His uniform fell neatly on his body, not a wrinkle in place. He added his robes and straightened his Head Boy badge before heading to breakfast.
As he began his walk to the Great Hall, Tom had a thought. Swiftly, Tom changed his path to take himself by the medical wing. The image of that woman was still vivid in his mind.
He silently opened the door. To his displeasure, the woman was lying on her bed, still asleep. Tom quickly left before Madame Hopkins could strike up another tedious conversation.
Tom walked predatorily towards the Great Hall. He sat, as usual, in the middle of his Knights. They, luckily, sensed his dark mood and did not pester him with their pointless chatter.
Tom went to his first class. It was another uneventful day. They went over things he had studied last year. It was his seventh year and it was so easy, the work was laughable.
He put up his usual act of attentative student. He raised his hand the fastest and always had flawless answers. He earned most of Slytherin's House points while his classmates struggled with the concept.
Tom rushed out of his class. Next, he had a free period. He supposed he would go to the library, even though in order to get there he would have to walk by Dumbledore's office. How he deplored the professor!
However, their was no denying Dumbledore was a very powerful wizard. For some reason, Dumbledore was the only person who didn't succumb to Tom's plans.
Tom decided it was worth the risk and walked briskly to the library.
Turning a corner to reach the library, a female body ran straight into Tom. Tom wiped the look of disgust off his face when he saw it was his mystery woman from the night before.
As he helped her up, Tom said, "Well, this seems to be a regular occurrence."
The woman stiffly got to her feet, refusing his assistance. As she dusted herself off, Tom inspected her and was pleased with what she found. Her dress was form fitting, hinting at curves, and a few inches shorter than the skirts worn by other girls.
Most interesting were her eyes. They stared at him with shock and something that passed too quickly to be identified. Tom was used to making girls flustered, but this one seems to be the exception.
Tom stuck out his hand, "I don't know if you remember, but I aided you in the Forbidden Forrest. I'm Tom Riddle."
She stared at his hand as if shaking hands were a foreign gesture. Eventually she grasped it, saying, "Of course. Thank you Tom. My name is Hermione."
Tom firmly grasped her smooth hand. Then he turned it and leaned down to brush a kiss across her knuckles. "My pleasure, Hermione," he purred. This trick always had girls become putty in his hands, but Hermione appeared to be unfazed, put off even. How curious.
Hermione pulled her hand back. "Tom, it was lovely meeting you again. If you would excuse me, I have a meeting with Professor Dumbledore."
Tom's cheek twitched as he controlled his expression. Before he could get out a reply, Hermione breezed by him, leaving a citrus scent in her wake. Tom's eyebrows raised; she had effectively dismissed him.
Tom turned on his heel as he smirked. Cracking the enigma of Hermione had just become his new task. Tom always succeeded at what he set his mind to.
Hermione couldn't believe she just survived another encounter with Riddle. She resolutely ignored how she reacted when he kissed her hand, like a proper gentleman. After all, talented witch she was, Hermione was still a warm-blooded girl. You would have to be blind and dead to not notice Riddle's ridiculously good looks.
Hermione shook her head like a dog. Nervously, she stood outside Dumbledore's office. Her entire existence in this time depended on if Dumbledore could help her or send her back. After all, she had a war to fight.
Hermione set her shoulders and confidently stepped into Dumbledore's office. He was waiting at one of two chairs in front of his desk.
Blue eyes piercing straight to her soul, Dumbledore demanded, "Who are you Hermione Granger?"