August 20th, 2004
Hermione woke up in bed the next morning, three minutes before her magical alarm was set to ring. Her tongue felt dry and swollen. She rubbed her eyes until her blurred vision began to shift into clarity.
Hermione lifted her aching body out of bed. She ambled to the kitchen and put pot of tea on the stove, before starting to untangle the mass tumbleweed that was her hair. The witch wasn't sure why her back was so tender. The remnant of some odd dream flashed into her mind, but disappeared just as quickly. She went through her morning ritual, idly fretting over what humiliatingly dull task Firestone had in store for her.
It wasn't until Hermione had a fistful of floo powder held over the fireplace that she remembered.
Her spine felt like it was being crushed by stones. She could barely focus on the words of the man in front of her. She didn't have her wand. Where was her wand?
"The horcrux was destroyed, but the piece of my soul was intact. All it had to do was implant itself into the closest living human at the time of destruction."
Danger sirens wailed in Hermione's brain.
The man smiled and crouched down.
"And that, my dear, seems to be you."
She wanted to cry. This wasn't happening. It wasn't possible. How…?
"So that begs the question, darling" Voldemort said, "who are you, and why did you destroy my horcrux?"
Hermione gasped as the memory struck her. It was a horrible nightmare. Wasn't it?
There was no time to think about this. She was going to be late for work.
"Fuck", she grumbled, and let the floo powder fall.
Firestone was already on Hermione's tail as the witch hurried to her desk.
"Finally, Granger". Firestone barked.
Hermione's eyes shot to her magical clock. It was two past nine.
"Sorry," she muttered bitterly, settling into her chair.
"I've a load of files I need you to go over," The brunette witch dropped a stack of parchments on Hermione's desk.
"Right, thanks. I'll get right on it" she said.
"Have them on my desk by noon," Firestone said, already halfway out the door.
Hermione sighed and began reviewing the parchment. It was an incredibly dull, decades-old report on some failed experiment in the Love Chamber. She gulped down a cup of coffee within minutes, but even caffeine couldn't stop her mind from wandering to that haunting memory.
Hermione knew it had to be a dream. Voldemort was dead. Everything was fine.
She stepped into the loo to splash some water on her face, then went back to work.
Hermione noticed her skin felt tight and itchy from the cold water. She rifled in her purse for a Muggle moisturizer and slathered it on her skin. Somehow, the thick cream seemed to make it worse. And the more she scratched, the more the itch seemed to spread across her whole body.
Hermione frantically scratched her arms until they were raw and pink. When she saw crimson droplets of blood surface on her wrists, she slammed her hands down on her desk.
What was she doing?
Her mind felt thick and delirious. She just needed to rest her eyes for one moment…
Everything was black. She could hear nothing but the gentle drip of water that echoed throughout the cave.
Then, a voice pierced the darkness.
"Hermione…"
"Granger."
Hermione awoke with a gasp. Her body was drenched in sweat. She pushed soaked strands of hair away from her face and looked up to see Firestone looming over her. Her boss sneered as she observed Hermione's disheveled appearance.
"Is that your saliva on the Fawley account?"
"Ms. Firestone, I am so sorry," Hermione said, "I haven't been feeling well lately. I-I must have fallen asleep."
"I really can't believe this. The lack of professionalism here is astounding," Firestone scoffed.
Around the small office, Hermione's colleagues were turning in curiosity. Hermione's cheeks burned.
"Again, I'm so sorry-"
"Just go home," Firestone interrupted, "your work is clearly not needed today."
Tears pricked at Hermione's eyes. She gathered her things and rushed to the elevator, head lowered so no one would notice her silent weeping.
Hermione stepped out of the elevator into the crowded Atrium, and spotted a familiar face.
"Harry! Wait!"
Harry turned around.
"Hermione, hi…" he said.
The smile slipped off Harry's lips as he noticed her distress.
"You look…are you okay?"
"No," she said, and took a shuddering breath. "Harry… I think Voldemort could be back."
The world seemed to stop for a moment for both of them. Harry's features set into a grim expression.
"Let's not talk about this here."
The wizard grabbed Hermione's arm firmly, so hard it almost hurt. He led her to the floo area, stated his address, and stepped into the fire.
The two friends landed in the Potters' living room.
The Potter house was warm and well-lit. Their living room was lined with a lush Turkish carpet and painted a muted, rust-colored red. In front of the fireplace stood a large over-stuffed sofa, where Hermione could picture sweet family moments. It reminded her of a grown-up, more tasteful Gryffindor common room. The smell of onions and sausage wafted from the kitchen, stirring Hermione's empty stomach. The sounds of James' babbling were audible over the hiss of the stove.
"Hermione!" Ginny rushed into the living room, waddling slightly.
"Ginny, so good to see you," Hermione said flatly, giving her a stiff hug.
"I'm a house, aren't I!" the pregnant witch laughed, rubbing her belly. "This one's due to arrive any day now."
"Yes, so exciting," Hermione said.
"Are you hungry? I've been cooking up a big sausage and vegetable stew, Harry's favorite!"
"Actually, I can't stay. I just needed to speak to Harry about something," Hermione said, giving him a meaningful look.
"About what?" Ginny asked, but was interrupted by James calling "Mama!"
"One moment love!"
The redhead scurried into the kitchen, leaving Hermione and Harry alone.
Harry turned to her gravely. He took a seat on the sofa and motioned for her to join him.
"Tell me what happened," Harry said.
Hermione shook her head and rubbed her swollen face.
"Last night, I…No, I can't explain it. You'll think I'm mad,"
"Try."
"Well, I woke up in the middle of the night with this strange dream. I felt sick, absolutely awful. I tried to floo to St. Mungo's but… somehow, I ended up at the Ministry. And, you know that I've been doing research on the Veil."
Harry nodded. Hermione could see his mind struggling to make the connection.
"Well, I walked into the Death Chamber and… something overcame me. I couldn't control myself, Harry, I was so afraid."
Harry grabbed her hand, concerned.
"Next thing I knew, I just woke up in this…cave… and there he was. Not like I remember him. He was different, younger."
"Who, Hermione?"
Hermione swallowed thickly.
"It was him. Tom Riddle." She said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"How did you know it was him?"
"He told me. He didn't know who I was."
Harry let out a deep exhale.
"That could have been anyone," he said, "they could have been lying to scare you. You don't know what he looked like."
"Harry, I just know. How else would someone come out of the Veil?"
Harry looked at her with worried eyes.
"Hermione… No one can come out of the Veil."
"Believe me Harry, I of all people know that. But I saw it happen."
The wizard looked away, visibly uncomfortable.
"Are you sure? You said you haven't been sleeping lately. Muggle psychologists say lack of sleep can have odd effects on the mind…"
"I know. I thought I was hallucinating, too. But I know I saw him, Harry".
Harry shook his head.
"Honestly, Hermione. It sounds like an especially vivid nightmare. Maybe you remembered the stories I told you of visiting the cave with Dumbledore? I've had plenty of horrible dreams since the war."
"No, I swear to you. I know it sounds mad, but I saw him," Hermione insisted, her voice breaking.
"Okay…" Harry trailed off, "come with me tomorrow to the Aurors department. We'll file a report of your kidnapping, and see what they say."
"But I wasn't…"
Suddenly, a blinding pain shot through Hermione's temples. She clutched her forehead and inhaled sharply. Harry placed comforting arm around her shoulder.
"Are you okay?"
Hermione shook his arm off and stood up.
"I'm fine, I just need the loo for a moment…"
Hermione ambled into the foyer, away from Harry's pitying eyes.
She stepped into the bathroom and looked in the mirror.
She could feel him.
She needed him.
Hermione clutched her wand. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew somehow she would end up in the right place. Hermione took a deep breath and Disapparated.
Hermione stumbled as her feet met cold, squishy earth. She was in some sort of graveyard, maybe in the English countryside. The witch spun around aimlessly, with her wand at the ready, as she surveyed her surroundings. After a few moments, she noticed a tall, pale figure in the distance, leaning against some sort of stone formation. She held her wand out, barely daring to breathe. He walked towards her.
"You lasted longer than I expected. Color me impressed," Tom said. He stopped a good distance away from her, close enough to see the smug expression on his face.
"Stop fucking following me!" Hermione screamed.
Tom gazed back at her impassively. His calm enraged her, and she felt her magical energy flow through her wand.
"Sectumsempra!"
Tom sidestepped the curse easily.
"First rule of dueling, Hermione. Never cast while emotional,"
She kept her wand pointed at him. The wood shook visibly as her hands trembled.
"Go away. Just leave me alone," Hermione shouted.
Tom stepped closer.
"I can't leave you alone."
Hermione fell to her knees. The mud soaked her nice work trousers, seeping in and chilling her feverish skin. She wondered how much longer she could withstand this.
"What do you want?"
Tom was right in front of her now.
"I need you to help me repair my corporeal form."
That was not what Hermione was expecting.
"Your…what?"
"Haven't you noticed?" Tom said. He crouched down and offered his hand.
Reluctantly, Hermione reach out to touch him. She gasped. He wasn't as impalpable as a ghost, but his skin has an ethereal quality to it that unsettled her deeply.
"You see, the Veil was only able to store a small part of my essence. I'm still far from mortal."
Hermione listened with rapt attention.
"It will take some incredibly complex spellwork and potion-making to bring me back fully. But I can't very well do that with no wand, no supplies, and no home," Tom hinted.
Hermione let out a sardonic bark of laughter, and stood up.
"How do I get this through your thick skull? I. Will. Never. Help. You."
Tom smirked.
"Well, I'll put it this way. Right now, I am a soulless vapor. Until I reach my corporeal form, the Killing Curse will be ineffective."
Hermione frowned as she processed this information.
"So if you want any chance of killing me, and removing our soul bond, you'll have to help me."
Hermione paused. She pointed her wand at Tom.
"Avada Kedavra".
The sickening green bolt of lightning left her wand. It went right through Tom's torso, hitting a crumbling sculpture behind him. Hermione shrugged.
"Had to make sure you weren't lying."
Tom chuckled.
"I'd expect no less."
Hermione and Tom stared at each other. She sighed. Overwhelmed by exhaustion, her brain failed to produce a solution.
I'll figure out how to kill him later.
"I'm not going to give you a wand. You can use mine, with close supervision," said Hermione.
A wave of irritation passed over Tom's face, but he nodded.
"I have a cauldron and potions supplies at home. You will work on the potion as I see fit. Again, with supervision. You will keep me informed on the status of the potion so I know you're not brewing anything else."
"This isn't Pepper-Up." Tom snapped. "It is a volatile potion which requires extremely precise timing. I will need access to the potion at all times."
"Well, I suppose you'll need to ask somebody else, then."
Tom exhaled sharply.
"Fine. Is that all?"
"You'll need to find somewhere to sleep."
"But-"
"These are my terms. Are you coming or not?"
Hermione could see the anger roll off of Tom's figure in waves. For a moment, she was almost afraid. But then, he stepped forward and looped his ghostly arm through hers. With a crack, they apparated away.
A/N: thanks for all the kind reviews. They are very encouraging :)