authorsnote: this chapter made me a lil sad to write, but in a good way ... sort of

do enjoy

songrecs: pointless - lewis capaldi (his new album is lit, and mad me cry lol)

'Time is a storm in which we are all lost'

- William Carlos Williams

-x-

When she woke, it was to her disconcertion, not in the Hospital Wing.

But in a Slytherin Dorm, but not hers, even if she wasn't used to it yet she knew it was a single dorm, she was the only Slytherin girl in her year after all, this wasn't a single, this had five beds, and she near shrieked as she bolted up.

This was the boys Dorm, which meant…

She was going to murder him.

Forget his horcruxes, forget whatever the fuck it did to the time stream, she was going to kill him, if she couldn't with her wand, she'd go all muggle and just beat him to death.

"You know you think incredibly loudly" A voice came across the room, his voice of course. "I don't know how you get any peace"

"Stay out of my head" She snapped, sitting up quickly, grabbing for her wand and quickly brandishing it, even as she came into herself, blinking the sleep and muss out of her eyes, and got her equilibrium, wand held aloft, eyes wide, and filled with fury.

"I'm not even in your head" Tom said with a roll of his eyes, because of course it was him, of course she'd fainted from time travel jetlag in front of him, of course he'd hauled her back to his dorm, and of course she was having to safeguard her head from him now.

There was too much in there he could never learn.

"You just think loudly, too many thoughts" He said, almost as though it pained him as he stepped closer, she kept her wand aloft, he didn't hold his, but she knew he didn't need it to be deadly, "I don't even have to go into your head to hear some of it"

"Well don't listen" She snapped back, forcing herself out of the bed, even as she wobbled, she supposed her follow up glare was vicious enough as he didn't rush to her side. Instead, she steadied herself, and was thankful to find she was still dressed (if he'd undressed her to sleep in she'd have had to kill him), still herself, just in Tom Riddle's dorm room, where she needed to leave immediately.

She couldn't be here, not in this time where she was sure if she lingered she'd be forced to marry him or something absurd, and especially as he seemed to be still a powerful legilimence even now, and that was the most dangerous thing of all.

She'd somehow already become entangled with Tom Riddle here, he was far, far too interested in her, she didn't want to know how interested he'd be if he learned where she was truly from, what she could tell him.

No, better avoided, better completely avoided.

She'd need to start learning some occlumency, she'd tried a little when Harry had started but had never had the time to dedicate to it, she'd need to, to make sure her secrets stayed her own, to make sure Tom Riddle didn't pluck them out of her brain against her will.

"I'm leaving" She said abruptly, she winced as she took a step, why had she fainted? Fear, shock, a complete crippling uncertainty of what to do which was very foreign to her?

She was so lost here.

It was so confusing, being so alone, stuck in a time and place she didn't belong, she could forgive herself finally giving into the shock of all of it.

But then, she knew that wasn't it …

'We can't be anything'

'We were never going to be friends'

'So, what else can we be Hermione?

What else?

Nothing, that was what she told herself quickly. It didn't matter how attractive he was, how clever, how him being intrigued by little old her (when people usually weren't), was surprising. None of that mattered, she was no traitor, and she could not even consider accepting his proposal of meeting her in the library.

'It's a date'

His intentions weren't hard to read, which was refreshing, but she could not allow herself to be pulled in, not even as she felt a tug in her chest, pulling her to him, she had to ignore it.

"So, you do find me attractive?" He quipped, and she felt like steam might actually come out of her ears.

Stupid, what she did next, utterly stupid.

She'd always been a bit of a bull in a China shop, but never the none with the temper, that had been Harry, perhaps she was channelling him here, missing her brother in all but blood and so emulating him.

That was surely what possessed her to stomp over to Tom Riddle, far too close (wasn't she supposed to be getting away from him?), near nose to nose, her face a picture of anger as she spoke.

"Stay out of my head" She near growled, reaching for her wand, she wasn't usually a violent person, perhaps Tom brough it out of her? Lovely. "And stay away from me"

Just as she was acting unexpected, she didn't expect what Tom did next.

He was done playing around.

He didn't laugh, or scoff, or even yell, no instead he grabbed her, quick as a flash she was surprised he wasn't a seeker with those reflexes, so quick, he had her turned around, and pushed, not too gentle, against the wall with a thunk, his hands on her waist, his thumbs biting into her, keeping her in place.

Right where he wanted her.

She reached for her wand, still furious, but with a healthy dose of panic colouring her, but then one of his hands shot out, and grabbed hers before she could, just as she'd grabbed her wand, this time there was no fancy wandless magic, instead he just threw her wand on the floor, harshly, she heard it clatter, as he moved closer to her, now their noses did brush, and she flinched.

It was almost like the first time they'd interacted, when he'd figured out her blood-status, when she'd needed to one up him (curse that aspect of her personality), and he'd had her against the wall; though that time he'd had a wand at her throat and had been glaring, now he was pressed up against her, his nose almost brushing hers, and he didn't look mad this time, just determined.

It was becoming a pattern for them.

For a moment it felt like the air was suspended, silent, it felt like a pause before a defining moment, a moment before everything changed.

"I have no intention of staying away from you" Tom said, definitively, deliberately, there was no mistake that he was being very plain with her, being very clear.

Stating his intentions, very 1940's, even she knew what that meant, and she trembled, bit down on her lip hard enough for it to bleed.

Her cheeks were tinged pink, her hands would shake if they weren't clutching at Toms forearms (when did they get there? And when had he become Tom?!), and she felt both an equal desire to run as fast as she possibly could, and then lean in.

What was wrong with her?

She'd think she were bewitched if she didn't know Tom would consider that beneath him. He'd want her to come to him, all of her, of her free will, he'd be able to luxuriate in it then.

But she couldn't.

Even as he spoke, "And you don't' want me to stay away from you" Again he spoke clearly, defining each word, deliberate, he wanted this engrained upon her mind, "I know you don't"

And she stumbled, stuttered, it should have been easy, an easy denial, even as she was as pink as a peach, she should have laughed, or scoffed, told him he was way off mark, that as she'd stated earlier she wanted nothing to do with him, and then walk out in a huff.

She did none of those things.

Instead, something in her broke.

It was ridiculous really, she didn't know him, he'd threatened her, scared her, flirted with her, he was Tom Riddle, Harry's enemy, and she was a traitor just for not pushing him away, and this was all wrong.

But …

She was alone, alone here, completely, and utterly alone.

And among all of that, of feeling like she was betraying the Hermione who'd left the future, who'd been stuck here alone, even with all of that, of knowing he was dangerous, of initially planning to kill him, even with that …

He was the only person who'd made her feel just a little bit less alone.

And gods, it had only been a week, how would it feel in a month, two, a year?! Would she drown in the loneliness?

She didn't know him, and she hated that she imagined she could.

This was too much, all too much to contemplate, her head hurt, she'd blame the time travel but she knew it was down to Tom Riddle, making this already confusing trip through time that much more confusing.

"I…" She stuttered, told herself off, she was not some babbling fool, and she knew what she needed to say, there was only one thing to say.

And so, as much as she wanted not to think, to just give into an attractive boy who made her feel a little less lonely, who made her feel interesting, in truth like no other boy had, that was never Hermione Grangers way, never would be.

Instead, she took him by surprise, shoved her hands forward, and he stumbled back, confused, her cheeks remained pink, her hands trembling, she quickly picked up her wand and then held it up, but not to him, just to have, by her side.

"Talk to me when you don't think my kind are scum" She said furiously, before she pushed past him, summoned her bag she spotted by his trunk, she only turned back once.

"Or at least, when you don't pretend to believe it" She followed up, before she left.

And that time, she didn't look back.

Come next morning she found it hard to get out of bed.

It was Friday, soon the weekend would come, she'd go to Diagon Alley, get supplies and things for the school year, and she knew then it would truly feel like she was lost to time, that she was stuck here.

Of course, she knew logically she was already stuck here, returning to her time was likely impossible, but she knew when she set down her roots, got her things for 6th year here, and settled in, then she'd feel like it was over.

She'd never see her friends again, never see her family, hence her crushing despair, and the feeling of being utterly to rouse herself.

But, Hermione had never taken a day sick from school, not even when she'd had beaver teeth, even then she'd demanded Harry and Ron bring her the notes and homework to catch up, and that wouldn't change now, she was up and out of bed, showered and clean by 8:15am, ready to head down to breakfast and start the day.

Even as that cloud hung over her.

And it wasn't just because she was missing home, that as each day passed, she missed it more, but accepted she was never going past, as she felt that heavy, heavy loneliness on her shoulders like a literal weight, no, there were other reasons for feeling as though she wanted to crumple into a pit of despair.

Tom.

For it was Tom now, wasn't it? When had that happened?! Less than a week and she was calling the most evil wizard of all time by his first name, but it wasn't that simple was it? Goddamn it.

For he wasn't Lord Voldemort yet, her mind kept helpfully supplying that every time she reminded herself Tom was evil, kept reminding her that perhaps he could be changed, that he had little blood on his hands so far …

Goddamn it indeed.

But yes, another reason for her despair was Tom, how easy it would be to fall into his arms (where he clearly wanted her, which still baffled her, and she had a horrible lingering insecurity he only wanted that because she was different, wasn't' scared of him as he'd said; god being a teenage girl was awful, 1940's or 1980's, 40 years made no difference, none), but how wrong that would be.

Wouldn't it?

And yet she was so goddamn lonely, and he was handsome, and interested in her, and clever, he could keep up with her, more than even anyone in her own time ever had.

Was this who she was though? So lonely after just five days that she was already snuggling up to Tom Riddle? God she hated herself, and hated this situation, and hated whoever had invented time travel.

And she was looking crushed, despair ridden as she arrived at breakfast, plonked herself down alone, and tried not to cry into her porridge.

Even the food was wrong here, and that, silly as it was nearly tipped her over the edge, a single tear escaped that she quickly dashed away before pushing her bowl away, reaching for an apple instead and a glass of water, not hungry, not anything but sad.

That was it, simply put, she was sad.

As she trudged to her first lesson; potions, with Slughorn, she was sad, and that was the heart of it.

Sad, and hated that she lifted a touch, as he slid in next to her.

Hated it, hated him, hated all of this; was it possible to drown in despair? Perhaps she could find out.

She knew it was self-pitying, embarrassingly so, but she figured she was allowed a day to feel on the verge of a mental breakdown, today was evidently that day.

"Now class, we have a new student I didn't get a chance to talk to last lesson!" Professor Slughorn said, and again Hermione's head on top of everything else, ached, time travel was horrid to comprehend, and so, so confusing. For she had met Professor Slughorn, he just didn't know it, and she had to act like she didn't.

Perhaps she'd go mad here, that would make things simpler she supposed.

"Miss Granger?" Professor Slughorn said, and she nodded, they all stood behind their benches in this class, Tom next to her, but she didn't look at him, couldn't, for surely then she'd start to cry. "Any relation to the Dagworth-Grangers?" He asked.

"Yes" She managed, but her throat felt like it might close, "Hector Dagworth-Granger was my Father" She said, but even as Slughorns eyes lit up she felt like crying.

For she didn't have a Father, but not because a man she'd never known had died, but because she'd left her family behind, she'd left them all behind.

What would they think? Of course, they'd be worried, but would they be looking for her? She knew they had to be, but she felt tears bite at her eyes again as she knew … they wouldn't find her. It didn't matter that she knew Harry and Ron would be tearing the Castle apart, that Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall would be searching, none of that mattered, she was beyond their reach.

"Why your Father was a brilliant Potioneer Miss Granger" Slughorn continued, she nodded, faked a smile, held off tears, just barely, but forced herself too, instead screwing her hands hard into fists, hard enough that she could feel nails cutting into her delicate flesh, marking little half moons there that began to bleed, she barely felt it though.

She didn't flinch, just stood rigid as Professor Slughorn smiled, "I was so sorry to hear of his passing"

"Thank you, Professor," She managed, rigid, tense, blood dripping between her fingers, but then …

She felt someone take her hand in theirs, ease her fingers away from the destruction she was wreaking on herself, felt someone thread their fingers through hers, not caring that she was bleeding on him, not caring.

He just held her.

"I expect great things from you then Miss Granger" Slughorn noted before he turned to the rest of the class to start their lesson.

And though Hermione still felt like crying, but she hated that once again, things were a little easier, she felt a little less sad, a little less lonely as Tom Riddle held her hand and made everything just a little bit better.

Even as she wanted to shake him off, perhaps remind him that her dirty blood was getting on him, instead she just leaned into some comfort, having had none since her life had been upturned, leaned in and hoped that maybe, maybe this was okay, that she wouldn't have to drown alone.

Maybe, there was another way, for both her, and him.

Maybe.

Gods she hoped so, as Tom Riddle held onto her, making it all a little better.

poor hermione, don't judge her too harshly

next chapter there will be some action... o yes

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