Disclaimer: only the plot is mine...or else I'm missing out majorly somewhere...
A/N: WARNING:The first ten chapters, as I have painfully come to realize, are in SORE need of SEVERE editing...they move too fast, the grammar's dicy...and worst of all, tom riddle is a bit too out of character for most of it...he's like a female on an estrogen rush. ANYHOW... from ch.11 till the end, it gets drastically better. So, if you can manage it, please try to work through the draggy and awkward ten chapters (the ideas are okay, it's the execution)...after all, it's been two years since i saw the material. anyhoo, i am PROMISING an edit of these horrible chappies... in the next month or two, i should be finished. basically it's a matter of filling in all the gaps because the story is SO jumpy and incoherent at times .
Anyhoo, enjoy as you wish... please review, though.
Chapter 1
"There, it's finally done." Hermione sighed, finally having finished her packing. Here it was, the day she would be leaving out on the train, and she'd procrastinated with getting everything together. It would be her seventh, and final, year at Hogwarts.
She'd been attempting to pack for the past two weeks, but simply found herself too busy, what with all those large textbooks to get a head start on. Harry and Ron had visited often enough, but Ron's sending her an owl everyday was grating on Hermione's patience.
Ron's hopeless, schoolboy crush had blossomed into something a bit more…substantial, but Hermione just couldn't bring herself to approach him about it. After all, wouldn't he just turn beet red and avoid her for months? Besides, Hermione knew she simply didn't feel that way about him. It wasn't him specifically, of course, just some feeling she had, as though she already loved someone else in the innermost core of her heart.
"Oh, stop being silly, Hermione." she scolded herself silently. She rushed to her satchel, checking once more to see if she'd gotten all of her books.
"Hermione Granger!" Hermione's mom yelled for her from the bottom of the stairs. "If you don't hurry your little self along, you'll miss the train!"
A mop of chestnut curls bolted to the stairs, praying she had her wand in her satchel. She knew her cauldron, broom, and her wardrobe had been sent ahead. "And thank goodness for that." Hermione thought, as she reached the car, out of breath, and jumped in. She was fully prepared to fly to the station in order to get there in time, and she nearly did.
Once at the familiar station, Hermione slipped onto platform 9¾ in the nick of time. Wasting no thoughts on precisely which car she should begin searching for her friends in, Hermione leapt on boardone towards the middle of the line. Having boarded, though, she noticed quickly that all of the compartments were full. She was going to have to walk the entire corridor if she wanted to find an empty seat, much less Harry or Ron.
"Oh, just bloody brilliant." she scoffed. She began the arduous journey of finding a seat. It seemed as though there were miles of filled compartments, and Hermione was beginning to feel defeated.
She decided to pause for a moment, leaning against a corridor window. Hermione closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath, followed by a weighty sigh. She heard footsteps coming her direction, but didn't bother opening her eyes. "I'm not taking up the entire aisle. They can get by me if they need to, and I don't really feel like acknowledging people."
But the person stopped in front of her nonetheless. "Why, if it isn't Granger."
Hermione's entire body tensed at his voice as it hit her: sly, biting and overtly sarcastic. "And here I was thinking this day couldn't get any worse." she mused. She turned towards the blond fiend, more than willing to face him down.
"Why, if it isn't the moronic ferret." Hermione was impressed with how successfully sarcastic her tone was with the git. Although she wasn't much of one for altercations, she had to admit she enjoyed witty ones well enough. Especially when they involved Draco Malfoy and his goons, the "dream team of witless wonders."
Disappointingly, the platinum haired rodent was alone today. Taking in the lone image before her, Hermione noticed quickly that Draco seemed to have gotten even taller since last she'd seen him. Being only about 5'6", she felt like a dwarf before him, as he must have been around 6'3".
She peered into his face, taking in the sharp, steely eyes. Eerily enough, he was smiling at her, almost too pleasantly for comfort. "You seem quite different, Granger. Did you finally learn the arts of grooming?".
"Right back to the sardonic demeanor." Hermione was relieved.
"Indeed, Malfoy. Perhaps I should introduce you to them, what with your perpetually greasy condition."
Draco's face scrunched for a moment, but almost immediately flashed back into a smile. If he weren't such a loathsome, vile being, Hermione would have sworn that the blond dung beetle was trying to flirt with her. "You're losing it, Mione. Note to self, steer clear of the books every now and then."
Her opponent, in half a stride,was suddenly within a mere inch or so of her body. Draco leaned in, letting his mouth come dangerously close to kissing her right ear. Hermione grimaced, her stomach performing at least two sommersaults and one backflip, before settling into a solid knot.
"You know, Granger, if you'd shut that cute mouth of yours, you'd almost be attractive." With that, Draco pecked her on the cheek and slipped off, having shocked most of the life out of Hermione.
"What's gotten into him?" she murmured, shuddering from the whole affair. Deciding someone must have hexed him somehow, she continued onward. Luckily,Hermione finally found an empty cubicle. "Now I should be safe from any random passersby. Especially ones who've lost their minds and presently have some sort of Muggle fetish."
Having settled herself on one of the bench seats, she took out one of her new books: Advanced History of the Dark Arts. Although she'd never admit it to anyone else, the dark arts, as well as those who practiced them, fascinated Hermione. She thought, at one time, that her interest was purely for her own protection. But, very recently, she'd found herself devouring any books she could find on the subject.
As she came across a page specifically about the Slytherin bloodline, a loud rapping came on the door of the compartment. Before Hermione could lift her eyes fully from the text, much less jump up to answer, the door slid open noisily, revealing a lanky redhead, smiling in anticipation.
Hermione tossed her book back in the satchel quickly. "Hermione!" Ron yelled merrily, as he grabbed her into a deep embrace, almost dancingly.
"Hello, Ron. Harry? Is that you?" Harry walked in casually, laughing at the muffled words Hermione had tried to make as Ron held her too tightly.
"Ron! She can't breathe!" he barely managed through his laughter.
Ron, flustered a great deal, jumped back. His nervous smile made it even worse. "Sorry 'bout that, 'Mione."
Hermione laughed, quite amused. "Oh, it's alright, Ron. I'll survive, I'mcertain. So, how have you two been?" Harry looked at her carefully. The young woman before him was normally quite chatty: today she was rather quiet, withdrawn.
"I've been fine, I suppose. The Dursleys are so bloody happy that I'm gone. It's pathetic. But how are you, Hermione? Last time we talked, you were having some trouble with night visions? Are they still preventing you from sleeping?"
Hermione cringed: she'd forgotten her confessions to Harry from the summer. Of course, his genuine concern for her was appreciated, but Hermione stilldidn't want to discuss the way her nightmares haunted her, both in sleep and while awake. It had actually gotten quite worse, and her head often ached from all the odd visions.
Forcing a reassuring smile, Hermione shook her head. "No, Harry. And they were only silly nightmares, not visions."
Harry looked at her with doubt covering his face. "I don't know. Weren't they always the same thing? Like a prediction of the future?"
Hermione shook her head again, almost too quickly to be convincing. "No, no. They changed, and the dreams resolved themselves." Hermione lied through her smile. Harry wasn't buying it, but he seemed willing to drop it for the time being. He and Ron went into a discussion about Quidditch, and how well Oliver Wood's career was turning out, etc. Hermione sat silently gazing out of her window, trying to think of anything pleasant to hide the constant shadow within her mind.
"Mione? Hermione? Wake up; we're here."
Harry's gentle, prodding voice woke her slowly. She took Ron's ready hand, and rose up. She was still trembling from her dream: this one had been as dark as any of the others. Ron noticed immediately.
"Do you need me to carry you in, Mione?" Hermione sighed.
"Great," she thought, "Like I needed to give Ron an excuse to babysit me any further." Hermione forced her body to cease its shaking.
"No, Ron. I'm quite alright walking, but thanks." She knew he wasn'tquite believing her, but shewas also certain he wouldn't force the issue. Having stepped off the train, Hermione noticed Hagrid, recruiting the first years to the boats. She smiled slightly, remembering how nervous she had been. She almost wished she were going over on the boats: something about them was so much more relaxing than the carriages.
The great hall was beautiful, as always, and the excitement of returning to school was abundant throughout. Hermione, though, was really quite tired, andslipped out quietly as soon as the actual feast had begun. She wasn't hungry, and her thoughts were elsewhere.
"It's all that reading, I'm sure. Too much academic insanity, not enough sleep." she assured herself. She started out for the Gryffindor tower, but found her feet had a mind of their own. She began to wander other corridors, some of which she was quite positive she'd never been down before. It was about an hour, she guessed, before she realized that she was sort of lost. "Good going, genius."
She kept walking, trying to get down the right staircase, the right hall...anything to get her back into a familiar setting. Eventually, after two staircases and one long, dark tunnel of a hallway, Hermione found herself nearing the dungeons. At least now she could probably find her way to the Gryffindor common room. As she started for yet another staircase, this time one she recognized easily, she felt another wave of sleepiness hit her.
"Honestly, if I don't get to my bed soon…". Hermione never finished her thought. As she was rounding the corner, looking downward the entire time, she fell into some figure rushing from the other direction.
Hermione was knocked forcefully to the floor, pulling the other person down with her. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I was-". She stopped mid-sentence.
The smile on the oh-too-familiar face looking into hers was enough to cease her speech for the rest of her life.
"Somehow, Granger, I always knew you'd fall for me." Hermione cringed, refusing Draco's hand as he offered to help her up.
"Yes, I'm sure you've always known it, Malfoy. Goodnight."
Gathering the spilled contents of her satchel, she started to walk past him, heading for her common room once more, this time with purpose. Draco stopped her, grabbing her arm with his hand. He spun her around to face him.
"Malfoy, what do you want n-". Hermione's question was cut off my Draco's lips on hers.
The shock held Hermione in place for a moment, but after what seemed like an eternity, she found use of her arms again. Shoving Draco away from her, she looked at him, praying it was a glare that she was sending.
Smoothing herunruly hair back into place, she started off again. "Oh, come on, Granger." Draco called after her. Hermione kept walking, but quickened her pace to exit the corridor.
"One day, Granger, you won't have to pull away from me." Draco muttered to himself, sadly, before moving to the great hall.
Hermione found her way to Gryffindor tower, but just couldn't bring herself to go in. Staying in one place would probably make her sleep. And, if she fell asleep, she'd dream.
Oh, how real those dreams were becoming. She was always on some wet, icy, stone floor, shivering in the dark. There was someone there, and she'd felt him slip his arms around her, warmly, protectively. But, somewhere inside of her, she feared this stranger, almost like a familiar fear. In most of her dreams, she heard a snake, threateningly hissing somewhere nearby. And she never could stay in her dream long enough to make out the stranger's face. She would always wake up in a panicky fear, and it was wearing her out.
As Hermione reminisced over her visions, she found herself walking towards the first floor bathroom. "Oh, honestly." she sighed, finally losing patience with herself. "What am I doing here?"
"Naturally, I would choose Myrtle's bathroom. Good job, Mione.". Hermione laughed at herself. Glancing around nervously for any sign of Myrtle, she realized how quiet the restroom was. The sinks and pipes, almost always squeaking in some odd fashion, remained eerily still.
The young Gryffindor woman felt uneasy. She walked towards Myrtle's stall, hoping to hear the ghost sniffling.
"Hello? Myrtle?" The room remained silent. Hermioneknew she was beingridiculous. She decided to leave, hoping to put her overactive imagination to rest. With one last surveying glance, she started toward the exit. Bringing her eyes to the doorway in front of her, though, she had to stop dead in her tracks.
There was someone blocking her way out. It was a boy, and Hermione figured he couldn't be more than twenty. His short,somewhat shaggy hair was a deep coffee color, and it offset his flashing,black-green eyes.
Something in the way he carried himself, even perfectly still, made his mere presence seem commanding. Hermione couldn't really find anything jarring or creepy about him: the fact that he'd randomly appeared in front of her didn't win him any points, though.
Observing him more closely, she noticed he was smirking at her. She started to warily approach him. His eyes caught hers for a moment. Hermione took one step more, and the strange man suddenly faded from view. "Was he a ghost?"
Thoroughly convinced she'd lost her mind, Hermione started for the door, her goal to reach Gryffindor tower as fast as possible. Suddenly, a piece of wrinkled parchment fluttered down past her face, falling directly in front of her on the floor.
Suspicious, she knelt down to examine it. Picking it up, she felt how worn the paper actually was. Her eyebrows rose as she read the dark red ink:
The truth reveals itself. Soon
Hermione was puzzled beyond her realm of coherent thought. Then, without warning, the note she held wriggled, leapt from her hand,catching on fire midair,and fluttering to the ground in ashes.
Apparently, Hermione was the only one who would read that message. Utterly perplexed, and thoroughly convinced that she'd tapped into a realm of insanity, Hermione decided she might be better able to think about it all in the morning. She made her way to Gryffindor tower, determined to find her bed quickly and go to sleep.
The only person in the common room was Ron, who begged her to tell him if something was wrong. "Poor Ron," she thought, feeling guilty.
Climbing up the stairs, Hermione realized she could tell no one about what happened, just as she really couldn't share her dreams. "They'll think I'm crazy, which I probably am.God, it's so lonely hiding everythingfrom everyone."
Hermione bid Lavender goodnight, as she was still awake when Hermione slipped quietly into the room, careful to wake no one else up. Relaxing into her bed, Hermione prepared to face another night of stressful visions, only this time she was already in the right frame of mind.