Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Somewhere in Time	By : serpentinred Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 64474 -:- Recommendations : 6 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I don't make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 18
- 19
- 20
A/N: Huge thanks to my beta, LSMerlot! Many thanks to those of you who read, rated, and especially those of you who reviewed: Mr. Galion and Lady Miya!

Mr. Galion: Thanks, and hope you like this chapter, too!

~-0-~

Chapter 19

She thought she was ready to face the incessant giggling from Iris "cow" Parkinson. After all, she could always make herself feel better by imagining horrible things being bestowed on the annoying Slytherin. Not hard at all.

Not that the "cow" was not annoying before being sent off to St. Mungo's, but still. Being sent smug looks for more than thirty minutes was not a good time spent, especially when Hermione was trying to concentrate on besting Tom in a staring contest. That, in itself, was something else that annoyed the Gryffindor since said contest ended in a stalemate when they both realized that they had only five minutes to get to their Charms class.

Thoroughly annoyed, Hermione attempted to outrun him, which was impossible by default since he obviously ran faster than her, and they were both very nearly late for class. Taking another route was also out of the question since she did not have time to stall. By the time she reached the Charms classroom and slid into her seat, she was very tempted to hex a certain Tom Riddle.

One of these days now, one of these days, she was going to put him in his place. If possible, perhaps she could do the wizarding world a favor and get rid of a certain idiotic, hypocritical, annoying menace ahead of time or at least do him some harm. Harry and Ginny were already at St. Mungo's, so she did not have to worry about bringing disaster upon them. Draco ... well, she would just have to make it clear somehow that he had nothing to do with what she did.

To hell with the timeline.

Charms was, needless to say, not any fun. Augusta, as usual, was trying to get everyone in the room killed with her abysmal Charms skills. Iris kept turning around to shoot Hermione victorious smirks, which added fuel to Hermione's ever burning anger. It was apparent that the cow had heard about the rumors that were being spread around while she was at St. Mungo's and was determined to destroy any illusions Hermione might have.

Hermione wanted to scoff at what the girl was doing. Illusions? She snorted. Sure, Tom Riddle was knowledgeable, intelligent, charming, and extremely good-looking (which, in her opinion, should earn him a one-way ticket to Azkaban, regardless of what he was going to do in the future), but that certainly did not stop him from being an irritating, dominating, arrogant, ignorant, delusional prat.

So no, she merely wanted to rip Iris's hair out because ... because ... because the woman was taunting her. Yes, Iris whatever-her-middle-name-is Parkinson was taunting her. As if she, Hermione Jean Granger, cared if a cow were sitting next to him. Perhaps she should borrow Dumbledore's Pensieve (providing that he had one by now) and show Iris a memory of how Tom Riddle would look like in the future. That would certainly make Iris remove that hand on his arm immediately.

A vicious grin graced Hermione's features as she continued to imagine how Iris would react upon seeing how Lord Voldemort would look like, and that made her feel a lot better. Oh yes. That was very entertaining thought indeed.

At lunch, Iris was especially loud and laughed, in Hermione's opinion, way too exaggeratedly. Hermione wondered why they had not instilled a rule against laughing in such a fake and obviously provoking way. Nevertheless, she felt that she deserved a nice pat on the back; after all, she did talk animatedly with Joseph and Gareth without being boisterous to advertise how cheerful she was.

Of course she was cheerful. What was there not to be cheerful about?

The icing on the cake was when she walked out of the Great Hall, still chatting with Joseph about their Charms project due after the holidays. Tom and Iris trailed beside them with a couple of other Slytherins, neither of whom Hermione could place a name on (so they either died before she was born or were never intelligent enough to earn them higher ranks in Lord Voldemort's little group).

"Oh, did Granger become an item with Potter, too?" Iris asked Tom in a loud voice. "I thought she was dating Draco, although she and Potter certainly make a nice pair." It was immediately followed by her silly giggles.

"I wouldn't know," Tom answered, his dark eyes staring coldly at Joseph and Hermione.

As if she cared about his stupid mood swings. If she had no problem glaring back at him back in the Great Hall, did he really think she was going to get frightened by that look that made his Death Eaters cower at his feet? Well, that was the point: They were his Death Eaters, and she was not, nor did she plan on becoming one any time soon.

Taking a leaf out of Narcissa Malfoy's book, Hermione turned her head around and stared down her nose at the annoying witch, disregarding the other Slytherins.

Fleetingly, she became amused by the thought of those dimwits hexing her. She doubted Tom would join in since he had a "wonderful" reputation to uphold, and really, the rest of the little group was hardly a threat to her after seeing how they performed in class.

"Honestly, if chatting with someone indicates that they're an item, then maybe you, Parkinson, will be marrying Hogan next. We all saw how long he spoke to you just this morning. What did you do this time? Added some highly illegal potion to someone's pumpkin juice?"

She plastered a grin on her face, relishing in the uncomfortable look dawning on the Slytherin's features. Iris's eyes were darting between Hermione and Tom. Apparently, she did not want him finding out what she had done. There were no doubts in Hermione's mind by now that Iris was definitely not one of Tom's Knights, neither did he trust her enough to tell her his little secrets nor showed her what was beneath that facade of innocence.

Somehow, that made Hermione feel slightly better. Composing herself, she focused on Iris again.

In a softer but no less arrogant voice, she then added, "I'd be careful if I were you, Parkinson. You never know what might happen when you try to push someone too far down the line."

She thought she saw a glint of amusement pass through Tom's eyes, but she did not have the urge to speculate or check. So, after giving Iris a long, hard stare, she turned on her heels and marched towards the Gryffindor tower with Joseph chuckling beside her.

"Learned that from Malloy?" he inquired as they walked through the portrait hole.

"Pardon?"

"I was just wondering, since the way you blackmailed and threatened her sounded very Slytherin to me," Joseph commented, slouching into one of the armchairs.

"Don't be silly, Joseph," she chided, sitting down in an armchair herself.

Why must these people always pair her up with one of the Slytherins? For Merlin's sake! Her boyfriend was a Gryffindor, through and through. Well, yes ... he could be a coward at times, but that did not count; it was Riddle manipulating him.

She then blocked out the rest of the bad memories of Ron, which was made more difficult by the sounds of a certain dark-haired, bespectacled young man chuckling. She knew that there was nothing she could say to make Joseph see sense. Therefore, she told him she had to finish a Potions essay for that afternoon and proceeded to escape the common room. Rolling her eyes at his immaturity, she strolled towards the library, glad that there was at least one place in the whole castle that was still a sanctuary.

"Miss Granger!"

She looked up and found Slughorn striding towards her.

"Hello, Professor," she greeted him.

"Good day, Miss Granger," he replied in a bubbly tone of voice. "Lovely day ... you don't have a class this period, I presume."

"No, sir," she answered with a slight nod.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "Would you be a dear and take these books to Tom for me? I promised to give these to him this morning, but I was a bit ... preoccupied, and I do have a class waiting for me right now."

She nibbled her lower lip, contemplating on rejecting him, but the look on Slughorn's face was telling: He would never expect a "star student" to say "no." Additionally, he gave her a wink, which very nearly made her raise her eyebrows; she had thought that Tom explained things to the professor already. Why was he still giving her those gooseflesh-inducing winks?

Nevertheless, it was clear to her that there was no way out of it.

"Of course, Professor," she responded slowly, "but ... I don't know what class he's in right now."

After finding out that Tom was supposedly in the North Tower, taking his Divinations class, they parted ways. Hermione was left with five volumes of rather heavy books and a rekindling irritation at the prospect of seeing him an hour earlier than she should.

So much for sanctuary.

Life really, really sucked.

~-0-~

Draco lounged in his chair, annoyed with his decision to take Divinations.

Why, just why had he decided to take the stupid course in the forties just because Sparkles in the Eyes said so? So what if he passed the test? He could have just voiced his disagreement, saying that he did not take the course back in the future.

Professor Nostredame was certainly no Trelawney—Draco snorted upon remembering that old fraud—but that was precisely the reason. He had taken the course because it was abysmally easy, but now ... Nostredame knew his stuff and expected his students to learn things, too. Draco heaved a sigh and glared at the crystals sitting on the professor's table. They were obviously going to learn all about crystal balls today, and Draco Malfoy was certainly not looking forward to that.

"Did you do your homework for this class?" Abraxas asked, sliding into the seat next to him.

He nodded, making a face.

"This is ridiculous. Not everyone's cut out to be a Seer," Draco commented, thoroughly disgruntled about his homework.

His "masterpiece" resembled some kind of stupid horror fairytale, and he was sure that when it was returned to him, it would include a bunch of red marks indicating where he had erred.

Abraxas shrugged nonchalantly to his comment, a look of boredom on his face, and Draco had a hunch that he signed up for the class simply because the Dark Lord was taking it.

Sneakily, Draco shot a glance at Riddle, who had his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at his homework. Annoyance reignited again as Draco remembered whose fault it was that he was stuck in the same dormitory as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Well, he could not exactly say that he was not pleased when he ended up in his old House again—it was certainly better than Hufflepuff, or even worse, Gryffindor—but at least old Sparkly could have warned him in advance about what could happen. The things he had to go through ...

Draco shook his head, unwilling to think about what had happened, and concentrated on what his grandfather had to say. Before Abraxas could speak again, however, the door behind the professor's table—which probably led to the professor's chamber—opened, and Nostredame entered the classroom, a stern look on his face and gold-rimmed eyeglasses perched on the rim of his nose.

"We will be learning about crystal balls today. First, however, your homeworks," Nostredame said, his dark, fathomless eyes as determined as usual.

He flicked his wand around; the parchments flew through the air and landed on top of his extended right hand in a neat pile.

"Mr. Goyle, copying a different sentence from different friends will not go undetected, regardless of if I am a Seer or not. I will not take off House points this time, but you will write me a three-feet essay regarding the role wind plays in Divinations," the professor stared pointedly at the man who was nearly an exact copy of the future Goyle.

Ignoring the complaints coming from Goyle, Nostredame stalked back to his table and picked up a diamond-shaped crystal.

"Now, who can tell me about crystals?"

A couple of hands shot up into the air, and Parkinson was chosen. Draco snorted in disbelief that the woman would dare attempt to answer. Honestly, he was surprised she made it all the way to seventh year in the first place.

Thankfully, her looks made up for her brain capacity.

Giving the Dark Lord what she must have thought was a flirtatious smile, Iris cleared her throat and spoke, "Crystals have been known to hold different memories throughout history. Some foreign wizards often use crystals to retrieve information from people who had owned them. The energy of crystals can also be channeled with that of the earth's to create a visual, however vague it might be, about the future."

Draco raised an eyebrow, mildly amused by her performance. Apparently, she felt more threatened by Granger than she had been showcasing, since her posture and way of talking strongly resembled Granger's in more ways than one. She probably thought that expressing some form of intelligence would impress the Dark Lord. Not that Draco blamed her, but the mere thought of the Dark Lord fancying Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born witch, best friend of Harry Potter, was enough for him to laugh for days, though he never doubted the possibility of that—after all, Granger was intelligent, and the Dark Lord always valued talent and those who were useful to him. Draco shuddered at the thought of Hermione on the Dark Lord's side—Potty would have lost in a heartbeat.

Nostredame was clearly taken aback by Iris giving a correct answer for once since he paused briefly before opening his mouth again.

"Excellent answer, Miss Parkinson. Ten points to Slytherin," he awarded her.

She sat back down, her face expectant as she glanced at the Dark Lord again, and it brightened up when the object of her affection gave her a faint smile. Sadly enough, she did not notice the fact that the smile never reached his eyes.

"Crystals come in different shapes and sizes. Remember this: Shape does not determine the energy that it holds," Nostredame lectured. He picked up a heart-shaped crystal that was noticeably larger than the diamond-shaped one. "For example," he held up the diamond-shaped crystal, "this one holds more energy than the other one. How do we know? We let the energy flow into our body and detect it."

A couple of the Slytherin boys groaned along with Draco. All of this was too vague for them to comprehend. He had tried that before with tea cups four classes ago and had gotten a bunch of rubbish. According to the cup, he was supposed to be drenched in rain and then chased after by a bunch of ghosts last week. Fortunately, none of that happened.

"Different crystals have different usages," Nostredame continued. He placed the crystals in his hands back on the table and picked up a crystal ball. "Crystal balls are commonly used for seeing visions of the future. That is because their shape is approximately the same as the earth's, making the process of channeling the energy simpler." His eyes roamed over the students. "Would any of you like to try?"

Iris's hand immediately went up in the air. Apparently, Nostredame was surprised but happy about the enthusiasm she was showing today, so she was again chosen to assist him. He traveled down the aisle and placed the crystal ball in his hand on the stand on top of her table.

"Now, concentrate on feeling the atmosphere around you. When you feel like you can grasp onto some tendrils of the energy that passes through you, force it out of your body by your will and channel it into the crystal ball. Remember, you must concentrate on the task on hand," Nostredame instructed.

Iris closed her eyes. Draco, on the other hand, leaned back on his chair again, pretty sure that nothing would happen for a good amount of time. Perhaps he could even take a nap first.

Therefore, he was amazed when Iris's eyes opened and she stared intently into the crystal ball as if she were trying to find something beneath its smooth surface.

The rest of the class kept silent, but Draco noticed that the Dark Lord had leaned slightly closer to Iris, his eyes curious and alert at the same time.

"It ... it looks like a lion," she muttered, furrowing her eyebrows and trying to determine what she was seeing. "No, more like a lioness."

"Go on, dear," Nostredame encouraged.

"Yes," Iris replied, her forehead creasing even more. "But ... it's not very clear."

"Concentrate on channeling more of the Earth's energy into you, but without your eyes closed," Nostredame advised, staring into the crystal ball.

Even Draco's attention was on Iris now because it was apparent that Nostredame could see what Iris was seeing, and he had yet to make a correction on what she was describing.

"There's a mark on the lioness," spoke Iris, her eyes never leaving the crystal ball.

"A mark? Is it a wound?" Lilian Brown asked, her eyes shining with curiosity and fear at the same time—she was from the House of the Lions, after all.

"No, it's ... it's some kind of branding, or sign," Iris explained, narrowing her eyes. "It looks like a skull." Suddenly, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips before her expression changed to that of a frightened one. "Oh ... does it mean that the Slytherins and Gryffindors are going to harm one another, Professor?" She stared at Nostredame as if she were seeking for guidance. "Does it mean ... someone from Slytherin might ... might kill a Gryffindor?"

"What is it? What do you see?" Betty Bulstrode asked.

Draco would have rolled his eyes at Iris's pathetic attempt at acting under other situations, but at the moment, he was curious about what she saw.

"There's ... there's a snake coming out of the mouth of the skull!" Iris finished dramatically.

A couple of things happened immediately after this declaration. Some of the girls in the room gasped. Draco's hand immediately flew over to his left forearm as his eyes widened in shock. The Dark Lord abruptly stood up from his chair, causing a squeaking sound to echo through the room; his face was falsely impassive, but his eyes turbulent. A couple of the Slytherin young men shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, Abraxas being one of them, attempting to get a clearer look at the crystal ball.

It took Draco a couple of seconds, but the moment he became conscious of where his hand was covering, he allowed it to drop, thankful that everyone's attention was still on Iris.

The Dark Lord moved behind Iris, his actions controlled, and an expression of interest spread across his face. He leaned forward, looking over Iris's shoulder, much to her pleasure.

"How strange that certain individuals can see visions from a crystal ball and others can't," he commented softly.

It was obviously a cover-up for his sudden action, and it successfully fooled most of the people in the room. Grudgingly, Draco had to admit that if he had not known in advance that this was the young Dark Lord, he would have believed in that look of fascination on his face. However, after so many encounters with He-Who-Must-Be-Named, Draco could clearly see that he was unsettled: Apparently, what Iris saw alarmed the Dark Lord.

What did the Dark Mark on a lioness mean?

"What else do you see?" the Dark Lord asked, placing his hands on Iris's shoulders, and he leaned even closer to her to the point that it almost seemed as if he were about to embrace her.

A look of glee flashed over her face, and she stared into the crystal ball again, presumably hoping she could find something else to tell the Dark Lord.

However, another female's voice spoke up coldly and interrupted.

"Funny, I've always wondered exactly why everyone wanted to take Divinations when it is clear that not everyone can be a Seer."

Draco whipped his head around and found Hermione Granger standing at the doorway, her arms crossed in front of her chest and her expression that of a predator ready to pounce.

Lioness, indeed, he thought absentmindedly.

With a start, he wondered if the lioness in the crystal were referring to Hermione. Did it mean that the Dark Lord might somehow ... kill Granger?

"It appears that I've finally found the answer, or perhaps I'm in the wrong classroom?" she continued icily, her eyes traveling between the Dark Lord and Iris and landing on the hands that were still on Iris's shoulders. "I thought this was supposed to be the Divinations classroom and there was a classgoing on here."

Draco blinked; he suddenly had the urge to clear out his ears to check if he was hearing things right. Why did it almost sound as if Hermione were jealous?

The rest of the class remained quiet. Even the girls who usually taunted Hermione did not speak up—although it probably was because they were lacking their ringleaders. Mildred did not take that class, and Iris was busy drooling over the Dark Lord.

Professor Nostredame cleared his throat softly, catching Hermione's attention and breaking through the uncomfortable silence, but she did not appear to be shaken by his presence at all.

Well, she did walk out of Trelawney's class before, so this probably was not too big of a deal to her.

"May I help you, Miss Granger?" he asked.

Nostredame seemed to be more forgiving than Trelawney, too.

"Professor Slughorn asked me to bring some books over to our Head Boy," she explained, saying the last two words with emphasis.

Draco did not know whether Nostredame heard the subtle mocking undertones, but if he did, he did not show it.

"Ah, I see," he replied and indicated with his hand for Hermione to proceed.

She strode over to where the Dark Lord and Iris were, opened her bag, pulled out five enormous books, and threw them on the table with distinctive thumps.

"Good day, Professor," she chimed and strutted out of the classroom without a second look at the Dark Lord or Iris, slamming the door shut behind her.

The loud bang brought Draco back to his senses, and he looked over to where the Dark Lord and Iris were. Iris looked absolutely thrilled about the situation while the Dark Lord stared at the closed door with slightly narrowed eyes. From three tables away, Draco could taste his displeasure, even if no one else noticed.

A shiver ran down his spine as the professor asked for another volunteer to look into the crystal ball.

Things were getting far too complicated for Draco Malfoy's taste.

~-0-~

The tension hardly diminished throughout the entire day. Iris had requested for Tom's help during Defense class, leaving Draco as her partner. Therefore, though Hermione managed to pretend that a certain Slytherin duo did not exist, it was quite impossible to do that during Herbology.

The good thing about that class was the fact that she did not have to hear Iris's voice at all, seeing that she did not take the class. The bad thing was, although Professor Ferns was, luckily, not one of those professors who tried to make the two of the supposed lovers work together, Hermione still had to endure He-Who-Should-Be-Castrated's presence since his working area was right next to hers.

The last class of the day was the one she dreaded the most. Although Slughorn probably would not mention about them being a pair after Tom spoke to him—at least, Hermione hoped he would not—she still had to work with Tom. She was not in the mood to face him for the whole entire hour. It was honestly enough that she had to endure Iris's giggles already, but Hermione was positive that she would also make snide remarks if Tom were to work on the assignment with her. Therefore, she kept her eyes on her Potions textbook when the door opened and the object of her irritation entered the classroom.

She let out a nearly inaudible growl when he sat down beside her, though she could not help but be slightly surprised. Strangely enough, Iris was not hanging onto his arm like a demented monkey. In fact, she was nowhere in sight. Half of Hermione's mind was curious about why—the woman could not keep her hands off Tom, so why stop now?—however, she was definitely not going to ask him.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him cast a quick look around the room; it did not escape her notice that his Knights nodded to him when he caught their eyes. Subtly, everyone in the room was soon talking and "conveniently" not noticing what was going on at Hermione and Tom's table.

He suddenly grabbed her arms and pulled her towards him. It would have been easy for her to raise her voice and alert everyone in the room, but her pride would not allow her to do that, and she was sure he knew, which was why he chose to talk to her right then and there instead of cornering her in one of the empty corridors. Therefore, she stared right back at him.

"Whatis your problem?" she hissed venomously.

"That was precisely what I was going to ask you, Granger," he hissed right back.

"I don't have one," she growled.

"Yes, you do, and you should bloody well mind your attitude around me," he warned, narrowing his eyes.

"Do I really, now?" she asked, grinning humorlessly. "What else should I do while I'm at it, Your Highness? Clean the floors? Wash the clothes? Make your bed? Prepare your meal?"

His eyes momentarily flashed red at her words, but she had had enough of him already, and she refused to look away. It was just like what happened back in the Great Hall at breakfast, and they were finally forced to stop their battle again when the door to the dungeons opened and Slughorn entered the classroom. Tom quickly released her and sat in his chair as if nothing had happened.

When Slughorn passed by Hermione's desk, he stopped and stooped down until he was right next to her ear.

"Did everything work out between you and Tom?" he asked in a soft voice.

So Slughorn thought that making her take those books over to Tom would give her a chance to work things out with him. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"Somewhat," she answered vaguely, not wanting to give him another reason to meddle in their ... relationship.

Slughorn gave her a pat on the shoulders before leaving her side. She heaved a sigh and resolutely ignored the cold glares Lord Need-A-Life was giving her.

After Slughorn gave out a short lecture about the potion they were going to brew today, he waved his wand, and a set of instructions appeared on the board.

Surprisingly, despite being irritated with Hermione, Tom still went to the supply cabinet to get the needed ingredients.

"Professor," Iris called out in what she probably thought was a sweet voice after Tom returned to his seat.

Hermione already had an inkling about what it was going to be about, so after muttering a short "Thanks" to Tom, she grabbed a unicorn horn and started cutting it into squares, pretending that it was Iris and Tom's faces.

"Yes, Iris?" Slughorn asked.

"Can Tom help me with the potion? I wasn't here for the past few weeks, and I'm not really sure I can work it out by myself," she requested, lowering her eyelids and hiding her eyes from view.

Yeah, sure. Let's do what we did in Defense class again. "Tom, how do I hold the wand? Can you show me?" and then grabbing his hand and making him hold her hand. Well, I'll teach her an easier way for Potions. One, light the fire. Two, wait till the water boils. Three, stuff thy head into the cauldron. There, Hermione thought viciously, gritting her teeth.

"Well ... er ... I guess so," Slughorn replied slowly. "As long as Hermione doesn't mind, that is." He looked at Hermione apologetically.

"Of course," she immediately answered, not even bothering to look up from the process of unicorn horn mutilation. "He can help Iris. I'm sure she'd need all the help she can get, since she did miss the classes."

And please help her with her psychological problems while you're at it. She'll need a lot of help in that particular area, she mentally added.

"Thanks, Hermione," the Potions professor smiled at her.

Excellent. That means I get to spend less time withhim, Hermione thought, giving Slughorn a rather forced smile as Tom made his way to the other side of the room.

She pointedly kept her eyes on the potion ingredient and ignored the silly giggles to the best of her abilities.

"Try not to crush that into powder, Granger. We still need them for the potion, and they won't work if they're not in squares," Draco drawled, sliding into the seat beside her.

Hermione stared at the unicorn horn, which was just short of becoming fine powder, before she looked at the blond beside her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"You do need a partner, don't you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He paused before leaning a bit closer to her. "Are you alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" she huffed, glancing back at the ingredients and avoiding the scene on the other side of the room as best as she could.

"Today in Divinations—"

"I was annoyed with Iris," she immediately cut in.

"Yes, but it seemed to be more out of jealousy than ..." he trailed off, watching Hermione's expression carefully.

"Malloy," she called his temporary surname warningly, and with emphasis on each word, she said, "I have Ron already."

But clearly, her tone of voice did not frighten him. On the contrary, a smirk appeared on his pale, pointed face.

"Ah, yes. The Weasel King. How can I forget about him?"

A look of astonishment appeared on Draco's face when all Hermione did was roll her eyes at his "endearment" for her boyfriend. Composing himself and storing that little piece of information away for future reference, he waited for Hermione to say something.

But she didn't. Silence settled between them as she threw the unicorn horn squares into the cauldron and watched the water turn a silvery-pink color. Draco did not press the issue any further; he grabbed a pinch of star lilies and started to shred them into strands.

"The earlier we return home, the better," Hermione muttered as her eyes finally landed on Tom, who was stirring the cauldron with a ladle as Iris attempted to strike up a conversation with him. "I can't wait to see Ron again."

And that was precisely what she tried to tell herself throughout the entire class.

~-0-~
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Somewhere in Time