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The Apprentice	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 62961 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The Apprentice

Chapter Twenty-Five

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...”

The note, she made in her tiny scrawl to be able to dissect the sentences and words more properly, lay next to her; but her mind wasn’t on the wording of the prophecy right now.

Grumbling, she flipped through the pages of “How to train your Inner Eye”. She had four Hogwarts’ Divination textbooks stacked up next to her – none of them hers and none of them helpful. She’d raided Harry’s trunk for them since she’d dropped Divination and after he and Ron (who did take the stupid subject) had been unable to supply her with answers to, quite frankly in her opinion, not that hard questions. All they did was stare at her with a dumbfounded “uh” expression.

Useless, the both of them.

So, it hadn’t taken long before her three companions in the room had found excuses to leave her and her angry comments about all silly things called Divination alone to go outside and play some more Quidditch. She’d heard Ron say to someone “to not go in there, because Hermione is in her scary mode”, but Mrs. Weasley had brought her tea and biscuits anyway.

She glared at the book while finishing the last of the delicious cookies. This book had seemed the most promising after all. Surely, in a book that was supposed to train an Inner Eye –she snorted– there should be some reference material to the validity of said Inner Eye.

But nooooo, apparently, you were to take it all at face value. No footnotes, no cross-referencing, no mentioning of any other literature except for the couple of ancient volumes of famous Seers (whose books only described their prophecies anyway), no research or tests – it all reminded her why she’d dropped the insane subject in the first place. How could someone who was supposed to be oh sointelligent – she rolled her eyes at recalling his smug and haughty expression – act on this nonsense?

‘Bullocks,’ she sneered, staring into thin air annoyed. ‘Oh see,’ she said, pretending to be Trelawney while waving her teacup theatrically in the air as if she was showing it to an audience, ‘behold, my tea leaves are signalling the coming of coffee in my life.’

A chuckle sounded behind her, and she froze in her ridiculous pose. ‘Thinking of changing your curriculum, Miss Granger?’ Dumbledore asked, amused.

‘Not for a second,’ she grumbled, tossing the book away and looking in his direction. ‘The subject is useless.’ Let’s get together and sing, tralala.

‘Divination is a controversial subject,’ he replied, nodding seriously. ‘But we’d do best to remember that, despite our opinions, there will always be people glancing at their coffee beans for answers to their problems,’ he ended with a twinkle.

‘Oh, now my coffee is tainted, too,’ Hermione sighed humorously, dropping her head.

Dumbledore chuckled. ‘I apologise sincerely. Now, I have spoken with Molly to inform her of your lessons, and we can start right now if you’re ready?’

She scrambled to her feet eagerly, nodding her head. ‘Of course I am.’

Though, she did have one issue to raise before they started, like how was she going to keep her confidentiality agreement if she’d let Albus Dumbledore in her mind. She just had to figure out how to ask it without screwing up her chances of getting the lessons altogether.

And warble a song about spring. Spring, spring, spring. Mentally, she cursed the individual who’d reminded her there was always something much, much worse than the Beatles to get stuck with in your mind. This is the season to sing.

‘Then, please, follow me. If it’s not too much trouble with your eye – something of Fred and George’s caused it, I assume?’ he concluded, chuckling.

‘A punching telescope,’ she explained, smiling.

Hermione followed Dumbledore down the stairs, but instead of going to the backdoor, he walked on. ‘Aren’t we going to the outhouse again, sir?’

‘No, I wanted to, but Molly wouldn’t have it. She insisted we use the living room.’ Dumbledore ushered her in, while casting a Silencing Charm over the entire room.

To Hermione’s surprise, the living room wasn’t empty. On one of the couches sat an elderly, stately witch with medium-length, curly, white hair, though Hermione did spot a few grey flecks in there. Her robes were an unusual dark yellow colour, which brought out the most striking feature of the woman: her strange, piercing, amber, wolf-like eyes. Seeing the intensity in those eyes, Hermione was almost absolutely certain she was dealing with another Master in Legilimency and averted her eyes immediately.

Get into the mood and be merry today. Blasted sing, sing, sing. Someone should shoot those composers today. Tralala.

‘Hermione, I’d like you to meet my fellow Keeper, Ljudmila Volkova,’ Dumbledore introduced them, while Ljudmila rose from the couch. Hermione noted they were about the same height. ‘Ljudmila, this is Hermione Granger.’

‘Nice to meet you, ma’am,’ Hermione said.

She held out her hand carefully, seeing how the old lady’s hand seemed very fragile and easy to break. But when their hands were inches apart, a feeling of static electricity jolted between them. Only it was more powerful than any static jolt she’d ever felt before in her life.

Hermione yelped in pain, withdrawing her hand while shaking it to get rid of the uncomfortable, prickling sensation. Volkova, on the other hand, had taken to get as far away from Hermione as possible, standing against the living room wall with her wolf eyes wide and shifting colour. Fur began to appear on her face.

‘What for Merlin’s sake!’ Dumbledore cursed, jumping between them with his wand drawn and raising some form of magical barricade. ‘Ljudmila?’

The woman morphed back and forth between half-human and half-Animagus form, like she couldn’t decide what to be. She held up her hand-paw-hand to signal to Albus to wait. He turned to Hermione, who rubbed her hand vigorously. ‘Hermione?’

‘I can’t feel my hand anymore,’ she replied, worried. ‘And it’s getting worse. My fingers won’t move as I want them to.’

Concerned, Dumbledore looked at her hand. He stepped closer, and Hermione held out her slowly blue-turning hand. He took a hold of her wrist and raised his wand.

‘Don’t do anything, Albus,’ Ljudmila barked. ‘You’ll make it worse.’

He turned his head to the full-blown wolf. ‘What’s happening, Ljudmila?’

‘Give me a moment to adjust; I’ll fix it.’

‘Her hand turned blue and it’s ice-cold,’ Albus retorted. ‘I am afraid she’s going to lose it if I don’t stop it now.’

‘In a minute,’ Ljudmila growled; coming from her wolf’s mouth, it sounded incredibly menacing.

Her amber eyes flashed bright yellow. A white glow erupted from the centre of her being and evolved until it fully surrounded her. The power pulsed around her like an aura. Hermione staggered back, and Dumbledore just caught her from tumbling to the ground.

‘Ljudmila, stop it!’ he shouted warningly, casting another protective shield around the now ghostly white Hermione. ‘Whatever it is you’re doing, stop it!’

The wolf tilted its head back and howled. Despite the elaborate shielding, Hermione shivered in his arms. A desperate, agonised cry left her lips.

Dumbledore raised his wand at Hermione to stop whatever it was that was obviously killing the girl. A jet of red struck him in his back, and he flew through the air, crashing into the sideboard and breaking several bottles of Firewhiskey and some glasses. No longer supported by his arms, Hermione fell to the floor, trembling relentlessly.

‘I said, don’t touch her,’ Ljudmila barked.

She closed her eyes and dropped her head; the white aura flew back inside of her, like mist travelling to her heart. Slowly, the wolf rose on its back legs and shifted back to human form. Her still yellow eyes snapped open; she whipped out her wand, and ran to Hermione, dropping to her knees beside the now still figure. Brown eyes watched her fearfully, while drops of sweat leaked from her forehead into her bushy hair.

‘Don’t worry, dear. You’ll be fine, but … this will hurt,’ Ljudmila warned her, and then, she pushed her hand on Hermione’s chest and forced that same white mist inside.

A howl left Hermione’s lips as all her muscles contracted simultaneously. Her body lifted slightly off the ground, and she crashed down when the witch removed her hand. Breathing heavily, Hermione shook all over. Cautiously, she checked out her limbs. Her hand was no longer blue, and sensation had returned to it. She could move again. She could move again.

She closed her eyes for a moment to grab a hold of herself and regain control. When she was sure she wasn’t going to fall apart, she opened them again and saw Albus Dumbledore standing above her, looking down concerned, while Ljudmila Volkova observed her with sheer joy written all over her face. The witch held out her hand to Hermione, who quirked an eyebrow at the gesture.

‘It’s safe now,’ Volkova reassured her. ‘I wasn’t expecting it the first time we tried to touch.’

Somehow, Hermione just knew she could take the woman at her word, and she took her fragile-appearing, wrinkled hand carefully. She got surprised by the firm grip she received back and the ease in which the witch pulled her to a standing position. The small, skinny witch was a lot stronger than she seemed at first glance.

Deceptive appearance, she noted. Music’s a wonderful thing.

‘Well,’ Ljudmila said smiling, ‘now that all the excitement is over. It’s nice to meet you officially, too, Hermione. And please call me Ljudmila. Ma’am makes me feel like a woman of my age.’ She chuckled.

Hermione gave her a weak smile back. What on earth had just happened? She was about to ask when Professor Dumbledore beat her to it.

‘What did you do, Ljudmila?’

‘It wasn’t so much what I did, as what I didn’t prevent. It’s been so long since this happened to me – I dropped my guard.’ She turned to Hermione. ‘I am sorry. Most people don’t respond to the power, and I know what it is like to be on the receiving end of it. I didn’t mean to do it to you. I hope you can forgive me.’

Slowly, Hermione nodded. ‘Of course. It was an accident, and you did help me afterward,’ she said reasonably. ‘But why did I react to it? Whatever it is.’

‘I’ll tell you if you make Keeper, otherwise I ca–’

‘She’ll be Obliviated of the knowledge if she doesn’t gain the position,’ Dumbledore interrupted, a curious look in his eyes. ‘You can tell her.’

Ljudmila turned and faced him. ‘Yes, you’re right. I can tell her. However, the information is only handed down to those it concerns. Others, including you, Albus, are not entitled to the knowledge,’ she said briskly before turning to Hermione. ‘Once I am positive you’ve gained enough control over your compartmentalising skills to use it in an attacking capability, I will tell you what just happened and what it may one day mean for you. Until then, I can’t risk the knowledge getting into Tom, Albus, or any other Master of Legilimency’s hands.’

‘Okay,’ agreed Hermione rather rapidly.

She positively gloated over the fact that something was kept from Albus Dumbledore that, for once, she didn’t mind at all about not getting the answer straight away herself.

‘Now, let’s all sit down,’ Ljudmila suggested. ‘It talks easier and we don’t need to stand during.’ She took her own words at heart and sat down back in the couch. Dumbledore, who plucked thoughtfully on his beard, took the sagging armchair near the hearth, but Hermione glanced at the couch doubtfully.

‘Sorry to be so bold,’ she started, ‘but – er…– if you two take up spaces at other ends of the room that sort of leaves me with the dilemma of where to keep my eyes on.’

Ljudmila laughed. ‘What tipped you off?’

‘It’s in the eyes … and Professor Dumbledore did mention your name as another Master this morning when he spoke of his effortless Stage One Legilimency.’

‘Well, despite that I am a Master, too, I assure you that stupid little gay spring song in your mind is doing the trick just fine, and you have my word I’ll avoid entering your mind from now on, unless we need to for your lesson.’

‘You can also do Legilimency without trying,’ Hermione recalled, but she sat down anyway. There was something about the woman that just screamed sincerity when she made that promise. Still, she wondered why Dumbledore felt the need to bring another Master along. Couldn’t he teach her on his own? Or was this some attempt to flush out what she’d been doing at Voldemort’s place?

‘Yes,’ Ljudmila replied to her statement about her Legilimency abilities. ‘But I’ve also learnt to suppress it. Some of us,’ she glanced at Albus with a smug smirk, ‘have more control over it than others.’

Albus Dumbledore chuckled. ‘Don’t hold back, Ljudmila. Just say what you mean.’

Volkova winked. ‘You’ll learn to control those impulses one day, Albus. I am sure of it. All you have to do is want them to stop.’

‘You do know that’s really not helpful, do you, Ljudmila?’

‘It’s the best I can do, dear. You have to figure those things out on your own.’

Oh great, another person with an aptitude for cryptic statements. Like she needed any more of those in her life.

Though, Hermione had to admit it was nice to see Dumbledore be on the receiving end for a chance. Speaking of Dumbledore, the moment she thought that, he turned to his attention to her. Let’s sing a gay little spring song.

‘Now, you’re probably curious as to why Ljudmila is here, and it is not just you and me?’

Hermione nodded. ‘Was there a problem in the Council over you teaching me?’

Dumbledore smiled. ‘No, not yet. They’re unaware of it for now, and we’ll like to keep it that way for as long as we can. The less they know the better.’

‘Then, why involve a third party? I thought you said they couldn’t object to you giving me extracurricular activities, because of Hogwarts; but if another Keeper helps…’ she trailed off, holding her hands out wide.

‘Ah,’ said Albus triumphantly, ‘but Ljudmila kindly accepted my offer to become the next Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, so she can help us out in that capacity instead of in her Keeper role.’

‘Well, you were rather persistent.’ Ljudmila grinned.

Hermione looked stunned. Wasn’t that job practically impossible to fill for all these years, and now, he had found a replacement for Severus Snape within a week’s time? And not just any replacement, but a Keeper? Why hadn’t he asked her before, instead of saddling them up with the likes of Umbridge and Lockhart, if she was available for the job?

‘Oh, you just enjoy the idea of taking a cursed position. The moment I told you of the curse on the job, you practically danced around in joy and forced me to sign your contract immediately.’ Albus grinned back at the elderly witch fondly.

Curse? As in a real one? That wasn’t some stupid rumour?

‘Well, as I told you Albus, I’ve always wanted to try out a cursed position,’ Ljudmila sniggered. ‘And I do love a challenge, so why not start with one of Tom’s?’

Dumbledore snorted.

‘What!’ Hermione snapped, jumping to her feet, startling them. ‘He-he cursed the Defence position? Voldemort?’ She glared in Dumbledore’s direction furiously.

‘Yes,’ he replied, watching her calmly. ‘After I turned Tom down for the job, we never were able to keep a teacher for longer than a year’s time. Things kept happening to them, bad things. It’s a bit too coincidental for it not to have been his doing.’

She blinked, not wanting to believe her ears and what it all meant. ‘And you gave that job to Professor Snape, knowing that bad things happen to those who take it?’

‘How do you know Severus took the position? We hadn’t made it official yet.’

‘Professor Snape told me. And don’t avoid the question, did you give that job to Professor Snape knowing Voldemort cursed it, while you had him spy for you on the man?’ she asked, getting more and more angry by the minute.

She’d never liked the greasy bat. His death hadn’t even upset her very much. She’d tried to be sad, because well… she felt morally obliged to feel sad, knowing he was a part of the Order and supposedly tried to help them, but she hadn’t really felt it.

Snape had been cruel to her, Harry, Neville, and undoubtedly many others. It was something she was unable to forget or forgive. But this bit of new information was just–just unbelievable. You didn’t do that to people, no matter what or who they were.

‘I asked Severus and he said yes.’

‘Of course he said yes, everyone knows he always wanted to teach Defence, and … oh…’ she slammed her hand in front of her mouth in realisation.

‘Superstitions and old wives’ tales.’

Snape’s voice echoed in her mind. Hermione clenched her fists when she realised what that meant. He hadn’t known about the curse and who’d cast it, or he would never have made that statement to Lord Voldemort.

‘If you say so.’

She could still recall Voldemort’s amusement in his reply. An amusement she had felt was rather odd at the time.

‘So, dear Albus handed you an obviously cursed position … interesting.’

And he had known Dumbledore knew. Everyone seemed to know, but the person who had the most right on the information.

‘Did you tell him?’ asked Hermione softly, already knowing the answer but unable to convey that information.

‘Severus knew there was an issue with the Defence position. As Potions Master, he had seen the coming and going of all those who held that job before him, and he also knew the risks involved going back to Lord Voldemort on our behalf.’

‘That’s not what I asked. I asked if you told him the job he accepted was cursed by the same man you had him spy upon. But I suppose I needn’t wait for the answer. It’s pretty obvious it has to be no, otherwise you wouldn’t have to use word games and would have just said that he knew.’

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, and for the first time in her life, she felt absolutely disgusted with Albus Dumbledore.

‘I needed him to take the job, Hermione,’ Dumbledore replied softly. ‘If he’d known who had cursed it, he wouldn’t have taken the position, and the Ministry would have sent Dolores back. Under no circumstance could I allow that to happen.’

‘Why not? You didn’t mind her torturing students the first time around,’ Hermione snapped. ‘And maybe his curse would have killed her, then.’

Visuals of Miss Pink dying a horrible, painful death almost made Hermione’s anger subside, until she recalled it wasn’t going to happen.

‘I didn’t plan Severus’s death, Hermione; somewhere down the line of next school year, Severus would have had to leave Hogwarts to maintain his cover with Tom. I thought it would be enough to satisfy the curse since it is set upon the teachers losing their job, not necessarily their lives.’

‘Well, that wasn’t the case with Severus Snape, was it? And Quirrell didn’t make it either, so you can’t really claim ignorance,’ Hermione snarled. ‘You know, at least with Lord Voldemort, you expect the burst of green light to come for you. With you, people always have to wonder if there’s not something sticking in their backs when they exit the room. I can’t believe you had the nerve to give Professor Snape tha–’

Ljudmila Volkova’s cough interrupted her.

Hermione swirled around to her, her eyes ablaze.

‘As much as I understand your anger, Hermione, seeing you were a witness to his death and unable to stop it,’ Ljudmila said softly, ‘but we can’t change what happened. We can only move forward and ...’ –she held up her hand to stop Hermione from responding– ‘though I can sense you’re both feeling guilty, I’d like to remind you both that neither Albus nor you killed Severus. It was Tom. Now, we are wasting precious time of the fourteen days we have to teach you compartmentalisation as a weapon, so I suggest we begin.’

Her eyes went from Hermione to Albus, waiting for them to respond when suddenly…

Bang!

Draco Malfoy crashed into the Weasley coffee table. Splinters of wood flew around the room. But the blond didn’t seem to notice. He just lay there, pale as the whitest sheet, his forehead sweating, his body shivering, curled up in a ball, his arms around his legs, while a raggedy hat was pressed between his arms and legs. Something white stuck out of the hat. To Hermione’s surprise, Draco’s cheeks were wet and so was –she noted– his pants. He seemed to have peed in them.

‘Mum, Mum,’ he muttered, utterly distressed.

Dumbledore rushed to the boy. ‘Draco, Draco,’ he called out, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder, worried.

Draco screamed when he touched him, and Dumbledore withdrew his hand in a hurry. Ljudmila whipped her wand around and a bright circle ran around the Slytherin’s body. It turned a light shade of purple.

‘Stage Three Legilimency and Cruciatus,’ Ljudmila diagnosed matter-of-factly.

‘I need to know how long to undo any damage on time,’ Dumbledore said, flashing his wand at the shivering, mumbling Draco to clean him up and make him more comfortable. A pillow and a mattress appeared underneath him and a blanket covered him up.

‘Less than half a minute on the Cruciatus, and there is no physical damage, or the circle would have been darker.’

‘Draco, I need you to say something,’ Dumbledore ordered, kneeling down to get at eye level with him.

‘You can’t get brain damage from that short a period, Albus, not even with the prior Legilimency assault on his mind.’

‘I know, Ljudmila. He seems to be in a state of shock.’

‘Mum, Mum,’ was all Draco said.

‘Did he do something to your mother, Draco?’ Dumbledore asked, concerned. ‘Draco, please talk to us.’

But there was no coherent response.

‘There is a note,’ Hermione said business-like, pointing to the hat. She hadn’t moved an inch since Draco had dropped in. She just stared at the situation, taking it in with a cold detachment.

Dumbledore pulled it out immediately and unfolded it. His eyes went rapidly over the written words.

Albus,

For Malfoy’s sake, I hope this is incentive enough for you to start doing your job. You may enjoy the notion that I have to keep Obliviating my followers over your apprentice, but I am not amused. From hereon, I’ll be checking Draco Malfoy’s abilities to Occlude his mind personally, and rest assured, I’ll up the ante on his punishment every single time he fails my tests.

With regards,

Lord Voldemort

Dumbledore cursed and held out the note to Ljudmila, who went over it quickly with a frown on her face.

‘Draco, you’re alright now. You’re safe,’ Dumbledore said soothingly. ‘You don’t have to go back. We can protect you.’

‘Mum.’

‘Is Narcissa at home?’

Draco nodded, rubbing his tears away with his sleeve, while sniffing up his nose.

‘Is she alright?’

Draco nodded again. ‘She-she wasn’t there when he did it. I–I couldn’t Occlude my mind from Aunt Bella when she tried to teach me Occlumency. He was furious.’

‘You need to allow me to teach you, Draco. Your aunt … Bellatrix Lestrange’s talents do not lie in this field.’

‘I can’t,’ Draco sobbed.

‘If you are afraid of what I will find in your mind, Draco, then I should tell you that I already know he ordered you to kill me, if that’s why you don’t want me to teach you Occlumency.’

What?

Hermione mentally snorted. Lord Voldemort had ordered Draco Malfoy to kill Albus Dumbledore? What on earth had the Malfoys done to piss him off enough to make him send their only child on a suicide mission? For any Malfoy to be able to kill Albus Dumbledore, it was preposterous, unless, of course, hell froze over. She bit her lip to not start laughing. Oh boy, had ferret-face got himself into an impossible situation.

Draco had frozen up at Dumbledore’s admission. He stared at the wizard in confusion. ‘But-but…’

‘If you want out, Draco, this is your chance,’ Dumbledore said calmly.

‘My mum. He’ll kill her.’

‘The Order can–’

‘No, no, I can’t make that decision. I have to talk to her first.’

‘You’re not going back there,’ Dumbledore said resolutely. ‘Ljudmila, do you still have that cottage you held Mel in when he was your apprentice?’

Ljudmila nodded silently.

‘Mind if I use it?’

‘Albus,’ Ljudmila said, gesturing with her head to the side.

They both walked to the far wall. Hermione tried, but to her sincere annoyance, she couldn’t pick up a word of what they said. Dumbledore’s Muffling Charm worked too perfectly. She looked back down at Draco Malfoy, who still clutched to the blanket as if it would protect him from all the horrors in the world, and she noticed he pointedly avoided looking in her direction.

Less than half a minute of the curse and this was what he was reduced to? Wimp.

‘I am not sure this is a good idea,’ Volkova said quietly.

‘Look at the boy, Ljudmila. Even if he allows me to teach him Occlumency now, I can’t teach him overnight, and his mind will crack if it happens again.’

‘The boy’s mother…’ She shook her head, concerned.

‘We can protect her.’

‘But how are you going to get to her? And don’t tell me Tom won’t be expecting you to try because we know he will be, especially after that stunt you pulled with Gellert earlier. Besides, I can’t Apparate through his wards and neither can you. And what if she doesn’t want to be placed under your protection? They did choose to follow him. As Draco’s guide, you can detain him for a while and he should be safe once he’s at Hogwarts, but his mother is not covered under council rules. If you can’t be sure she wants out, you need a different strategy to deal with this.’

‘I believe Narcissa would do anything to protect her son.’

‘Okay, so say she wants out. You still can’t get to her now.’

Dumbledore glanced at Hermione. ‘That pendant will get through his wards.’

Ljudmila grabbed his arm before he could step away. ‘Yes, the pendant and the one wearing it. The person foolish enough to try to do a Side-Along Apparition with her will undoubtedly go up in flames.’

‘Dammit, Ljudmila, he will destroy that boy. I need to get him out now. Severus is no longer there to protect Draco or his mother,’ Dumbledore said furiously, clenching his fists.

‘If you keep Draco away from Tom, he will destroy him by taking it out on his mother. You know this, Albus, and so does the boy. He will not thank you for protecting him if he loses her. You need to stop and think for a second before doing something rash. You’re not sixteen anymore.’

The memory of his rash actions during his youth made Dumbledore unclench his fists. Contemplating his options, he stared into Ljudmila’s comforting eyes. Finally, he said, ‘I need Gellert.’

‘You think he will help now that he has other options again?’

‘He’s not Tom’s biggest fan.’

‘He picked him.’

‘And don’t think he hasn’t been regretting it ever since.’

Ljudmila rubbed her hand over her chin thoughtfully. ‘Fine, you take Draco Malfoy to the cottage.’

She ruffled through her robes and pulled out a black leather roll. She opened the clasp and it unrolled, showing of a multitude of different colour keys. Two of them, she picked out and handed them to Albus.

‘Orange first or you’ll be incinerated,’ she warned. ‘I’ll be there with Gellert as soon as I can if … he decides to help you out.’

She twirled on the spot and Disapparated.

Dumbledore swirled around. ‘I am sorry, Hermione,’ he apologised, walking to Draco, while drawing his wand. ‘We will have to reschedule your lesson for tomorrow.’

‘I understand,’ she said, faking calmness. Come on and rejoice at the top of your voice.

Hermione glanced at the show in front of her with a blank expression on her face, as Dumbledore picked up the now struggling and protesting Draco. The last thing Hermione heard was Draco calling for his mummy before Dumbledore Disapparated them both.

That obnoxious ferret would do wise to stay out of my way once Hogwarts starts or I will twitter and tweet him, she thought, gritting her teeth. Oh yeah, this is the season to sing.

She whipped out her wand and undid the damage to Molly’s table and cabinet. When she wanted to lower the Silencing Charm Dumbledore had placed around the living room when they entered, she noticed it was already gone. She raised an eyebrow, irritated she had missed him doing so. Turning on her heels, Hermione left. She was just in time for dinner.

Of course, after dinner, she’d been badgered to death to join the others in their Quidditch match, but she wasn’t in the mood. She sucked at flying anyway, never daring to go too high, and she still had loads and loads of research to do.

Mumbling disappointedly about not having even teams, Harry, Ron, and Ginny kept harassing her, until Fleur offered to take Hermione’s place. Ginny’s face had been priceless. Hermione was sure the redhead was sorry they played without Beaters, because it seemed Ginny would gladly launch every Bludger available at Phlegm.

But Phlegm had saved her from a Quidditch-filled evening, so Hermione wasn’t that irritated with Bill’s girlfriend anymore. She waved them all out with a teasing smile on her face (for Ginny’s benefit), and she turned to go up the stairs. Mrs. Weasley held her up though, trying to heal her black eye fruitlessly, before insisting she take a tray filled with cookies, a glass, and a bottle of cold lemonade with her as some kind of repayment for being unable to fix her eye. Knowing it would be pointless to explain she wasn’t hungry, because she just had dinner, and realising the lemonade would save her a trip downstairs later, she accepted it and brought it to Ginny’s room before going up to the second floor to get the Divination books.

Back in Fred and George’s room, she grabbed the Divination books and her note on the prophecy. In the distance, outside, she heard two voices shout something about foul play and saw a little Snitch dance briefly around her head before it went back out the window. She glanced outside and saw Ron bungling upside down on his broom, hanging on one leg mowing his arms around, while Ginny chased past him with the Quaffle. After scoring, Ginny flew in circles around Ron howling like crazy before she gave Harry a high-five in mid-flight. Fleur was regaining the Quaffle from the ground, hurriedly.

Hermione sniggered, wishing Colin was here with his camera, before she walked to Ginny’s bedroom and dumped the books on the extra bed Molly had already shoved in there. She turned on the Tiffany lamp at the ceiling since Ginny’s room was rather dark, due to her window being covered by a giant oak tree. Her trunk stood underneath the bed, and she pulled it out, picking out the Dark Arts books. She tried to check their indexes for anything related to Divination, but the lamp at the ceiling gave off too much coloured light.

Thankful for Molly’s consideration, she pulled on the cord on the additional lamp on the nightstand next to her bed. She positioned herself against the wall with a couple of pillows behind her back and began reading, not noticing the time, until Ginny entered with two steaming mugs in her hands, her cheeks still flushed from flying.

‘Here, Mum thought you’d like a cup of hot cocoa before going to sleep, too.’

Hermione accepted the large mug thankfully, while Ginny quirked an eyebrow at her literature.

‘Enchanted Encounters? No wonder you didn’t want to fly. He held her in his strong arms,’ she exclaimed overly dramatic. ‘Her heaving bosom–’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Hermione interrupted with a smile. ‘Make fun of me. I happen to like an occasional break from my studies. They help me clear my mind because you don’t have to think while reading them.’

‘No kidding,’ Ginny replied ironically, taking a cookie off the tray. ‘But eh… whatever helps you solve things. Don’t let Mum see you have them, though, or you’ll never get them back.’

‘I’ll keep them hidden. Mobile books!’ Hermione swooshed her wand around and all her books flew into her trunk before it slammed shut. ‘Claudere!’ she pointed at the trunk.

Her trunk clicked, and then, the seam between the lid and the rest of the trunk fused together.

‘Oh wow, what kind of spell is that?’ Ginny asked, interested.

‘A Sticking Curse,’ Hermione explained. ‘You can put everything together indefinitely and it will never let go, unless you and only youcast the counter-curse.’

‘Neat,’ Ginny said, sitting down on her bed and taking another sip from her cocoa. ‘Can you teach me?’

‘Sure, first thing tomorrow?’

‘Okay.’

They both got ready for bed after finishing their drinks, and soon, Ginny was far away in dreamland, but Hermione still stared at the ceiling. Her mind was too busy with all kinds of disturbing thoughts for her to fall asleep.

And she also twisted and turned in this bed her body wasn’t yet used to. There was an irritating bump in the mattress that she seemed to be unable to shake no matter what she did. Hearing Ginny snore was another thing not conducing with her attempts to fall asleep. She moved to her right side and cast a Silencing Charm on her environment. Wrapping her blankets tighter around her body, she finally drifted off.

Nobody was there to notice that the moment her mind entered the REM-stage of sleep, the pendant underneath her pyjamas started glowing ever so softly.

Dressed in her periwinkle-blue robes, Hermione searched the dance floor. Everyone danced, but she seemed to have misplaced her partner. Someone tall with familiar black hair became briefly visible between two dancing couples, and she narrowed her eyes and frowned. But when the couples had moved along, he was gone. Moving through the waltzing dancers, she searched for him again. Behind her, a pair of dark eyes glittered dangerously in the light of the Christmas lanterns dangling from the frosty ceiling of the Great Hall.

Wasn’t she supposed to be here with Viktor? Viktor didn’t have that kind of hair.

Something was very wrong, very wrong indeed. She tried to shake that dreadful gut feeling, but was unable to. Something dark whirled around the Great Hall tonight. She could feel it, taste it, smell it, and almost, almost touch it. It was close. It was nearing her, trying to surround her, draw her in. She had to get away before it was too late. They all had to get away before it was too late.

Darkness tugged on her arm and twirled her around. She felt the seduction of the knowledge, the power, the lust, and the freedom of not caring about responsibilities and outcomes and merely do as you please. It was all there in those dark, pitch-black eyes of his, that mesmerising, feral, intense, domineering gaze, which made her shiver in wantonness.

‘Searching for someone in particular?’ Tom drawled, grabbing her waist and pulling her flush against his lean body before waltzing away.

‘Not you again,’ Hermione hissed, trying to shove those primal emotions back deep into the well they should be in.

‘Aww…,’ he said, faking disappointment, which was completely ruined by the mocking glint in his eyes when he looked down at her. ‘And here I thought you’d already established Krum was useless in that department.’

Embarrassed, she looked away.

Tom chuckled. ‘I knew I was right,’ he added smugly. ‘I am a much better catch, ain’t I?’

The arrogance of that man was just unbelievable.

She turned her head to face him and tell him exactly what kind of a catch he was when he winked at her. He winked! The nerve he had.

It looked very cute on him though.

Deciding to ignore his teasing deductions and the part of herself that agreed with him, she asked snappishly, ‘What are you doing here?’

He tilted his head and smirked. ‘You tell me, dear.’

‘That Nightmare Curse is supposed to be over.’

‘Ah yes, of course it is, but your path isn’t,’ Tom replied cryptically, avoiding a collision with Madam Maxime and Albus Dumbledore effortlessly.

For a second, Hermione watched those two, but they seemed not to notice her tiny, insignificant Tom Riddle problem; so, she sighed. ‘Why don’t they see you?’

‘I don’t want to be seen.’

‘Great idea. Make that work on me, too.’

He sniggered. ‘By everyone,’ he added tauntingly. ‘Besides, you want to see me.’

He angled his upper body a bit away from her and gestured with their joined hands at his impeccable appearance.

His neatly-styled black hair gained an almost blue glow every time they moved underneath one of the lanterns. For a second, she witnessed that his eyes were not black but a very dark brown colour, but out of direct lighting that was impossible to see. His flawless, pale, white skin made them seem blacker than they were in reality. Those eyes with their (to be envious of) long, double-rowed eyelashes and accentuated by his well-arched dark eyebrows, those eyes drew you in, to never let go.

But she forced herself to move on after a brief hesitation, lingering on his lips before gazing from his fine sculptured jaw-line to his torso. Black silk dress robes whirled around his sinewy frame as they waltzed on, but her eyes happened to get stuck on the slightly askew emerald tie, which hung loosely over his not entirely buttoned up white shirt. It was the only thing on him not done to perfection, and somehow, she couldn’t stop herself from being annoyed at all those buttons which were still closed. She really wanted to grab a hold of that shirt and rip it open.

A deep red blush appeared on her cheeks when the things she wanted to do to him entered her mind, and she looked studiously away over his right arm, missing the smug smirk on his face, while he pulled her closer. With her hips pressed against him, they seemed to float over the floor, never hitting or disturbing another couple. Her heart was racing, and she felt an undeniable need rise inside of her. Desperately, Hermione looked around the dance floor, contemplating her options on how the hell to get her attention away from her more basic instincts.

‘So, if this is about my stupid path, where are the crazy animals?’ she asked, looking back in those dangerously sensual eyes.

‘Hiding outside in the bushes?’ he suggested with an upward curl of his lip.

‘Or did you kill them?’ she retorted, tilting her head with a fake, overly sweet smile.

He sniggered. ‘Now there’s a thought. Why didn’t I think of that?’ he asked himself humorously, before dipping her.

Hermione’s eyes widened and she tightened her grip on his arm when her head nearly touched the floor.

‘Afraid I am going to drop you?’

‘Concerned my dinner will come up,’ she sassed, before he swirled her back up and waltzed on. ‘Why are we dancing anyway?’

‘Because I can lead,’ was the arrogant answer.

Hermione groaned, closed her eyes, and hit her forehead against his shoulder repeatedly, not noticing the lanterns dimmed. His hand came to rest on the back of her head, and he pressed her head against his chest sideways. She stopped breathing, while he’d stopped moving. In the back of her mind, she registered The Weird Sisters had quit their song and had started a slow ballad, a too slow ballad.

And he held her too close, far too close. His arms locked tightly around her lower back and her head. There wasn’t an inch of space between their bodies, and she could feel every perfect line of his, as he undoubtedly could feel hers. Her heart pounded in her chest; blood rushed through her veins; her breaths came out in ragged rasps; her world swirled, twisted and morphed, literally turning upside down in seconds.

She closed her eyes, trying to make sense of things. She had to make sense of things. She wetted her lips; her mouth felt so dry. Scared, she suddenly felt more frightened than ever before in her life.

Gently, he rested his chin on her head and squeezed her briefly. Safety, there was safety in his arms. He pushed her fear away magically. His power rushed through her, exciting and exhilarating, touching every nerve, every cell, every single part of her, until she shuddered in his arms. His low chuckle wrapped around her like a blanket, stirring thoughts and emotions she tried to suppress, dark ones. And she recalled who held her, who made her feel this way, who was trying to manipulate her.

Her dark power exploded with a vengeance. Her robes and hair whirled in its wind, and her brown eyes sparkled with joy and satisfaction as she watched how Tom Marvolo Riddle got blasted through the Great Hall and crashed into the sparkling wall. But he wasn’t the only one who got struck by her power; everyone and everything else got hit as well. Dancers, tables, chairs, the band, everything disintegrated to dust in milliseconds.

Everything and everyone was gone, except for him. Tom merely scrambled back on his feet, brushing the dust of his clothes before smirking absolutely satisfied in her direction. She let out a furious howl. The windows blew, glass shattered, and screams echoed in her mind.

With a start, she sat up straight in her bed, her hair still ablaze. Ginny had taken cover underneath her blanket from the glass that had flown around the room violently. The window of the bedroom was completely gone, as were the water glasses on their nightstands, several lightbulbs, the Tiffany lamp on the ceiling, and the vase on the windowsill.

Shocked, Hermione looked around; nothing made of glass had survived. She heard Molly’s fearful yells resonate through the house, trying to ascertain if everyone was alright, making Hermione dreadfully aware the destruction hadn’t been contained to Ginny’s bedroom.

And in the distance, she swore she could hear a cold, high-pitched laugh.

-

A/N: Yeah, I know the dance floor was brightly lit during the Yule Ball in canon, but eh… I am assuming it was only during the first opening dance of the champions, because let’s face it, how romantic would the room be like that if it lasted all evening? ;-) … So, I figured it would be fitting to have the same lanterns in the air as they had on the tables. Considering I couldn’t use JKR’s sparkling walls to be enough lighting, since every single one of you would laugh Twilight if I did use that. *gigglesnorts*

Thanks to Serpent In Red for beta-ing this chapter.

Additional Disclaimer: Don't own nor make money from anything of Disney either. The song from Bambi is merely used to drive us all insane, so I won't have to suffer alone. With thanks to FFnet's Gay Little Spring Song for suggesting it.
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The Apprentice