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Somewhere in Time (Outtakes)	By : serpentinred Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 7579 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I don't make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
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Somewhere in Time – Outtakes Episode 3

"I know. The class is just—where are you going, Hermione?" Ron stopped in the middle of his conversation with Harry when they saw Hermione stand up from her usual armchair in the Gryffindor common room.

Displeasure flashed over her face. "Detention."

"What?" Both of them stared at her in shock.

"With who?" Harry asked curiously, though he seemed to not have recovered from his shock yet.

"Professor Riddle," Hermione answered through gritted teeth.

"But—no—wait, he likes you," Ron said, his eyes wide. "I mean, he practically praises you in every single class."

"Well, that didn't stop him from giving me detention, did it?" Hermione asked, trying to keep away from the reason.

She was greatly irritated when she found out that the Dark Lord had told Riddle about her "concerns"—not at the Dark Lord, of course; she would never be irritated at him. Riddle walked over to her the day after her meeting with the Dark Lord with an annoying smirk on his face and told her that from then on, she would be having detention with him until she "learned her place."

Well, truth to be told, the only person who needed to learn their places was Riddle himself, but Hermione managed to hold her tongue. Since she was going to have detention indefinitely with him, she did not plan on letting the whole school know about her plans.

It was hard for her to not just tell and let everyone help her gather information about Riddle. However, she had several concerns about it. First of all, except for Harry and Ron, she didn't exactly trust other people, even those in her House. Neville, for example, had been in Gryffindor and he definitely could not be trusted. The last thing she wanted was for Riddle to find out what she was doing. Secondly, she did not need the Order gaining the information that there might be a chance to overrun the Dark Lord, and there were still children of Order members running amuck the school.

"Anyway, I'll see you later," Hermione said before heading out of the common room.

After cursing Riddle a million ways in her mind for nearly ten minutes, she finally reached his office. She glared at the door for a good two minutes before knocking.

"Enter," Riddle's voice sounded from behind the door.

Trying her best to control her anger, she opened the door and entered the room.

The man sitting leisurely behind the table was already smirking at her the moment she looked at him, and she really, really wanted to punch it off his face. Too bad he was no Draco Malfoy.

"Miss Granger." He nodded his head.

"Professor." She might as well keep civil. She must not let him find out about her plan.

She kept her eyes strictly on the wall right behind him; if he managed to avoid letting the Dark Lord know about his betrayal, then he was obviously talented in Occlumency, which meant that he could also be a master in Legilimency.

"Sit." For some reason, his voice sounded different when they were alone, though she couldn't really pinpoint what exactly was different. It was almost like he was putting a frontage for others to see.

Why not her then? He would've had a lot less trouble if he hadn't let her find out about his true colors.

She sat down in one of the armchairs in front of his desk, and she was unpleasantly reminded of the time when she had come in here to ask him about a spell, the invisible spell.

"Do you know why you've gotten detention with me?" he asked.

Because you're a right, foul git?

"No, sir," she replied instead.

She wondered if he dared to confront her about what she had told the Dark Lord. However, she then remembered that he dared to admit to her that he planned to take over the Dark Lord's empire, so of course he wouldn't care.

As she had predicted, a mirthful expression appeared on Riddle's face. "No? You have … absolutely no idea why you've landed detentions with me?"

"No, sir," she repeated herself, not letting herself blink at all.

If she could have, she would have stared straight into his eyes. In current conditions, however, she rather played it safe and avoided the possibility of him performing Legilimency on her.

"Hm … interesting," he said, rubbing his chin with one of his hands. He then stared back at her. "Do you know I've just heard a rather … amusing story?" When she didn't say anything, he continued, "I've heard that just recently, you've had—you've requested a meeting with the Dark Lord."

It was not a question, so Hermione chose to remain silent. It was not because she was a patient person, definitely not, but it was more the fact that she was worried about what she might say if she did start speaking. She was not known for being discreet when provoked.

He leaned slightly forward in his chair, placed an elbow on the table and propped up his chin. "You've told the Dark Lord about our conversation."

Finally, her silence made him raise an eyebrow.

"No answer from Hermione Granger?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I have no idea what kind of answer you are searching for. After all, you hadn't asked me a question yet," Hermione replied.

A mock expression of realization dawned on his face. "Ah, you are correct. I have failed to ask you a question yet." His eyes glinted with merriment as he stared at Hermione. "Did you really find the idea of me being the Dark Lord so … repulsive?"

Hermione's eyes rapidly filled with incredulity as they snapped over to his. What else did he expected for an answer? After a short pause, during which she calmed herself down and contemplated about what to say, she slowly opened her mouth.

"Professor, since the Dark Lord … believes you to be a trustworthy man, I fathom that I should consider your words to be both true and reliable. However, these things that you tell me had and have quickly diminished any inkling of confidence that I have for you, and I trust that the Dark Lord would also be most displeased to hear you joking about these matters," she said, keeping her face solemn and strict.

Turning the ring on his hand around slowly, he kept his eyes firmly on Hermione's, and the smile on his lips continued to become more prominent. Then, he got up from his chair and slowly sauntered around his table, until he was standing behind her.

Hermione, on the other hand, stared straight ahead, her face arrogantly defiant and almost daring him to contradict her words. She could hardly control a shudder when his hand landed on her shoulder.

"Do you fancy the Dark Lord, Miss Granger?" His silky voice wrapped itself around her, caressing her like a lover's, and his words caused a fire-engine red to spread across her cheeks, shattering her front.

"Wha-what?" she stuttered, his question taking her by surprise.

That was … that was preposterous. Well, it actually wasn't because she couldn't say that she didn't fancy him. It was just … what kind of a question was that? Embarrassment bristled into annoyance, and she lashed out.

"That's personal," she snapped, and then, she realized a second too late at how telling that answer was. Her cheeks burning, she added, "It's none of your business whether I fancy the Dark Lord or not."

No, wait. Still not a good answer.

"The point is, everyone idolizes the Dark Lord," she said, though that argument sounded weak even to her ears.

"Hm … is that so?" he asked.

His hand then traveled upwards until it was near the nape of her neck, and he gently played with the hair there. The logical side of her mind commanded her to move away. Yet, another part of her, a part that made her want to dig a hole in the ground and hide forever, beckoned to her to let him continue.

"Yes," she answered, unable to decide what she should do.

But … she couldn't do this. This was wrong. She shouldn't sit here and …

Abruptly, she stood up and stumbled to her right, until she was some ten feet away from Riddle.

"So … everything has been straightened out … and I need to know what I should do for my detention … or else it's nearly curfew, and it's at least a ten minute walk from here to the Gryffindor tower," Hermione said.

She had no idea if it were because of the lighting in the room, but something seemed strange about Riddle tonight. There was a certain devilishness in him tonight that she had never seen present on his face before, and it both frightened and excited her.

Riddle slowly moved closer to her. "Ah, yes, your detention …"

As if they were dancing to some kind of silent music, they moved in sync with Hermione moving backwards while he moved forwards, and she both feared and anticipated the moment when he caught her.

There must be something wrong with her, she decided. She had no other explanation for her actions and thoughts. She was supposed to hate this man who was threatening to take over the Dark Lord's place. Yet …

"You do realize that you've done something horribly wrong this time, don't you?" he asked.

She nodded absentmindedly. She wasn't really listening to what he was saying, now that her mind was busy evaluating her emotions. She did not understand herself at all. Well, yes, for the past few months, her initial dislike for Riddle had diminished and had slowly been replaced by admiration. After all, his talent was perhaps only second to the Dark Lord himself. Additionally, she had never seen a professor who was more intelligent than him. He seemed to be an expert in any subject she could think of.

But still, that wasn't even a good reason to like him. He was still a scheming git, and a traitor to the Dark Lord. She couldn't possibly fancy him, could she?

"And I hope that you understand that you're going to have detention for quite a long time for such an offense," Riddle was saying.

However, Hermione was still not listening because she found that she had maneuvered herself right up against the door. Without thinking, her hand fumbled for the doorknob, but to her horror, she found it locked. She jiggled it, wondering if it were just stuck. He couldn't have locked the door, could he?

Riddle sighed. "Some people just never learn."

She had no idea what he was talking about. It was not as if she had ever been stuck in a locked room with him before, if that were what he was talking about.

"Going to try Alohomora next?" he asked lazily.

"May I ask what this is for?" she questioned him stonily.

There were no rules against locking the doors, of course, but it was still inappropriate, given the fact that he was a male and she was a female.

"To prevent a certain student from running away from their detention," Riddle answered as he stopped right in front of her.

Oh, Merlin. He really was a beautiful man. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had known that she had been attracted to him since the beginning, but another part of her resisted that fascination. Somehow, it just felt too dangerous to her.

Besides, she had Ron already. She should concentrate on the relationship she had with him and not pursue what could never be hers.

Riddle's hand moved upwards and caught a lock of her hair between the fingers. "Why did you choose to be with Mr. Weasley?"

His question took her by surprise. It was almost as if he had read her mind. However, she hadn't looked in his eyes at all while she had been thinking about Ron. It would've been nearly impossible for him to use Legilimency if they didn't have eye contact, wouldn't it? Though Riddle was a powerful wizard, he couldn't be that powerful, could he?

Recomposing herself, she answered, "That's personal."

"As you've answered to my other question," Riddle said. "But perhaps … I can reconsider being more lenient towards you if you give me the answers that I want."

His hand intertwined with her hair, the tips of his fingers occasionally brushing gently against her skin and causing shivers to travel from that point down to somewhere deep inside of her.

Oh, this was so wrong. She should push him aside. There were no reasons for her to put up with what he was doing without a fight, and she shouldn't feel so bloody confused about her feelings towards him. Yet, she could not bring herself to push him or his hand away. It was almost as if she didn't want him to stop.

But … what about the Dark Lord?

What about the Dark Lord? An obnoxious voice sounded in her mind. As if the Dark Lord would ever like someone like you. So many choices, and all of them much prettier than you. What do you have?

Well, she wasn't too ugly. In fact, she could be considered pretty if she were willing to spend a little bit more time with her looks.

The point is, you never cared about it, and making you act like Lavender or Parvati would make you jump off the nearest cliff.

At least she was smart.

Oh, right. As if Mrs. Potter weren't smart. She's one of the Dark Lord's favorite followers, but he never saw her in that way before. What makes you think that you're better than her?

"Quite the contrary," Riddle said softly, and he moved even closer to her. "You might find that you are wrong in your assumptions about what the Dark Lord is thinking."

Oh shit.

He knew Legilimency. And he was highly proficient in it, too. Hermione was positive about it now. There was no way he could have known what was going through her mind if he didn't. Mortification fueled her courage and recklessness, and without a second thought, she did the first action that came to her mind.

With a grunt, Riddle stumbled backwards while Hermione stood there for a while, trying to digest what she had just done: She kneed a professor in the groin.

Merlin, she kneed a professor in the groin!

"Not again," she thought she heard him groan.

She had no idea what he was talking about, and at the current moment, she didn't care. The most important thing was that she kneed a professor in the groin, and a professor who was really, really good in dueling. Oh, no. Oh, no. She was so dead. He was going to kill her. He was going to chop her up into pieces and throw them into the Forbidden Forest.

Even worse, she was going to get expelled from Hogwarts. She could already see Snape in her mind's eye, sneering at her with malicious glee as he informed her she was kicked out of school. What was she going to do? She could imagine Draco taunting her.

"Knew that filthy Mudbloods wouldn't be able to catch up with us. It's in their blood. Hogwarts is too much for them, and it's obvious that You-Know-Who is just so ridiculous to take their side."

Just as her mind creatively started to make up dialogue for the Draco strutting around in her mind, it occurred to her. She shouldn't be so afraid. It was Riddle's fault to begin with. If he hadn't gotten so close to her, she wouldn't have gotten the chance to kick him down there.

As Hermione calmed down, she realized that Riddle had gotten up from the floor, too, though not without wincing from the pain.

"Merlin, I should tie your legs together whenever I need to speak with you," he said. His face was still scrunched up in pain and pale with tiny beads of sweat on his forehead.

"It's not my fault," she immediately argued. "If you hadn't come so close to me, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to kick you. If you … if you try to get me thrown out of school, I will have to tell the Dark Lord about everything that had happened."

She hoped the Dark Lord would believe her in this case. She didn't randomly go around kicking people in the groin after all.

"I'm sure he would give a fair judgment about what happened," he said through gritted teeth.

Hermione stared at him for a while before she fumbled for her wand. She had to get out of here. She had to get out of here and speak with the Dark Lord. If Riddle got the chance to speak with the Dark Lord first, she had no idea how he would twist the story around so that she would seem like the one at fault.

Keeping her eyes on Riddle, she flicked her wand at the doorknob, trying every type of lock-opening spells she knew. Much to her dismay, none of them worked.

At the same time, Riddle pulled out his wand, too, but instead of aiming it at her as she had thought he would, he pointed it at himself. A cool, blue light left the tip of wand and shimmered over the area where she had hurt him. Slowly, his face turned back to its normal color, and he no longer seemed like he was in pain. Finally, he flicked his wand again, and Hermione recognized it as the movements for a simple diagnostic test. Once he knew there was nothing wrong with him, he looked up at Hermione again.

Her heart jumped, and she frantically tried each spell she knew again, mentally cursing when each light hit the doorknob and beared no results.

"Did you really think that I would've locked the door with something that could be opened by Alohomora when I'm giving you detention?" Riddle asked.

Hermione turned around and found him staring at her with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What do you want?" she asked, momentarily forgetting that she was speaking to a professor.

Even if she did remember, it would have been hard for her to keep her temper at this point.

"What do I want?" he asked. "That's a difficult question to answer."

"You can't throw me out of Hogwarts, if that's what you're thinking," Hermione said, her voice braver than how she was really feeling. "If you report me to Snape, you'd get in trouble, too."

Riddle raised an eyebrow. "You've mentioned this twice already. Now, why would I want to throw you out when there are so many other things that could be done with you?"

Okay, that was definitely over the line, and Hermione regretted the fact that she hadn't hurt him even harder. Strengthening the hold around her wand, she was about to send a hex his way when he flicked his wand, summoned over one of the armchairs and sat down in it.

"So … you were saying something about reporting this to the Dark Lord," he said, eyeing her with an annoying smug look on his face.

For the first time, Hermione hated magic. She hated it for being the reason why Riddle was able to speak to her without the look of pain on his face. She hated it for being the reason why Riddle was sitting so bloody alluringly on that armchair. It should be banned for people with his level of charm to walk around.

"You think I'm bluffing?" she asked.

"Oh no. I never doubted that the Dark Lord is going to hear about this," Riddle said, twirling the wand in his hand casually. He tilted his head to the side. "Again."

She paused, and when she shook the confusion away, she stomped up to him. "For the first and last time, you will never be the Dark Lord. It's no longer funny, and even if the Dark Lord doesn't believe me—"

Her words were cut off when she felt a strong pulse of magic radiate through the room, coming from Riddle himself. Her voice was stuck somewhere in her throat, and she couldn't even gasp as the pressure made her swoon. She blinked rapidly, her mouth slack as her thoughts melted into rubbish.

"You were saying, my little lioness?" Riddle asked, his eyes glinting.

She couldn't answer, though she wanted to protest. The only person who called her that nickname was the Dark Lord. Did he really think …

Wait a minute. Even though Riddle did know Legilimency, she had never thought about her conversation with the Dark Lord in front of him. He couldn't have picked up those thoughts from her. Additionally, the Dark Lord never called her that in front of other people. He had always called her "Hermione." It was always in private …

Suddenly, a scary realization dawned on her, and as she gaped at Riddle, she felt as if someone had dumped a bucketful of ice-cold water over head.

He. Had. To. Be. Kidding.

This couldn't be true. This had to be some kind of strange joke.

As quickly as he had released his magic, he reined it in again, allowing her to breathe more freely.

"But … how?" She had so many questions, but those two words were the only ones that made it out of her mouth. The others were just a jumble of nonsense.

Riddle couldn't be the Dark Lord. But … all the evidence was pointing in that way.

"How what?" he asked.

Oh, he couldn't make her say it out loud. It was too embarrassing, especially when she had accused him of …

Oh Merlin. She wished the floor would just open up and swallow her right this minute. She actually accused him of trying to usurp himself. As her previous conversations with Riddle and the Dark Lord flashed through her mind's eye, she felt her cheeks burn and she knew that she must resemble something like a ripe tomato right now.

And Merlin's pants, she kicked the Dark Lord in the … oh no. Oh no, no, no, she was so dead. This was … this was unforgivable.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she crouched down on the spot and continued wishing for a hole to miraculously appear under her feet. Alas, the gods were not so kind to her, and instead, she heard rather than saw the Dark Lord get up from his seat and walk towards her.

"Hermione," he said.

I am not here.

"Hermione," he called again.

Taking a deep sigh, she looked up at him from her position, knowing that it would be ridiculously foolish to make the Dark Lord call her three times.

"Stand up," he ordered.

She grimaced and slowly followed his directions. The moment she was standing straight up, her mouth opened, and a long string of explanation spilled out.

"I'm sorry, my Lord. I … I didn't know it was you. I mean, you didn't tell us you were … and when I told you about … about those ridiculous assumptions, you didn't correct me, so naturally, I thought you were—"

"Hermione," he said.

"And you don't look like the same. I mean, I understand now that you used different looks for a purpose, but it just never occurred to me that … It didn't even seemed possible. I've thought about a few times; the magical aura that you've given off as Riddle was similar to what I've usually felt when you were the Dark Lord, but—"

"But much softer?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

His question caused another blush to appear on her cheeks.

"I didn't … I didn't mean it that way. I mean, yes, it seemed like it, but that was because you couldn't let the students find out that you are the Dark Lord, and—EEP!"

Just as she was babbling on, the Dark Lord suddenly grabbed her around the waist and pulled her flush against his body.

"Granger," he said softly, "listen carefully because I will not tell you twice, and I will not tolerate any interruptions. Are we clear?"

Hermione nodded. Her cheeks flushed red when she realized that her hands were placed on his chest—the Dark Lord's chest. She was so close to him right now. She could smell whiffs of his scent, and mixed with controlled waves of magic that was pulsing off him, it made her slightly feint.

Something flashed through his face as he took in her reaction, and if it had been under any other circumstances, Hermione would've seen it as a warning and taken precaution. However, she was in no condition to take notice, and as quickly as it appeared, that something disappeared.

"The purpose of letting you know my true identity is not to let you fall over yourself apologizing to me," he said. "If anyone other than you finds out about this, be assured that the consequences will not be … desirable." He placed a single finger under her chin and tilted her head upwards. "And I don't mean just for you."

Hermione felt her breath hitch, and she realized that he meant that others would pay, too, if she were to tell them.

"I understand, my Lord. I will not tell them," she promised demurely.

"Now … about what the Dark Lord is thinking," he said.

His words made the blush on her cheeks turn several shades darker, and she really wanted to hide in a hole in the ground again. This was too embarrassing.

"It's … I'm …"

Oh, Merlin. What should she say? He had been using Legilimency on her throughout the whole time she had been staring into his eyes. He must have seen what had been going through her mind about the Dark Lord—about him.

"And your reason for choosing to be with Ronald?" he asked, his voice cold when speaking the redhead's name. "You can't possibly tell me that you couldn't find someone better than him when you were choosing a boyfriend. Of course, he isn't extremely daft, but the words that come out of his mouth makes him seem like he has the mentality of a two-year-old and the brain capacity of a Puffskein. I don't even know if I should be relieved or insulted that you fancied me throughout these years."

Her face couldn't turn any redder as she heard what he was saying, though she did have a hard time keeping quiet when he talked about Ron.

"If he had an exceptional talent in one thing or another, I could understand why girls would flock behind him. But he doesn't even play his position in Quidditch well, which isn't too surprising considering the team that he supports," the Dark Lord said with a sneer. "And you don't even care about Quidditch, so that probably wouldn't matter to you. But he excels in none of his classes. At least Longbottom has been spectacular in Herbology, and even Malfoy was rather gifted in numerous classes. But Ronald …"

It made Hermione upset to hear him talking about Ron like this, and she wanted to defend the redhead, but she had no idea how to.

The Dark Lord glanced at her. "No retorts, Granger?"

"He plays chess well," Hermione said humbly, "and he's a great friend."

He let out a derisive snort. "Great friend? You wouldn't want to know half of the things that go through his mind when you and Harry are the centers of attention."

"That's because he's insecure," Hermione protested, unable to hold back her tongue. "He's afraid of being neglected. Mrs. Weasley always wished that Ron was a daughter, so he'd never gotten a lot of attention as a child, since there are five brothers ahead of him, and Ginny was born when he was one-year-old. He never got the attention he craved for."

"Oh right. I've forgotten that inherent need in you to protect all things living," the Dark Lord said wryly. "House-elves, centaurs, Hagrid, Harry, Ronald … what next, Hermione? Manticores?" He stared at her for a second before continuing, "Now that I think about it, what is he useful for? Perhaps I should give him to the Order. That should cause enough havoc there to hinder them."

Hermione swallowed before answering, "I … reckon it's because of his insecurity. If he manages to get over that, he could improve in all other areas."

The Dark Lord remained quiet for a while, eyeing her face, scrutinizing her, though Hermione had no idea why. It was almost as if he were searching for something.

Then, he released her.

"If that's what you believe," he said, his voice suddenly cold.

Hermione wondered if she had done something wrong and looked at him questioningly, her eyes wide.

~-0-~

Rolling his eyes up to the ceiling and without a moment of hesitation, Voldemort pulled out his wand and pointed it at Hermione.

"Petrificus Totalus," he cast, purposely letting her know what spell he used.

With a thud, Hermione—no, the doppelganger of Granger landed on the floor. Finally. He was nearly getting suffocated with all those drooling thoughts she had about him. What was wrong with her? This was not the Hermione he'd known.

He hadn't been particularly angry with Granger, since he knew that she had wanted to return to the future for her friends' sake. He'd known that even without Slytherin's intervention, she would have found a way to return her friends back to the future. It could not have been her own wish. If it were …

His eyes slightly narrowed upon that notion. If she'd wanted to return to the future for Ronald Weasley, she would learn that that would be … unadvisable. Especially now, when he had the rest of the world under his control. His mind was just getting creative about the methods he would use on her if she dared to leave him for Weasley, when he remembered that he still had the false version of her in front of him to take care of.

"Do you know what you've done wrong?" he asked quietly as he circled around her still body slowly. "Of course not. You do not have a single clue about what I'm talking about, and you're not going to have a clue about anything."

He took in a deep breath. Oh, this was infuriating.

"I can understand all that admiration that you've had for me while I have my other looks since I've practically been something like a god to you and the rest of my Death Eaters. But after you've found out that I'm the Dark Lord, posing as your Defense the Dark Arts professor, you were supposed to fight back. And not even standing up for that moron of a wizard that you call your boyfriend. Even if there's nothing to stand up for when he's concerned," he said, more to himself than to her. He crouched down and grabbed her chin.

Ugh, now there were apologies in her eyes. He didn't want apologies! If he still had hair, he would've torn them all out by now. Well, technically, he had hair since he was "merging" with his Horcrux to get the looks he had now. Nonetheless, he didn't need to harm himself for the sins that she'd committed.

Releasing her chin as if burned, he stood up again and pointed his wand at her. "Crucio."

How dare this—this imposter take on the face and name of his witch? He refused to believe that this laughable replica of Iris Parkinson would grow up to be his Hermione.

But she wasn't screaming. He wanted to hear her scream in pain for daring to pretend to be his witch.

With a flick of his wand, he reversed the Full Body Bind placed on her and cast the Cruciatus on her again. Immediately, the sweet sounds of her screams filled his ears and slowly calmed him down. There. Much better.

"I'm—sorry—my—Lord—I'm—sorry!" the witch on the floor kept screaming whilst he kept the curse on her.

Unexpectedly, that made his ire rise yet again.

"You. Are. Not. Supposed. To. Apologize," he said through gritted teeth. He turned his wand another quarter of an inch and increased the strength of the Cruciatus.

Finally, she was using all her strength to scream rather than speak.

When he finally released her from the spell, he cast the Full Body Bind on her again. Closing his eyes, he pushed the feelings of anger back to a manageable degree before looking at her again.

Sweat had formed on her skin and drenched her robes, and she'd had her eyes closed when he cast the Full Body Bind on her. Good. He wouldn't have to see those un-Hermione-like gazes while he spoke to her.

"What has gone wrong with you, Granger?" he asked quietly, rolling the wand between his fingers. "This was not supposed to happen. You're not supposed to become a carbon copy of those annoying girls who followed me around like a stupid lapdog." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "I suppose childhood imprinting does have something to do with this, but you spoke up against Dumbledore when he did something idiotic, even when you apparently idolized him."

He could imagine the confusion clouding up her eyes, if they were open. As it was, he did not need to explain himself, something he was glad about.

"Apparently, telling you who I am is not the right direction to go. At least you dared to speak back when I was Professor Riddle. Perhaps we should try again?" He heaved an exaggerated sigh and crouched down next to her. "Hopefully, you've had enough sense to not tell Potter and Weasley about 'Professor Riddle's planning to take over the Dark Lord's place!'" he said, mimicking her voice for the last part. He paused. "Considering the fact that Harry still considers me his favorite professor, I assume that you haven't told them. But just in case …"

He grabbed her chin and undid the spell. The moment she opened her eyes, he was into her mind, and seconds later, he found his answer. Satisfied with the answer, he left her mind and placed the Full Body Bind on her again—he didn't need her interrupting his train of thought.

"Let's see then, no telling you I am the Dark Lord this time around, and no pretending that I'm trying to take over the Dark Lord's position because that will undoubtedly make you go insane again." He sighed and rolled his eyes. "We'll see if that'll make you a bit more … normal. And more like the real Hermione Granger. You've told Harry and Weasley that you have detention, so we need a reason for that. Ah yessss, we can say that it was because you've attempted to assault the professor. Or rather, you'll remember doing that."

He smirked at her and pointed his wand at her again. "Obliviate."

~-0-~

A/N: No, I'm not dead yet. The muse has been recently held hostage by "A Tangle of Webs," the birthday present fanfic I've written for Nerys and Lady Miya, which is why there hasn't been an update for SiT main story and the outtakes. However, that story is going to be a short story, so I should be back to a more regular updating schedule for this and the main story.

Many thanks those of you who've read and rated!

Huge, huge thanks to the below:

Betas: MaraudersWolf for grammar and Nerys for logic and flow

Reviewers: m0nt, Alassea Malfoy, SarahLuvsZombehs, Anon, Aviendha, and courtney!

Review replies can be found here: http://serp-replies.livejournal.com/21727.html
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Somewhere in Time (Outtakes)