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Somewhere in Time	By : serpentinred Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 64471 -:- Recommendations : 6 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I don't make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
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Chapter 7

"It's too dangerous, Hermione," Harry warned under his breath as they walked towards the Great Hall for dinner. "I thought you said that we're not supposed to attract his attention. I know you've always been answering questions, but … it's as if you're taunting him now. What if he starts attacking you one of these days?"

"Sorry," she apologized. "I … I got carried away."

Harry and Ginny smiled at her.

"It's alright, Hermione," Ginny answered.

They ducked instinctively away as a cackling Peeves shot past, a spear in his hand.

"No, Harry's right. If I keep on doing what I'm doing, I'm going to attract more attention than I should," Hermione concluded with a frown. "Not to mention that I've nearly hinted to him that we know something about him. I should avoid attracting attention to myself." She sighed in defeat. "At least I have the fond memory of how Harry kicked his arse."

Ginny laughed.

"Imagine that, Hermione Granger not answering questions in class!" Harry exclaimed with mock horror.

"Oh, be quiet, Harry," Hermione scolded as the two of them laughed. "You don't even know how hard that will be, especially when I have every single class with him."

"Alright then. We'll go with you to Dumbledore's office every night and pretend that we're in class," Harry teased. "Then, we'll let you answer every question Dumbledore asks." He raised his hand and started jumping up and down in imitation of his best friend. "I know the answer, Professor! I know the answer!"

Hermione glared at Harry as Ginny giggled. "I'm sure Dumbledore has better things to do than to tolerate our ridiculous requests," she sniffed. "I'll live."

She desperately hoped that Dumbledore would find a way to send them back. She wanted to get away from Tom Riddle as soon as possible. Not mention the fact that she missed Ron dearly.

~-0-~

Her resolution to remain quiet completely shattered in their next Potions class when Tom bowed towards her after he was awarded ten points for correctly answering a question. The gesture could have passed as a gentlemanly move if not for the mocking and challenging undertone. The competition, therefore, continued at full throttle, eliciting groans and sighs from the other students in the room. As the combat between the two best students at Hogwarts ensued, Hermione's irritation with Tom only increased.

Augusta Rookwood turned out to be another thorn in her side. Whenever Hermione raised her voice even slightly in the Gryffindor common room, she would have some nasty comment to throw at her.

"Other people do need to study, you know. We all know that you're very intelligent, verbally battling with the Head Boy, but it would be appreciated if you stop preventing the rest of us from hearing our thoughts," Augusta had scathingly said to her one day.

Both Harry and Ginny made it onto the Quidditch team, much to their joy. Hermione hardly cared about the sport, but recently, she found the Pitch more welcoming than the common room. At least she did not need to put up with Augusta's nasty remarks or glares from Tom Riddle's admirers.

Many of the girls at Hogwarts were quite resentful towards her. Somehow, they were under the impression that she was arguing with Tom in order to gain his attention. The upcoming Hogsmeade trip only added more problems since they feared that Tom might actually decide to go with Hermione.

This, of course, only fueled Hermione's wrath towards him.

"He's not more annoying than Malfoy. He's not more annoying than Malfoy," Hermione muttered under her breath, making her way to the Great Hall for lunch.

Ginny giggled beside her.

Hermione threw her hands up in the air in defeat. "Who am I kidding? He's the most arrogant, annoying, evil, snobbish, freaky control maniac in the history of mankind!"

"True. At least at home, they didn't think you fancied Malfoy," Harry laughed, earning a screech of aggravation from her.

When they walked into the Great Hall, they saw the object of their discussion standing at their table talking with Gareth. Hermione was further disgruntled by the sight of Abraxas standing beside Tom.

"Why don't they sit at their own table?" she grumbled.

"They're not really sitting at our table," Ginny pointed out. "They're just talking to Gareth."

"I know that," Hermione replied. "I'm just sick and tired of seeing them. I thought Slytherins and Gryffindors were not supposed to be nice to one another."

"They're not," Harry said. "Riddle's the only one who seems to like Gryffindors."

"Which is all an act!" Hermione growled.

Harry looked at her with a helpless expression before they walked all the way to the Gryffindor table and sat down near Gareth and Joseph.

"Good day," Tom greeted them.

They mumbled their greetings before piling their plates with food.

"Granger, do you even brush your hair in the morning?" Abraxas sneered, stepping towards her with an expression that clearly said that he was looking for trouble.

"Good day to you, too, Malfoy," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes and pouring pumpkin juice into her goblet.

"Or should I ask, does your kind even know what a brush is?" he continued to ask tauntingly, taking yet another step towards her.

A smile appeared on her lips. After all, an overload of frustration was never a good thing for health. And recently, all she had been doing was accumulating annoyance. What was better than to unleash it on white ferret senior who had so willingly placed himself in her way?

"Enlighten me," she replied, plastering a fake smile on her face and turning around to face Abraxas. "I'm sure Malfoy Manor has so many mirrors and brushes that we would have to swim through them if we could make it past the front door."

The Gryffindors within the proximity snickered at her comment.

"Which reminds me," Hermione continued, placing a hand on her chin as if she was thinking and raising an eyebrow, "were you brought up learning how to throw witless insults at ladies? I would have expected so much more from a person who comes from a family like yours."

"Keep your mouth shut about my family, Granger," he warned, flames shooting up in his eyes.

"Then keep your comments to yourself and mind your own business," Hermione retorted, rolling her eyes again.

"Well, if you are going to walk in front of me all day, at least make yourself presentable," Abraxas replied, completely ignoring her words.

"You're going off topic here, Malfoy," she snorted as she stood up. She tilted her head to one side and grinned. "And nobody asked you to look at me. I never knew you had your eyes trained on me."

Someone from Gryffindor whistled at her comment.

"Who would want to keep their eyes on you?" he spat out, a look of disgust on his face.

Hermione mildly wondered where this conversation was going and decided to humor him a bit longer to find out.

"No one else seemed to mind what style my hair is in."

"Well, you're pretty hard to miss, aren't you?" he commented, raising his voice higher as a flush appeared on his pale cheeks. Hermione could not tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. "You're always walking around with a bird's nest that you call 'hair' on top of your head."

With that, he reached out and made an attempt to grab a lock of her hair.

She immediately shifted to one side to avoid contact with him, pulled out her wand, and pressed it against his chest.

"Touch me again and I'll hex you, Malfoy. Make no mistake about that," she warned quietly, her eyes narrowed.

His motions triggered the cautious part of her mind, warning her that this "conversation" was probably more than simple. It might have been simply a tactic to divert her attention. Her heartbeat quickened when she realized how close Abraxas had been in obtaining her hair.

And with his knowledge in the Dark Arts, that would have been the last thing she wanted or needed.

The Slytherins surrounding them became quiet, eying her with curiosity and surprise.

"Hermione," Harry pulled her sleeve.

He looked towards the staff table, but they were immersed in their own conversations and oblivious to what was happening between Hermione and Abraxas. Even if they were to look towards them, their actions would have been blocked by the people surrounding them.

"I'm only saying this once, Malfoy, and I'm not going to warn you again before I hex you," she said.

Abraxas's eyes alternated between looking at her and her wand, his lips pressed firmly together into a thin line. He then took a step backwards and held his head higher.

"I was only making a suggestion."

If looks could kill, Hermione was sure she would have been dead already. He stared at her for a moment and he probably would not have hesitated in hexing her on the spot if they were not right in the middle of the Great Hall. When he realized that there was nothing else he could do, he spun on his heel and stomped back to the Slytherin table, pushing aside a first year on his way back.

Hermione stowed away her wand, sat down, and took a gulp out of the pumpkin juice in front of her.

"I honestly wish Abraxas would grow up one of these days," Tom suddenly said.

Hermione nearly choked on her pumpkin juice. She had forgotten that he had not returned to the Slytherin table with Abraxas.

"He's quite judgmental sometimes and there's nothing we can say to change him," Tom continued while Hermione stared at the pumpkin juice thinking about how hypocritical he was.

"Don't feel bad about it, Tom," Gareth reassured him. "We know that you're different from him."

Hermione rolled her eyes despite her attempts to stop it. It was a good thing that he was standing behind her rather than in front of her.

She probably rolled her eyes a bit too much because she was feeling slightly dizzy now.

"It does look bad on the House though. It's a pity that people from different Houses can't get along with one another," she dimly registered Tom saying, attempting to fight the dizziness off.

"I think I'm going to return to the dorms for a while. I'm feeling slightly lightheaded," she muttered as she stood up from her table.

She distinctly heard gasps from Harry, Ginny, Joseph, and Gareth before she fainted into the arms of a young man with dark eyes and jet-black hair.

~-0-~

"Oh, she'll be alright. Be glad that she didn't have a chance to scratch her face before she fainted or else she would be living with scars for the rest of her life," she could hear Madam Pomfrey say.

"Will those boils go away soon?" a deep, calming voice asked.

Mm … I could listen to that voice forever, Hermione thought to herself as she stirred in the bed.

Although the significance of the conversation was not really registering in her mind, it was so soothing to hear this person talk. It was like drinking Butterbeer during the winter. She wondered who that voice belonged to as she buried her head deeper into the pillow. She was about to scratch the itch on her face but was grabbed by a strong, warm hand.

"It might take around five days, but it will go away," Madam Pomfrey answered accompanied with the sounds of bottles clinking.

"Don't pretend you care about her, Riddle. You were obviously the one who did something to her pumpkin juice," she heard Harry's voice whisper angrily as her arm was harshly pulled out of the warm hand.

Riddle?

"And why would I do that?" the voice from heaven questioned, matching Harry's volume.

Hermione's eyes slowly fluttered open and she tried to make sense of what she heard and saw. Tall, handsome bloke standing on her right side. Slightly shorter, but quite attractive bloke standing on her left. Both of them seemed quite familiar, but for some reason her mind was moving a lot slower than usual.

"Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed as she pushed Harry aside and held on to the witch's hand. "Are you alright? You've been out for two hours already."

Hermione blinked once or twice, attempting to adjust her eyes to the brightness of the room. The windows were slightly open, allowing small currents of air to escape into the room and make the curtains billow into clouds of white. Rays of light from the afternoon sun stole into the room whenever the winds blew hard enough to make cracks in the curtains.

She closed her eyes in bliss whenever she felt the light breezes sweep across face. For some reason, it felt warmer than usual.

"Ginny … why am I feeling so … tired and hot?" she asked feebly.

"It has to do with the potion you were given," Madam Pomfrey answered as she walked over to the right side of the bed. "Excuse me, Tom."

He moved to the side, allowing Madam Pomfrey to have access to her patient.

"What was the potion, Madam Pomfrey?" Tom inquired.

Madam Pomfrey threw him a look of resignation as she helped Hermione up and fed her the antidote.

"It's an ancient potion. No student should have access to the formula since it should be in the Restricted Section," she huffed. "The professors these days! Dippet should really monitor who's giving out passes and allowing such dangerous knowledge to fall into the hands of students!"

She then helped Hermione lie down again before she took the emptied bottle into the backroom to clean out the remaining contents.

"We know that it's you, Riddle. Don't pretend that it's—"

"Harry …" Gareth started to say.

"I have no idea why you seem to have a grudge against me, but I was not the one who has done this," Tom cut in.

"What happened?" Hermione asked as she closed her eyes.

She was tired but she wanted to know what had happened to her. Her hand reached up to scratch the ongoing itch but her wrist was caught again. She opened her eyes slightly and found her wrist in Tom's hand.

"Someone poisoned your drink, Hermione," Harry snarled, especially emphasizing the first word before he pulled her wrist out of Tom's hand.

Tom had an unreadable expression on his face again.

"So I was poisoned?"

"Yes, Hermione," Joseph replied. "You have to remember not to scratch your face, though, or else it will leave scars."

Hermione widened her eyes despite how heavy her eyelids felt.

"Why? What happened?" she asked.

"Well …" Ginny looked at Harry while Joseph and Gareth exchanged a glance.

"The potion had other effects in addition to making you feel slow and tired," Harry said uneasily.

"And those would be?" Hermione persisted. Her eyes slid over to him, who avoided her look.

"You have boils on your face that might itch and hurt at the same time," Tom replied for them.

That would explain the itching.

"You can't scratch them or you might be either left with scars or something even worse," Tom continued.

"So I can't scratch them?" Hermione questioned as she closed her eyes.

It was going to be horrible. She could endure the pain, which was nothing compared to the Cruciatus Curse that Bellatrix Lestrange had hit her with; the itching, however, was a completely different issue.

"Doesn't Madam Pomfrey have a potion to stop the itching?"

"Momentarily, yes, but it will come back within two hours," Tom responded.

"That seems like a minor issue," Hermione remarked sarcastically.

"Well, that's not the only symptom," Ginny added awkwardly.

Hermione's eyes flew open as she looked at the redhead. Ginny looked at her, not knowing what to say. She closed her eyes for a few minutes before she strengthened her hold on Hermione's hand. Ginny then opened her eyes.

"Hermione, don't worry. It'll all go away within five days. Madam Pomfrey said so."

Hermione pursed her lips.

"Give me a mirror," she requested.

"Hermione …"

"Give me a mirror," she repeated firmly.

Ginny looked at Harry before her hand reached into her schoolbag and took out a small mirror. Hermione took the mirror and closed her eyes for a second before she brought it up to her face.

When she opened her eyes, she regretted her decision to borrow the mirror.

She looked worse than a clown. There were countless boils all over her face and neck, each in different sizes and each boasting an obnoxiously noticeable color. Hermione swallowed the urge to scream.

"The colors might take up to a week before they disappear," Tom explained, "but they will, most likely, go away."

Most likely? Most likely? So there was a chance that she would have stains on her face for the rest of her life?

She must have had a horrified look on her face because Ginny immediately pulled her into a hug while Tom turned to the table beside the Infirmary bed and poured out a glass of water.

"It's going to be okay, Hermione. Don't worry about it," Ginny comforted.

Easy for you to say. You're not the one with rainbow boils on your face, Hermione thought bitterly.

She was not really the type of girl who spent countless hours in front of the mirror, worried about her looks. She was, nevertheless, still a girl. When she was younger, she had been ridiculed because of her buckteeth and frizzy hair more times than she cared to remember. She had been more than grateful when Madam Pomfrey had managed to shrink her teeth to normal sizes. The bushy hair was also manageable with a few well-placed spells. However, she could hardly imagine what she would do if she had to live with stains all over her face.

A glass of water appeared in front of her, bringing her out of her thoughts. She looked at Tom questioningly, astonishment flooding her still mildly fuzzy brain.

"Drinking more water would help wash out the potion," he said quietly, explaining his actions.

Hermione had no idea why he was being nice to her. Out of surprise and with a mind that was not working clearly, she took the glass out of his hands and took a sip from it.

Whoever had done this to her had better hide. They would not want to be at the receiving end of her revenge.

~-0-~

Hermione stared at the ceiling of the Infirmary. She was bored. She glanced at her schoolbag, which she had been holding on to when she fainted. It was on the chair beside the bed. If she remembered correctly, she had the book about Slytherin in it. She had forgotten to check it out with Madam Pince when she was thrown out of the library. However, apparently, the librarian was so furious with the Gryffindor causing "riots in the library" that she had overlooked the book that was in Hermione's hands.

Hermione wondered if she could take the book out and put it under her pillow without alarming Madam Pomfrey, who was washing something in the water basin behind the screen. The school nurse would have a fit if she found a patient lurking about.

BANG!

The sound of the door slamming open slightly alarmed the two occupants of the Infirmary. Hermione's eyes widened in horror as she watched two Slytherin boys and a Gryffindor girl trudge into the room. A couple of minutes later, a Slytherin girl and two Gryffindor boys entered.

Madam Pomfrey whirled around towards the door angrily.

"By Godric, what is the meaning of—" and she stopped mid-sentence.

The original look of annoyance on her face turned into one of anger and concern when she viewed the spectacle in front of her.

Two of the Gryffindor boys looked as if they were weird species from the ocean. One of them had five antennas growing on top of his head. Black, hair-like things were wiggling from his nose, brushing against skin that had somehow been transformed into something that resembled a seal's hide. The other one's hair had been Transfigured or cursed into some kind of seaweed. He was being supported by the other Gryffindor boy since his feet had somehow been turned into flippers.

One of the Slytherin boys reminded Hermione slightly of Mad-Eye Moody, with one of his eyes larger than the other one and the moonlight casting a glassy gleam over it. One of his arms was twisted at an abnormal angle and half of his hair was shaved off of his head. The other Slytherin boy had an extra arm extending out of his left armpit. It seemed that it was cursed to attack its owner since the first Slytherin boy was trying to stop it from punching him.

The Slytherin girl's hair was charmed a bright hot pink, contrasting tremendously with her skin which was glowing neon green. She was covering her mouth with her right hand, which had ten fingers, each twisting in weird directions; she was obviously trying to hide some of the other damage that had been done to her face.

Evidently, someone had tried to transfigure the Gryffindor girl into a fire hydrant but had been unsuccessful. The girl was completely red from head to shoes. Her arms were almost completely nonexistent, with only her hands extending from her torso. Her legs seemed to be glued together and Hermione suspected that the only reason she arrived earlier than the others was because she had jumped the entire way from the scene of battle to the Infirmary.

"OH, YOU—" Madam Pomfrey screeched, cutting herself off and opening her mouth a few times. She glared at each student with anger and care etched on her face. She allowed herself to breathe deeply a couple of times. "When are you lot going to grow up!"

"It was an accident, Madam Pomfrey," the Gryffindor girl replied immediately.

Hermione vaguely remembered her as Megan Jenkins, one of the younger students.

"We were doing a project and somehow it exploded on us," the Slytherin boy that reminded Hermione of Moody spoke up.

"And landed all of you with different injuries, Mr. Bulstrode?" Madam Pomfrey questioned with a look of irritation on her face.

She pulled her wand out and conjured chairs for her patients. The Gryffindors pulled their chairs nearer to Hermione's bed while the snakes moved away and gathered around one another on the other side of the room. With a huff, the Mediwitch went to the backroom, presumably to get potions for their afflictions.

"That was a stupid excuse," the young man with five antennas snorted.

"As if you could come up with something better, Weasley?" Bulstrode sneered.

Hermione stared at the young man with five antennas, finally recognizing him as the younger brother of Gareth, Galahad.

"Would you stop bickering before Madam Pomfrey yells at us again?" Megan sighed.

"Would you stop bickering before I curse you into oblivion, Jenkins?" said the Slytherin girl who was still covering her face with her hand.

"I'd like to see you try, Yaxley. You couldn't cast a proper spell even with a diagram and the professor whispering instructions in your ear," Megan hissed.

"Shh!" the Gryffindor boy who looked almost like seaweed warned, glancing at the returning Madam Pomfrey.

The door opened again, revealing Tom Riddle, elegant and handsome as usual. Hermione took one look at him and averted her eyes, remembering how he had held her hands back from ruining her face. She had been berating herself for the past few days for thinking that he had a wonderful voice, even if she had been half unconscious.

"Good day, Madam Pomfrey," he said, a gracious smile on his face.

"Oh, Tom," she sighed, casting a glare toward the Slytherin girl who giggled at the sight of the young Dark Lord.

"I must ask for your forgiveness on behalf of my classmates," Tom said apologetically, a most genuine expression of repentance on his face.

"Oh, it wasn't your fault, Tom," Madam Pomfrey reassured him, affection written across her face.

"But I must," he said immediately. "As the Head Boy, I take it as my responsibility to look after my classmates, especially those in my own House."

Knowing who he would become in the future, it was quite clear that the glints of threat in his eyes directed towards the Slytherins were not figments of Hermione's imagination or a trick of light.

"You are such a dear, Tom. No, no! Don't worry for the least bit! Nothing I cannot fix within the hour," Madam Pomfrey said, her expression evidently softer than before. Hermione had to stop herself from snorting on the spot. "I suppose you will want to speak with your classmates as well?"

"If that is possible," he answered humbly.

He watched her until she disappeared into the backroom before rounding on his classmates. Although Hermione could not hear what he was saying to them, the intimidation beneath the false calmness he portrayed communicated more to her than words.

"What happened?" she whispered at the group of Gryffindors next to her bed.

"Well …" the three of them looked at one another, hesitant to tell her too much about what had happened lest she tell one of the professors.

Hermione huffed, "Just so you know, I'm a Gryffindor."

"We know that!" Galahad protested, looking away from her.

She narrowed her eyes.

"Gareth forbade you from telling me, didn't he?" she asked.

"It's for your own good, really," Megan grumbled. "The three of you are new students and we can't have you ending up in the Infirmary like the rest of us every month or so."

"Every—" Hermione stopped herself mid-sentence, a bit surprised at the frequency of quarrels between the two Houses. "In case you haven't noticed, it would be even more dangerous for me to walk around without knowing what might hit me from behind!"

"Oh, they're not that stupid," Galahad dismissed what she had said with a wave of his hand. "No, they're Slytherins. They're not going to risk getting caught by the professors."

"You call this," she gestured towards their ailments with her hand, "not taking risks? Don't you think the professors are going to find out about it?"

"They know," the Gryffindor with the least injuries spoke up, "but they can't do anything as long as they don't have evidence."

"Didn't it occur to you that the Slytherins might actually set up a trap for you to get caught?" Hermione questioned.

Her question was again brushed off.

"We're careful enough."

She opened her mouth to say something, but was stopped by Tom strolling over to her bed.

"Good day, Miss Granger," he greeted her.

"Hello," she replied quietly as she sat up in her bed.

She was already bloody short standing next to him. She did not want to feel even shorter by lying down.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the Gryffindors not-too-subtly elbowing each other and looking guardedly at the interactions between her and Tom. The Slytherins on the other side of the room were casting questioning glances towards Tom and her and whispering amongst themselves. Without warning, a warm feeling worked its way up her cheeks.

Tom took out a pile of notes and handed it to her.

"These are the notes and homework for today," he explained when he saw the quizzical look on her face.

Hermione sat there looking at him disbelievingly. He came here just to give her notes? The Heir of Slytherin? The leader for pureblood supremacy? The evil Lord Voldemort? He had to be kidding her.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Why?" she questioned, trying to ignore the disturbing whispers of the group of Gryffindors beside her.

"You're in nearly all my classes," he answered simply.

"Oh," Hermione replied, not fully satisfied with his answer.

She felt that Tom Riddle must have some kind of hidden agenda to be nice to her of all people.

"And I do realize how horrible it is for someone who loves to learn to miss class. I was forced to do so the first day you arrived, if you remember," he added with a faint smile.

Hermione stared at him. She knew that he appreciated intelligent people, but that he would not hesitate in killing them if they stood in his way. Still, she felt as if there was something more behind his actions.

She took the papers and immediately noticed how neat his notes were and how elegant his script was. This surprised her since Ron and Harry had always had handwriting that was easily compared to chicken scratchings, complete with rips and suspicious stains.

"There's no need to thank me," Tom replied. "A simple charm duplicated the notes I copied in class."

After he had left the Infirmary with the promise that he would bring the following days' notes and homework, Hermione lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling again. The Gryffindors were looking at her with a mixture of admiration, suspicion, and curiosity, but refused to utter another word about their injuries; it was useless for her to try to get information from them.

Her only comfort was the fact that Madam Pomfrey kept to her promise and healed them within the hour. At least she did not have to endure the hisses of speculation muttered under the Gryffindors' breaths and glances of scorn from the Slytherins.

When they left, she was finally all alone again in the Infirmary. However, she was far from bored now. She was analyzing all the possibilities of why Tom Marvolo Riddle would be kind to her, since he was not a kind person.

And that was a very frustrating endeavor.

~-0-~

A/N: Many thanks to my betas (Lildaani, Noybates, and Hajnalmadar) and my wonderful, wonderful reviewers!
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Somewhere in Time