[a/n: Hey guys! I hope you enjoy the chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it. LONGEST chapter i have written yet.. i think lol
The part where Hermione appears at the ball, I suggest you guys play the song GRACE by Kate Havnevik OR EVERYTHING by Lifehouse. It was the songs i played while i wrote that part :D ofcourse you can play your own if you want.]
Hermione swallowed hard as she waited. ‘He’s not about to ask what I think he’s about to ask, is he?’
‘No ofcourse not.’ She contradicted herself.
He tried but he couldn’t. He felt obligated to ask her seeing as how she did help him with almost everything and yet the words could not form into his mouth. Also, he felt responsible for her somehow. He dared not think of what Malfoy was planning to do to her when he told him earlier about showing her his ‘best talent’.
“Might you ever consider moving that fat arse of yours off my Potions book?” he nodded at the book and parchments that Hermione was sitting on.
Hermione rolled her eyes and stood up, “Your face looked like you were exploding from tension… and all for a stupid book? No wonder you’re top in this school, Head Boy.” She picked up the huge book that she knew was poking on her hip beforehand and yet she was too tired to do anything about it, and threw it towards Riddle who caught it swiftly.
Though she knew she was not here to do well in school, she could not help but resent the fact that he was still beating her in every class, granted she was always the 2nd.
She began walking away when Tom stopped her, “Where are you going? Dinner?”
“Have you ever seen me go to dinner, Riddle?” she said, turning around and smirking at him, “I’ve got Detention with Dumbledore, remember?”
Tom nodded, “Try not to get yourself killed on the way and back, will you? I haven’t got any rounds today.”
Hermione glared at him and told him dryly, “Thank you for your concern, Riddle. I’m sure I’ll survive one night without my knight in shining armour.” She turned around and walked away, seething with every step she took. She could not stand the fact that he thinks of himself as her savior when really he’s destroyed her in every way possible.
“One more thing.” Tom said, loudly. He was glad there was nobody else in the common room. Hermione stopped just a step away from the trap door leading to the outside world and away from the stingy dungeon and Tom Riddle.
“I thought you might like to know, though I’m sure you probably already had an idea, Malfoy is planning on taking you to the ball.”
Hermione raised her eyebrows at the young dark lord. Of course, she already had a feeling Malfoy would. The whole school knew it. How could she not. “You’re telling me this… why?”
“I don’t think his ego will handle it if you refuse him for what seems like the thousandth time in front of anybody.”
Hermione smirked. “Don’t tell me you actually care about hurting Malfoy’s ego? And what makes you so sure I’ll turn him down anyway?”
“Aren’t you?” Tom raised his eyebrows and then shrugged. “Just as well. It would be entirely embarrassing for a girl to go to the ball on her own.”
Hermione balled her fists. She knew he was only teasing but that only made her even more furious.
“And who will you be going with? Your over conceited carcass I presume? I hope you both have the time of your lives.” She said heatedly before storming out of the common room.
Tom glared at the door in which she disappeared into. ‘Temporary insanity’ he concluded. ‘Why I even considered asking that wretched girl was simply temporary insanity.’
“I’m sorry I’m late, Professor.” Hermione huffed as she entered the room. She did not realize how late she was as she strolled around the castle, fuming.
“Oh that’s perfectly alright, Miss Vane.” The Professor smiled at her kindly as he sorted through thousands of photographs and small portraits from inside boxes.
Hermione hurriedly helped the man as they both piled on photos to throw and portraits he wanted to hang on his wall or wanted to store. Endless faces stared up at Hermione as she stacked the piles.
It was quiet for almost half an hour aside from the Professor’s usual humming or whistling until Hermione abruptly stopped, staring at the photograph in her hands. It showed two young men, a tall, thin boy with auburn hair with his right arm around a boy who looked younger than the other but only a few years with blond curly hair that reached his shoulders.
She knew right away who the boy, with the bright piercing blue eyes staring back at her from the photo and grinning, was. She examined the other boy more closely. He looked exceptionally familiar until finally she realized.
“Gellert Grindelwald” she whispered. She had seen this photo before, how could she have forgotten? Harry had shown her the same picture in Skeeter’s book once a long time ago after Dumbledore’s death.
According to the book, which she always found unreliable and full of lies, the two were very close friends when they were young. It has already been a few years since Grindelwald had started to wreak havoc. She wondered why Dumbledore did not immediately go and fight him though she knew he eventually would soon.
Was it because they were once good friends that he was reluctant to defeat him? It was then that she realized the whistling had stopped.
She turned around, her eyes wide and clutching the photograph with both her hands. The Professor was not looking at her and was instead staring at the photograph in her hands, his face unreadable.
“I—I’m… sorry, Professor. I didn’t mean to… to” She stuttered. She was afraid she had broken an invisible line with the old Professor. She really did not know a lot about his personal life since he was a very private person. “I’m so sorry.”
“I was such a fool. It was too late…much too late” the Professor said softly, still not looking away from the photo in her hands, “when I realized what kind of a person that boy in that photograph really was and to what extent he will go to... I hope you will not judge me from the poor choice of companion I had as a young man”
“I am not asking you to explain, Professor. And of course I will not prosecute you from the actions of a person you once called a friend.” She blinked, shocked. She did not expect the Professor to look and sound so… vulnerable. It did not feel right. He looked so tired and much older than he really was, at least in this timeline.
The Professor smiled softly, “That man killed thousands… maybe millions and continue to do so. He is responsible for the many men and women who will never go back to their homes… for the many orphans that now exist.”
He paused before continuing, “But aren’t I, ultimately, just as much responsible for this?”
“Of course not, Professor! You didn’t raise your wand and kill those people! You are not responsible for any of this.” She cried.
“I didn’t raise my wand.” He muttered to himself. “I may not be responsible directly, but still responsible enough. Young girl, I sit here in my office, redecorating, while this man kills every hour of every day.”
“Yes but that does not make you responsible at all!” she was so surprised she was hearing this from the would-be most powerful wizard of all. She could not understand why he was being like this. Why would he ever think he was responsible? He will save thousands… millions when he defeats Grindelwald!
“Sir… you may not know it yet but… you will change the world someday.” She said sincerely, “Your kindness and courage, strength and power will influence so many others, Professor, I guarantee you that.”
Dumbledore smiled, “But courage, I do not have, Miss Vane. If I did, I would be across the country by now.”
Hermione could not understand why he was telling her all this. She did not know this was how Dumbledore was feeling before he went to face Grindelwald. It was hard to think that this man, scared and vulnerable, will win the greatest battle the wizarding world has ever seen soon.
“But I believe you already do, Professor. You already had and always will have strength and courage. I believe in you... and I’m sure the rest of the school will agree with me.” She said, smiling.
Dumbledore stared at the young girl in front of him, “I was right, as I usually am. You really are full of astuteness for your age.”
Hermione smiled at her Professor. It was funny how she was consoling the greatest wizard the world has seen for a duel she already knows he would win. She was excited when the time finally comes that Dumbledore will defeat Grindelwald. Only 2 more months.
“This is just too ridiculous!!! I refuse to go out in this ridiculous excuse of a… frock!” Greta cried, spinning around in front of the mirror.
In the end, Hermione had finally decided to go to the ball, especially after the fight she had with Riddle. If she did not go, it would only mean she did not have a date in the end and was too ashamed to go. Though she knew it was immature, she still could not bear to look a fool in front of him and she hates that he was always right.
They had all already done their make-up and were starting to put on their dresses when Greta’s shrieking started. Somehow, the shop assistant had packed a different dress than what Greta had picked out. The caramel-coloured ball gown was obviously too large for her and was covering every part of her skin except her head.
“Since you paid for mine, I’d be happy to trade.” Hermione offered. She didn’t really care what she looked like. She would have been happy to have done her own hair and make-up if Greta and Emma hadn’t ambushed her.
“No no no, Nerissa, you are not going to tempt me! Besides, you are going with Abraxas Malfoy to the ball! Half the girls in this school will kill you if you go around arm-in-arm with Malfoy in this.” She pulled on the hem of her overlarge gown.
Hermione scrunched her nose. The next morning after detention, Malfoy had approached her with a bouquet of silver roses and had asked her to the ball. He was taken aback when she agreed as if he was already bracing himself to say no. The truth was, she wasn’t sure if there would be anyone else that would ask her and so she ended up saying yes to Malfoy.
Hermione sighed in defeat, “Alright, here.” She pulled her wand and silently pointed it around the huge gown for several seconds. Piece by piece, the huge fabric embracing the dress began to shed.
“Whoa!” Greta cried, “What are you doing?”
“Shush, I have to concentrate.” Hermione said as she continued muttering the encantation. She remembered when Parvati had tried to do this on a Sunday dress of Lavender and instead ended up as a scrap of rag. Lavender had taught both girls how to rectify dresses and modify them into different styles which was a very useful spell especially in cases such as this one.
“Done! There you go!” Hermione said, pulling Greta’s shoulders towards the mirror, “What do you think?”
“It—It’s absolutely…” Greta twirled around the mirror, “It’s stunning! I have never seen this type of design before! You are absolutely amazing, Nerissa”
Hermione bit her lip. The spell was made to modify dresses from her time so she can’t exactly take credit. She reckons all dresses that the spell modifies would look like dresses from her time. “It was just luck, really. In any way, I’m glad you liked it.”
“Can you do mine, Nerissa?” Emma asked shyly. Her dress was a conservative pale ice blue nylon chiffon with white embroidery. The wide straps accents her perfect creamy shoulders and the style somehow fit her just right with her introverted personality.
Greta ran to Hermione’s side and watched in awe as Hermione pointed her wand at the tulle lined balloon skirt Emma was wearing, slowly shedding the long hem until it reached below her knees. She began to shed some of the fabric from Emma’s chest and had made the neckline a little lower but tried to maintain a little of its conservative nature.
“It’s perfect!” Emma cried.
“Ok, now let’s do yours!” Greta exclaimed, pulling her wand and pointing it at Hermione.
“Oh no, you are not doing anything to this dress.” Hermione held her hands up. “Besides, the spell is irreversible. If you shed too much fabric, you won’t be able… to… put it…back.”
It was much too late as Greta was already modifying Hermione’s dress as she spoke and realized it when she was finished. The three girls stared at Hermione’s dress in shock.
“GRETA!” Hermione yelled.
The ball had already started almost two hours ago and he could not see a sight of Vane nor Malfoy. He knew she had agreed to go with Malfoy and reckons she must have backed out in the end. He smirked to himself.
He had decided to ask the Head Girl, who had finally returned the day before, to the ball. They were not friends per se but the girl was intelligent enough that it did not bother him to have to play nice. The two agreed to go merely as the two leaders of the school.
The Head Girl was now being surrounded by her excited Ravenclaw friends that she has not seen for weeks which left Tom seething alone in his seat. A few people tried to approach him but he declined their invitation to dance or to mingle. He stood up, deciding to leave the ball. There wasn’t anybody interesting to keep him there and he had already shown himself in front of the Headmaster.
He strolled outside of the Great Hall passing through many students in their Dress robes and gowns.
“Nerissa, would you really rather we drag you down these steps? Because I am telling you, I would not have a problem at all doing that!” Tom heard a girl growl as he neared the stair case. He turned around and saw Goshawk and her other friend that he could not remember the name staring above the steps.
‘Nerissa?’ he thought. ‘Did they mean Vane?’
He slowly walked forward towards the two, intending to ask where Vane was when he saw their expression turned from annoyance to relief and triumph. Tom turned to stare at where their gazes were fixed and there he saw her.
It was a girl in a silver-white flowing dress. The dress was so fitting; it almost looked as if it was simply another layer of skin. Her every curve was exposed perfectly from the thin satin fabric reaching the floors complete with a plunging neckline that reached just above her navel. Her skin was nearly glowing as her chest revealed a perfectly shaped bosom.
The girl’s hair was neither smooth nor straight. It was not bushy either. It was elegantly pulled up bringing out every perfect angle that her face possessed. A few curly strands messily escaped from the bundle and gracefully framed her flawless face.
She was nervously biting her lower lip and scowling at someone on Tom’s right. Whoever it was and why, he did not care. All he knew and all he could understand was that this girl who was graciously walking down the stairs, this girl whose beauty and elegance simply screamed the word perfect was someone he could not attempt to take his eyes away from.
Never in his life was he surprised by someone’s form and appearance. Sure, he had noticed a few girls with pretty faces but none that really strike him as purely beautiful and inevitably intoxicating.
The girl’s chocolate brown eyes moved to meet his and her glare deepened even more. His mind could not process why this beautiful girl would have a ferocious front and again he did not care. His feet were already taking him forward, like a moth to a flame, inevitably needing to get closer.
The girl raised her hand to wave at someone on his right yet again and he did not feel the energy nor the need at all to examine who it was as finally he was standing in front of her.
“Riddle” the girl spoke, her tone was one of obvious annoyance.
Tom continued to stare at her, swallowing every feature of her perfect face.
“Riddle?” this time, the girl’s voice changed into a tone of questioning.
Should he say something? He began to think though he was troubled if he so chooses to speak or even blink, the girl would somehow disappear.
“Riddle, if you continue to stare at me, I swear I will gouge your eye out. You’re making me feel even more stupid than I already feel. I suppose that probably makes you happier” she rolled her eyes.
Suddenly he was pulled back from his trance or at least halfway through. “Vane?”
Hermione gazed at Riddle, confused, “Honestly, Riddle, did you eat something rotten inside? I could have sworn I looked over the menu twice though. Unless someone inside tipped the house-elves to poison you. I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“What are—why are you—” he meant to ask how in the world she had transformed into the girl that was standing in front of him only he could not form the words.
“Do you realize how much you’ve have been stuttering a lot lately, Riddle?” she told him. She felt bare-naked somehow—though technically she sort of was—more so as she noticed numerous pairs of eyes staring at her from behind Tom. How much more staring is she actually going to get once she enter the Great Hall. She knew she should not have let the two convince her to go. “You know what; maybe this is a bad…idea. I’ll talk to you later, Riddle.”
She started to turn around back up the stairs when she felt a cold hand softly pulling hers. She stared at his hand for a few seconds before she looked up at his face.
“Don’t go” he spoke, his voice unusually deep and soft. His words sounded a little like a plea but then again, Tom Riddle pleading Hermione to stay? Impossible.
For someone who detests physical contact, he could not seem to let go of her hand. He struggled to find the words that would describe exactly what it was that was happening to him at that moment. Why did he feel as if his body was somehow not his own? Why did he feel as though the girl in front of him was not the girl he so detested for months?
He continued slowly still, choosing his words wisely even though his brain felt disconnected. “You’ve already taken so much… effort…to get yourself… ready. What a waste not to even show up at a ball you helped organize. Besides, the Headmaster’s searching for you. I told him how much you’ve assisted me.”
“Now why would you go and tell him that?” Hermione glared at him, “You’re a right foul git, you know that right?”
“Should I have taken all the credit then?” Tom raised an eyebrow. He didn’t wait for an answer as he grabbed her hand once more and pulled stronger than necessary. He did not want her to shake his hand away again.
Hermione was too stunned that she let herself get pulled by the Young Dark Lord. She had insulted him outright and he didn’t even give her a reaction at all. Usually they would banter on for as long as they could both hold.
She had heard he asked the returning Head Girl to the ball yesterday and wondered what he was doing outside the Great Hall instead of dancing with his date. She lifted up the hem of her flowing long skirt to avoid tripping as she attempted to hide behind Riddle’s back, avoiding the stares.
It didn’t help at all as her exposed back also left people astonished as they finally entered the Great Hall. There were many students dancing to the soft jazz music the band, which she and Riddle had picked, was playing. She wondered where Malfoy was. They were supposed to meet outside the Great Hall over an hour ago. He must have been really pissed when she did not show up.
“Riddle.” She tried to shake his hand away again only his grip was too strong. “W ill you let me go? I really think this is a bad idea. What I’m wearing is not exactly… appropriate.” ‘In this time, anyway.’ She mused.
“Miss Vane?” a voice inquired from behind Hermione. Tom stopped pulling her and had halted in the middle of the dance floor. “Is that you, Miss Vane?”
She turned around and found the Headmaster as well as the Deputy Headmistress, in the middle of dancing, both gawking at her dress.
The Headmaster opened his mouth to speak but Hermione cut him off. “Oh hello, Professor Dippet, Professor Cole. The music is wonderful, isn’t it” she beamed at the two before putting her arms around Tom Riddle and whisked him away, half waltzing - half running.
“What exactly are you doing?” Tom followed her suite so as not to be strangled by her tight grip around him.
“Put your hands on my waist and pretend we’re dancing.” Hermione said, gritting her teeth. She looked back at the headmaster who looked as if he was still trying to catch their attention. She pulled on Tom harder and waltz farther away from them.
“I don’t dance, Vane.” He told her, his hands stubbornly stayed on his sides.
“I let myself get dragged in here by you, Riddle. If you don’t want me to throttle you right here and now, you’ll do what I say.” She growled silently. On her peripheral vision, she could see the headmaster’s head was still looking their way.
She knew the only way was to escape by pretending they were busily dancing and maybe waltz their way out of the Great Hall. That was her big plan. It would be entirely too mortifying to have the Headmaster comment on her improper clothing or have herself get detention or expelled for disgracing the school. She could feel almost the entirety of the people inside the hall staring at her open back or her exposed chest.
She pressed her chest closer to Toms’, trying her hardest to hide her torso. She was too horrified worrying about everyone’s staring that she did not even notice Tom Riddle’s cold hands slowly enclosing around her exposed back. All she could care about in that moment was to make an exit as soon as possible. She could very well snog a dementor if it meant it will be able to put a stop to all the staring.
Tom examined her embarrassed face that was inches away from his. It somehow made her even more beautiful, if that was even possible, as her cheeks began to fill a tentative shade of red. The music was so slow that the two were both out of sync from their dancing. Vane was much too fast in her steps as she tried her might to find her way out of the Great Hall.
He could have very much laughed at her in this situation if it had been any other day but for some reason, looking at her mortified face, there was nothing humorous about it at all.
Hermione finally realized how out of rhythm the two were and so, with an instinct of a dance lover, she tried hard to calm herself a notch in order to follow through the tempo, slipping her hand from his shoulders and grabbing hold of Tom’s from her waist. She had forgotten how different the dancing was to her time.
She could not, however, locate the doors as the students began crowding around the dance floor, mostly watching the Slytherin’s handsomest bachelor and the beautiful half-undressed girl he was dancing with. She was still not aware of the emerald-green eyes watching her face intently.
Close-up, he could still not discover any flaw on her face at all. It was odd how he has never noticed exactly how… unique her face really was. He has always thought of her as plain. He always noticed her not exactly caring much about appearances, never bothering to even smooth out her bushy hair or to take care of her once huge eye bags.
He had never been this close proximity with a girl, or anyone really, in his entire life. He had always kept his distance. He wondered why it felt so… natural to be this close to her. She fit inside his body so perfectly than he could have ever imagined anyone’s body fitting another’s.
“Riddle, are you even listening to me?” Hermione snapped. She had been ranting on about how they can possibly make an exit when the whole student body was watching the two.
He didn’t answer her as in all honesty, he still could not hear her. Again, just as he had felt when she pressed her warm body against his the night he had saved her from her attacker, he was afraid. He has yet to find an acceptable explanation as to what exactly was drawing him to her so inexplicably. There was an ache inside of him that he could not understand at all.
He was controlled and he was steadfast. How could this girl suddenly strip him of his perfect boundaries and restrictions all in but a night? Suddenly his whole body stiffened and he had stopped following the rhythm he had began to be accustomed to. Hermione stopped along with him, thinking he might have an answer to her worries; a way of getting out.
He stared at her russet-coloured eyes as he dropped his hands from her waist and her warm hand. His expression of wonder and awe was replaced with full revulsion towards the beautiful girl in front of him.
He was right all along. She really was here for his destruction, what other reason could there be. He had never felt so much rage and wrath in all his eighteen years as he gazed at Nerissa Felicia Vane. He hated her so much. He hated her for existing alone. It was a feeling so new to him, the much intense abhorrence, that his hatred almost knocked the breath out of him which heightened his anger even more.
“Riddle, what’s the matter with you?” Hermione asked. Tom could only dimly hear her.
There was another emotion in him that he could not quite put a finger to. All he knew was that he had to get away from her. He had to in order to impede the baffling emotions that was growing and was pulsing through his veins or before he ends up killing the girl right then and there.
Silently, he shook off his robe and almost shoved it in her hands. He felt so disgusted now as he looked at her perfect and dangerous form and her flowing silver-white dress. It was a much better idea than burning it right then and there which he so wanted to do. He swiftly left her side as he went straight through the huge doors on his left.
Hermione was stunned as he watched his retreating back. Was she supposed to follow him since he found the doors? Why in the world would he give her his robe? Why was he looking at me with full hostility? She had thought he was just about ready to cast the killing curse on her. In any way she almost did not care as finally she knew where exactly the doors were. She started her way towards it when she heard someone call her from behind.
“Nerissa?!” a man cried.
She knew who that voice belonged to. It belonged to the man she had promised herself the night for. She slowly turned around, robes in her hands and brandying a sheepish smile on her face. No matter how much she detested the flirt, it was still callous of her to have left him waiting endlessly, or in this case, more than an hour.
His face was not one of anger or annoyance but one of awe and desire. “I—wow, had I known you were going to be late in your efforts to beautify yourself, I would’ve waited an eternity for you, my dear. You look like a reincarnation of the Goddess of Beauty.”
All guilt and remorse she had felt were washed away as soon as he opened his mouth. She rolled her eyes at him and began putting on Tom Riddle’s robes.
“Oh why should you cover yourself up and deny every man in this school of your splendor?” Malfoy teased.
Hermione glared at the man and said, “I apologize for not informing you earlier about my lateness. I’m afraid I don’t feel well so I might as well go back to the common room.”
Malfoy did not hide his disappointment though his expression quickly changed to amusement, “You know, if you wanted to follow Tom, you needn’t ask my permission at all! Though it is quite unfair he’s had you all to himself all night when you are, after all my date.”
“I do not have any intention at all in following Riddle.” She snapped. She ought to be used to Malfoy’s teasing by now. In normal days, she sort of was but tonight, all she wanted was to leave the Great Hall and hide in the safety of her four poster bed.
Abraxas Malfoy smirked knowingly, “What was wrong with Tom anyway? Were you two fighting again?”
Hermione fastened the robe securely and inspected any indecency that might still be showing. The robe smelled just like Riddle much to Hermione’s discomfort. “I wouldn’t know anything about that guy’s mood swings. All I wish is to go—
Hermione stopped talking as she heard a yell coming from the doors outside. Every student’s and Professor’s head all turned towards the direction of the noise. It was Ogg, the old gamekeeper, yelling for the Headmaster.
“Sir Dippet sir!” the old man’s face was full of panic, worry and excitement as he trudged his way inside the Great Hall. She wasn’t sure if he was bearing good news or bad. For a second, she worried if it was something to do with Riddle.
“What ruckus are you trying to make Ogg? You are frightening the students.” The Headmaster told the panicked Gamekeeper as he pushed his way through a sea of students. The music abruptly stopped as the musicians were curious to know what all the commotion was about.
“Sir Dippet! ‘Tis Albus, sir!” the man cried.
“Albus?” Professor Dippet repeated. “You mean Professor Dumbledore?”
The Headmaster glared at the Gamekeeper, who was nodding furiously, for not showing respect towards one of his Professors, calling Dumbledore in his first name. Hermione concluded Ogg and Professor Dumbledore must have been friends. It made sense since Dumbledore entrusted Hagrid in the old man’s care.
“Aye, sir!” the ancient man’s face added on a pile more wrinkles due to his troubled expression. “Professor Dumbledore’s gone!”
“Gone? Gone where? He expressed no interest in going to the ball. I imagine he must be in Hogsmeade.” Professor Dippet told him, clearly annoyed at Ogg for creating disturbance in his ball. “Leave him be, old man, and let him do what he wants. Now, you may go back to your hut.
Ogg was shaking his head vigorously that Hermione was worried he would strain his neck. “He aint in Hogsmeade, sir, but halfway across the country, I deem.”
“Now what in heaven’s earth would Professor Dumbledore be doing travelling across countries for?” the Headmaster glared at Ogg. “Gone mad, he has.” He muttered to himself.
Hermione wasn’t sure if he meant the eccentric Professor had gone mad or was it the old man in front of him. She felt as though she was drowning and she was not going to come up anytime soon though she couldn’t understand why she was feeling like that. The dread she was feeling was making her feel nauseous.
She almost guessed the exact words the old man spoke next.
“He’s gone and called upon a duel with Gellert Grindelwald he has!!!” the old man cried.
There were many loud gasps heard across the Great hall that Hermione thought she must have been the only one to have absorbed the information quietly.
Her hands shook uncontrollably as pure terror and horror was etched upon her face and every nerve in her body. There were many questions thrown at the old man on how he had come to learn of this piece of information but Hermione could not comprehend exactly what he was saying.
She didn’t even notice herself moving towards the door until she finally became aware of the muffled silence surrounding her. Was someone pulling her? No, it was her own feet taking her outside the Halls, she mentally acknowledged.
With this, she began to run through the many stairs and corridors. ‘How could this have happened’ she thought as tears streamed down her face. ‘What have I done?’
Finally she reached her destination; Professor Dumbledore’s office. She opened the doors of the room, knowing it would be empty and yet a part of her still yearned for everything to be a dream and that the Professor was simply arranging his books inside.
The room was completely empty; the boxes that scattered everywhere during her detentions were gone. She locked the door behind her as she sunk to the ground. She buried her face with her hands.
She sobbed hard as the painful realization struck her hard, ‘He’s two months early! Professor Dumbledore could very well get himself killed 50 years too early. I’ve re-written history!’
By now, anything can change. ‘If something were to happen to him… What have I done?’
CHAPTER 15 PREVIEW
Malfoy chuckled. “No one has seen a hair or toe from Nerissa since last night and I know she disappeared from the ball to follow you. So tell me, was she good?”
It took a full second before he fully grasped what Malfoy was saying. He lifted his head from the pillow. “She disappeared from the ball? And no one’s seen her since?”
He swiftly stood up from his bed and faced Malfoy. “Tell me everything.”
“You mean she wasn’t with you?” Malfoy asked, confused.
“Would I be asking if she was?” Tom said angrily, his patience diminishing every millisecond.
[a/n: Wow another chapter gone! Wonder if you guys played the songs hehe. I have been DYING to write this chapter and the next. The next chapter is pretty much my whole storyline that i couldnt include in my summary.. so i hope you guys stay tuned and continue to read.
The next chapter should be up as soon as humanly possible. I just hope you guys review.. please? i do want to know if you like where the story is heading or if people are even still reading my story.. so please?]
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