Green Eyes

Hermione was falling through endless thick dark smoke. She had been falling for so long that she had stopped screaming and was watching butterflies pour from her stomach in waves.

Suddenly she heard a dangerous, silky voice from far away- “Pretty little face…that little pureblooded body….pathetic…“

A wave of despair crashed over Hermione. She didn’t want to be pathetic in his eyes. She wanted to be powerful. She wanted to be great. “No - Tom, wait! I’m not…I’m not…”

Suddenly she found herself in her dormitory bed. She couldn’t move - her legs and arms were broken and were lying at odd angles around her.

Riddle was kneeling over her, his flint-grey eyes smouldering and his stomach pressed hard against her. “I’m curious.” he whispered. “What were you planning on doing now?”

He leaned closer and captured Hermione lips with his own. Hermione screamed as every inch of her body filled with white-hot pain.

“Hermione! Hermione! I’m so sorry! Wake up!”

Hermione sat bolt up right in her four poster dormitory bed. It was Saturday - the day after her talk with Dumbledore. She almost sighed with relief to find that it had just been a bad dream - before she realized that she was still in a lot of pain.

Minerva was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking horrified. “I’m sorry, Hermione! I was just trying to wake you up for the Hogsmeade trip today. But I tripped and somehow I managed to poke your eye with my wand and drop a flask of bubotuber pus on you.” She hit her forehead, repeating, “Never try to multitask, Minerva. Never. Never,” like an overgrown houseelf.

“Cheer up, Minerva. It’s nothing that magic won’t fix - and anyways, I don’t really feel like going to go to Hogsmeade today.“

“Why ever not?“ Minerva looked crushed.

“I’m just…tired.” Hermione lied. In truth, she felt anything but tired. Ever since her talk with Dumbledore, and especially after that terrible dream, one thing was clear in her mind. This crazy game of procrastination had gone on for too long.

Riddle, of course, would not deign to join the rest of the school in the trip to Hogsmeade. Hermione had to kill him. Today.

****

"Hey, Hart, penny for your oh-so-gloomy thoughts?" Max Fiddimore's attractive face slid into focus, sitting across from her at breakfast. "What's going on in there? he asked, tapping her glossy head as he buttered his toast.

Hermione had been brooding over the fact that in a few hours she was going to have to cast the most unforgivable and illegal spell that existed in order to kill Riddle once and for all. For some reason, the thought did not fill her with as much glee as it should have.

"Um, nothing." Hermione mumbled. She only managed to pull a half-hearted smile when Max charmed a piece of toast (complete with a scrambled egg smiley face) to float onto Hermione‘s plate.

“Eat, Hermione.“ Max told her, observing her critically with sky blue eyes that radiated worry. “You’re too skinny. You‘re eating less and less these days.“

She trembles even more than normal too, he thought. There she is, doing it again now. Why is she always so afraid? Max longed to press her to his chest and tell her that he would never let anyone hurt her.

Max was distracted from his brooding, however, when Hermione unconsciously flipped her dark curls over her shoulder, filling the air with the scent of roses and revealing the swell of her breasts under her slim white neck.

Max desperately fought images of him pressing Hermione to other parts of his body, and shifted as a certain spot in his jeans became increasingly uncomfortable.

Max was saved, ironically, by his own girlfriend. Minerva flounced over to the table, and her surprising appearance was enough to scare his body back into shape.

"Right - Max, are you ready to go to Hogsmeade? A new pub just opened, I thought we could give it a try. It’s called 'The Three Broomsticks’ - Rosalie just recommended it to me, said it was the best butter beer she'd ever tasted.” Turning to Hermione, she said, “Are you sure you’re not up for it, Hermione?”

“What? You’re not coming, Hermione?” Max asked quickly. He definitely did not like the idea of Hermione staying alone at the castle.

Hermione shook her head, and waved the pair off into the May sunshine. Neither Minerva or Hermione could figure out why Max looked so dejected.

****

Hermione wondered alone through the deserted hallways. Where on earth does one look for Tom Riddle? she wondered. When she thought about it, she had no idea where Riddle spent most of his time.

Well, she thought. Cliché is always the best way to go. She doubled back and headed for the dungeons.

However, wandering through the stony, dank and deserted tunnels under the school, she began to reconsider. Her heart began to race, and she saw tall grey shadows in every dark doorway or dim dungeon classroom.

Soon, she was trembling so badly that she slipped into what looked like a spare classroom and sat against the cold wall, trying to calm herself.

Her head snapped up and eyes widened as she heard the door to the classroom slam shut and the lock crunch.

Tom Riddle was standing casually in front of her, holding his wand to her forehead.