Heart of A Snake

Hermione laid in bed that night, tossing and turning. She had watched a man die and it was affecting her more than she thought it would.

Dolohov was an evil man, one who deserved his death, but she couldn't help but feel pity rise up in her chest. Did he really deserve what he got?

She thought to what he would have done if Tom had done appeared.

Yes, he did deserve it. He would have raped you, Hermione, and then killed you. He deserved to die.

But the sound of his lifeless body hitting the ground kept replaying in her ears and Hermione squirmed. She had to hold back the bile threatening to spill out.

She wondered where Harry and Ron were. Were they safe? Did they miss her?

But Hermione mostly wondered what it was she was doing. She was beginning to develop feelings for the Dark Lord, something she had thought was impossible. She felt so lost and confused about everything.

But Morgana had told her there was no right and wrong. Did the fairy mean that she should live without any regrets and allow her heart to lead her?

Eventually, she fell asleep.

Sunlight streamed through her window early the next morning, causing Hermione to cringe. She didn't want to get up. She didn't want to do anything. But life goes on.

Getting up, Hermione showered and got dressed. She picked out a yellow sundress, liking the way the vibrant color looked against her brown curls.

Decided she'd spend her day in the library, she made her way there. She picked up a random book to read and sat down in a chair to read it.

The fact that the Order had abandoned her hurt. The Order had also failed to protect her parents, even though it really wasn't their fault. But still, she felt alone and betrayed in this mess.

Feeling someone looming over her, Hermione glanced up to see Tom staring down at her.

"Yes?" she asked, looking at him expectedly. "I'm trying to read."

Tom huffed, "Don't get snippy with me, girl."

Hermione stood up and said, "Don't tell me what to do."

"I'll do as I please," he said, closing the distance between them.

"Tom, you'll do no such thing!"

"Quit calling me that! My name is Lord Voldemort, and you would do well to remember that."

Hermione snorted, shaking her head. "No it isn't. Your name is Tom Riddle, and that is exactly what I shall call you."

"Perhaps a Cruciatus Curse will keep your tongue in check," he threatened. He started to raise his wand to cast the curse, but Hermione beat him to it. She cast a nonverbal and wandless Protego.

Tom stared in shock as Hermione lunged forward to grab his hand. The moment their skin touched, Hermione felt a zap travel up her arm.

Tom took a furious step backwards, and Hermione stood there staring at her hand in confusion.

Tom glowered at her. "How dare you try to do that to me?"

"Oh, relax. I wouldn't have hurt you that bad," she said, dismissing his ire. She paused a moment, and then said, "Did you feel that? When I was trying to grab your arm?"

"Yes, I noticed," he nodded. "It was quite—interesting."

For a moment neither of them spoke, and then Tom cleared his throat. "I won't be around for a few days while I wait for my potion to kick in," he told her. "However, I will return the night of the gala Narcissa is planning, and you still attend on my arm."

"Okay, but I still feel very uncomfortable with the whole idea," Hermione answered uncertainly. "I mean, there will be a lot of people there who hate people like me—"

"Don't worry, Hermione. No one would dare. I've offered my protection over you."

"Thank you," she whispered softly.

He turned, leaving her alone with her books.