Chapter 3
Hermione POV
Madame Pomfrey's prognosis for Hermione's recovery was good. With the level of stinging her arm had, she should have awakened after a week, but she had recovered within 4 days, and the swelling in her hands had come down, and the rashes on her arms had almost disappeared.
Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna and Neville, they had all crowded around her bed when she had first gained consciousness. She only recollected touching the fig buttercups, and feeling a pain in her hand. She had been questioned by the Matron on what she remembered, and when she told her she last remembered touching the fig buttercups, she had gotten sympathetic clucks from the Matron who informed her she was lucky to have been in the company of astute Mr. Riddle.
She was told she had touched Aconite, but Hermione knew about the toxicity of that plant. The few days she had cooped up in the infirmary had concretized her theories on what had happened—either she had really been absent-minded enough to touch aconite with her bare hands, or Riddle had set her up. Since she remembered holding bright yellow flowers, even the notion that she had somehow been absent-minded in picking up the distinct lavender-blue aconite did not sit well with her.
It was a bit disconcerting how she had lost all her appetite with the fever, vomiting and pain that she had gone through the past few days. But despite the weakness, she wanted to get away from the awful white and blankness that was the infirmary.
When she was given a clean bill of health, even though she had been given stocks of distasteful strengthening potions, and some smelly itch salves, she was all too glad to take them and finally leave behind the austere space for the warmth of her Gryffindor dorm.
Back in the boisterous atmosphere of the Gryffindor common room, Hermione took in the warm smiles and well wishes offered to her. She didn't voice her suspicion when Harry mused about the accident. After all, no one was going to believe her. She had fainted, she might probably not even remember anything correctly. Accusing Riddle would accomplish her nothing. If he had indeed set her up, he had used the perfect plant, because aconite toxicity also caused hallucinations, and if she spoke anything against him, the smarmy Slytherin Prefect could very well point out that her memories would not be pristine from the effects of toxins.
So Hermione fumed silently. She did not have any evidence to go with, other than her theory that Riddle had probably used a dissimulation spell to transform the color and even the label on the box from where she had taken the blooms. Sucking on her bottom lip, she thought of the best time to confront Riddle.
Tom POV
He had felt no qualms in poisoning the Granger girl. But he had been surprised at the amount of thoughts that girl occupied in his mind lately. He could acknowledge after an evening with her that she knew her way around ingredients. She had expertly chopped the gurdy roots, and he had not had to tell her to thinly slice the Orindo weeds. She had worked silently but knowledgeably beside him, and it had left him a little thrown off, because she had not required any guidance from him. It was only after having worked beside her that he realized that other people in his year and even his deskmate Abraxas kept asking him questions. None of the students around him possessed the inherent assurance with which Granger worked. And while people usually asked him inane things, and girls tried to get his attention by fluttering their lashes, or standing too close, or any number of tricks, Granger had not done any of that.
Reflecting on her, he remembered her attempts at talking to him about the research, the small expectant smile on her face awaiting his replies. She was genuinely interested in academics like he was, but she was of a somewhat more cheerier nature.
When he walked into the Great Hall, he subconsciously glanced at the Gryffindor table, and his step almost faltered when he saw the familiar bushy brown hair. It was just 5 days. She had recovered a bit earlier than usual. As he settled down at the Slytherin table, Granger got up and picked her sling bag, turning around to leave, when she glanced at him, and gave him a nasty glare, a small v forming between her straight brows, before she looked away and walked out.
With people busy munching their food or rushing off to the classes, nobody saw that, but the glare which Granger had directed at him left him feeling amused at the girl.
Later in the day, Tom found himself waiting in Slughorn's office with Hermione beside him.
He had asked her perfunctorily, "Have you recovered Miss Granger?"
"Yes", she had clipped out. At the moment she embodied her house, while she did not say anything, the angry flush on her cheeks, and her constant leg crossing betrayed her agitation. Gryffindors never were subtle, even when they did not headbutt, they still wore their emotions on their sleeves, and Hermione was no exception.
"Hello, there. Miss Granger, I expect you have recovered, dear girl," Slughorn entered his office and with Hermione's affirmation of her recovery he launched into the spiel that Tom had been expecting.
"Miss Granger, Tom, I believe we would not be able to continue the research. However you both needn't be disappointed. I would like you two to prepare an assignment on the healing properties of Fluxweed. You can submit it after a month, and of course you'll both receive extra credits for the assignment. Now if ever any other research comes up, I'll take you two. Now, be careful to take Dugbog Focus potions Miss Granger, it would speed up your recovery."
Tom knew that the research was not going anywhere. The very research proposal of mixing amortentia with felix felicis was atrocious and ill-planned, and highly improbable with the very ingredients of the potions like the Occamy Eggshells and Ashwinder Eggs being reactive to each other. The research idea had just been a whimsy of Slughorn which he had known would die a swift death. But as Slughorn had been talking, Tom surreptitiously glanced at Hermione. She had fisted her hands tightly, and when Slughorn had dismissed them, she had been quiet throughout.
She had drifted out of the office with him and was walking rather slowly, that he had to pause.
"When do you want to meet for the assignment?" he asked her.
From walking slowly she just stopped.
He had to look back at her. But the sight of her left him feeling...what, he did not know. It was certainly not remorse. But he did feel...something.
She had tears tracking down her cheeks, and the tip of her nose had pinkened. Hastily she dashed away the tears before glaring angrily at him and snarled, " You poisoned me! The research has been scrapped, and it is all your fault. I don't want to talk to you." She ran away after that, and honestly Tom really didn't have any answer to what she had said.