chapter 7
Hermione wiped the steamed mirror, allowing her to look at her reflection through the smeared glass. Her curls were still damp, droplets of water trickled down her face as she stared at her self. Although she had refreshed herself from the shower, she looked like a shell of her old self, taking in her hollow cheeks and pale skin. The golden glow she once presented had vanished, she had inherited a tired worn look, complimentary from the war, but managed to cover it with a touch up of makeup she had found in her case. She dapped the compote of blush onto her cheeks to give her a less ghostly approach and changed into a simple blouse and skirt to match her correct time period. As she stepped out the safety of her dorm room, she noticed a newspaper had been placed at her door. Hermione took the time to flick through the pages, creating a mental note of the current date, current news and gossip, muggle war interfering with the magical world etc etc. November 30th 1940.
She tossed aside the paper and strode into the common room with a new found confidence. She was going to murder Tom Riddle and go home. No, She was going to murder Voldemort. Nobody needed to know her, remember her. She could be a wall flower, draw no attention to herself, she might have been too ambitious yesterday, heading straight to the library for simple and easy solutions to killing a teenage boy but today was a new day. She had to truly mean the killing curse to fire it at someone, for it to be affective enough to end somebody's life but this version of Voldemort was going to prove hard. She tossed and turned in her bed last night, reminding herself of who her enemy was, what he will do in the future. Fuck, pretty privilege really was real, The thoughts raced through her head until she passed out due to exhaustion. He ruined your life, killed your best friends parents, murdered your teachers, everything was his fault. Whether he had committed those crimes yet or not, he was going to die and Hermione would revel in the success.
The dungeon was cold this time of year, the fire crackled in the distance, students had scarfs and sweaters as they perched at tables and seats, reading, writing and talking quietly amongst themselves. In the centre of the room, two large onyx leather sofas and a coffee table to match was occupied by a group of boys, recognisably the same age as her. Their conversation was conservative, hushed, too quiet for Hermione to eavesdrop as she walked past to her target (the expanding archway leading out of this gloomy place). She almost ceased her next step when her amber eyes fixated on the platinum-blonde haired boy sat on the arm of a sofa, he was laughing at one of his friends remarks. He looked so much like Draco, a happier version, one that's not torn between morality and his family's expectations. She realised then, these people in front of her were her classmate's grandparents, the people who would decide for the next decades what side of a war their families would lie on, who they supported. Her steps continued only briefly, her attention still laid on the blonde male, before she collided into a body.
"woah fuck" A brunette boy with a toothpick between his lips uttered. Hermione tried escaping past him but he placed both his hands on her shoulders, keeping her firmly in place. What the fuck is it with men thinking they can touch and keep women in place if they so please? Thank fuck for some decent human rights in about 40 years time. His brown eyes flickered with confusion as he assessed who was stood in front of him. "Ever so sorry..."
"Hermione Granger" She whispered, attempting to not cause a scene although he was clearly not getting the hint as his grip on her shoulders did not loosen. The heat from his palms seethed through to her skin, He was warm. Not like her company last night.
"Hermione, I thought you were a third year. I was going to teach them a lesson" He rolled her name over his tongue and snorted, cockiness dripping from every word. "but since its you, I suppose I wont, eh?" He winked and she had to forcefully stop herself from rolling her eyes. Sure, he was charming and clearly self aware that he was conventionally attractive but she was not in the mood for such a dim-witted conversation.
"I have to go" She attempted to dismiss him. As she shrugged his touch off and attempted to walk off, he caught her once again. What the fuck was this guys problem? She whirled her body around to face him, about give him a piece of her mind but instead he got the first word.
"Oi guys, this here is Hermione". He chucked an arm around Hermione's shoulder and squeezed as if they were old chums. There was nothing subtle about this interaction now, he practically boasted across the room and she followed his eyeline as it travelled to the group that had gotten her into this mess. He physically pointed at her as if she was an animal at the zoo, behind glass for people to stare at for their amusement. He tracked to the centre of the room, dragging Hermione with him and stopped, showcasing her to the group of Slytherins. He threw himself at an empty spot and tapped the small gap next to him, motioning for her to join him. Her reflexes betrayed her as she wedged her small frame between the loudly ignorant boy she had just met and another stranger. As she settled into the seat, she raised her head to the group that surrounded her, all staring, all curious. Her eyes travelled along the row, a dirty blonde haired boy on one side tapping his foot against the patterned rug on the floor, directly opposite her in the centre of the sofa sat Tom, one leg crossed with a book in his hand and a cigarette in the other, his attention was still on his book as smoke circled around his face, covering his expressions and to Tom's right was a descendant of Draco's- that much was guaranteed. The boy to her right shuffled, a little more youthful looking than the rest of the members sat down.
"What have you done now Cantankerus?" The boy to Tom's left sighed, however amused rather than annoyed. This clearly wasn't the first antic 'Cantankerus' had gotten up to.
"Don't fucking call me that Rosier" Her captive snarled. He faced her with a plastered on smile that he had not blessed the other boy. "everyone calls me Notts, my first name is forbidden, okay love?"
She only nodded in response. "okay role call. On the end there is Evan Rosier, then we have our notorious head boy and prefect Tom Riddle and on the end is Abraxas Malfoy, our white haired angel" He took a breath, raising a hand to each person as he introduced. The boys offered a nod or smile of corroboration except Tom, he still continued to read his leather bound book. Completely ignorant or uninterested in Hermione's presence. "next to you is Radalphus Lestrange, and ah" An older version of the boy sat next to Hermione had entered the room, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it onto Radalphus' lap. "This delight here is Rodolphus. If you couldn't already tell from their uncanny features, they're brothers."
Notts was like a dog, unable to sit still, tapping his hand as if it was his tail being wagged. That facade abruptly broke after Tom slammed his book shut. The room fell silent and an eerie energy followed. Hermione assessed the relationship between the boys, they all seemed in waiting. Waiting for orders...Surely not? Tom had nothing, no assets, no power. He had no pureblood parents, found at an orphanage by Dumbledore. Yet here the boys waited, at his beck and call. Were they unaware? That stupid that they ate all his lies without a second thought.
"We were mid discussion" Toms tone was stern, almost angry but his face remained calm as he took another drag of his cancer stick. He exhaled with his next words "I fear Miss Granger would grow bored of our topic of conversations". In Hermione's mind that translated to a politer version of fuck off and that was enough for her to stand up, bow her head in an amiable goodbye and go back on her route.
Notts chased her down the hall, a few puffed breaths before he could talk. "fuck, you walk fast. I'm sorry about that. Tom can be temperamental"
She flashed a smile "It's fine, I have places to be anyways" Before he could chime back, she had already left him alone, hands on his knees trying to regain his breath. How many more obstacles did she have to be thrown today? it was only 9am.