Cor phlebotomans

The walk to the Slytherin table felt unfamiliar at best. The green-silver banners hung over the long wooden table, moving in a slight breeze that wasn’t really there. The dark green was actually quite lovely, Hermione mused as her Uniform changed to the according colour. For the first time she could let herself appreciate it as she too was a snake now. Her gaze flitted over to the other tables. They were just as long and dark as the Slytherin one but somehow the cutlery on the wood seemed to much more in order than on the other tables. Hermione guessed it had something to with the Pureblood upbringing most of the students in Slytherin had undergone. For a beat Hermione glanced at the Gryffindors. They were, as usually, in an endearing disarray.

The room was still deathly quiet and Hermione’t stepped echoed through the high-ceiled hall. The Slytherins sat stiffly (how else) on their places where Hermione studied them while approaching the front of the table. There wasn’t any open hospitality yet but the students in the green robes were suspicious. Of course they were, they were Slytherins after all. Hermione could see it on their faces as her gaze bounced from one to the next. They were seizing her up. They had never seen her before and that was not a good sign, for them at least. All the purebloods knew each other. They were wondering what she was.

Mudblood, Mudblood, Bellatrix’ voice rang in her ears, the woman’s screams still piercing her skull like a knife. Her scar was burning on her arm. Hermione wondered if it was a bit like Harrys scar, which used to burn when Voldemort was in the vicinity.
Once Hermione was seated, the hall finally went back to concentrating on their food rather than the new girl. There was loud laughter from the Gryffindor table that boomed through the whole hall, making Hermione jump a little in her seat. Staring at the plate in front of her, Hermione felt the dull ache of missing her friends in her chest. Her heart hurt from the pain of having lost them, maybe for ever. She missed the cosy Gryffindor common room and its warm colours. She missed Ginny and Ron with their fire-red hair and, dammit, she missed that git Draco Malfoy.

Now, when she glanced around her, she only saw unfamiliar faces that looked at her with disdain. With a small smile Hermione returned her attention to the silver platter in front of her. Was it just her imagination or was the cutlery at the Slytherin table much finer than at Gryffindor? All those Purebloods thought so highly of themselves, whereas she was to them a potential Halfblood or even worse a Mudblood. She was inferior to them, to their blood and good magical breeding.
Hermione smiled brighter. They didn’t know that Hermione had fought against their future grandchildren and had won more often than not. They didn’t know what she had to do while fighting a war. Hermione smirked lightly. One year at Hogwarts won’t be the end of her. If could survive Voldemort than she could survive a few spiteful glances thrown her way.

“Granger, I haven’t heard that name before…”, some girl suddenly said, startling Hermione. The girl had perfectly manicured nails that she was inspecting before levelling her gaze at Hermione again, a sneer evident on her face. Typically Slytherin. Everything was a game for power. Games that Hermione didn’t want to play at. The girl, Hermione mused, could even be pretty if the ugly glint and sneer weren’t omnipresent on her face. She should try smiling once in a while.
Hermione let silence settle over the group that had stopped their eating and was watching intrigued. Clearly they were waiting for Hermione to show a reaction, to be embarrassed or to look scared of the other girl. But Hermione just stared with a passive face. Just before the silence became unbearable, she finally answered.
“Well, that is hardly my fault, now is it?”

The girl’s sneer became more pronounced and her gaze flicked over Hermione’s form. Looking at Hermione’s hair with open disgust the blond girl was about to answer as her brown eyes narrowed, when someone interrupted her. Quite rudely so, if Hermione was being honest. But alas, she wasn’t really in the mood to have a bitch fight with some random girl, so she was glad.

“No need for that Vinda”, his voice wasn’t even loud but it needn’t be. It could command the whole room without trying. It was smooth but at the same time it made everyone present shiver in some kind of ancient instinct, telling them to submit or run. It was the voice of a predator. The table turned deathly silent, nobody daring to say anything. It was quite ridiculous, as Hermione thought. Slowly and with as much grace as she could muster, she turned to Tom. He really was startlingly handsome, Hermione realized for the… what? ... Third time? His face was fairly symmetrical, his hair falling lightly into it but not in the way that Harrys hair used to. Not at all, it didn’t seem unintentional in any way. It seemed as nothing about that boy was unintentional. His high cheekbones made his face seem more mature and more masculine. The black and green of his robes really did suit him. They definitely were his colours. Vinda, as Hermione had learned, batted her eyelashes at Tom.

“I was just having a nice conversation with the new girl. Nothing to be worried about.”, with that she turned away, blond hair swinging, and ignored the snorting of another young man. Hermione turned again and looked at the new face. The boy, or rather man, had blond hair. It was rather thin and looked like it belonged to a pixie and not a man in his late teens. He was fairly well built, looked regal with his definitely expensive clothes. His nose looked strangely familiar and his pale skin was mostly unblemished.
“You must be a Malfoy”, Hermione blurted out. She knew that nose. Draco Malfoy had had that exact nose. Her heart ached again. The Malfoy of this time seemed impressed with her, something Draco never had been or at least had never shown.

“I see my reputation proceeds me.”, he said smoothly, grinning at her and looking her up and down. As best as he could while she was seated at least. Her mind flashed to the Malfoy manor. Her arm was burning as she desperately tried to not hyperventilate.
“I’m sure it does”, she replied flatly, grabbing her goblet and sipping on her water to distract herself. Only now did she realize how thirsty she was. During a war, water had not been on the forefront of her mind so she seemed to be in a constant state of thirst now that she had enough water again.
“Vinda Rosier”, she whispered to herself, just now remembering as the normalcy at the Slytherin table returned and nobody paid her any mind. Sometimes her memory even startled herself. Where had read that again? In some book about Purebloods, she was sure.

The rest of the meal went by without a hitch. Hermione didn’t eat much nor did she talk to anyone. She didn’t have an appetite. No wonder as she wasn’t used to eat so much if at all. It would take time to accustom herself to the abundance of food again. At the first signs of the meal ending, she rose with every intention to instantly head to bed and to get a good night’s sleep and avoid all the other students. She had had enough of her first day.

“May I escort you to the Slytherin common room?”, a voice came from her right just she took the first steps in direction exit. Too close again, Tom again. Hermione levelled her gaze at him. He was much taller than her, she had to crane her neck, and his dark eyes were full of intelligence which seemed to glimmer behind his dark orbs. They were so intense that Hermione felt the need to look away. Voldemort was a Legilimens , wasn’t he? She did look away at that thought, suddenly interested in a boy tripping over his feet by the Ravenclaw table.

“There is no need. I am able to find my own way.”, she answered coldly, looking at the Hufflepuff table and studying the students there with forced interest.
“Oh, but I insist.”, Tom answered with a slight smile as Hermione glanced back. She couldn’t keep her gaze from his face that long. It was rude. But she avoided his eyes. One dark silky curl fell into his face. It was so damn deliberate that he looked like all those muggle male models on the big posters in muggle London. And Hermione was oddly jealous that this boy didn’t only have the looks but also the intelligence that superseded everyone else’s. Why was he still so close? She could even smell his cologne and it made her uneasy because she liked it and this was bloody Vodemort.

“Well then, lead the way.”, she drawled, deciding to not fight him on that. Choose your battles wisely, her mind whispered.
Tom smirked triumphantly in that slippery way that all Slytherins seemed to have perfected, thinking that he had won. Smoothly he offered her his arm. It was definitely unhinging to see Voldemort acting like a gentleman. It was absurd but Hermione accepted the arm without much hassle.
“I must apologize for Vinda, she doesn’t know any better. She always had been jealous of other pretty witches because she feels threatened by them.”, Tom mused in a conversational tone as they walked through the big entrance. Hermione let her gaze wander over the many ornaments that decorated it. After all, it was her first time in Hogwarts, she should be impressed by these kind of things.
Did he just call her pretty? Hermione snorted a bit in her mind. That was so… so charming. It was very un-Gryffindor the way he paid her a complement without really doing it. It made her smile lightly, like it was a small secret between just the two of them. Had Ron ever paid her a complement, outright or veiled? She remembered when he so eloquently told her “You are a girl, right?”. Np, Hermione decided, Ron had never, not even called her simply pretty.

“I’m sure.”, she answered, sarcasm dripping from her voice, trying to not be charmed. Which was harder than she wanted to admit.
“Though I have to admit myself, I am curious how it came to be that you joined Hogwarts this late…”, Tom continued in an awfully casual tone all the while looking like a cat that was playing with his dinner. This mouse fights back, Hermione thought with a smirk.
“I had to sort out a few things at home before I could come.”, Hermione answered lightly adapting his nonchalance. Two could play this game.
“And why did you want to come here?”
“My family died.”, Hermione said bluntly, “I didn’t want to stay in the place they used to be.”
“My condolences.”, Tom replied. He didn’t seem sorry. It seemed as if he really didn’t give a shit.
“Thank you.”, she answered. They didn’t say anything for a while, their steps echoing through the still empty halls. They had left earlier than most of the students. Hermione watched the many portraits and paintings that they passed. They all in return watched her and Tom curiously.
“Granger, was it?”, he questioned after a few moments, his tone still light but thoughtful.
“Riddle, was it?”, she answered in the same tone.
He hummed non-committedly.
“Peculiar name”, Hermione added. He didn’t answer. She didn’t say anything more. They stayed silent for the rest of the way, both aware that the other thought that the other wasn’t a Pureblood. A strange impasse. None could judge the other but Tom probably did judge her anyway. Everyone was beneath him in his opinion. Or least in Voldemort’s believe.

“Welcome to the Slytherin common room.”, Tom said, as the door finally swung open. The first though that Hermione had, was that she never had seen it before today. Her second was that Harry and Ron already had. It was more beautiful than she ever could have imagined. The interior was smooth and luxurious, the sofas weren’t used and grubby like in the Gryffindor room. No, they were made out of leather and in an immaculate state. However, they weren’t any less inviting.
Astonished Hermione let her hand slide over the surfaces of the many wooden tables that were all over the room. The wood was polished and dark. It was nothing like in the Gryffindor common room. It was so much better in a way. There were big windows that let in eerily green light. They were in the great lake, she remembered. She had read all about it in Hogwarts: A History. The Slytherin common room was under the great lake and sometimes the students could see the big kraken. She hoped she would get the chance to. It really must be a fascinating experience.

Taking her eyes off the windows she once again let her gaze drift through the common room. Then she finally spotted it. A grand piano adorned the room and it was a glossy black and truly magnificent. It stood still but at the same time demanded attention in a frozen and eerie way. Hermione approached it cautiously with childlike wonder in her eyes. She hadn’t played in over a year. Her hands started to itch, her fingers trailed over the cold surface.

“You play?”, Tom asked. Hermione whirled around, startled. She had forgotten about bloody Voldemort, who still was in the room. Actually, Tom was quite close, as he usually was. Only half a meter behind her, again in her personal space and this time again emitting that wonderful masculine scent. It smelled so clean… it made her want to lean in. His glossy hair shone in the dim light of the common room. He shifted his weight and put his arms behind his back. Again, he looked like a true gentlemen, well-mannered and handsome.

She took a step away and her back touched the cool piano. It was cold to the touch but oddly comforting. Her fingers gripped its edge. She smiled besides herself and nodded.
“Yes, I used to love it. Is this piano in use or is it more of a decoration.”, she asked, wondering if she ever would get the chance to coax music out of the instrument.
“I believe it is still usable even if nobody plays. Sometimes the younger children like to play on it but I usually tell them to stop. It is such a proud instrument, hardly for such childish endeavours.”, Tom answered his gaze dark but not unfriendly. He seemed to be delighted to at least have gotten one tiny detail out of the new girl.
Hermione’s hand itched to play once again. She longed to hear the sweet symphonies, to feel the cold hard keys under her fingertips. Without thinking she sat down and put her hand on the smooth surface. It was like she could feel the instrument vibrate with excitement at the prospect of being played again. She pressed down with her right pinkie finger and the clear sound of an E was heard throughout the room. Hermione grinned and started to play, the music drifting through the air, swaying with a kind of sadness to it but at the same time the tune was hopeful. She loved this song, it was her mother’s favourite. Für Elise, she remembered trying to teach it to Ron. He had been so terrible at it that she could only laugh at his attempts. She was sure that Tom, Tom who still stood next to her and was listening intently, would be a much faster learner. As quickly as that thought had emerged, she pushed it away.

She let the music fade out at the end, hitting the last keys with great softness. Silence settled over them again. For the first time since arriving in the past, Hermione felt like herself again. She didn’t feel detached from reality like she was watching someone else, she didn’t feel like walking through a dream. No, she felt herself again, her heartbeat, her own breaths, she could even feel her own magic shimmering inside herself. How ironic that the first steps to healing were made with Tom Voldemort Riddle besides her. How fucking ironic.

The silence was broken rather rudely. The first Slytherins came through the door, chatting loudly, some glanced in her direction weirdly and some watched Tom not without a measure of fright and respect in their eyes. Without saying anything to the young man next to her, Hermione stood, her back stiff, the feeling of elation swindling away. She nodded in his direction and fleeing the room, his dark eyes still burning in her back. Was that Legilimens or was it just her?

The Slytherin girls dormitory was, as expected, much nice than the Gryffindor one. She used to have to share with eight other girls, now it was only two of them, Lucretia Black and Angelica Fawley, a small girl that didn’t even said hello. Lucretia did have an… unhinging… resemblance with Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione clutched her wand tighter when she saw her the first time. If Lucretia noticed anything she didn’t let on but this was a Slytherin girl so she probably did. Hermione didn’t even try to engage the girls in a conversation, they didn’t seem so eager to talk to her themselves. The room they shared was dimly lit and the big four poster beds cast long shadows over the dark floor. Hermione starred transfixed for way longer than necessary. Shadows had been things she had learned to fear. In the forest everything could hide there.
In the Malfoy manor only sinister things were found there. Her mind went back to the dark cold dungeons. The walls had not been smooth the air had been freezing. She remembered as the icy coldness of the darkness had slowly crept inside their minds, diming any hope and happiness they ever had had.
Hermione closed the curtains, isolating herself. She could finally go to sleep. She was so tired. It didn’t take long for her to fall into the blackness of her dream world. Chased by nightmares of odd creatures hunting her, blood and sinister places, Hermione didn’t sleep well. With the first grey light that slipped over the horizon she was wide awake, her limbs heavy but her mind a little clearer.

She pulled herself out of bed despite the cold and dragged herself to the bathroom. For the first time in a long time she could take her time with getting ready, while on the run she had not had that luxury. Her school uniform was pleasantly warm and cosy, she was by all means the most comfortable she had been in over a year. Pulling herself away, she finally exited the bathroom again half an hour later. Lucretia and Angelica were just starting to wake up. Without saying anything Hermione grabbed her things and headed out. She had something she wanted to do before going to the great hall for breakfast.

Nobody paid her any mind as she stalked through the corridors of the castle, nobody was up and about yet only the portraits watched her with open curiosity.
It was a girl’s bathroom she finally came to stop before. Swinging the door open she stepped inside. It looked like all the others in the castle did too, white and clean. But Hermione knew that this one was different, this one was the one that had the entrance to the chamber of secrets hidden inside it. Hermione let her gaze travel through the room, wondering where Myrtle was. She would probably emerge from one of the toilettes soon. Harry, Ron and herself had sat on this very floor in second year. She could still hear their laughter. Leaning against the white washbasins Hermione starred at her reflection in the mirror. Tears pricked her eyes. She had lost all of them, she could never try and restore her parent’s memories, she would never hug Harry and Ron, she would never see Ginny again, and she would never spend Christmas at the Burrow again. Her breathing sped up, despair pressing down on her chest.

“Do you always follow girls to the bathroom?”, Hermione finally hissed, turning around to face none other than Tom. His face was cold as stone as he watched her. His eyes were impossibly dark, standing in a stark contrast to his skin. Nobody said anything as they watched each other.
“My apologies”, Tom finally said, his tone too neutral. “I just saw you coming in here and thought that, as you are new, you wouldn’t know. This bathroom is not in use anymore, everybody avoids it.”
“Yes, because of Myrtle, I heard.”, Hermione answered. Murderer, Murderer.
Tom only nodded.
“Tim, was it?”, Hermione added, still watching from her place leaning against the sinks. Tom’s façade faltered slightly, anger flashing in his eyes. She shouldn’t play with Tom Riddle. That was a dangerous game but Hermione didn’t particularly care.
“No”, he said slowly “Tom.”
Hermione hummed non-committedly.
“Escort me to breakfast, will you?”, she said as she finally brought her body to move and approach him. Her steps felt oddly mechanical. His gaze didn’t break as he kept watching her. It made her nerve ends burn, it made he feel accelerated, it made her feel alive. What was wrong with her? He offered his arm with a graceful smile, his eyes still dark and mesmerizing.
“With pleasure, Hermione”
“Thank you, Tom”, she said smirking at him, his face faltered slightly at her use of his actual name this time.
“You seemed quite disturbed in there, Hermione. Are you alright.”
“Quite, thank you for your… concern.”
“It is the least I can do as my duty as headboy.”
“Ah yes, your duty. Tell me, Tom, how did Myrtle die?”
Tom clenched his jaw, anger flashing through his eyes again. Hermione smiled again, her blood thrumming in her veins.
“That is a long story and not something discussed before breakfast.”
Hermione only hummed non-committedly and changed the topic quickly.
“What is our first lesson again? Ah, I remember it was Defence against the Dark Arts, wasn’t it?”
“Oh yes”, Tom said “We have started with the topic of Patronus and how to cast them but don’t fret, most won’t succeed in doing so and therefore there is no preasure on you.”
“I’m sure though you have already succeeded in it, haven’t you?”, Hermione said lightly, before seeing the anger in his eyes again. “Or do you lack happy memories Tom?”
“Patronus are quite unuseful in real life. Dementors can be swayed differently. Besides I can cast one, just not corporal”, he said and he was surly about to add something before they were interrupted.

“Tom!” Hermione turned around to see Malfoy speed walking to catch up to them.
“Abraxas”, Tom said flatly.
Abraxas Malfoy really was handsome in that weird Malfoy way, Hermione noted. His hair nearly reached his shouldered and he was thin in a regal way that made him look sophisticated. His grey eyes were lighter than Draco’s had ever been but not less cutting. He smirked at Hermione, looking her up and down.
“There you are Tom, I was looking for you. Are you going to the slug club tonight?”
“Of course I am, Abraxas, aren’t you?”
Ah, the famous Slug club, even in this time... Hermione mused to herself as she continued to watch Abraxas.
“Well” Malfoy said “You see I have a… meeting… with Violet and I was wondering if today was really that important…”, Abraxas looked hopeful.
“I am sure it won’t be that important.”, Tom said and Abraxas started grinning.
“Thanks.”, with that Malfoy sat down at the Slytherin table with them and turned to converse with the other people around him. Hermione ignored Tom and sipped on her tea contently.

~

“A Patronus charm”, the DADA-teacher said with a booming voice “can someone tell our new student, what it exactly is?”
The teacher was fairly young, Hermione noted, maybe in his late forties. His dark hair was just starting to grey. Nobody raised their hands. After a few seconds of silence, Hermione did because, frankly, it was ridiculous.

“Well, Miss Granger, enlighten us.”
“A Patronus charm is cast by using the spell Expecto Patronum, it channels positive energy so to cast it successfully the caster has to think about the happiest memories they possess. As it is used mostly against Dementors it is usually conceived as difficult because those creatures are known to suck out the happiness in everything around them.”
“Yes, very well done Miss Granger. Today we will be trying to cast one ourselves. Don’t stress yourself out if you don’t succeed, it is not required at NEWTs but of course it will bring you many bonus points. Now, with me, Expecto Patronum.”
The whole class tried the charm a few times, most of the students were not very enthusiastic others didn’t even try.
“Well, we will start trying to cast it in pairs. Everyone get yourself a partner.”
The whole class was in movement, everybody turning to their friends. Hermione didn’t care. She starred at the blackboard unseeing, until the chair next to her was being pulled out.

“Thomas”, Hermione said flatly, looking in those dark eyes again.
“Just Tom, I am afraid”, he said, his jaw clenching. “I thought maybe you would be in need of a partner, Hermione.”
The first tries of the Patronus charm could be heard around the class. No silver light filled the room.
“Not your favourite subject, is it, Tom?”, Hermione said, balancing her wand with practised ease in her hand.
“Not really, I would find it much more useful to learn other things… Of a different nature.”
“I’m sure”, Hermione answered.
“Shall we practise? Expecto Patronum” Tom said the words with cutting precision. Silver light poured from the tip of his wand, and the class went quiet. The teacher smiled at Tom not surprised at all.
“Tom”, he said “As usual you don’t disappoint. Don’t fret Miss Granger, Tom always is the first one to succeed so nobody expected you to match his skill and talent”, he said smiling in her direction. Hermione flushed red, anger rising. How preposterous. Tom smirked at her.
“Oh, but she hasn’t even tried, yet.”, he said with glee evident in his eyes as he continued to smirk at Hermione.
"Well, don’t you want to try, Miss Granger?”, the Professor asked a little put out by the situation. It was clear that Tom and Hermione didn’t like each other or at least riled it each other up. Hermione starred the Professor in the eyes before turning to Tom. She smirked back.
“Oh, I will try my best, Professor but I won’t be disappointed if I can’t match Tom”, she raised her long brown wand and felt the magic thrumming inside herself. She hadn’t used it for such a long time. Her wand was used to be casting stun after stun and charm after charm. Hermione thought of Harry and Ron, she thought of her childhood with her parents, she imagined them winning and she imagined hugging her best friends and finally being free.
“Expecto Patronum” she said, her voice steady. An otter broke free at the tip of her wand. It shone in a silver light and danced around the room, leaving a trail behind itself until it vanished in a silver cloud, slowly fading away.