Blind Love

By: xxlostdreamerxz

Disclaimer: No, I do not own HP.

Explanation: Hermione was excessively calm during her first encounter with Riddle because she's a logical person at heart and not very driven by emotion. So given the situation, when she freaked out her mind came to her rescue and she was able to reason out the situation and act accordingly. Also, the remark regarding why Voldemort doesn't remember Hermione (well, I haven't decided how I'm going to write that yet) but for now, I'll just go with the fact that 60 years is quite a long time. And if you've lost someone close to you, most likely you'd want to repressed the memory of them.

Chapter 3: Timeturner Theory

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A thin sheen of sweat glittered on her brow as her heart pounded loudly in her ears. Why isn’t he answering the door? Hermione forced herself to remain nonchalant, as Riddle knocked politely again on the thick oak door. After all, the last thing she wanted was to accidentally garner Riddle’s attention or worse, his curiosity. She swallowed nervously.

“It doesn’t seem like as if he’s in,” Riddle stated, leaning lazily against the edge of the door. He gave her an even stare. “Perhaps Headmaster Dippet can help?”

Hermione’s lip trembled. “No,” she said uncomfortably. “It’s rather private, mind you.” She took a deep breath as her mind frantically searched for an explanation. “Uncle Al and my family are rather close…were rather close,” she corrected, feeling her chest constrict painfully at the memory of her friends. “I need his help regarding a personal matter.”

Riddle’s expression remained impassive. “I see.”

“If you are needed elsewhere, you needn’t wait up for me,” Hermione said, trying to not sound too hopefully. “I’ll just wait here for Uncle Al to arrive.”

Riddle’s lips twisted into a mocking smirk.

Seeing his smirk, Hermione was struck by how much the boy before her resembled Voldemort. They had the same mannerisms and expressions. Her hand tightened on her wand as she suddenly came to a startling revelation. The boy that stood before her was Voldemort…and not only that…he was Voldemort before he became Immortal. A slight smile emerged on her face as she imagined avenging her friends.

I’ll think more on this topic later.

“Though I am well aware that being in my presence can be tedious at times,” he drawled, making Hermione’s metaphorical hair stand on end at how familiar his tone was. “It wouldn’t do for me to leave you by your lonesome in a deserted corridor. Especially considering that you’re most likely in danger.”

Hermione couldn’t help but snort. “Right…and you’ll be my knight in shining armor?” Villain would be a more accurate description.

“Well, I am Head Boy.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m touched.”

Riddle leaned slightly forward, making Hermione resist the urge to flinch. “You should be. After all, if it had been anyone else other than me who you’d…stumbled across,” he said evenly, “You’d be lucky to escape being the object of yet another scandal.”

Hermione’s mind raced. Surely the wizarding world couldn’t have been so conservative sixty years ago. I mean…certainly the attitudes towards witches have evolved considerably since then.

“Giving the current state of the wizarding world,” he mocked, repeating her previous words, “You’d be lucky to not be labeled as a tart for peeping.” Seeing her outraged expression, Riddle continued with an air of biting joy. “

“You’re calling me a pervert?”

This time Riddle’s eyes glittered with uncertainty. “I’ve never heard a girl saying something so uncouth,” he said, before regaining his smile. “But yes, I am.”

“I wasn’t peeping!” Hermione resisted the urge to puke. The mere thought of peeping on him makes me feel sick.

“Well, you certainly did fall into my bathtub, while I was unclothed mind you,” he continued, his voice even though his eyes shone with amusement. Riddle couldn’t help but enjoy the fact that though embarrassed the girl had yet to run screaming in the opposite direction. But on the other hand, there was no possible way she had just been assaulted. After all, she wouldn’t be able to stand such low banter without bursting into tears.

Hermione flushed in both anger and embarrassment. “I wasn’t peeping!” she repeated, her voice growing louder. “I…It…” she struggled to contain her emotions and come up with a workable story. “I…had just taken an emergency Portkey and it deposited me in the wrong place.”

“Where was it supposed to take you?”

Hermione paused, “To Uncle Al’s office.”

"Uncle Al...?" Tom repeated, looking staunchly puzzled. "You mean Professor Dumbledore?!"

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Before Riddle was able to grill her for more information, there was a slight shuffle and thumping noise. Seconds later, the enchanted door suddenly opened and out stepped Albus Dumbledore. He had dark auburn red hair, a thick red beard, and familiar twinkling blue eyes.

“Oh, thank Merlin!” Hermione cried, feeling her emotions come crashing around her her. Without bothering to analyze her situation, she ran over and threw her arms around the present Transfiguration professor. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you again!"

Dumbledore gently pried the shocked girl from his neck and held him at arm’s length. His face took on a slightly puzzled expression before glittering with suppressed amusement. “Well, I am sorry that I was held up,” he said gently, looking curiously between Hermione and Tom. “But I couldn’t resist organizing my new sock collection again.”

There was a short silence, as they both processed the Headmaster’s words.

“Uncle Al,” Hermione implored, knowing the Riddle was watching the scene. “I need to talk to you,” she said, hiding her desperation, mentally praying that Dumbledore would go alone with the story. “Something terrible has happened…and I don’t have anyone else to turn to,” she whispered. “Please.”

There was a short silence as Dumbledore considered her words. His eyes softened. “Of course, child. Do come in,” he beckoned, holding the door open so that Hermione could slip inside.

“Wait.”

Hermione paused, turning around to glance at Riddle.

He gave her an indecipherable stare before biting his lip thoughtfully. “We’ll meet again,” he said evenly. After all, I need to figure out why I failed to invade your mind. Without bothering to either acknowledge or greet Dumbledore, he turned around and began to walk away.

Hermione shivered, feeling for some reason that his words were more of a threat than a passing thought.

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Dumbledore's Office

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Hermione's eyes trailed across the room, taking in the flamboyantly striped rugs, topped with a few purple plush sofas, and a few mahogany bookshelves. An unknown emotion swelled in her chest, making her suddenly feel faint with relief. Oh dear god, she was finally safe. There was no Voldemort to worry about; there was no certain death looming before her like disgusting specter. She slowly made her way to the plush chair in front of what she assumed was Dumbledore's desk and promptly sank tiredly into it.

Dumbledore will help me change things.

He won't allow the past to repeate itself.

Surely not...

The horrible images that she'd shoved into the back of her mind the moment she went into survival mode, slowly began to make their presence known. Her friends...Ron...Harry. She choked down her tears. They deserved better than that. They shouldn't have been murdered. Hermione's fingernails dug into the plush fabric, leaving tiny indents on it.

"There, there," Dumbledore said soothingly, as he handed Hermione a hankerchief. "Just let it out."

Hermione shook her head.

No, I can't and won't let go of my ghosts until they've been avenged.

Dumbledore carefully studied the mysterious girl while she fought to regain control of her emotions. He had overheard the last part of the two's conversation...which was why he had decided to play along with her story. A slightly amused glint appeared in his eyes as he thought back to what she had refered to him as.

Uncle Al.

"My name is Hermione," the girl introduced, looking at him straight in the eye."You might not know me now, but you will in a couple of years," she explained, seeing his perplexed expression. Hermione chewed her lip thoughtfully. "To be honest, I'm not exactly sure how to explain this to you in a way that won't portray me as a lunatic."

Dumbledore raised a brow at her confession. "Oh? And why's that?"

"Because I think I traveled back in time."

There was a short silence as Dumbledore's mind slowly processed the information. "How did you achieve that?" he murmured, speaking half to himself. "A time-turner surely couldn't have managed to send you back more than a couple of hours at most." He tapped his fingers against his desk as he pondered the situation further. "The last instance that I could think of regarding time travel has to do with a particular item in the Department of Mysteries...and from what I remember...that item had been accidently lost in the Veil."

Hermione's lips twisted into a sardonic smile. "Well...even though it's not a conventional way of time travel...I was hit by a killing curse."

"What?"

She nodded. "The last thing I remembered before waking up here was being killed," she said quietly, eyes downcast. "I don't know why I'm here. I don't understand...I should be dead shouldn't I?" looked beeshingly into Dumbledore's eyes.

The Transfiguration professor nodded solemnly. "I wonder..." he paused, giving her an introspective stare over his moon shaped glasses. "...have you ever used a Time turner by any chance?"

Hermione nodded jerkedly. "Yes, during my third year."

"How many times did u use it? And for how long?"

"Well...for almost a full year," she answered, frowning when Dumbledore 'ahh'ed' in realization. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Dumbledore smiled gently. "You've never heard of the Timeturner Theory have you?"

"No."

"Its simple really," he said, his tone changing into lecture mode. "Spell Crafters have hypothesized that you need to pay a price each and every time you turn back time. A price that differs per person." Dumbledore gave her an even stare. "Some believe that it would force you to relieve your worst memory time after time, helpless to do anything. Others claim that it would grant your deepest wish, only to warp it in such a manner that you'll live a life of regret." He shrugged lightly. "Like I said, its only a hypothesis. No one who has used a Timeturner has ever returned to be studied."

Hermione frowned. "But this isn't my worst memory, considering I haven't even been born yet, nor do I have any desire to remain in this era," she puzzled out as she sank comfortably into the sofa. "Does this always happen? I mean, do the Timeturners only collect their debt after the debtor has died?"

"No one is certain," Dumbledore answered. "But I believe that the price is different for every individual that choses to go back in time; thus, it is truly random when you'll be forced to "pay" your price." He tapped his fingers together, as he met her eyes evenly. "Nonetheless, there is one part of this hypothesis that has been proven."

"What?" she asked eagerly.

"For ever minute you've spent using the Timeturner, you'll have to repay a minuate back in this dimension," he said evenly. "And since you claim that you've turned back time for a year, you'll be stuck here for a whole year."

Hermione nodded. "And then what?" She swallowed. "What will happen to me then?"

"I don't know."

The girl closed her eyes and nodded bravely. "I see." There was a short pause, as Hermione sorted out her thoughts. "Regardless of what happens to me Professor," she said slowly, "I accept my fate. After all, if it hadn't been for my blasted attempt at using the Time Turner...I'd be dead now."

Dumbledore looked at her sadly. So young, yet so jaded.

She shook her head and forced herself to pay attention to the issue at hand. "Professor, there's something else that I need to tell you," she said, slightly uncomfortably. After all, how does one go about telling a Professor that one of their students was going to grow up and become a homicidal monster? "It's about Tom Riddle."

And with that said, she promptly began her story about the future...

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Chapter Preview: Hermione's sorted.

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