Controlled

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author’s Note: Blasted plot bunnies. Just a note - although this centers around Hermione and Tom, they’re not going to become a couple. At least in this story, anyway. Much thanks to Kris who brilliantly betaed this. And on such short notice too. You rock muchly.

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Chapter One: Captured

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Everything was dark and hazy. Nothing appeared solid to her; all blurry and fuzzy, as if she were in a vague dream. Where was she? What was she doing here? If there was a “here.” All sorts of questions popped in her mind, intensifying her curiosity with every slowly passing minute.

She tried to recall something; anything she could remember before this sudden fuzziness had come over her. But she couldn’t; it was as if someone has had erased every memory and fragment of thought she had. She didn’t know who she was, what she was, where and why she was doing here at this – place? – she was at.

The only thing she could identify was that she was at a “place.” That was where she was. Vaguely she felt a slip of a name deep in her mind. She was slowly becoming conscious. Her mind was calling . . . Her. . . Her my . . . Hermy . . . Hermione. Hermione! That was her name! She felt a happy dance inside. She remembered her name . . . but that was all she could remember. Try as she might, she couldn’t recall her last name or middle name.

She had lost a part of her identity, leaving an empty ache in her. She couldn’t remember who she was, who she had been . . . it was as if something had been scratched from her mind. A blankness in her mind that could never be filled. Instantly she felt her happiness dissipate, replaced with a sharp tinge of regret and sadness that pierced her insides. She had no sense of anything. She wasn’t sure what to feel, what to say, what to do. Unsure . . . That was the right word; she was unsure. Unsure of everything. She was unsure of exactly who she was, where she was right now, and what she had been.

She couldn’t remember ever feeling this way; it was something new, a foreign feeling to her. She had felt nervous and awkward before, yes, but now . . . as she looked at her surroundings at that moment and everything came more sharply into focus, she wasn’t so sure. She had always felt so sure about things – after all, she was the perfect know it all and was always right about certain things. ‘Certain things’ being the keywords here, she thought, smiling wryly.

She, Hermione, might have known every spell, enchantment and potion there was to be known in the world, but she didn’t know everything about everything, to be honest. She didn’t know about love, she didn’t know about death . . . she knew only the harsh bitterness of life. That was all she knew. It existed all around her – in the cold, dark, dank cell she found herself in now, outside, wherever. It didn’t matter – it wasn’t like she could hide from it. Even in the darkest places you couldn’t hide forever. It wouldn’t protect you from knowing the truth. That she knew very well . . . and staying in this damp cell didn’t change her outlook a bit. It only made her more convinced.

And now she wondered where and why she was there in the cell, with nothing but cold darkness surrounding her. She couldn’t recall ever being in this place before. It was something entirely new to her, and she didn’t like that feeling. She didn’t like the feeling of not having any idea where she was, and why exactly she was there. It left her feeling uneasy, as if something horrible was going to happen at any time, and when she least expected it. The silent feeling of secrecy in the air confirmed her suspicions. She knew she wasn’t going mad or imagining it; it was something not to be spoken of, only to be felt. Something was up, she knew, and she couldn’t fight that feeling of just simply knowing away.

She decided to investigate – just as long as that prickly feeling went away, she was happy. Curiously the door to her cell wasn’t locked; it had been left unlocked. She knew that was strange, for why would her captor – if she had a captor – let her roam about freely? It was a bad move, for she could easily escape; but she doubted right now she would. Even an attempt would bring her down, and her captor’s minions – possibly her captor himself too – could catch her trying to run. And then if that happened she would be worse off than she was before. If that happened, she decided to risk it anyway. Knowing more about her surroundings could help her and prove useful in the future.

Slowly she opened the door, being careful not to make it squeak or creak, and let herself slip outside the iron cage she had been in. She breathed deeply. Somehow it felt more refreshing out here outside of her cell than inside the stuffy dankness of it. Looking around now, she felt more alert and questioning. It really was puzzling that while she knew her first name, she knew nothing else. She wanted to know why and where she was, and that this ‘here’ had to be someplace. Someplace far away from where she had been before.

This, where she was now, reeked of something sinister and a dark silent deceptiveness. It set her on edge, what this sinister and deceptive thing could be - if it was a thing. It made her apprehensive of what was coming next . . . her instincts told her that something would happen soon – very soon. If not, it would happen later. And she guessed she was a part of the ‘something’ that was going to happen.

Maybe she was part of the evil plan. Her mind’s wheels started to click and turn. Piece by piece, bit by bit, all this was starting to fit together. She still had a blind idea of what was going on and whether she was right or not, but she was sure with time everything would fall into place and make sense. And maybe she would remember exactly who she was and know where this place was at, and how she got there. It was only a matter of time.

She exhaled, frustrated. Only a matter of time, she thought. Time could stretch on for seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months . . . most likely even years. She knew she couldn’t wait that long to find out something or have something discovered. Maybe it was the impatient side of her; maybe it was because she didn’t want to – and she knew she couldn’t – wait that long. The sooner she was out, the better. And right now it all depended on whether she could find out anything or not.

The sound of a door slamming – which happened to sound very very close to her – distracted her from her thoughts. A sharp fear came over her and as quickly and quietly she could, she went back into her cell, closing the door gently behind her. She sat down in a far corner and waited, scarcely daring to breathe. One mistaken and wrong move and she would be in danger. That easily, that quickly. And if she didn’t know she was in trouble, that would make things a countless times worse. She swallowed back a gulp. Not the right time to show how queasy and tentative with fear she was then.

A swish of robes could be heard – which was suspiciously close to her – and she froze. She sat completely still, not moving – like a statue, she thought wryly. She had the sinking yet hopeful feeling that the person who was in the room besides her was her captor.

“I see you’re awake,” a clipped voice said.

She looked up. Cold eyes met her unwavering gaze – cold, glittering, resentful eyes. Eyes that she would never be able to forget, no matter how hard she tried.

So this was her captor, she thought with a sharp intake of her breath. Then her mouth chose to act impulsively and get her into trouble – and near to being dead.

“So I am.”

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author’s Note: Blasted plot bunnies. Just a note - although this centers around Hermione and Tom, they’re not going to become a couple. At least in this story, anyway. Much thanks to Kris for betaing this; and once again on short notice. Thank her for having this chapter come out so quickly ;P

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Chapter Two: Hypnotized

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He fixed her with a glare. “And I thought you would be a good girl,” he said smugly. “I’m so disappointed, Miss Hermione.”

Somehow that name irked her. As if he was indicating she was a prissy goody two shoes. Miss Hermione, hah! She had to laugh. But she didn’t. Who knew what would happen if she did.

He looked at her fixedly. “You’re wondering who I am, aren’t you?”

She looked at him, and found herself lost in his eyes. She couldn’t help it; the cold grey eyes were mesmerizing in their own way; they drew her in instantly. It was if evil drew her to it like a magnet; much like his eyes did. They glinted of evil, of broken shattered promises and dark secrets, too dark, to ever be told or be known.

She wondered vaguely if she wanted to know them – or whether it was better not to know them at all. They could change everything in an instant, and sometimes destroy everything in seconds. She had the feeling he contained, possessed that sort of power . . . and within an amazingly short period of time, that power could destroy and change everything.

“Yes I am,” she said at last. “But I find myself having the feeling that I already know who you are, what you are . . . I can’t shake off this feeling. Even though I honestly have no idea what your name is.”

He had to smile sardonically at that. She thought his name defined who he was. But it was more than only a name that told a person who he was and what he was. His name – that filthy Muggle name he had unfortunately inherited from his father – definitely didn’t define who he was. It didn’t define him at all; it only defined who he had been; the person from his past. Now, he wasn’t that person at all; he was someone else, a person with a whole different identity.

“You have no idea who I am, then?” He asked her now.

“No, no idea,” she answered, ignoring the nagging feeling of I know him from somewhere, I just know it that she had.

He smiled slightly at this; but it was no ordinary smile. This smile sent her on edge, with its maliciousness and slight shiver it sent down her back. She got the chills as it seemed to conjure up into her mind. It was a smile that spoke of untold yet known secrets, of silent deception, of high hopes and dashed dreams.

“If you don’t know me, then you truly don’t know me.” His eyes were dark. Dark with something she couldn’t describe, dark with something she didn’t know but could feel. It made her recoil, but somehow she couldn’t help wanting to know what it was, wanting to know how it would feel, pulsing everywhere in her.

“Who are you then?” she managed to ask, flinching slightly at how moronic that sounded. Of all the ridiculous questions she could ask, it had to be “who are you?” Something in the air must have been getting to my brain, she thought, otherwise I would be able to think clearly. Hang on a minute . . . her think clearly in the darkness surrounding her? It wasn’t impossible, and this wasn’t Azkaban. Great, now my ability to think has gone haywire, she sighed inwardly.

He chuckled. “There’s no clear definition for who I am. I could be anyone, I could be no one. I have a name, but it doesn’t tell you at all who I am. You may know me already. I believe one of your dear friends has had the pleasure of meeting me.” He smirked.

She sucked in her breath. He wasn’t – he couldn’t be – her mind stopped functioning. Everything stood still and clear to her; the beady, magnetic eyes, the cold expression, the sharp glint of evil and madness that lurked in his eyes. Her captor was Tom Riddle; also known as Lord Voldemort. She laughed weakly at her own stupidity. How could she not have seen it? How could she have not known, realized it sooner?

“I see you now know who I am,” Tom’s eyes glittered with an inner malice. She shivered at the horrible feeling his eyes, so full of hate, gave her.

“Yes,” she answered, defiance creeping into her tone. “Although I don’t see why you captured me when you could have captured ‘my dear friend,’ as you so tactfully put it.”

He laughed out loud. “My dear, you’ve got quite a lot to learn still, haven’t you?” Something in his tone made her cringe, as if she couldn’t bear to hear it.

“The reason why I ‘captured’ you, as you put it,” his eyes shone, making her hair stand on end, “was because so that your dear friend would be lured here and could rescue you . . . only thanks to me, he won’t be able to accomplish that.” He grinned.

“The perfect trap, don’t you see? If executed correctly, which it will be, I, Lord Voldemort, not Tom Riddle, will have your unknowing friend right in my hands.” His eyes shone brighter than before.

“After all, you’re his closest and dearest friend,” he sneered, making her recoil.

“But why are you going by the name you had before? Why are you telling me all this?” The questions escaped her mouth before she could stop them. She was on the verge of breaking down, but there was no way in hell that she was going to let him know that and have an advantage over her.

“One question at a time, Miss,” he smiled serenely, causing a blinding fear to stir in her. “First of all, why am I going by Tom Riddle, a name I hate so much? It’s a cover, a hidden and false identity for me. No one except your friend and Dumbledore,” here his eyes narrowed, “will know who I am. And now they will fall into my trap, being the utter fools they are.”

His eyes centered on her. “Now as for why I’m telling you this? You’ll be the only sole witness to hear and know my plan, and the best part is,” the grey orbs were brighter than ever before now, if that was even possible, “you won’t tell anyone about it. It’ll be known in your mind and heart, but you can never say it aloud.” He had a satisfied smirk that she wanted so badly to wipe off his face. “In fact, you won’t even know that I told you it.”

She was puzzled. What did he mean - ?

Those grey eyes focused on her again and in an instant her world became blank.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Blasted plot bunnies. Just a note - although this centers around Hermione and Tom, they're not going to become a couple. At least in this story, anyway. Much thanks to Jennifer who worked her beta magic on this and for giving me her input. (And sorry about the cliffhangers - not. ;P )

- - -

Chapter Three: Lost Forever

- - -

“You really have no idea what I plan to do, do you?” he chuckled at her blank face. “My dear, you may think I've told you everything that you want to know so you can go off and tell your friend exactly what I have planned for him, don't you?” His face was serious now. “Well, that's not going to happen, I'm afraid.”

Some day, Hermione, you'll get the opportunity to know who I truly am - but sadly that time is not now, he thought, gently stroking her hair, weaving his fingers through the bushy brownness. With a slight chuckle, in a lightning flash, he was gone.

- - -

She woke up feeling dazed. A slight beam of sunlight shone through the small window above her cell, directly at her feet. Her brain felt as if it had been made out of lead; she was unable to think, let alone get up. She wasn't sick . . and oddly enough, she couldn't remember anything. She knew who she was and why she was there, but . . there was this strange emptiness inside her. An emptiness that told her something was off, something wasn't right. But she didn't know, couldn't figure out what was wrong, what that something was.

Whatever it was, she couldn't be bothered about it now. She had to tend to Tom. With that thought, she robotically got out of her cot and went over in her mind what she had to do for Tom that day, what orders he was giving her now. Her head pounded now; a fierce headache was plaguing her. Great, she thought, just what I need. Little did she notice the stunned green eyes watching her right then.

-Two days before -

“She's gone!” Harry exclaimed, his shining eyes wild with shock and an unwilling acceptance. “Hermione's . . gone.” He breathed slowly, feeling his world collapse all around him. Gone gone gone. The word itself taunted him. “I - I couldn't find her anywhere . . . she's not on the grounds, she's not in the library, she's not in the common room . . .” He let his voice trail off, a frozen shock showing clearly in his eyes. He felt paralyzed; he couldn't breathe. It was as if she had died . . god forbid the thought. He felt everything start to spin madly around him, never stopping, and tried not to howl and cry from the pain of it all.

She can't be gone. He felt defeated. A part of him was missing; only an unbearable gap remained where she had been. Harry just couldn't believe it - he refused to believe it. Even with Dumbledore's solemn blue eyes gazing at him and - no, he refused to believe she was gone. She wouldn't leave him like that, would she? She wouldn't leave him alone there to feud for himself?

He knew Hermione . . she wasn't the type to desert him. No, actually, she was the exact opposite of that. So where was she? His mind reeled with numerous thoughts on where she could be. What bothered him the most however was the tightly twisted feeling in his stomach; the one he got whenever he was sick and about to vomit. This feeling was a lot stronger, though; he had never felt like this in his life. This told him, confirmed his thoughts that something was indeed wrong. He just hoped with all his heart that she was safe and away from harm.

But he knew that was too hopeful and blind a wish. Still he hoped with all he had that Hermione was safe. If anything happened to her, he honestly didn't know what he would do . . without her, he would go insane. She was his world, the only steadfast person he had in his life. And he didn't want her to go away from his life. Not ever, and not in the future. Harry knew for sure that he would rather die with her than without her, since without her his world fell apart. He fell apart. It was as if he wasn't alive anymore. A part of him felt dead and broken beyond repair and healing. And only Hermione could cause that to happen.

He shook his head. Now he just wasn't thinking clearly. Hermione wouldn't cause that; it would just happen. Maybe it was because of just how close they were. She was a part of him as he was a part of her; they were two souls entwined. It wasn't as if they could help it; it had just happened.

And why would they do anything to stop it? Harry was thankful that she was in his life; he had been really too lucky to have her as his best friend. Sure, she could be stubborn beyond belief, but he knew it was a part of who she was, it was what made her Hermione. That never ceasing stubbornness had saved him in the riskiest of situations and knocked some sense into his own stubborn brain.

Now, without that lifesaving logic, he didn't know what to do. If he went and searched for her . . his eyes narrowed at that thought. Maybe, just maybe . . his mind raced with thoughts, thoughts which he couldn't speak of but couldn't help pondering over. He would do anything - even the most drastic thing anyone could think of, let alone do. Harry would do anything to bring Hermione back - even if his life would be lost when he did it. A determined glint shone in his eyes, making them seem greener and brighter than ever, if that was even possible.

An inner strength kept him going now, followed by ever plaguing thoughts of Hermione and where she could be. She was the only one who could keep him going this far - and he vowed right then that if it was the last thing he did before he died, he would find her. The cost and his death didn't matter, just as long as she was found. And with that thought Harry ran from Dumbledore's office and headed straight back to Gryffindor Tower, his thoughts in a rush of planning and executing his `reckless' plan. It was now or never, he decided, and there was no better time than now.

So what if he was acting spontaneous? He thought. The school would send out a search party for him, and there would be tons of unneeded publicity . . but he was willing to risk all of that, just to find her. Right now, he could have cared less about everything else - everything else except her. And whenever he had set his mind to something, there was no use stopping himself - even if he had to be the one to do it.

Night had fallen, leaving Hogwarts a looming shadow in the landscape. A perfect cover to hide him, Harry thought. His only guide was the moon shining high in the sky, the stars up above, and what little light he could see shining in Hogwarts' many windows. Harry took a deep breath, straightened his black cape so it would camouflage him in the darkness easily without rousing suspicion, got on his Firebolt and took off in the sky.

Even if he had no clear sense where she was, he only hoped that he could - no, would - find her in time, before something else happened. What that something else was he didn't know - he had an ominous feeling about it that told him everything. And this time he wished that his instincts were wrong. For once.

- Present -

Harry snapped out of his reverie when he heard the sound of a door opening and then closing shut. He was acutely aware of everything around him at that moment; the dank, cold cell, the soft footsteps of Hermione's on the stone floor, the stillness in the air. He couldn't stand any of it; it was beyond unbearable.

When Tom - he scowled, correcting himself - no, Lord Voldemort - had been talking to Hermione - oh, he couldn't even go into it. The wait, the numb, shocked feeling his entire body had . . he just couldn't believe it. Everything that had happened so far had happened in a flash, so quick that his mind couldn't process and take it in all at once. That and he honestly couldn't believe that right before his eyes, Hermione had been turned into a puppet. And nothing more than that.

She was the one who did his bidding, automatically and as if she had been programmed to do it. A wide glazed look in her eyes told Harry everything, more than he needed and wanted to know. A crazy impulse and his instincts had led him here, and he knew they would never lead him astray. But this . . this was incredible. Way beyond incredible. He couldn't even believe and trust that what he was seeing was truly real.

Then he heard a scuffle near him and stiffened. It was Hermione, only . . it wasn't Hermione. At the same time. It was the same person and an entirely different person, all in one. Same name, different personality. A twisted side to her, he thought. Especially now, with her being controlled by - he had to grimace at the thought - that good for nothing, the so called Lord Voldemort, and she had been reduced to nothing more than a mere robot resembling a human who did all of Tom's - he had to resist the urge to gag - bidding. Every whim and wish of his, she had to obey and follow. It was honestly agonizing to watch; the Hermione he knew would never do such a thing.

But now that she was being controlled . . He frowned. That changed and messed up everything. A major complication this was, to be sure. And whether he would overcome this obstacle . . right now Harry wasn't so sure about that. He could face and fight dragons, he could battle with basilisks . . but that doesn't mean I can do them again, can I? He mused. He could do everything a hero could and more, but somehow, his “hero” persona wasn't needed anymore.

Especially this time. It was something of an entirely unique shade, a whole new outlook and situation. Except, maybe . . if he followed his instincts like he had done lots of times before, he would know what to do. And get Hermione out of this mess and off Voldemort's control. He shuddered at the thought of what would happen if the evil lord of darkness's control over her went on any longer. With her as his puppet, she'll be very useful for him, Harry thought with disgust. It took everything in him to not curse His so called Lordship to a place worse than hell. Actually, a place worse than hell wouldn't be right for him, he breathed quietly.

Right now, from his dark corner near her cell, he could only watch and wait in silence. Wait in agony for the right time, wait for . . he didn't know what else to do. But he didn't want to wait anymore. What else could he do besides wait? If he let it go on any longer, it would get worse. And then she would be lost forever to him. At that moment, he had a perfect chance right in front of him. He chose to seize it, came out of the shadows, crept silently to where Hermione was, and clasped one hand over her mouth. She didn't scream, much to his relief.

“Hermione, it's me,” His voice was trembling. “You know who I am, don't you?”

Her answer was not what he expected it to be. “Yes, Harry.” She turned around to face him and a small gasp escaped his throat.

There wasn't a glazed over look in her eyes. Clear brown irises met his own green eyes, and it was then that Harry found out everything he needed to know.

- - -

Tom smiled to himself in satisfaction. He had gotten Potter's little minx to obey his every wish and command, and without a single complaint.

His eyebrows furrowed. Now for the next step . . having her under his control was quite nice, but he needed - and wanted - something more. He wanted her to submit completely to him. He winced inwardly at the innuendo that thought contained. All he wanted now was for her to wholly, completely submit to him. Nothing else.

And to do that, he smirked, would be easy. Having her under his control was proving to be quite advantageous; he could use that control to his own liking. And what better use than her submission?

He smirked widely. Let the games begin.

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Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Blasted plot bunnies. Just a note - although this centers around Hermione and Tom, they're not going to become a couple. At least in this story, anyway.

Much thanks to Christine and Crys for not only rocking my socks, but being such great people and friends. *hugs* Don't know what I would do without you two - you're such an inspiration. This is dedicated to you both.

And as always, thanks to Jennifer for not only bearing with me, but for betaing this on such short notice (you can blame me for that), and giving me her feedback and advice on lots of things.

- - -

Chapter Four: Unreal Reality

- - -

As quickly as the clear look was in her eyes, it was replaced by the glassy look that had dominated them before.

He sucked in his breath. The warm brown eyes that lit up with happiness were now cold and inexpressive. It was as if she had been possessed or replaced by someone who wasn't herself - someone who pretended to be her, but never could and would be her.

He knew he had to get out of there now - she certainly wasn't giving him a pleasant look then. And right now was clearly not the best time to let Tom know that he was here. On a rescue mission to save Hermione, at that. Now was definitely not the best time to let Tom onto anything. If Hermione told him that Harry was there - well, he just had to take that chance.

So after giving her a beseeching look in vain, he snuck away - hoping all the while that he wouldn't be found. Taking advantage of there being a window in the room, he bent the metal bars with a softly whispered “Solfius” under his breath and a wave of his wand - and slipped away, in a flash of cloak and dark unseen agility.

She only gazed blankly at the place where he had been - and slowly jerked back to life, getting out of the room. Her master was calling her.

- - -

Maybe it had been just a wishful illusion of his that he had conjured up in hopes that Hermione was, in fact, not being controlled, Harry mused later, observing her cell window from where he stood behind a tree nearby. A horrific thing he couldn't - and wouldn't - allow himself to believe.

He laughed bitterly. Now all he could was wait again - wait for the right time to strike with a clash and a bang through Tom's seemingly impenetrable shield. Everything that he had hoped to not be true was indeed true. And what did he have to show for it? A wishful, naïve illusion that taunted him to no end and an incessant will to get Hermione out of that hell - and out of there soon. And he couldn't waste any time.

He smiled sardonically. No point in bidding his time any longer - he would strike. And he would strike soon - and bring everything of Tom down. If he waited any longer, everything would fall to pieces, his precious plan ruined.

That is, if he had a plan. He had a rough one sketched in his mind, but it was too early and messy to tell whether it would work or not. He didn't know whether it would - and even if he wanted to test it, he didn't want to put her in danger. No way would he ever put his best friend in danger. He just wouldn't - and could not - take that risk.

He only hoped that when or if a better plan came along and he thought of a less sketchy one, that he would rescue her from this mess. And from him. He scowled at that thought and continued to watch her barred window. Any sign of life that she showed, even if it was the robotic person she was now, he would be eternally grateful for - a sign that she was alive, he would undoubtedly give his life for her - to know that.

He sighed wistfully. Thinking about it now, he realized with a painful jolt of shock that this had only been an illusion of his. Maybe he hadn't been seeing things - only seeing them in his mind, and wishing for them to happen. Much like he had hoped that she would be the same - that she wasn't under Voldemort's control.

But no, that hadn't happened. And when would he learn? Wishful dreams and blind hopes of his would never come true. They never had - so why would this time be any different?

“Honestly, when will you ever learn?” He heard her voice in his brain say. He smiled slightly at that - if she saw him like this now, without a doubt, that was how she would react.

Then a frown came over his face. A pulsing in his veins told him to go and whisk her away, like the “Prince Charming” he was. Her rescuer, he hid an ironic smile. She was his savior, and he was her rescuer. Somehow that fitted perfectly - they fitted perfectly, in a way that no one could ever imitate or do.

Some Prince Charming he made now. Ruffled black haired, green-eyed, skinny boy who had not a clue what to do. And how to go about it. The perfect picture of the Most Unlikely Prince Charming. He couldn't help but snort at that. Here he was, standing and making jokes, when he could have been getting Hermione away from Tom's clutches.

Tom and Voldemort may be the same person, he mused, but they were two separate beings. Harry didn't dare to call His Royal Evilness a human, because in reality he wasn't, and never would be. In the past, he had been nothing but a snake - slithering, lurking, quiet, waiting for the right time to strike, and strike hard with everything he had. And although they appeared to be strong, Harry knew they were both vulnerable, underneath that solid mask of foreboding and calm malice.

Much like he was doing now, Harry exhaled. There was no use wasting time anymore - it was precious, slipping away from him every second, like sand dropping down in the hourglass.

He resolved to do it now, while it was nearing twilight. Carefully he made her way back to her window, muttered “Solfius” under his breath, and darted inside, looking around while he did so.

She wasn't there.

Oddly he was relieved at this discovery. That gave him time to prepare for his confrontation with Tom - and what a confrontation it would be, he smiled grimly.

What a confrontation it was going to be.

- - -

Tom rested comfortably in his chambers, Hermione sitting nearby him, ever waiting patiently with a steaming teapot filled with - what else? - tea, and an occasional grape whenever he needed it.

Now he had her in his clutches; she being the unsuspecting prey. He grinned evilly, eyes gleaming with an indefinable malice.

She couldn't help but notice this. “What are you grinning about?” She asked in a detached voice.

“Nothing, dear Hermione. Nothing you have to worry about.” He patted her head, and smiled comfortingly at her. “Trust me on this.”

She took his word for it and fell silent, massaging his ankles gently now and an unreadable expression on her face. Somehow, she felt that she shouldn't trust him, but she couldn't help it; she just did. He was so nice and kind with her - why would he be someone she shouldn't trust? That was her overactive conscience nagging, probably. And he didn't take advantage of her, unlike some people she knew - or at least, she had thought she knew. She scowled at that.

He saw her scowl and bit back a grin from stretching across his face. “What are you scowling for, Hermione?”

“Oh, nothing.” She was careful not to let him know of her problems; after all, hers were petty. His problems always came first, never hers. “Trust me, Tom.” She smiled serenely. “It's worth none of your worry.”

“If you say so,” he grinned, and sat back, enjoying the jolts of pain her hands gave him, and in his conquering of her. At last.

Now she had surrendered completely to him, unknowing, and even better, Potter couldn't do anything about it, seeing that his sweet minx was under his control and no one else's. And she would listen to him only, and no one else.

Tom sipped some wine and ate a grape offered to him by Hermione, a smirk of satisfaction plastered on his face. And it wouldn't be wiped off anytime soon.

He had to almost pity the poor boy. Almost.

As if he would pity Potter, hah! Not in this lifetime.

-->

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author’s Note: Blasted plot bunnies. Just a note - although this centers around Hermione and Tom, they’re not going to become a couple. At least in this story, anyway.

I’m so sorry for the wait – real life caused me to be away for a while, so that’s why the story was paused. Fortunately I got some time which allowed me to finish this chapter.

Merci beaucoup to Jennifer for so wonderfully betaing this and being such a great friend, to Kris for always encouraging me, and last but not least, to Crys, for helping me with this chapter when I was stuck. This chapter is dedicated to you all :)

- - -

Chapter Five: Confrontation

- - -

What in Merlin’s name had he gotten himself into? Harry couldn’t help thinking. But it had been worth it; he was now in Hermione’s cell, and hopefully, on his way to rescuing her.

If only he knew where she was. He frowned. A niggling thought kept eating at him – what if she was with Tom?

He had to wince at that. It made him want to gag – but knowing her state of mind right now, and Tom – he shuddered. She could be with him, he thought. It was a possibility – and he was sure as anything that wherever her “master” was, Hermione, as his “mistress/slave,” would be there with him.

Might as well go look around, he thought, and walked on; every step resolute and making as little sound as possible – as quiet as one could be with sneakers, anyhow.

The air was dank and made him choke. It was like ash or dust to him; idly he wondered if anyone cleaned this hideout. And if they did, they did one horrible job of it.

Then he wondered why he cared – surely his thoughts had to be more interesting than reflecting on whether someone’s house, even if it happened to be his worst enemy’s, was cleaned properly or not. Harry could have hit himself on the head for thinking such silly thoughts when his mind should have been focused on Hermione…and finding and rescuing her.

His feet took him where his instinct led him; he didn’t care where he was going, as long as he found Hermione. And that, it seemed, was far away – far away from and beyond his reach. He wondered uneasily if Tom was purposely keeping Hermione away from him, as far away as possible, so that he could not find her. That was definitely possible.

He was now meeting where four hallways, including the one he was in, intersected. Oh good g – he exhaled. Now wasn’t the time to curse Tom’s very convenient and carefully laid out maze; he had to figure out which hallway the slick bastard was in.

Okay, let’s do eenie minie mo, he thought sarcastically. That ought to help. Automatically he cancelled out the one hallway he was in; his in depth and meticulous searching had led him nowhere, and hadn’t given him any clue on where Hermione was...or where she could be.

He gulped silently and took one step forward, being careful not to be heard on the slick wooden floor. I really hope he just hadn’t had the floor waxed. That would’ve been a problem. A very big problem that he wouldn’t have had any time to solve.

Stop this mindless thinking Potter, and get to work on finding her, his conscience reprimanded. Great – along with his slowly declining sanity, his conscience had to remind him on why he was here, too. Just lovely.

A sudden, muffled sound caught his attention. Harry paused and held his breath; waiting, waiting for any more signs. And sure enough, he was blessed with another one.

“What did I say, Miss Hermione? Didn’t I tell you not to say anything to me unless I speak to you?” A cold steely voice spoke. “Answer me!” Silence.

Harry didn’t dare to breathe…or move. Absently he noticed his hands had clenched and that every muscle – what little muscle he had – in his body was tense with both anger and anxiety. What is he going to do with her – he didn’t dare think, but stealthily he glided across the floor, swiftly and silently. Almost like a snake, he thought bemusedly.

But he didn’t dwell on that now – every part of him was focused on what was happening mere inches away from him.

I’ve gotta watch and see, he told himself silently. See what he does next, and if it’s to hurt Hermione, then it’s up to me to stop him. So honorable he was…another sound caught his ears.

“Feh!” Ah, so His Royal Evilness was upset and throwing a tantrum. Harry stopped a snicker from escaping his lips. He didn’t want to give himself away…at least, not yet.

“You wretched girl…what use are you? You may be Potter’s friend, but you’re of no use to me!” A malicious tone could be heard in The Bastard’s (that’s how he was known in Harry’s mind) voice, which was loudly reverberating off the walls.

Methinks he should watch his voice so’s he won’t get caught, Harry thought absentmindedly.

“But Master –”

Harry stiffened. That’s – is that really her? Her voice sounded so…dead. Unfeeling.

Before he could dwell on that more, Tom’s oh so lovely voice interrupted his ponderings.

“Silence! I would’ve thought that Hogwarts’ brightest witch,” a sneer could be detected very clearly in Tom’s voice, “could tell when she could speak and when she could not. Apparently this hasn’t sunk into your mind yet, Miss Hermione.”

She was quiet. Harry waited in insufferable, silent agony. Please say something, Hermione, he prayed.

“You’re very disappointing. Really, I expected you to be better than this.” Tom scowled and glared at her. “I doubt if you’re even worthy of living and poisoning this earth and everyone around with your foul blood. Especially your lovable friend, Mr. Potter.”

Breathe, Harry – don’t kill him, He tried to focus his thoughts on something else – or rather, someone else – and control his shaking, as well as his steadily fraying nerves.

I swear, by my parents, that once he reveals himself I will kill him. I will. If it’s to save Hermione’s life, I will make sure he regrets everything he has done to wizardkind. Everything.

But I…I don’t have enough power and experience yet to defeat him. And even if I did have enough magic and skill to defeat him, how can I? He is the most brilliant wizard that Hogwarts has ever seen – as much as I hate to admit it – and I don’t have anything that he hasn’t already got. I have nothing. Absolutely nothing…

Or do you? His mind asked. Do you really have nothing? You must have something that he doesn’t have. He was defeated by you, you know…and when you were a one year old, at that! A baby! Imagine, a baby defeated him – and that baby was you. You can defeat him again, if you realize what he doesn’t have, that you have.

Those words stuck in his mind. Realize what he doesn’t have that I have. What on earth could that be…?

Think and remember. You know it, what it is…but you just don’t realize that you know it. His mind ordered him.

He sighed resignedly, making sure that it was unheard by anyone except himself. He highly doubted that Tom was gifted with ultrasonic hearing…but still…he could never know.

How can I remember? Trust me, I don’t know what it is that I have that he doesn’t! How in the name of seven hells can I know, can I remember? He thought frantically.

You do know. Just look inside yourself. What is making you look for Hermione and have you wanting to protect her at any cost, even if that cost is your own life?

He looked away.

The answer was so simple…yet he couldn’t grasp it himself. Or maybe he refused to – because that would send everything he knew crashing down before his eyes.

Hell, it was as bloody clear as bloody day. Looks like Ron’s rubbing off on me, he hid a smile. It faded once he got absorbed in his thoughts. Soon, he would realize, that would be a Big Mistake. A Very Big, Idiotic Mistake.

You are always slow on the uptake when it comes to emotions, aren’t you? His mind taunted.

He didn’t answer that. Or maybe you’re just too afraid?

Too afraid to realize the truth?

You know what it is, Potter. It is the emotion that confounds humans and geniuses alike – by its sheer simplicity and complexity. At the same time, it can be truly understood but at the same time it can’t be explained and understood. The mind doesn’t recognize it, but the heart does.

You know what it is. His mind taunted him still.

Gods, are you trying to make me suffer because I have something which can help me defeat Voldemort – but…He thought in agony, never finishing the sentence.

…But it can’t help you see what you turn a blind eye to? His mind finished it for him.

He couldn’t answer that…right now, his main focus was on how to get Hermione out of there, not to realize what he truly felt for his best friend and the turmoil it was causing him.

Focus! He cursed mentally and turned his attention back to the room where Tom’s voice was coming from.

Nothing…everything was silent. Strange…wait. The world blurred in front of him and his forehead exploded with excruciating, never-ending pain. Oh gods no, he cursed. No, no, no! Not now! No…

Harry grunted and managed to swivel around, meeting the gleaming eyes of – surprise, surprise – Tom, a.k.a. His Royal Evilness himself, Lord Voldemort. Why does he call himself a lord, anyway? The thought flitted in Harry’s mind for a second, and then went.

His eyes darted to his left, Tom’s right side, and immediately froze upon the robotic “Miss Hermione.”

Oh, blast. She didn’t see him, of course, only looked at him with glazed over, cold eyes. Did he program her – Harry refused to use the word “control” now – to hate me? He did a right swell job of it. Shaking himself away from his musings, he managed to find his voice.

Tom beat him to that, much to Harry’s displeasure.

“So,” he lifted an eyebrow, smiling deviously, “we meet once again, Harry.”

“ ’Fraid that’s a bit overused, Tom,” Harry said conversationally, and silently reveled in the dark scowl that crossed the older boy’s features. “Although it is nice to see you again.”

That’s right…as long as I keep cool…or try to, anyway, I’ll be fine.

Tom’s lip curled. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Iciness shone clear in his voice. “Well, well – it’s been, what? Five years since we’ve last met?” A smirk graced his mouth. “So hard to believe – hopefully you’re more experienced now than before, when you were twelve.”

“No problem,” Harry said evenly. “A bit of experience never hurt anyone.”

“I see you’ve got a smart mouth too, along with experience.” Tom’s eyes glittered with barely concealed malice. “No matter. We’ll finish this in no time – after all, you’re a puny boy, so there’s no chance you can ever defeat me.”

“Let’s not let your ego get carried away, Riddle.” His mouth was running off more than it should, Harry thought sourly, and waited to see what the other wizard would do next.

“Who are you to talk about ego, Potter?”

“Beats me. It always seems to be man’s downfall, in some way or another.”

Dark eyes narrowed. “And you think I’m the one who is going to fall? Do you?”

Harry didn’t even flinch. “Maybe.” There was a tint of wryness in the word.

“Oh, for pity’s sake, boy.” Tom huffed exasperatedly. “I’ve had enough with petty games. Let’s start and end this duel now. Even though I don’t know why I’m wasting my time on you –”

Harry saw his chance. “Expelliarmus!” In grim satisfaction he watched as flashes of panic showed clearly on Tom’s face on his wand being gone, but the next minute that panic vanished into thin air, only to be replaced by yet another smirk.

“Did you really think you could defeat me that easily?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the most powerful wizard in the world for nothing, you know.”

“We know already,” Harry muttered. A triumphant grin could be seen on Tom’s face. He turned to Hermione. “Ha! See, Miss Hermione? Everywhere I’m feared and everyone knows exactly who I am.” He grinned evilly. “They’ll know how truly great I am once I beat Potter.”

Was it just him, Harry wondered, or had something flickered – very, very briefly – in Hermione’s frozen eyes?

He decided it was just his imagination. “Do whatever you want, Tom,” he answered, “it’s not my problem. You captured Hermione so I could get caught in your trap, didn’t you?”

“Ah. So this one is smart,” Tom cackled. “Yes, I did. She’s pretty useful – too bad you’re wasting your time trying to save her when there’s nothing ahead for you but doom.”

“Uh, no. I’m not sorry to say that you’re wrong there.” The younger boy coolly said.

“And anyway,” Harry continued with a sly look to his eyes, “I don’t know what you are planning to do with my friend besides having her be your personal slave, waiting on you hand and foot.”

“You really are foolish.” Tom was amused. “I would have expected the oh so great Harry Potter to possess some intellect. Oh well, this gives me a perfect chance to kill you.” His grey orbs twinkled with hatred.

Hermione’s eyes flickered again. This time Harry knew it wasn’t his imagination…she was struggling to get out, to set herself free from the control that Tom has put her on, against her will.

Please come out, he begged silently. Please – I – I – we need you back. I – I need you back. Please… His thoughts faded into nothingness once he realized, with numb shock, that Hermione’s eyes had a flare in them – an angry flare.

He turned his attention back to Tom, who hadn’t noticed anything strange had happened – he still stood there with a smirk adorning his face.

“I do possess some intellect, no need to worry Tom,” Harry answered with a smirk of his own.

Grey eyes flashed. “Don’t expect me to worry about a pathetic little runt like you –”

“Defindiem!” A voice clearly shouted…a voice that was very familiar, and was definitely not Harry’s.

“URG!” A groan escaped Tom as he was hit by a Blinding Spell. An idea came to Harry then – maybe, just maybe, he could knock His Evilness unconscious – even temporarily – if he used the right spell. It was a long shot, but he could try it.

He looked at Hermione hopefully – can you help me cast “Evemio” on him? He doubted trying it on Tom would do anything, but still – he had to try. He had to see.

A nod of Hermione’s head was all the answer he needed, and together both raised their wands – Hermione had quickly confiscated hers from Tom’s pocket when he had been blinded – and yelled at the top of their longs, “Evemio!” Their magic fused together into one and hit their target.

A harsh scream escaped Tom and he flew back, slamming into a wall, knocking him unconscious.

Harry exchanged looks of relief and triumph with Hermione.

It…it worked. Harry couldn’t hide his surprise. The older wizard was now slumped on the floor, unconscious. Maybe we shouldn’t’ve blasted him against the wall like that with the spell – even if it was accidentally. He smirked a little and then was painfully aware of eyes on him.

Looking over at the thankfully still unconscious Dark Lord, he raised his eyes from the floor and met with worried brown eyes – that were alive.

Not blankly robotic; they were shining with worry, worry for him, and most importantly – they were full of life. He gave an uncharacteristic whoop of relief and rushed over to hug her with a strength he didn’t know he had, which she gladly returned.

“Are you all right, Hermione?” He asked a minute later, letting go of her. He had no guarantee on whether she was free from Tom’s control forever or not, so he decided to take full advantage of this chance…this chance that she had come back to him, to earth, if only for a brief moment.

He forced himself not to think about the future or how much time they – she had, before she went back to her robotic self.

“I’m fine,” She nodded. “Let’s get out of here – before he wakes up.” She gestured to where Tom lay like a limp doll. “…And decides to do something worse.”

She smiled tightly, recollecting the vague memories that she had of her control, and it was all she could do to bite back a shudder of disgust at how she had behaved – and what she had done for the malevolent lord of darkness.

“Good point.” He offered a comforting smile to her, and together they ran out of the room, heading down one hallway to…an exit, they hoped.

As they meandered down the dark corridor, neither spoke until they reached a door. Hoping against hope that it led outside, they opened it and quickly rushed out, relieved to see that it did lead outside.

Nearby his watching spot, the tree that he had looked at Hermione’s cell from, was a bush, and hidden in it was his Firebolt.

Harry gave her a “let’s get away here as fast as possible while we can” look, and gestured for her to sit in front of him.

Shakily she mounted the broom, and after making sure they were both secure – which meant Harry had to put his arms around her, and that they wouldn’t fall off – unless they were holding on, anyway – Harry took off into the air.

Hermione swallowed back her cries and tried to concentrate on something else – going back to Hogwarts after her capture, which seemed like years ago but in reality had been three days, anything.

As they flew on, some of her courage returned and she dared to look quickly below her. She couldn’t hide her amazement – it was so beautiful! Forests and lakes enchanted her eyes with their pristine greenness and sparkling surfaces – what she could see of them, at any rate.

“Wow,” she breathed, “I see why you love flying so much, Harry. It – it frees you, doesn’t it?”

She could feel him smile in her hair. “You’re right, Hermione. It definitely does.”

“It’s therapy for my soul, you could say,” he offhandly added, making her laugh.

- - -

Several minutes later, he broke the comfortable silence between them. “Would you look at that,” his face broke out in a grin, “Look to your right, Hermione. Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

Her eyes lit up. “Yes! It’s – it’s –” She couldn’t speak for some unknown reason. “It’s Hogwarts,” she said at last, feeling a tiny twist in her stomach as she spoke.

“Nervous?” He asked.

“Y – Yes.” She tried to smile feebly. “I haven’t been here for three days – it’s so hard to imagine though…I thought I was there forever.” By “there,” Harry knew she meant Tom’s hideout.

“How did you know where I was?” She suddenly asked.

“Let’s just say I saw where Tom’s hideout was.” Something in his voice told her not to ask any further; he would tell her later.

Then, before she even knew it, Hermione found himself getting off of the broom and landing on firm soil. She gazed in awe at the sight before her – the Hogwarts castle, the lake, Hagrid’s hut which she could distantly see…

She turned back to Harry, her eyes shining with bliss and something else…he could closely define it as gratitude. Gratitude that he had come to save her, gratitude that she was home at last.

As if he knew what she was thinking – which he did most of the time, she mused – the words that tumbled out of his lips next was “We’re home. At last.”

- - -

Author’s Note 2: Yes, that sucked beyond belief…I’m sorry. Hopefully the next chapter will be better. And Harry was OOC in this chapter, I know – but it was for a reason. At the end of the fic you’ll find out why.

This chapter probably raised more questions than it answered them…

Thank You To:

Crys – I’m really sorry for making you wait so long…do you still love Tom after this chapter? ;)

Jennifer – Thanks so much for being my friend and beta *huggles* I’m sorry about the cliffhangers – hopefully this chapter made you happy and not ready to kill me?

Kris ­- *blush* Thanks for the compliment! Hope you enjoyed the chapter – and thanks so much for everything *hugs*

bloodloss - *awed* Ai, thanks! I’m glad you enjoy the story – and thank you for the compliment!

tabitoo – Voldemort’s plan was to lure Harry to where he was and kill him…and the one who helped do that was Hermione *sheepish*

And actually, while Tom knew Harry would be there, he didn’t know that Harry was actually there, because of Harry sneaking in and making sure his presence wasn’t noticed. Did that make any sense?

harryherm84 – Thank you for your review! I’m happy you like the story :) Actually, at the beginning I said that Hermione and Tom were not going to become a couple *embarrassed* I’m sorry for confusing you.