I stepped into the shower, turning both taps on full blast. The icy water hit me, streaming down my body. I pushed it back off my face with two hands, making sure to not put my recently cut wrist directly into the way of the shower head. I felt better the sooner I stepped out, wrapping a towel around my waist. It was 4am and I couldn't get back to sleep. I was in for a long day.

Last night I had spent almost the entire night pouring over the contents of the book Madam Pince had given me from the Restricted section. I had decided very early that I would sacrifice my own blood to this book. My blood was more than powerful enough to satisfy the darkness of the book. And until I found someone eligible to sacrifice their own blood for me this was going to have to do. Trying to round up some unwilling victim was something I didn't have the patience for.

I placed my wrist in the bowl of Murtlap, relishing in the sudden sharp pain, clenching my jaw as the wound reknitted itself. Because I had injured myself for a cursed book, this wound would be a bit more difficult to heal. Basic healing solutions did nothing against these types of dark magic.

I had discovered a spell that could help me control Hermione. It would take time to get her where I needed her to be. But overriding her will seemed to be the only thing that could make me certain I would have her under my control. I had to work harder, if I wanted to get what I wanted. Total control. I walked out to my room, new ideas springing to mind like a garden in bloom.

I was delving into branches of magic I had never thought to tamper with before. It was a thrill, going into forbidden realms of the dark arts and mastering curses most people my age had never even dreamt to use. I was extremely well read. And the more I thought of it, teaching at Hogwarts wouldn't be a bad job, considering the knowledge I had. It pissed me off that there were set classes for Defence Against The Dark Arts but no dedicated classes for mastering the Dark Arts. There was always going to be offensive magic, whether this stupid school liked it or not. So many people liked to live in the shelter of the illusion that only good magic existed. But I for one, knew just how wrong that was. It was only a matter of time before the Wizarding world woke up. I thought of the great Salazar Slytherin, a wizard whom I was devotedly in reverence of. We were quite similar in a lot of ways. The black sheep of Hogwarts beloved little group of School founders. I too, had my fair share of feeling outcasted by my extraordinary magical ability. Smart, cunning, willing to push the boundaries that other wizards were too cowardly to dare try.

I walked into my room and sat at my desk. Thoughts were burning through my head like wildfire. It was time to sort Hermione out once and for all.

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Hermione P.O.V

I woke up on the ground, every bone in my body aching. Dumbledore was still asleep. I didn't blame him, it was 6am judging by the clock on the wall. I crawled into a sitting position, using a chair to pull myself to my feet. I didn't know what was happening to me. I didn't even feel that I wanted to talk about it. It would make everything seem worse, and chances were if Dumbledore knew what was happening to me I wouldn't be able to stay here. And the last place I wanted to be was back at Hogwarts with Tom.

As soon as I felt more stable I got up and made myself a quick breakfast. There was cereal in the cupboard, muggle Corn Flakes. It reminded me so much of being at home with my own muggle family. I poured myself a generous bowl but when I sat down to eat I found I couldn't take a bite. Waves of nausea swept over me, I felt like I was going to be sick.

"Hermione, you're up early." Dumbledore emerged from the hallway in fluffy slippers and a tartan dressing gown. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes." I said honestly. "I did sleep well."

But I nearly died after I woke up. I thought bitterly.

I realised I couldn't hide the truth from Dumbledore. It would be wrong to not trust someone who had done so much for me already. I didn't have anyone here who had shown true loyalty and even care towards me. It felt wrong, like betraying a family member, to not tell Dumbledore the truth. But soon the morning turned into afternoon, and night turned into the following morning. I still couldn't bear to share the horrors of what I had experienced. I went to bed early, and as I lay staring up at the ceiling from within the cosy bed I realised it was another thing that was troubling me. Dumbledore wasn't always going to be alive. In the future, Dumbledore was dead. Before I knew it, the emotions of everything overcame me. I sat up, unable to stop crying. I didn't want to be constantly in trouble. To spend his time with my stupid problems with Tom. I wanted to cherish every moment with one of the greatest wizards I had ever known. I didn't want Tom to taint everything, as he already had with everything else in my life. I had to do something.