I woke up with a side splitting headache. At first, I thought someone had inflicted some kind of blunt force trauma to my skull, an idea brought to life by the sight of Tom Riddle sitting in the visitors chair directly beside my bed. I instantly got the impression he had been sitting there there for quite some time, just watching me sleep.

"What the hell did you to do me?" I blurted, sitting up in a panic.

"What are you talking about?" Tom's eyebrows creased, a perfect imitation of concern. "I've done nothing to you."

I put a hand to my head gingerly, all the while feeling Tom's gaze honing in on me.

"What is it?" His eyes narrowed, first roving over my bandaged arm and then back to my face again.

I looked at him. It took some effort because he was sitting in a rather bright beam of sunlight that was hurting my eyes. Not to mention his dark eyes were very intense, it was hard to look away.

"My- head- hurts." I gasped. "Can you close that curtain?"

Tom stood, and within seconds had drawn the opened curtain closed bathing the room in darkness once again.

"I'll get Madam Pomfrey." He told me, walking out of my tiny room and coming back mere moments later with Hogwarts school nurse.

I closed my eyes, listening to the pair of them rattle off medical terms I wouldnt have the slightest hope of understanding. I was just drifting into a semi comatose state when I was gently roused awake by Madam Pomfrey's hand on my arm.

"You've sustained heavy injuries from your fall, Hermione. The strange thing is, I have medicine to treat such things. But your head pain is seemingly without cause. I have never seen anything quite alike it in all my years treating students here at Hogwarts."

"That makes no sense." Tom said sharply. "How can you not treat this? Is it beyond your expertise?"

"I dare say you'll find nothing outside my area of expertise, Mr Riddle." Madam Pomfrey didn't sound too polite, and I didn't blame her. Tom, more often than not, had the tendency to be a real jerk.

"So what is happening to Hermione?" Tom's voice was pleasant enough, but even in my pain induced haze I could make out the underlying threat within his tone. Madam Pomfrey sounded as if she was far out of her depths.

"I would greatly appreciate you not to comment on what you do not understand." Madam Pomfrey told Tom sharply. "You don't know anything about this, so don't pretend you do."

"Really?" Tom asked. "I don't think so."

I closed my eyes.

"That is a ridiculous remark." Madam Pomfrey put her hands on her hips, looking utterly resigned. "What would you know about any of this?"

"I know that you are clearly not qualified for your job if you couldn't clearly see this is the direct result of Dark Magic." He said coldly. "The signs are obvious. If an Unforgivable Curse is used or suffered by someone who hasn't much experience in it, then it can possibly inflict moderate to severe backlash. It is rare, I admit."

"You're suggesting I am familiar with Dark Magic?" Madam Pomfrey said eventually, clearly affronted. "I have never-"

"I thought that knowing the basic theorem of Dark Magic was the criteria for your job position? After all, a lot of students fall victim to Dark Magic during practical Defence Against The Dark Arts classes. I know for a fact that the Nurse at Durmstrang knows how to treat those affected by the Dark Arts."

"Well, you might find yourself better suited to that School, then." Madam Pomfrey snarled.

Tom stood, walking over to the window.

"Perhaps you'd care to leave the room, Tom. You're not helping the situation." Madam Pomfrey pointed a finger toward the doorway. "Well, go on. Out with you!"

I opened my eyes to see Tom staring at me with a thoughtful expression.

And then before I knew it, he had turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

It felt like hours had passed before Tom returned, and to my great relief he wasn't alone. Behind him, Dumbledore strode in, burgundy cloak billowing behind him and his light blue eyes focusing in on me. I blinked several times to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Ok, this was definitely reality.

Tom had actually gotten me decent help.

He cares about you.

I frowned. Like hell he does.

"Everyone, leave the room." Dumbledore told the others in a somber voice. "This is beyond the magical expertise of all of you, I am afraid to say. I must deal to this alone."

"You are simply a Transfiguration teacher with next to no experience in the Dark Arts." Tom scoffed. "How is your limited knowledge going to help her?"

"Unfortunately Tom, you will find yourself once again woefully ignorant of my capabilities. In this instance, it would be best if you were to leave the vicinity. Poppy, if you will escort Mr Riddle out of the Hospital Wing."

"With pleasure." Madam Pomfrey said, with a distinct air of savagery.

"This way, Tom..." She said sweetly.

But Tom wasn't going to relent that easily.

"Get your hands off me." Tom didn't raise a hand but I didn't miss the sight of Madam Pomfrey flinching and taking an involuntary step back.

"Tom." Dumbledore said, not unkindly. "As exceptionally gifted you are I am a member of staff at this School. You will find that I very rarely resort to having need of any student to assist me, and as much as it would shock you, you must realise you are not needed at this very moment."

"Try your hand at helping her, then." Tom said coldly. "Since you're obviously so very distanced from Dark Magic, I could imagine this is something like a thrill for you."

"A thrill it is," Dumbledore said after a moments pause, "But only for those scorned by light."

Tom looked just as confused as I felt - or perhaps it was a trick of the light. Within a single blink he had left.

"Close your eyes, Miss Granger." Dumbledore told me. I am going to perform a few restorative spells that will help you. It will not hurt."

I didn't hesitate to follow through with his suggestion. Having Tom in the room was beyond unsettling, especially with his new approach with me.

I braced myself.

Within moments, a burning sensation crept from the crown of my head, trickling down my very spine. Dumbledore appeared to be chanting in what I recognized as restorative Runes. The power of it was so intense, my eyes watered. After a few minutes, the feeling stopped as well as the pain.

I sat bolt upright, clasping my head in my hands. The pain was completely gone.

"You did it." I could've laughed out of relief. One less thing to panic about now.

"I hope to never have to do that again." Dumbledore said, his tone serious. "Playing with time has severe consequences. It appears that your mind was almost stuck in several places at once. That was me reconnecting you back into yourself."

I paused, the weight of the situation suddenly falling down on me with all the mercy of a bag of bricks.

"I'm... sorry." I admitted. "I was an idiot."

"The best of us often are." Dumbledore beamed. "This is merely a word of caution. I only have your best interests at heart."

There was a moment of easy silence broken by the occasional rustle of the curtain. Apparently someone had opened a window.

"You spoke ancient Runes." I said, half awed, the other partially concerned. Only certain wizards knew spoken endarkened runes, and they weren't the good type.

Dumbledore fixed me with a sharp look.

"Very good, Miss Granger. However a lot of Magic can only be spoken using only the most ancient of rune translations." Dumbledore explained. "However I'm not here to teach you about that today. Get some rest. Tom Riddle wants to see you, and I'm afraid that he is not going to be deterred from that mission by any means."

"That's fine." I said at once. "Let him in. I want to talk."

It wasn't a lie. I was intrigued about Tom's latest change in persona. And above all, I wanted to tear it apart from the seams.

He was lying. He had told me he loved me. I knew it couldn't be possible. He couldnt love. What was his motive? What was he trying to achieve?

Nothing but destruction. My mind intoned.

"Be sure to not allow the conversation to get carried away." Dumbledore gave me one last searching look before he left the room, and I had a moment to quickly reflect on how I was going to act, and I figured I sure as hell might make the most of it.

Act civil.

No, he had messed with me too much. I couldn't just pretend that he didn't. Could I?

Mirror him.

And pretend that I had somehow awoken to my senses and decided I "loved" him in return?

What have you got to lose? You're going to find out what he's up to at a faster rate if you just play along.

"I guess this is the closest I'm ever going to get to love, then. Just standing here, near you."

I froze. Standing right there beside my bed with a bouquet of bright blue roses in his hand was Tom Riddle.

"Tom." I said in surprise. "How...?"

"How long have I been standing here?" Tom walked into the room, drawing the visitors seat from over beside the wall over and sitting down, the roses leaning against his lap. "Not long. About four minutes, to be precise. You were staring at the wall muttering to yourself."

"Was I? Oh..."

Damn it.

"I bought you these." Tom held up the bouquet in the air, his dark eyes shining very brightly. "I hand picked them."

"You handpicked them..." I frowned. He might as well have just told me he'd taken a fancy to a Blast Ended Screwt.

"Well, no. Admittedly, that was a bit of a white lie." Tom mouth curled in a mischievous half smile. "I stole them from the Greenhouse. I even took the liberty to enchant them so they will never die."

"How romantic." I said, trying and failing to sound impressed.

What the hell was I supposed to say?

Thank you for stealing a bunch of flowers for me? I didn't even really like flowers. They were one of those utterly useless gifts that pissed me off. Why give someone flowers when you could just give them something practical, like a good book?

I watched as Tom conjured a vase out of thin air and carefully placed the flowers within, putting them on the beside table on my left.

"Tom." I said, sitting a little straighter in my bed. "I have something I need to get off my chest."

"Oh?" Tom raised an eyebrow, staring at me with a piercing look. I had captured his attention alright.

"What is it in regards to?" He asked.

I could feel my heart rate starting to increase. God, this man scared the hell out of me and it was so hard to pretend he didn't.

"It's your feelings about me." I said evenly. "You told me that you loved me."

"And was there an issue with that?" Tom tilted his head to the side as he considered me, never once revealing a single expression on his face.

"Well... I need you to elaborate. Because I'm confused."

Tom clasped his hands together. I found myself momentarily distracted. For some sick psychopathic jerk he sure had nice hands.

Nice hands? Really? Pull yourself together. My mind cut over my daydreaming, tearing me back to reality.

"I suppose I fell for you." Tom explained with a carefully convincing sigh. He paused, appearing to be deliberating.

"It didn't happen at once." He continued. "It was more of an understanding that dawned on me the more time I spent with you. I began liking the way you managed to answer every question right in classes we shared together. And then, the spitfire attitude began to grow on me. I admit, it irked me at first. Then again, I guess I've never met too many women who were bold enough to oppose me. I never knew anyone who could keep up with me like you do. Even the games I play. You seemed to be able to counter my every move, as if it were just a mere game of Wizarding Chess. Your mind is unusual. I'm not a man who enjoys the basic things in life, I will confess. I like the rare, the outliers in this game of psycological statistics."

I paused, trying to find a loophole in his words. Did he practise this all in front of a damn mirror? It seemed so natural, as if it were rehearsed.

"Just consider that what I tell you is the truth." He said with the air of drawing to a conclusion. "Now, get some rest. Your mind needs to recover."

He stood, reaching over to the flowers. Or rather, something sitting just tucked behind the vase, a glass spinning top. A Sneakoscope. I frowned. It wasn't lighting up, or spinning. Hell, it wasn't even whistling.

Tom picked it up, holding it out before me like the bouquet of roses he had gifted me.

"The Sneakoscope was invented in the eighteenth century by Edgar Stroulger, the wizarding inventor." He turned it over in his hand. "It is a detector of darkness. An alert, if you will, to anything in its presence that is untrustworthy. Keeping that in mind, I'll let you come to realise my honesty at your own pace." He placed it back down on my beside table and left the room.