Breaking Hermione

To Solve A Riddle

Hermione P.O.V

I blinked, the last moments of sleep leaving me. Oh hell no. I was.... in the solitary room in the Hospital Wing. Again. At first I thought it was a dream, or for a better choice of word a recurring nightmare. But then I saw Professor Dumbledore sitting in a visitors seat directly opposite my bed. I rubbed my eyes.

"What happened? Why am I back here?" My voice was extremely dry like old parchment, I reached for the glass of water on the bedside table next to me and took a shaky sip.

Dumbledore sighed heavily, "You collapsed yesterday, quite unexpectedly. As it appears Tom Riddle seemed to have decided to return your missing memories." He explained. "It was quite out of the blue. I had no choice but to bring you here to the care of Madam Pomfrey since there were too many enquirers asking after you and causing a bit of a ruckus with the Nurses at Saint Mungos."

Inquirers....

"That would've been Tom and his mates." I realised. Frowning in thought I placed the glass down on the bedside table with a little too much force.

Crack.

The glass shattered in my hand and the sudden searing pain told me the wetness dripping down my hand was definitely not water.

"I've seen worse, don't worry," Dumbledore conjured a bowl of Essence of Murtlap, I took it and more or less plunged my aching hand into it. "Rest your hand in that for a while. It should help heal those cuts quickly. You didn't get glass in it, did you?"

"No, I don't think so -" I stared at my hand dumbfounded. "So.... if I'm back at Hogwarts I'm going to have to discover why Tom gave my memories back, aren't I."

"Actually... that's why I'm here." Dumbledore said calmly. "Tom Riddle is standing outside the hospital wing this very second. According to Madam Pomfrey he is determined to see you. We didn't want to let him in before we told you first."

"I bet he is." I muttered. "Well, then. Let him know I can see him now."

"Make sure you find out why he has given your memories back." Dumbledore frowned. "I can't imagine the motive would've been innocent..." With one last meaningful look in my direction, he turned and strode out of the room. I sat up in my single bed. Any minute Tom was going to walk in. My heart raced, I sat up in bed, accidentally knocking over the bowl of Murtlap onto the floor.

Smash!

"Ugh- idiot." I muttered to myself. I didn't have time to clean it up. I rushed around, brushing my teeth and throwing my hair into a messy braid. I didn't look as hideous as I feared, my reflection in the tiny room mirror made my eyes look incredibly big, the pupils dilated.

I heard Tom's low voice outside my room. He was talking to someone: Madam Pomfrey?
Either way, my hand was dripping with blood and I really needed something to stanch it. I snatched up the hand towel by the sink just as Tom Riddle stepped into the room, tall as ever before his lean figure took up most of the doorway. There goes my escape plan.

"What have you done to yourself?" His low voice demanded by way of greeting. In two steps he was in front of me, my hand seized by his own colder one.

"You're bleeding." He said. "How?"

"I cut myself." I admitted. "This morning. I was drinking water, and I placed the er, cup down too hard and it shattered..." I trailed off, Tom's dark eyes were staring at me intensely making my thoughts scatter. "That's it really..."

Tom raised his eyebrow.

"You don't need to tell me you cut yourself. I mean, it isn't as if it isn't blatantly obvious."
He turned my hand so the palm was facing upwards, a pointed gesture to reveal just how many cuts lined my skin.