A/N: Hello beautiful readers! This story is very (very) loosely based on the video game Alice: Madness Returns, a wonderfully twisted take on Alice in Wonderland. If you've played the game you know the extremely dark undertones it contains. If you haven't played the game then be prepared for extremely dark undertones. I love darkening my undertones.

This story will contain Tomione and Dramione goodness but I won't reveal the final pairing (if any… ;p) because that would be a rather large SPOILER and I hate those things.

I don't put trigger warnings before each chapter so please avoid reading any further if the following is not your cup of tea: graphic violence, explicit sex, physical & mental abuse, psychological trauma, mental illness, drug abuse, non-con, dub-con, childhood trauma/abuse, slash pairing, and major character death.

Lastly, this story takes place in Victorian England and is AH, so it's about as AU as it gets.

Given the inspiration for this tale, I'd be remiss if I didn't start each chapter with a terribly cliché quote from Alice in Wonderland or the game... I am a garbage person.

Alrighty, let's get to it!

Another day, a different dream perhaps.

. . .

Flames.

Everywhere.

Lapping up the walls, climbing the curtains, spilling across the ceiling in pools of orange and red light, so bright they burned her eyes, so hot they scorched her flesh, filled her lungs with copious smoke, black rot, turning her esophagus to ash.

She choked, gagged, clawed at her throat, desperate for air, desperate for life.

Tears streamed from her eyes, vision so hazy she could barely make out shapes in the vast chaos before her. The wood floor beneath her was warm, flammable, as unsafe as every other surface within the vast room.

She scrambled on her hands and knees, heavy skirts tangled around her legs, slowing her progress, making her clumsy as she pulled her weak body futilely towards the doorway, at least the direction she thought was the doorway.

A crash, an explosion beside her, fresh plumes of flame and sizzling embers erupted high into the air like the mouth of a spitting volcano, spilling molten lava across the grand piano, the settee, the chaise lounge. Everything was burning. Everything was dying. Hermione was next.

She coughed up murky spittle, wiping away the strings of saliva with the back of her ash stained hand. She gasped, inhaling yet more smoke, suspended in a black haze of poison gas, hellfire flickering angrily through the gaps in the dark clouds.

She couldn't go on. Her limbs were too weak, arms too shaky to support her weight any longer. She collapsed in a sweaty heap, long curls matted with debris, caked to her forehead, covering her face in a delicate mask that did nothing to protect from her imminent demise.

And then she heard it.

Voices.

Screaming her name.

Unmistakable even through the roaring flames, the deafening snap of an overhead beam as part of the ceiling caved in around her, chunks of plaster and tile crashing down, the chandelier shattering mere feet away, glass exploding in every direction like crystal raindrops.

"Hermione!"

Her mother.

"Mione!"

Her father.

She wept, curling slowly into the fetal position, burying her face in her sweat-slick palms, wracked by dry, broken sobs.

The fire was upon her now, forming a perfect ring around her huddled form. It was a sentient being, an angry god born from the pits of hell, come to drag her into the depths of fire and brimstone where her soul would suffer eternal damnation.

There was nothing left to breathe but smoke, nothing left to feel but raw flame tearing away her flesh and searing away nerve endings. It would take her sight, her breath, her life. Her heart would be the final thing to go, she'd burn alive as her most vital organ continued to beat with the ivory cage of her ribs.

Her entire body would turn to ash, she'd be frozen in abject horror forever like the victims of Pompeii. She'd become a passing tourist attraction with no name, no story, no memory. Dust in the wind.

The flames washed over her like a tidal wave, and in that final moment of cognizant terror, she heard her mother scream for her one last time, the sound ringing in her ears, deafening.

"Hermione!"

She screamed, the fire consuming her limbs, her skin, her muscle and bone.

"Hermione! Wake up!"

Her eyes snapped open, darkness surrounded her.

"Calm down! It's a dream! It's just a dream!"

The deafening roar of the fire still echoed around her. She blinked rapidly, turning her head in every direction, searching for the flames, the black smoke, muscles tense and ready to spring, to run for her life.

"Stop yelling!"

She blinked again, the disembodied voice taking physical shape before her. A face, pinched in distress, inches from her own. Hands clasping her shoulders so tightly she cringed back, but they held tight. Her throat felt raw, scorched. But not by smoke. By her own screaming.

She snapped her mouth closed and the roaring stopped. The room fell silent, eerily so. She gasped for breath, wiping at her face, fingers coming away wet. She blinked, staring at her glistening fingertips in confusion.

"Hermione? Are you okay?"

She blinked again, peering up. The face was recognizable now.

"Parvati?"

"Bloody hell, you scared the shite out of me."

The girl slowly released her shoulders and leaned back from where she sat on the edge of the bed. Hermione drew her knees up beneath the thin blanket, wrapping her arms around her legs and trying to regulate her breathing, trying to eradicate the lapping flames from her memory. The nightmares were a regular occurrence, inescapable, but if she forced her mind onto other things she could usually shake the lingering effects within a few minutes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I'd be amazed if you didn't wake the entire floor. You were screaming your head off for at least five minutes. I kept shaking you but you wouldn't come out of it."

Hermione swallowed, throat tight, the melancholy taking longer to escape than usual. "It was stronger this time."

Parvati nodded. "Obviously. Did you take your medicine?"

Hermione glanced away, eyes down.

"It's okay. I won't tell anyone. But you won't be able to hide it from them much longer if you keep on like this every night."

Hermione nodded weakly, idly running her fingers through her loose curls for a distraction. "I'll be okay. I'm sorry again for waking you. Do you want some tonic to fall back asleep?"

Parvati shook her head, folding her hands in her lap and sighing. "No use. Lav's missing. Again. I'm going to stay up till she gets back."

Hermione raised a brow, glancing to the third bed in the small room, the covers drawn and a lumpy figure beneath. At a distance, it would be easy to mistake as a person, but from where they sat it was clearly pillows artfully arranged under the blanket.

"How long has she been gone?"

"I don't know, I didn't hear her leave. But it's already 2 am, another inspection is due to come round any time now. She better hope her skinny arse doesn't get caught or we're all in for. You know Umbridge will say we were accomplices."

Hermione nodded, lips turned down. "If she's caught this will be her third strike. Umbridge is dying to make an example of her."

She sighed, throwing back her blanket and drawing her legs over the side of the bed, knees still weak from the lingering terror of the dream. She cringed to see the large sweat stain she left on the sheets. It was as if her body truly thought it was trapped by fire.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to find her and bring her back before the guard comes round."

"Are you mad? You'll just get yourself caught and we'll all be punished anyway!"

"I know the route Filch takes. I can avoid him. Just stay here, and if she comes back before I do, make sure she stays put."

Pavarti groaned. "Mione, I really don't think you should-"

"If she gets a third strike she's out on the streets. Do you really think Lav can survive out there on her own?"

They shared an intense, meaningful look for a moment longer before Pavarti relented, stepping away from the bed. "Please be careful."

Hermione shrugged on her thin robe that barely reached her knees, pulling her long hair free from beneath the collar. "I always am."

And then she tiptoed barefoot to the door, opening it a crack and peering out, holding her breath. Upon seeing the dimly lit, empty corridor she slipped out without a backward glance, carefully clicking the door closed behind her.

She bit her lip, pressing to the wall as she quickly padded down the hallway, past numerous closed doors, the faint sound of snores and heavy breathing discernible through the thin barriers. A couple times she heard whispering and her heart lurched, fearful someone with insomnia would hear her creeping past and peak their head out to investigate. For the most part, the residents here respected each other's privacy, as long as you stayed out of their business they stayed out of yours.

But a select few loved to meddle, loved to kiss up to the Matron and were always on the lookout for rule breaking. With her dreadful luck she'd draw the attention of the wrong person, so she did her best to remain silent and invisible, becoming one with the shadows she moved between.

She had a good idea of where her missing roommate may be, the blonde loved to sneak outside to the courtyard to smoke and drink after the majority of the Home was in bed. Hermione just hoped she was engaging in those vices alone. The girl received her first two strikes after being caught in the company of young gentlemen after curfew.

Hermione carefully avoided the squeaking floorboards, having mapped out the best routes to take after the last few months of residency. She may be one of the newest additions, but she was a very quick study, and more observant than most.

She gasped lightly at the sound of muffled voices around the corner, her heart racing when she realized she wasn't hearing a hushed conversation, but rather a heavy moaning.

Good lord…

She swallowed tentatively, peeking her head around and gazing down the dark hallway beyond. She saw no one, but there was a faint glow of flickering candle flame cast across the far wall, emitting from a door at the end of the corridor that stood open barely an inch.

She bit her lip, debating whether she should journey any further.

Heaven knows I don't want to see what they're up to, but if it's Lavender then it's better I catch her than Filch.

She sighed, squaring her shoulders and quickly dashing down the hallway on tiptoes before she could think better of it. She gazed over her shoulder to make sure the coast was clear before steeling herself to gaze inside the dimly lit room.

It was a storage closet if the abundance of cleaning supplies were any indication. How foolish for them to engage in such a sordid act in Filch's own pantry! Did they want to be caught?

She gasped, eyes wide as her gaze moved past the stacked crates and buckets and glimpsed the gyrating bodies beyond. She swallowed heavily, whipping around and pressing into the wall, mortified and shocked.

She expected to see kissing, perhaps heavy petting at worse.

But the couple inside was engaged in full on coitus.

Hermione's cheeks flamed, heart racing.

What am I doing here?

She was about to sprint away when she thought once more of Lavender.

She hadn't gotten a good enough look at the female to know if it was the missing blonde. The man's bare, rippling back had taken up her field of vision. She shook her head, rubbing her eyes.

And what if it is Lavender? What am I supposed to do? Knock on the door and kindly interrupt them, tell her it's time to return to the dorm?

She bit her lip, the sounds behind her gaining in volume and pace.

"Scream for me," a deep baritone whispered from within the room, mostly gravel.

Hermione's entire body went rigid, lungs deflating as her blood ran cold.

She blinked rapidly, tears forming behind her eyes, hands fisting at her sides. She tried desperately to keep the buried memory from surfacing but it was to no avail. She stood in a darkened, dusty hallway with no distractions beyond the passionate coupling mere feet away. She shook her head as if to rattle the thoughts away but they raced to the forefront of her mind, vivid and bright as the morning sun.

"That's it, luv, scream for me…"

She screamed with the full force of her lungs, kicking, clawing, twisting, a desperate, dying animal, veins pumping pure adrenaline from her racing heart through her thrashing limbs.

"That's a good girl, now say my name."

Hermione gasped for breath, pulling herself forcefully from the waking nightmare, doubling over and trying not to gag. Her heart pounded wildly in her ears, drowning out the couple behind the door. She closed her eyes.

Count backward from ten.

Come on, count…

Ten…

Nine...

Eight…

"-about time, I was starting to think he'd changed his mind. Couldn't say I'd blame him."

Hermione's eyes snapped open as she rose to her full height, heart leaping into her throat at the unmistakably shrill sound of her Matron's voice.

She glanced around like a cornered animal, feeling like prey about to be skewered. If Umbridge caught her out after curfew she wouldn't bother with warnings or reprimands, she'd throw Hermione out on the streets this very moment with nothing but the clothes on her back and her bare feet beneath her.

For some inexplicable reason, the Matron hated Hermione with a white-hot passion that eclipsed her distaste for all the other charges. Hermione had no idea what she did to inspire such deep seeded loathing, but she didn't particularly care to ask. The less time spent in Madam Umbridge's presence the better.

She swallowed thickly as she heard the sharp click of the Matron's heels against the hardwood, fast approaching. There was an uneven patter following in her wake, the sound of Filch's broken gait. Hermione's mind went blank with terror, she ran down the hall and started twisting every knob in sight. She whispered a silent prayer of reverence when one of the doors gave way, allowing her to slip inside.

The room beyond was pitch black, but silent and seemingly empty, which suited her purpose just fine. She shut the door behind her but for a small crack to listen through. She held her breath, quite the feat when her adrenaline was surging out of every pore. She leaned in close, muscles tense, listening to the sound of the Matron and her loyal minion pass the hallway perpendicular to the one Hermione was in.

The voices were muffled by the door, but she was certain she heard the word "Doctor" in there somewhere. Hermione blinked, waiting for the voices to fade away entirely. The last doctor had been dismissed before Hermione's arrival at the Home. She heard through the grapevine that they had been searching for a replacement but apparently no respectable professional wanted to tie their horse to a den of wayward teen girls.

She licked her lips tentatively, taking a deep breath and allowing her shoulders to relax as the threat of discovery was gone. She decided to linger within the empty space a few moments longer, just to ensure that they were far enough away for her to slip back to her room.

And what about Lavender?

Hermione sighed, tipping her head back and closing her eyes.

Dammit.

She didn't know why she felt such an obligation to protect her roommates, she had only known them for a short time, but the girls had been kind and accepting of Hermione from her first day here. Where many shunned her on principal, Parvati and Lavender had taken her under her their wings and shown her the ropes, taught her the lay of the land, helped keep an eye on her while she adjusted to her new, upside down life.

She couldn't in good conscience leave one of them to suffer at the hands of Umbridge simply because the toad-like Matron hated everyone under her care.

Okay. I'll spend five more minutes looking for her. Tops. Assuming that wasn't her in the closet…

In her panic to hide she'd nearly forgotten about the hidden couple. She wondered if they were close to finishing. The thought made her shudder with revulsion.

As Hermione pictured the layout of the Home in her mind, planning what routes to take to best avoid discovery, she felt a cold draft steal past, a faint whistling sound in the air, loose curls blowing into her face.

She spun around, blinking in confusion. She didn't see any windows in the room. Where was the gust coming from?

She held her breath once more, taking a tentative step deeper into the all-consuming darkness, hands extended out to feel along the wall and keep her balance, when she felt some electrical current in the air sweep around her like a wind tunnel, making the fine hairs on her arms and nape stand on end.

Hermione swallowed desperately, quickly retreating to the door.

Oh god please, not again-

"Hermione…"

She clamped a hand over her mouth to capture the scream that rose up on instinct. She was barely able to swallow it down in time before she felt the warm breath on her neck, the presence of something else behind her, and she tore the door open in blind terror, running full speed down the shadowed hall, mindless of the noise she was making.

When she reached the intersection at the end she started to turn in the direction of her room when she saw the distant shadow of a short, hunched figure at the far end of the hallway.

Damn!

She couldn't risk taking the usual route back, Umbridge would be impossible to bypass. So she turned on her heel and dashed the opposite way, leaving the network of hallways that comprised the resident dorms and entered another wing, one she'd never ventured into before but to her knowledge sat empty, used mostly for storage. She could hide out here until the Matron returned downstairs, then hopefully make it back to her room before Filch resumed his inspection rounds.

She tried to slow her breathing, to quell the rising panic festering in her gut like hot coals. She again started trying to open doors before she found one that was unlocked. She stepped inside with a large sigh of relief. This room had a round window at the top of a curved ceiling, a decent sized chamber that to her surprise contained a well-made bed, chest of drawers and a standing wardrobe.

She blinked.

Bloody hell, does someone live here?

She stood frozen, straining to hear any movement, but the room was deathly still and silent, as well as freezing. Her bare legs were covered in goosebumps, the thin fabric of her faded robe doing little to shield her arms from the cold. She breathed out and saw a faint plume of air that quickly dissipated in the large open space.

She hesitantly made her way to the chest and opened the top drawer, unsurprised to find it empty save for a King James Bible, standard in every room. She shut it swiftly and opened the remained drawers in turn, relieved to see the room was uninhabited.

She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to rein in her frazzled nerves.

You did this to yourself, sneaking out like a fool. If you get caught it will be your own fault.

She sighed.

Maybe it will be better if I'm thrown out. I can't stand it here anyway. Harry will put me up-

She closed her eyes, quickly shaking the thoughts away. No. She wouldn't turn to Harry, despite his many offers, his practical begging, to help her. She wouldn't compromise him in such a way. Now that she was eighteen it would be far too scandalous for her to reside on his residence, despite the fact they were childhood mates and he was abroad with the Her Majesty's Royal Navy most of the year anyway.

The gossip rags would still have a field day, labeling her a kept woman and destroying any chance of either of them finding suitable matches. Hermione didn't even want to marry, she was perfectly fine becoming an old spinster with a house full of felines to keep her company. Cats she could abide.

But she would never risk damaging her best friend's chance at finding a suitable bride, someone to share a lifetime of happiness with. Harry desperately wanted a family of his own, ever since his parents died when he was a lad. He would tell her he didn't care about those things in a heartbeat if it meant convincing her to leave this place and come live at Grimmauld Manor, but she couldn't forgive herself for denying him a chance at a happy union.

So here she remained until she was finally tossed to the streets or a giant sinkhole opened up and swallowed her whole. The latter didn't sound so bad, really.

She was pulled from her frantic musing by the sound of muffled but fast approaching voices outside the door. She groaned.

I can't catch a break, can I? The story of my miserable life…

Her heart stuttered anew when the voices got louder, closer, heading straight for her.

No, it can't be…

Of all the rooms in this giant, haunted mausoleum of a girls' home, they had to be headed straight for the one place she chose to hide.

She spun in a frantic circle, seeing no closet doors to hide behind. She glanced briefly at the bed, she was certainly thin enough to slide beneath the frame but the coverlet was too short and didn't reach the floor, she'd be easily seen.

Blast it!

She dashed for the standing wardrobe, tossing open the door and spinning around to tuck herself inside. It was a tight fit to be certain, but she managed to fold her legs and suck in her breath and was able to shut the door, enclosing herself in darkness just as the voices reached the bedroom door.

She heard the creak of hinges and then footsteps entering, at least two sets, the click click click of her Matron's heels making her cringe, but the slow, steady gait that followed was too smooth and even to belong to Filch. Her heart raced so hard she pressed a hand to her chest in a futile effort to keep it within her body.

If I'm caught like this I'm done for.

She swallowed thickly, squeezing her eyes shut and willing herself to become invisible. She knew it was a wasted effort, she'd been in worse situations and prayed with equal desperation for an escape, never to receive any reprieve. She knew now would certainly be no different.

She was on her own. As always.

"I hope you will find the room satisfactory." Umbridge. "It is located in the east wing so you'll have plenty of privacy. Of course every now and then one of the girls likes to sneak off to do god knows what, delinquents, the lot of them. If you find anyone roaming about report them directly to me and I shall dole out the proper punishment."

Hermione held her breath, trembling in her huddled position, terrified to even blink.

"The room is more than satisfactory. Thank you, Madam."

Hermione swallowed lightly, straining to hear the second voice. A deep, resonating baritone, smooth and pleasant, and perfectly foreign to her ears. There were only a handful of men employed at the Home, Filch the one who most frequently interacted with the girls. Aside from outside gardeners and maintenance workers, and the owner of the local Apothecary who made infrequent visits, Hermione couldn't recall any other male staff members.

"Good. Well, I shall let you get settled then, Doctor."

Hermione blinked, heart lurching. Doctor? It seemed the Matron had found a replacement after all. But the idea of it being a male physician sent chills of unease down her spine.

"I appreciate your hospitality, Madam, especially at this hour."

Footsteps headed in her direction. Hermione drew in a sharp gasp, pressing into the wood backing of the wardrobe. This was it, she was about to be discovered and thrown out on the streets and left to rot away in the gutters, scrounging for scraps and puddles of filthy water-

The door swung open and soft candlelight streamed in, along with a beam of moonlight that perfectly illuminated the face of the handsome stranger standing a foot away.

Staring right at her.

Their eyes locked, hers wide and full of unbridled terror, his slightly narrowed but without scorn, with storm grey irises that seemed to glow from within, stealing what little breath she had left. The corner of his mouth tipped up, and as though nothing were amiss, he glanced away and began to shrug out of his heavy overcoat.

"I look forward to meeting the residents tomorrow," he said, reaching into the wardrobe and extracting a folding hanger from above Hermione's head. She watched in fascinated shock as he casually strung the garment around the wood and hung it up beside her.

"Your feelings will change soon after you do, I assure you," her Matron said with no shortness of scorn from where she hovered near the entrance.

The Doctor's eyes locked with Hermione's once more, rendering her as motionless as a pin through a butterfly wing.

"I beg to differ. I have a feeling there are some rather interesting individuals residing here."

She felt a warm flush steal across her neck and cheeks and became hyper-aware of the fact her bare legs were on display. She wanted to pull her robe down, wrap it around her knees, but she feared such a movement would draw her Matron's attention.

"The only interesting thing about them is how wild and graceless they can be. They go out of their way to disgrace everything the fairer sex stands for."

The stranger raised a dark brow, sharp features looking lethal in the flickering light, his smirk expanding into a smile that showed a row of perfectly white, gleaming teeth, but his expression held no humor, it looked cruel, mocking, and it made Hermione instinctively shrink back further.

"It seems you harbor no affection for your charges, Madam."

Umbridge scoffed indelicately. "As I said, wait until you meet them for yourself."

His eyes remained fixed on Hermione, unyielding in their intensity. "I look forward to it."

And then to her great shock-

He winked.

And closed the door, once more encasing her in darkness.

She released a slow breath, lungs burning for oxygen as the muffled exchange of conversation filtered through the door.

Oh my god.

She pressed a hand to her chest, then slid her fingertips to her neck, checking her pulse, feeling the almost painful thrum of her artery.

Oh my god.

She couldn't form any more coherent thought than that. The moment was unreal, a strange dream, unlike her usual nightmares but no less terrifying.

There could be no other plausible explanation.

She blinked rapidly in the darkness as she heard the click of her Matron's heels receding. She sat numb, frozen, unsure what to do.

"You can come out now."

She gasped anew, hoping he had left as well.

Of course not, this is his room you idiot girl.

She swallowed, biting her lip as she slowly unfurled her legs and pushed the door open with a trembling hand. She hovered, still seated on the wide shelf of the wardrobe, and gazed with wide eyes at the man standing before the foot of the bed, arms folded casually across his chest.

She trembled, muscles tense, a frightened animal in the midst of a predator.

A devastatingly handsome predator, which only served to terrify her further. Beautiful things were always the most deadly.

He was tall and lean, shoulders broad and waist narrow, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to reveal pale, sinewy forearms. But she spared little observation for his body, her eyes locked with his, everything around her become hazy while his face remained in perfect clarity.

He had a thick wave of dark brown hair rendered black in the moonlight, his high cheekbones and sharp jawline reminding her painfully of the aristocratic features of another man with equally pale eyes, causing her chest to seize painfully.

She unconsciously rubbed at the gaping wound, causing those pale eyes to flicker down and track the movement. She released a pained breath, remembering she was still clad in nothing but her thin nightdress and robe and quickly scrambled to her feet, pulling the garment closed around her and tying the sash with clumsy fingers.

"Hello." His voice both soothed and rattled her nerves.

Her eyes darted around the room. The door was closed.

Please don't let it be locked…

"My name is Doctor Riddle. And you are?"

Her eyes snapped back to his. She hesitated, wanting to run like a frightened rabbit, but some invisible force kept her grounded. She swallowed past the constriction in her throat before answering in a weak voice.

"Hermione."

The man nodded, as though he suspected that were her name, and then took a casual step back, turning to face the bed.

"Pleasure to meet you, Hermione."

She blinked, watching him lean down and open the traveling case that lay at the center of the mattress.

"Do I want to know why you were hiding in my wardrobe?"

She took a deep breath, steeling her nerves. "It wasn't your wardrobe when I first got in."

This seemed to amuse him, a secretive smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Fair enough."

He started pulling piles of clothing and books from the case, spreading them over the coverlet in a meticulous fashion. She watched him for several moments as though in a trance. Then he turned to face her once more, and she was shaken from her stupor.

"I have a feeling you're not where you're supposed to be, and that the Madam of the House will have a great deal to say about the matter if you're caught."

Hermione took a step back. "I…"

He tipped his head, eyes roaming her body, but in such a clinical fashion it didn't unsettle her as it normally would. "I won't report you. But I suggest you return to where you need to be in haste."

She nodded mutely, taking another step back until she was halfway to the door. They continued to stare at each other, gazes locked, hers displaying a strange fascination and his some unknown emotion that shone brightly in his expanding pupils.

"Thank you," she whispered, not knowing what else to say, and quickly spun on her heel, dashing for the door.

As she opened it and prepared to slip out he called her attention once more.

"Hermione."

She glanced over her shoulder, pulse thrumming.

He smiled. The effect was devastating, making her mouth go dry.

"Sleep well."

She blinked, unable to form words, so she merely nodded and slid through the narrow opening, clicking the door shut behind her.

She stood in the middle of the hall for several beats, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, a part of her still curled up tightly in the wardrobe, awaiting discovery.

Did that just happen?

She shook her head, swallowing thickly and pushing on, dashing down the dark hallway with her heart still lodged in her throat. She was so frazzled she lost track of her route back, taking more than one wrong turn before correcting her path, and running headlong into a figure huddled in the shadows.

She gasped sharply, prepared to scream when a hand clamped over her mouth.

"Shh!"

Hermione reared back, fighting off the strong limbs that entwined around her.

No no no no no no!

"Mione, shut up!"

Hearing her nickname rendered her motionless, the familiar voice taking root in her mind. As she stilled the hand slowly freed her lips. She pushed the arm away angrily, spinning around and glaring up at the tall figure before her.

"Cormac! You idiot, what are you doing-"

She blinked, cut short by the memory of a muscled, sweaty, undulating back. She swallowed, cheeks aflame.

"You were in the closet with Lavender."

He blinked, raising a brow, then his face transformed into a wolfish grin. "Were you watching us, luv? A bit of a voyeur are you?"

She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. "I came to rescue her from herself. If she gets caught sneaking around after curfew she'll be kicked out. But I doubt you care about that, as long as you get your midnight kicks."

He shook his head, tilting his head and eyes roaming her body slowly, his expression nothing like Dr. Riddle's had been. She felt dirty, exposed. She stepped back, blushing anew.

"Well, maybe you should help her out, sneak out in her place. You know I'd make it good for you."

She felt bile rise in her throat. "Get. Out."

You vile, loathsome pig went unspoken, but the moniker was clearly read in her eyes. However, Cormac wasn't easily offended, not like most young men his age. He merely laughed at her ire like it was some private joke between them.

He carded his fingers through his sandy blonde hair and winked, another perverted mockery of the gesture Dr. Riddle had made earlier and then stepped over to the window.

She blinked, about to ask him just what the hell he thought he was doing, but his intent became obvious as he pushed open the pane and hoisted himself up into the frame.

"Are you mad?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "Worried about me, luv?"

She glared. "Do try to break your fall with your neck."

He tossed his head back and laughed, causing Hermione to glance around frantically, terrified Filch would hear.

"I'll see you later," he blew her a kiss and then slid his other leg over, dropping down down down...

She ran to the window and peered out, sighing in relief as she watched the idiot land gracelessly in a dense pile of springy shrubs. Once she confirmed he wasn't dead she pulled the window shut and locked it. Her eyes were caught by her own reflection staring back at her in the pane, a pale, ghostly image with deep circles beneath doe-like, haunted eyes.

She allowed her gaze to linger a few moments longer before she slowly backed away, bidding the translucent version of herself a silent farewell as she continued her path to the dorms.

By the time she slipped inside her room, she felt well and truly exhausted. The silver lining was she was likely to pass out as soon as she laid down, her mind too addled to concoct any more nightmares.

"Hermione, thank god! We thought Filch had snagged you!"

She jumped slightly at the declaration, Pavarti hovering by the door. She glanced past her to see Lavender sitting in the center of her bed, weaving her pale tresses into an intricate plait.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth.

"Please, spare me the lecture," the blonde said without any real heat. "I know, I'm a bloody idiot and am just asking for trouble. You're terribly disappointed in me, I got it."

Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes. "It's no fun when you say it for me."

The blonde smirked. "Sorry I made you go chasing after me."

Hermione made her way towards her own bed, feeling weary down to her bones now that the adrenaline had dissipated from her system.

"Did you spot Filch?" Parvati asked.

Hermione bit her lip, debating just how much to tell them. For some inexplicable reason, she wanted to keep her exchange with the doctor private. She had so few things that belonged solely to her. She tossed her robe to the foot of the mattress and slid her legs beneath the blanket.

"No," she said, laying her head on her pillow. "I didn't see anyone."