Author's Note: Okay. I've been telling myself for ages to not post this until I have more of it written, but I've been working on it for a while and I've just been dying for some concrit. A few notes on what makes this fic different from Desperate Measures (and a few other notes):
The chapters are a lot longer. I'm trying to make this a real-life novel-length fic, Schnoogle-acceptable and all. Schnoogle limits are at least 3,000 words/chapter. So, yeah. That's about 5x as long as most of my Desperate Measures chapters.
The humour. In this fic, I'm putting my own sarcastic-type humour in it. It amuses me, while I'm writing it, which is why I put it there, and I'm not changing it.
This fic has not been beta-read. It's posted on my LJ and on my Yahoo!group, completely sans-beta. So there might be errors. If there are, let me know and I'll change them.
The name of this fic is not Untitled. It doesn't have a title. I haven't been able to come up with a suitable one. If you can think of a title, let me know pretty pleases, because I feel horrible about posting something called Untitled.
Alright, that's it for teh eb0l author's note of Doom.

Untitled

By: Jamie

Prologue: One Day's Patience

He smiled and collapsed into the chair that had been set up behind him. It was almost done, he knew. One more night and the ritual would finally be complete. He was exhausted from nights upon nights of drawing bloody shapes and characters onto the floor, performing complex calculations, and wrapping his tongue around words in a long-forgotten language, words that hadn't been spoken in centuries for fear of the consequences.

Yes, Dark magic was a powerful thing, one that could drain away your strength and your free will if you weren't careful. If he hadn't been on such excellent terms with the Potions Master, if he hadn't been allowed to go into the classroom after hours to create various replenishing potions as they were needed, he would surely be in a sorry state, if he was even still alive. But he was alive and well, and on the verge of having his innermost desire granted for him. Very, very soon.

A month's worth of near-sleepless nights were about to pay off, finally, if only he could have one more day's patience. And he knew he could. He was nothing if not patient.

He stood up and walked to the door, still smiling. He closed the door behind him and put his usual combination of his very own concealment and anti-detection charms on it before sneaking across the castle and down to his dorm where he knew a vial of his personally strengthened dreamless sleep potion waited for him.

Chapter One: Mass Hallucinations

Hermione Granger awoke with an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach, and it took her a minute to recall why. Today, she remembered, was her last day at home before she went with Harry to search for Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes. Tonight, she would say goodbye to her parents, hopefully not for the last time. They knew, in a very small way, what she was doing. She had decided that the time had come for honesty, because if something happened to her, she wanted them to know why.

Slowly, she got out of bed, cursing the sun as it streamed in through her window, cruelly blinding her. She had just grabbed a shirt and a pair of jeans, and was on the verge of taking off her pajamas, when she screamed.

There was someone standing in front of her door. A young, attractive, male someone she had never seen before. And she had no idea how long he had been standing there for.

Realizing exactly how close she had just come to giving this stranger a free show, she blushed and wished she hadn't gotten out of bed in the first place. It took her a minute to find her voice.

"Excuse me," she said. She had no reason to be polite, but something about this person made it seem the only way to behave. "But what are you doing in here? Only, it's very early in the morning, and unless something incredibly strange happened last night that I don't remember, this is my bedroom, and I frankly have no idea who you are."

She saw him straighten his posture and the expression on his face changed slightly; she realized that he hadn't been fully awake. Perfect, she thought, a strange man sleeping in my room. "Where am I?" he asked. A confused strange man sleeping in my room. This just keeps getting better and better.

"You're in my bedroom, actually. And I would find it very convenient if you were to leave, at least until I can get some proper clothes on." Her pajamas, which she had bought because they were cool and quite comfortable, now seemed highly impractical and quite revealing. She held her jeans up to her chest, painfully aware of how low-cut her pajama top was.

The stranger – Hermione felt the situation was made even more awkward than it otherwise would have been by the fact that she still didn't even know his first name – obliged. She supposed that he, too, was confused, and didn't think it best to argue with someone he didn't know in a situation as strange as this.

Once she had changed into a more suitable attire – if anything could be considered suitable – she opened her door, hoping that she had just been hallucinating his presence. Unfortunately, she had not, and he was there, waiting patiently directly in front of her door, so she nearly screamed again. Such a shocking morning, and she hadn't even had a piece of toast! It was a good thing, she realized, that her parents were at work - they had wanted to stay, of course, but she told them that it would only make her not want to leave, and it was something she had to do; and, she added, she would be home soon enough.

So she did the only civilized thing she could think of. "Well," she said after catching her breath and a few seconds of thinking, "it seems as if we have some things to discuss, does it not?" He didn't reply. Hermione found it quite disconcerting that he had said only three words in the time that had passed. She wished that he would say something else – maybe it would relieve some of the awkwardness. It became obvious that he had no intention of responding, at least not yet, so she sighed. "Why don't you accompany me downstairs, and we can have a spot of breakfast and try to sort things out?"

"Breakfast, yes, I agree." A short answer, but at least he was speaking. Her response was to brush past him and start down the stairs, towards the kitchen, without making sure that he was following. If he didn't want to talk, she didn't either, at least not to him.

Once she reached the kitchen, she put some bread in the toaster and gestured for him to help himself while she used the phone. The plan for the day had been, originally, for all of them to do whatever they wished during the day and get together at night at Grimmauld Place, where Harry had been living since his last visit with the Dursleys, with the rest of the Order to say goodbye. But the appearance of this person, whose name Hermione still did not know, had changed that; she had to get Harry over, at least, to help figure out this ordeal.

Harry, of course, was more than willing to oblige – Hermione suspected that he had been getting more than a little antsy at Headquarters. But still, Harry had a tendency to overreact to some things and not react enough to others. She didn't want to disturb the Weasleys, who were certainly quite busy preparing for the coming events, but she needed an extra point of view in case things got difficult. She pulled out her address book from the cupboard under the phone and looked through it for a minute before dialing the phone number of a very unlikely person.

Of course, Luna Lovegood was thrilled to have been invited over, and would leave immediately. Hermione returned to the kitchen to find a most acceptable-looking meal sitting on the center of the table, which was set for four. So he was an eavesdropper as well. Wonderful.

She noticed that, apart from the food and place settings, the kitchen looked exactly the same as it did when she had walked in. Nothing had been dirtied, though it very well should have been. An eavesdropping wizard. A strange, attractive, unknown, quiet, eavesdropping wizard who had mysteriously appeared in her bedroom at some point between eleven o'clock last night and seven o'clock this morning. At least she knew something about him.

"As I'm sure you know, a couple of my friends are stopping by. Maybe they'll be able to help us figure out what's happened. But that's no reason why we can't try ourselves." Silence. Typical. "My name's Hermione."

"Tom," he said. And finally, she knew his name. It was a start.

"How did you happen to come by my house? Or when, at least?"

"I don't know." Ha! So he would answer questions! Well, maybe not answer, really, but respond, at least. "I woke up this morning, a few hours ago, and I was lying on your floor, which is highly improper, so I stood up and waited for you to wake up."

More words than she thought he knew. "I suppose it would be pointless to ask if that's where you fell asleep."

He nodded. "Yes, very pointless." Sarcasm. That was unexpected.

Perhaps the food was making him more open? Or maybe he was getting more comfortable – a troubling thought. She wasn't quite sure if she wanted a stranger getting comfortable in her house. Not much she could do about it, though, she supposed.

Hermione almost jumped when she heard a knock on her door. Really, this morning was just full of near-heart attacks. She smiled and excused herself from the table, still not knowing why she was being polite, and answered the door.

She hugged Harry when she saw it was him, happy to see a familiar face at last. After she was done, she motioned for him to come into the kitchen. "He's quite odd," she said as quietly as she could as they walked through her sitting room. "He barely ever speaks."

Curious, Harry followed her to the kitchen and looked around skeptically. "Where is he?"

Hermione scoffed. "He's sitting at the table, Harry. Are you okay?"

"Hermione? There's nobody in here. Are you okay? Maybe you had a bad dream or something…"

"No, Harry, I'm very much awake. What-" She was interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door, once again. "Oh Merlin, I forgot about Luna. Just… sit here and tell me I'm not going crazy, alright?"

It was, as she suspected, Luna Lovegood, radish earrings and all. "Hello, Luna. I'm glad you could come over… here, follow me." She led her to the kitchen, where Tom and Harry were sitting in a silence that would have been very uncomfortable if Harry would admit that he could see him. "Luna, please tell me-"

"Is that him?" she asked, gesturing directly at Tom. Hermione could have kissed her, if it weren't for the fact that she distinctly preferred men.

"Yes," she said. "That's him."

"He's quite good-looking," she added in a clear voice. The stranger looked bewildered, and not a little embarrassed.

Hermione didn't know what to say to that, especially since she had decided upon that as soon as she had first seen him, not quite an hour ago.

So he wasn't a figment of her imagination – she wasn't quite sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, seeing as how it reassured her of both her sanity and the fact that, indeed, an attractive, mysterious young man had suddenly and randomly appeared in her bedroom in the wee hours of the morning. Only me, she thought as Luna began to walk closer to him, eyeing him curiously.

"Does he talk?" she asked, looking back at Hermione, who didn't quite know how to answer.

"Not much," she answered in a sarcastically grim voice, "but he certainly knows how to." It was true; he was intelligent, it seemed, and not a child in any detectable way.

"You do realize," he said suddenly as Luna opened her mouth to ask Hermione another question, "that I'm fully capable of responding on my own, and I'd rather not be spoken for by someone who's known me for not even an hour."

A rude one, was he? "And I'd just as well hear about you from someone unbiased, if you don't mind," replied Luna in her trademark dreamy tone, though Hermione thought she could detect a bit of bite behind it.

"Have you both gone loony?" asked Harry, still standing behind them.

"Something very strange is going on here," said Hermione as she slung herself into a nearby chair. "Stranger even than waking up with a person in my doorway." She sighed. "Harry, I hate to say this, but I don't think you're going to be much help here. I mean, you can't even see him."

"I guess you're right," he replied, "that or you really have lost it, and if there's mass hallucinations going on, I don't much fancy sticking around for too much longer.

"Just let me know if you won't be able to make it tonight, alright."

"Alright," she said, and Harry vanished with a small pop. She sighed – it was becoming a dreadful habit, really – and turned to Tom. "I have a party to attend tonight," she said, "and a trip to go on tomorrow, and I don't intend to miss either, so let's get this settled quickly, shall we?" He nodded his agreement, though Hermione had intended it as rhetorical. "Right then. For Luna's sake, please repeat what you told me earlier, how you got here and all that."

He gave her an annoyed look; she was finding it more and more difficult to find reason to keep him here instead of sending him off to figure it out on his own. "As I said earlier, I went to bed last night in my own room, and this morning I woke up on your bedroom floor. I stood up and waited for you to wake up, apparently dozing off a little in the process until you awoke me." No need to be so upset about it, really. You were going to be woken up eventually!

"Is that all?" asked Luna.

Hermione nodded. "I suppose so. Not very much to go on, but…"

"Oh, quite the contrary! It seems to me like you have an infestation of glinkles. Sneaky little creatures, but easier than most to get rid- Oh, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because," said Tom in a rather nasty voice, "glinkles do not exist." Hermione agreed with him – a strange thing, truly – but still found it in herself to shoot him a glare; since when did he have the right to speak to her guests like that?

Luna scoffed at his ignorance. "Obviously, some of us are more educated than others."

Hermione didn't want this argument to continue. Luna scoffing was not a common occurrence, and she didn't want to find out how angry she could get. "Right, Luna. Let's write that one down -" she summoned a piece of ordinary paper and a cheap, ordinary, blue-ink pen –"and we'll go back to it later." Luna looked pleased, Hermione was happy to see, and Tom looked quite put off, which made her even happier.

"I wonder," said Luna, "if you perhaps activated an enchantment of some kind that brought you here? Accidentally, of course."

Tom paled at this, though Hermione couldn't tell why. "Of course not. I am more than competent at all branches of magic, and how dare you imply otherwise!"

Touchy, touchy – it looks like Mr. Personality here has a sore spot. "Well, it is possible for even the most competent wizard to make a mistake, you know."

He looked at her haughtily. "Not for me."

She forced a patient smile onto her unwilling face, carefully resisting the urge to shove his words back down his throat. "Well then, you certainly mustn't practice magic all that often," she said pleasantly. "Because everyone – and I most certainly mean everyone – makes mistakes occasionally." Alright, it was a cheap shot. But she didn't think she could stand his condescension for very much longer.

He glared at her. If looks could kill… "I really don't believe that this subject has any bearing on the issue at hand."

The smile on her face became genuine as she sensed his discomfort. "Quite the opposite, actually, I think that it's one of the very few possibilities – unless, of course, you've managed to figure it all out on your own?"

His death glares were becoming as much a habit as her sighing – she briefly wondered if it was usual for him. "If I knew how I got here – or even where 'here' was – I would most certainly be on my way."

It was only then that Hermione realized exactly how confused this young man must be. Serves him right. "You're in London, actually, if that clears anything up."

Apparently, it served to confuse him further. To the point of silence, actually. Again.

"Hermione, shouldn't you be packing?" asked Luna suddenly.

Hermione glanced at the clock hanging from the wall. "Actually, yes. Well, I can't say it's been a pleasure meeting you, but it's certainly been interesting, and I wish you luck. However, as I said earlier, I have a trip to go on tomorrow for the rest of summer, and- what is it now?"

"Summer? It's November, you silly girl!"

"I assure you that it is most certainly not November, else I would have gone on my trip, returned, and would now be in school." So he was crazy as well.

Luna, on the other hand, seemed to have a different idea. "Oh, it's obvious what's happened," she said.

Tom groaned, got up, and walked to the door. "Yes, indeed, it's obvious that I'm apparently still asleep. Now I'm going to leave and wake up." Hermione rolled her eyes. Out of his bloody mind. He turned the door handle, opened the door, stepped forward and –

"Damn it!" he shouted, rubbing his foot. Hermione stifled a laugh.

"What is it this time?"

"I can't leave."

"Now you're just bothering me. Get out of my house, at least until you've regained some of your sanity."

"No, I can't." She shot him a glare angry enough to match the ones he'd given her earlier. "Honestly. It won't let me leave."

Hermione groaned. So, there was a strange, attractive, unknown, quiet, eavesdropping, possibly insane wizard who had somehow managed to appear in her house without her knowledge and/or approval and who now, apparently, was unable to leave. It was starting to seem like today, life itself was out to get her. "Well then," she said, after taking a moment to regain her composure, "I suggest you come upstairs." He looked at her skeptically. "As I've already told you twice, I simply cannot miss this trip. Now come on and help me pack."

Author's Note (again): What did you think? Any types of feedback are appreciated, honestly...

Jamie