Chapter Thirteen-Ghostly time.

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The professor sat opposite the headmasters desk, patiently waiting, his eyes lingering around the office.  He tilted his head towards the heavy thud of the door closing on its hinges, and held a welcoming smile to the headmaster.

"Hello Albus." The man greeted taking a seat behind his desk. "You have requested a word?"

"Well yes, but I believe it is more a series of words if I must."

The headmaster nodded respectively. "Yes of course."

The professor paused, delicately pressing his fingers together in a way that made his next words of a serious tone. "Pardon me of asking, but I was curious of one of our students, whom you were under the impression has left our school." 

"Ah yes. Miss Granger...came to me and said she would be dropping everything and leave. I found it fairly odd, but I suppose she left as quickly as she came."

"Did she mention where she came from upon arrival?" Dumbledore asked out of curiosity. 

"Running from Grindelwald. Everyone is this days."

"You believe her?"

"Naturally."

"Well, I'm afraid she is still among us."

"Pardon?" Dippet exclaimed, rather confused.

"Madam Ritcher claims the girl brought Riddle to the hospital wing."

"You think he knows?"

"No one can tell for sure. The boy I admit is of potential danger...and with Granger....you must have noticed they are rather close.  Shall we say fond of one another?"

"Are you saying she is bad for him?!"

"No. Exactly the opposite I believe." He stood up abruptly. "Well, I must be going, there are quite a few nargles I need to catch."

"Albus! What do you suggest I do?"

"Oh I wouldn't pay any mind to it.  Go along with the fact she is gone. Afterall, it is not good to meddle with affairs that not ought to be meddled. I just thought you ought to know." Dumbledore bowed ever so slightly. "Good day Armando.", and then he left the office, his cloak following behind.

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She placed her book neatly back on the shelf, turning her head as Tom returned from his lessons. Within only a few days, the two had fallen into a routine. Hermione would spend her days in the chess room library, researching whatever she found of interest, and Riddle would join her in the evenings. It was quite nice she admitted, however she didn't remember the last time she had seen other than the surrounding four walls.

Tom sat down at the wooden table they used as a desk, and Hermione walked over as well. "How was your day?" He drawled.

"It was fine. I got some more ancient ruins done. You could use some of my notes for your essay."

He leaned forward placing his forearms on the table. He grabbed her left hand in both of his, and rubbed it absently.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "What are you doing?"

"I can't hold your hand?" He asked innocently.

"Well no it's just..." she lost her train of thought as he continued rubbing circles with his thumb across her skin. She cleared her throat, regaining her senses and gave him a pointed look. "What is it you want?"

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