Tom Riddle had been practising with Time Turners. Of course, he shouldn't have even been aware of their existence and it certainly wasn't simple to obtain one. He'd had to flatter Slughorn ever since 5th year in order to be even close to coming into contact with one. Before Slughorn he'd been sure that they were some sort of myth, but alas, the stupid, desperate old man had let slip that they did indeed exist and that he'd actually seen one. Ever since then it had been Tom's mission to get his hands on one, though it had been much harder than he had anticipated.

He'd finally managed at the start of his seventh year when Slughorn had presented him with the time turner in a small box, covered in an amethyst sky with golden stars splashed across the background. He'd expected a watch; of course that would have been the first gift Slughorn would have thought of seeing as the Muggle orphanage he was raised in had no idea that seventeen held such importance in his world. He had been furious at himself when he had seen his gift, it seemed he had painfully underestimated Slughorn's ambition, he was a Slytherin after all.

In the box he had found a time turner. He could hardly believe his luck, but he caught himself before his face showed any intention of what he planned to do with his gift.

"Just a secret between us, yes my boy?" Slughorn had grinned almost manically, his hands were resting on his stomach as he studied Tom deeply, trying to gauge a level of emotion from him.

"Of … Of course, Sir." Tom had to keep up his act. Sweet, humble, charming muggle-born boy who was so hard done by and needed the kindness of his favourite teacher to help him realise his potential. It made Tom sick, but alas he found it easy to slip into this character, he practically lived in this role when he was at Hogwarts. "I just can't believe you were able to-" Tom forced himself to choke up with emotion. "It's just … No one has ever cared enough about me to make so much of an effort before…" He whispered before dutifully hanging his head in shame.

"Oh, my boy!" Slughorn gasped before resting his hands on Tom's shoulders roughly so that he was staring into Tom's grey eyes. "Really, it was no trouble. Don't you ever think of yourself as any less of incredibly talented, do you hear me?"

Tom forced himself to crack a small, weak smile that he knew would convince Slughorn that he had done a good job. "Of course, Sir. I'm just so thankful. You're really the best teacher I've ever had." Tom straightened himself out and held out a hand for the potions master to shake.

"Oh please, it's the least you deserve." Slughorn grinned and clasped Tom's hand. His hand was large and clammy and Tom had to force himself not to let his face show a hint of the disgust he felt. "Such a strong handshake!" Slughorn had exclaimed before letting go of his hand.

Tom smiled humbly and gave a small graceful bow before he delicately lifted up the box, carefully ensuring the lid was on firmly. He'd rather die than let another soul rest their eyes on his present, his prize.

Tom's back was soaked in sweat, something that did no doubt irk him to no end, but he was so close to completing his little experiment. He pushed back a lock of curls that had fallen over his eyes. His lips were cracked and raw from where he had been chewing them in concentration, occasionally he would gently dab at his lip with his finger and lick the speck of blood that came away with from his mouth. His fingers had been curled around the small mechanic device he was certain that if he tried to straighten them out they would crack and crumble when he resumed work, so he didn't stop.

It had taken many failed attempts and several fits of rage before he had even realised where he had wanted to end up at the end of his troubles with the time turner. Certainly not the past, what would there be to relive? His mother drugging and raping, which at its very core was what she was doing, his father? His father leaving a heavily pregnant witch with tears staining her dirty, muggle loving face? No, the past was definitely not an option, there was nothing for him there?

But the future?

The future held an entirely different promise. It was just whether he could manipulate his time turner to go forwards and not backwards. That was the problem. Tom had known it would obviously be extremely difficult to do, but not once had he questioned his abilities. Even when Malfoy and Lestrange had questioned him as to what in Merlin's beard he thought he was playing at, messing with something like a Time Turner that did, essentially, belong to the Ministry no less. But no, Tom did not doubt his abilities.

So when he was finally able to spin the hourglass forward, he was not even slightly surprised.

"Honestly, Ronald, it's like you don't even try to understand!" Hermione scolded her best friend, they were arguing over the enslavement of house elves and of course Ron was unable to understand why she was so passionate. According to him, the house elves liked being enslaved, which Hermione obviously refused to believe.

"No Hermione, it's just-"

"Ow!" She barely managed to yelp as she felt a searing hot pain on the hollow of her chest.

"What?" The determination slid from Ron's face as he leaned closer to Hermione.

"My … Nothing, I bit my lip. I need to go sort out my lip, go without me, I'll see you in potions." With a heavy head and a burning heat in her chest, Hermione raced to the girl's bathroom.

Her time turner had burned. Physically burned. McGonagall had given her the last remaining Time Turner that hadn't been destroyed when Dumbledore's Army had fought the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries, though Hermione wasn't even slightly sure as to why, she had supposed that McGonagall hadn't even told Dumbledore of this, surely if she had Hermione would be hearing much more from Dumbledore than she was at present. The pain was white hot and spread through her body like fire and she only managed to slam the door of the bathroom when she felt a pain so intense that her knees buckled and she must have blacked out.

"Wake up."

A voice that seemed familiar hit her ears. Hermione racked her brain to try and place the voice to a face, but every time she tried her head felt as though it might split from the pain.

"What ….?" Hermione had barely managed to gasp before she was yanked into the seating position by someone with strong hands. They were cold, freezing cold. Hermione could even see her breath in front of her as she tried her hardest to intake breath.

"Who are you?" The voice spoke again, the tone, pitch, even the melody was so disconcertingly reminiscent of someone she had known before … Or perhaps she hadn't. She was far too disoriented to try and pull memories from the back of her brain at the present moment. But even so … Though she recognised the voice, Hermione was vaguely aware that the voice was not that of a friend's.

"I'm Hermione." Rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes to try and block out her bright surroundings she finally tried to make sense of where she was.

The light was the only thing she was able to take in. It felt as though someone had captured the light of an old camera's flashing bulb in the peak of taking a photo, bottled it and released it into her new surroundings. The logical thing was that she was hallucinating, surely? No one was simply plucked from their previous surroundings, was dropped into some sort of purgatory and she was damn sure that Time Turner's didn't burn.

"Tom," The voice replied curtly, holding out a hand to help Hermione up. And then she saw him. Tom Riddle. "The blinding white light? It disappears shortly." He said softly, as though he was actually trying to comfort her.

Hermione yanked her hand free of Tom and stumbled backwards a few paces, this was all wrong. She was hallucinating, it was the only logical explanation! There is no possible way she has been thrown together with Tom Riddle of all people. No, it's impossible. Hermione was constantly told she was the smartest witch of her age, and the smartest witch of her age did not have hallucinations about the man who would grow up to ruin so many lives.

"What's wrong? Despite the obvious change in surroundings, I mean." Tom seemed completely unfazed by everything that was happening, it was almost as if-

No.

"Stay away from me!" Hermione tried to scream louder than she actually did, but her voice was so hoarse from her passing out that it came out as a cracked screech and she saw Riddle visibly wince.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure where we are, but I know how I got here and I have a sneaky suspicion as to how you did also." Tom remained guarded, clearly this future girl knew him and didn't trust him. He would have to play this carefully.

"You're Tom Riddle." Hermione whispered softly, she wondered if she should even divulge this much information to him. She tried to keep a calm exterior but she was a mess. She was in an unknown place with the literal antichrist standing in front of her.

"How did you know that?" Tom's breath hitched. So she was from the future, he had done it! Well, not completely, but he was revolutionary! He had done something no one else had!

"I think you already know that." Hermione responded icily, she was going to keep him at a very, very, very lengthy distance. Preferably nowhere near herself.

"You're … From the future?" He swallowed hard. It was no good celebrating yet, he had to be sure.

"I was born in 1979 …" Hermione closed her eyes and tried to swallow down the heavy lump she felt in her throat. "I am sixteen years old."

Tom's head started spinning, he'd actually done it. He never doubted himself, of course but this was … Well, extraordinary.

"Where are we?" Hermione's arms were now folded tightly over her chest and Tom allowed himself the opportunity to study her.

Her hair fell in light brown ringlets and he noticed that the left side of her hair had more volume than the right, meaning that the ringlets were often of different sizes and was her natural hair. From this he gathered that Hermione didn't care for looks, which was usually associated with being bookish. Being bookish meant she was probably extremely clever. Not like him, but … Clever. Her eyes were a soft brown, that turned steely as soon as she recognised who he was. He saw hatred in her eyes, something that fascinated him no end. What had he done in her time? Hermione was shorter than him, he supposed around 5'5, give or take. She had a slight frame, no match for him physically. Tom Riddle concluded that Hermione Granger was nice to look at and if he was right about her smarts, would be thrilling in conversation.

"I think we're in Hogwarts. Which part?" Tom looked around, his arms sweeping as if to show off their surroundings to her. "No clue." He looked straight at her now. "Do you have a Time Turner?"

Hermione's eyes widened and instinctively her hand went for the golden chain around her neck. What did he know of Time Turners? Harry had never mentioned that Tom Riddle knew Time Turners even existed, so unless there was something Dumbledore must have missed? No, Dumbledore knew Riddle better than anyone. If he knew of Time Turner's, Dumbledore would have known. So how was she in this predicament?

"I'm going to take the obvious fumbling to your chest as a resounding yes, now, let me see it." Tom had no concern for this girl, but he wouldn't even try to deny that she was incredibly fascinating. Why had she come here? Clearly it had been him who had done it and he had a very small, slight theory as to why she was here.

"No." Hermione bit back. Obviously she didn't like Riddle anyway, but she found it impossible to see why the teachers had such a soft spot for this boy. He was rude and ill mannered, arrogant and impatient.

Tom's features darkened. No? This surely meant there was a challenge, he could hear it in her words. No one dared deny him, if she knew who he was then she surely knew his influence?

"It's to help you get home. Now let me see." Tom took a small yet deliberate step forward, palm outstretched for her time turner.

"Why would I let you?" Hermione practically spat and backed away, until she hit something solid.

They were definitely in Hogwarts, it was obvious but she had never seen this part of the castle before. It certainly wasn't in the Gryffindor domain and judging by Riddle's reaction it wasn't anything to do with Slytherin. Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw perhaps? No, why would they have been dropped someone near two house quarters neither of them associated with? Now that she thought about it … There were no students around. No students, no teachers, no … Anyone. It was almost as if the room had appeared specifically for them … The Room of Requirement.

"Wait!" Hermione wanted him to know how smart she was, maybe he wouldn't talk down to her like she was nothing she showed him this. "I know where we are."

"Just show the Time- Excuse me?" Tom frowned as he pushed his curls away from his eyes yet again. "And where exactly are we?" He cocked an eyebrow and folded his arms, mirroring her image.

"The Room of Requirement." Hermione responded and she tried desperately to keep her smugness out of her tone.

Tom's mouth dropped into a small 'O' before he was able to recover himself. She was clever, perhaps a little smarter than he had expected, but he wasn't there to make friends. He wanted to know about the future and she was his best bet seeing as he couldn't quite get himself there yet. "So we are."

Hermione studied her opponent, she saw that he was very calculated in his actions. Nothing went by without him noticing, nothing. His eyes bore into hers and she scolded herself when she actually looked away, she was meant to show he didn't intimidate her. She was a Gryffindor, wasn't she?

"Anyway," Tom rolled his eyes. He knew what she was trying to do. She was trying to read him which he knew was impossible. After all, he was the natural Legilimens and not her. "I'm telling you how you got here."

"And why are you telling me this information?" Hermione frowned, clearly more confused than scared that he knew.

Tom opened his mouth to retort and then closed it again. He licked his lips as he thought of a response; his tongue bumping over the ridges on his lips that had been bitten. A bad habit of his admittedly.

"I brought you here."

Hermione rolled the words around her head, frowning. But Voldemort hadn't known about Time Turners, she was absolutely certain.

"How?"

"Does your Time Turner look like this?" Tom held up his own, clearly modified with different trinkets and mechanisms on it. Hermione opened her mouth to say no, hers looked nothing alike, but something stopped her. The dimly lit room flashed against an engraving on his time turner.

T.M.R

Hermione's Time Turner had the exact engravings on hers.

"They are the same, aren't they? Albeit not exactly the same, so you know what I think, Hermione?" Riddle cocked an eyebrow, daring her to answer. She didn't. "You're clearly from the future and you're surprised that I know of Time Turners, I can practically see your brain ticking. This makes me think that we are on two different time lines which leads me to believe that someone is willing to rip through time in order to bring us together."