He was sitting on the dead log in the woods outside the orphanage reading a book, as he always was in this time of day, when he heard a soft sound. He looked up from his book and saw nothing out of the ordinary. When he tried to return to his reading, he heard the sound again. It was a soft whimpering sound coming from the bushes. Setting his book to the side, he jumped of the log and silently approached the bush, not wanting to warn the sound of his presence.
Slowly moving the leaves from his sight, he saw a little girl curled in a ball, sitting on the stump of an old tree. She was making the whimpering sounds he had heard before and her shoulders were shuddering slightly. Eventually, the little girl looked up to see this young boy staring at her. Her large, wet, chocolate eyes gazed into his icy grey ones.
"What is your name?" he asked of her.
"H-Hermione Granger," she squeaked. Tom had heard of her. She was the new girl at the orphanage, arriving only two weeks ago. "And you are?"
"Tom Riddle," he replied steadily. "Why are you crying?"
As a reply, Hermione raised her hands towards him with her palms facing forward. Tom was confused until he saw the harsh red lines criss-crossing along both her palms. Tom knew who would be responsible for this. Mrs. Cope, the head of the orphanage, had always been a strict woman and had surely wanted to teach Hermione her place. Although it had been a long time since Tom's last punishment, he could still feel the sting on his back from his last punishment. With a long sigh, Tom reached forward to grab onto Hermione's upper arms.
"Come now, you want to wash those as quick as possible to avoid any infections." He picked up the book he had left on the log and took Hermione back inside the orphanage with little hesitation from her, Hermione staring wide-eyed at him the whole time.
When they entered the home, Tom looked both ways to make sure that no one was around before taking Hermione up the stairs to the highest floor and into the bathroom. "Can you wash your hands?" he asked her. Hermione could give no reply. She could not stop staring at the boy.
When Tom was certain he would not be getting any reply, he took Hermione's hands under the water and began to wash them himself. The water stung her hands, but the cooling effect of the water eventually soothed her hands and nerves.
After washing her hands, Tom ushered her into the room across the bathroom and placed her on the small bed in the centre of the room. Once seating Hermione on the bed, Tom began to look through his drawers for something clean that can be used as a bandage. Hermione's eyes began to wander around what she assumed to be Tom's bedroom. His room was in the same form as hers, with a bed in the centre, a nightstand next to it, a cabinet on the far wall, and a small desk under the window. The window seemed to look out onto the woods that Hermione and Tom were just in. Unlike most of the other children in the orphanage who had a special photograph or toy to call their own, Tom's room had no personal touched whatsoever. This would have stricken Hermione as odd, if she had had any herself. There seemed to be some similarities between Tom and herself.
After fumbling through his drawers, Tom had found an old white button-up shirt that he had worn three years ago. Ripping it up, he began to tie a piece of fabric onto each of Hermione's hands. Hermione didn't know what to say and Tom didn't want to say anything. Therefore, they spent their time in silence. When Tom was finished, Hermione said a silent thank you and scurried out of his room and down the stairs.
Tom's eyes followed the strange girl, wondering why he had helped her in the first place.
