I hope that you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it. I, of course, in no way own Harry Potter or his universe. That privilege goes to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.

The first time she ever met Tom Riddle, something about him didn't sit right. It was like there was a large sign above his head warning her to keep away. Looking back, the events that transpired next were almost comical in their implausibility. She had to have been possessed, that was the only possible explanation. Hermione Granger wasn't someone who ran with the wrong crowds or committed any crimes. Hermione Granger wasn't someone who was rash or acted before thinking. And Hermione Granger certainly wasn't a fool. And yet, only a fool could have landed where she was at this precise moment. Yes, it was definitely comical. A short, hysteric laugh burst from her lips.

"Hermione, I need you to calm down." Tom attempted to sound soothing, but something about his voice was off. It sounded far away and had a distorted quality to it.

Hermione stared down at the floor. There was a pool of blood that was steadily growing, some of the red creeping all the way over to her shoes. The gun was still clutched in her right hand, her muscles straining from the tension of holding it so fiercely. Slowly, she lifted her head, her eyes landing on Tom. "This is all your fault."

Hermione glanced once more between the map of the museum, which looked to be older than most of the artifacts in the building, and the wall where there was supposed to be an apparently nonexistent staircase. Her first day of work and she was going to be late because she couldn't find the way to the museum director's office.

"Are you lost?" A voice came from behind Hermione, and she turned to respond when the words got stuck in her throat. The attractive man standing in front of her was not what she had been expecting. He looked around her age or slightly older and was tall, with perfectly styled dark hair. The suit he was wearing screamed designer and she didn't even want to know how much he had spent on it.

When a knowing grin began to form on his face as she stared at him, Hermione felt a blush rising to her cheeks and she blinked rapidly before looking away. "Yes, I am. The map shows a set of stairs here and unless I've recently developed some type of staircase-specific blindness, there's not one."

The man didn't react to her attempt at a joke. He just continued to look at her, making Hermione even more uncomfortable than she already was. Finally though he smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Follow me," He commanded before walking away, not checking to see if she was. "Our maps are a bit outdated. I keep suggesting that we make new ones, but," He shrugged and stopped walking. In front of them was a grand staircase and Hermione felt stupid for having missed it. "So, what exhibit are you looking for? Perhaps you'd like me to escort you there?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed at his condescending tone. Someone else might have thought he was just being helpful or doing his job, but she knew better. He was mocking her. "Actually," she replied coolly, "I'm looking for the director of the museum's office. I've just been hired as a curator here and today's my first day."

Although Hermione swore she saw a flicker of some darker emotion, the man maintained a polite expression. "Ah, yes. I heard we were getting an additional curator with how quickly the museum is expanding."

"Additional?" Hermione hadn't been aware that she would be working alongside anybody. She had been under the impression that she was filling a position that someone else had left.

"Yes, I've been the curator here for nearly five years. Tom Riddle." He held his hand out to her.

Hermione reached forward and shook his waiting hand. His grip was tight and she pulled away quickly. He gave her a sharp look and she forced a weak smile. "Hermione Granger."

"Pleasure," He said it like it was anything but. "If you go up the stairs, turn left, and go all the way to the end of the hall, you'll find an area blocked off to the public where all of the offices are at. The director's office is the one on the far left, you can't miss it." He looked at her as though he figured she would miss it.

"Thanks," Hermione bit out, sounding more resentful than she had meant to.

"Oh, and Hermione," She was halfway up the stairs, but stopped when she heard him call out to her. Turning, their eyes met and she felt rooted to the spot, unable to move if she wanted to. "I'm looking forward to working with you." His voice was rich and velvety and he had a small smirk on his face.

As he walked away, Hermione couldn't stop the small shudder that ran through her. It was a harmless statement, but for some reason it had felt like a threat. But that was insane, he was just being polite. Still though, a part of her was yelling to get out while she still could. "You're being ridiculous." She whispered to herself before walking the rest of the way up the stairs. She was just nervous, that was it. She was at a new job in a new city, and so she was freaking out and reading too much into things. That was it.

After successfully locating the director's office, Hermione was given a tour of the museum while they discussed what her job would entail. During the tour, she paid special attention to the floor plan of the museum so that she could avoid further humiliation from her new coworker. The tour ended with them once again by the offices. "And here's your desk," The director, a stern faced man who looked to be in his fifties or sixties, pointed to a desk in a tiny cubicle.

Hermione thanked the director and went to inspect her new working area. It was small, clustered together with several other cubicles where other museum employees were working in silence. Glancing up as the museum director reentered his own office, Hermione's eyes fell on the door of the office next to his. There was a small gold plaque on it in which T. Riddle was finely engraved. Of course he had his own office, while she was stuck in this tiny space with a tiny desk. At least the computer looked new. She sighed and dropped into the chair which creaked loudly, making her the recipient of quite a few dirty looks, and thought of how she could decorate her little space so she could at least make it more personal.

"You'll get acclimated soon enough."

Hermione took a deep breath through her nose before turning around. Tom was standing there, grinning down at her and she had the urge to stand up so that he wouldn't have so much height on her, but she knew that he'd see it as a challenge so she remained begrudgingly in her seat. "I'm sorry, but what are you talking about?"

"The cubicle. I know it's pretty small, but you'll get used to it eventually." Though he sounded perfectly friendly, his personality rubbed Hermione the wrong way.

"Says the guy who has his own office." Her response made a few of the closer employees pause what they were doing so that they could watch the interaction.

Tom didn't seem at all bothered by her reply. He smiled politely at her. "I've worked hard, and it's paid off." He lowered his voice so that none of the people snooping could hear. "One must work for everything they want in life, and sometimes they have to fight against people who want the same thing as them. Here it's kill or be killed, and I always get what I want Hermione." He left to go to his office, the warning in his words hanging in the air.

The rest of the day went by uneventfully. Hermione didn't see Tom again, and for that she was grateful. His message earlier had been abundantly clear. He saw her as a threat, as competition, and he wasn't pleased. Hermione didn't like to admit it, but he made her nervous. It was only the first day, and she was already second guessing this job. On the way back to her apartment that evening, Hermione made up her mind. She was tougher than this, and she wasn't going to quit her new job just because some bully had said a few mean words to her. Besides, no matter how dangerous he could make his voice sound, the man was harmless. He had to be, he worked in a museum for crying out loud. No, he wouldn't get to her. Hermione wouldn't let him.

When she got home, there was a package waiting for her in the front office. She grinned when she saw that the address had been written in Harry's messy scrawl. Once she was in her apartment, she plopped onto her couch and used her keys to open the box since her scissors were still packed away somewhere. Inside the package was a short letter from both Ron and Harry saying that they missed her already and wishing her luck at her new job. The note also mentioned that they had sent her something to make her new apartment homier. She carefully pulled out a picture frame, with three pictures side by side. The one on the far left had to be from when the three of them were eleven or twelve. Harry's mouth was pulled up in a laugh as the photo captured Hermione in the middle of lecturing Ron for making a funny face. The picture in the middle was from their college graduation, and the last was taken just a week before she moved. Tears pricked at Hermione's eyes. God, how she missed them.

Wiping her eyes, Hermione stood and placed the picture frame on the kitchen counter. Even though she had moved in a few days ago, she hadn't finished unpacking and didn't have a nail or hammer ready so she'd have to hang it later. Even though it was still pretty early, it had been a long day and Hermione was exhausted. She made a small dinner which she ate quickly and then went to bed, telling herself that she'd call the boys tomorrow when she wasn't so tired. As she was falling asleep, she hoped that tomorrow would be a better day.