DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter, its characters, plot and other trademarks are owned by J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers and affiliated companies; not me.

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Title: Acidic (formerly Blasted Mistletoe)

Author name: Tachyphrasia

Pairing: Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger (Tomione)

Rating: M (Lemons, violence, etc. IF YOU ARE BELOW 18, KINDLY DO NOT READ THIS FIC. PLEASE HEED THE RATINGS AND STAY AWAY UNTIL YOU ARE OF AGE. OR TOM WILL SEND THE KNIGHTS OF WALPURGIS AFTER YOU)

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Longer Summary:

Tom Marvolo Riddle had great plans. All of which he would accomplish.

But then a blasted mistletoe had to go ahead and ruin that, bringing along a bushy-haired pain in its path. He'd blasted the 'blasted' mistletoe into ashes as soon the kiss ended.

Hermione Jean Granger only had one plan: excel at whatever she did. She hated not giving her very best.

And then she got trapped under a charmed, floating piece of Christmas decor with a boy she hated. She ran away as fast as she could from him after their kiss and avoided him as much as she could.

That wasn't the end of it as they circle one another in a web of lies, deceit and fatal attraction.

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NOTE ABOUT THIS FIC: As this is an AU, I took the liberty of changing some details as we knew it from the books (well, it's a fanfic, after all). For example, I placed Tom Riddle and Cho Chang in the same year as the Golden Trio; Cedric Diggory too, although I still followed the original timeline of his death. Things like that.

Umbridge will be handled differently as well but expect her to be the same bitch she was in the books and movies.

A big whooping thanks to my beta Kabg01 for helping me weed out errors, weird sentences and inconsistencies. Any remaining mistakes are mine which will be fixed once this fanfic is complete.

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Reviews are like water to a parched throat. I get inspired if you review, lovelies, so please do leave one. Or two; as many as you like. If you didn't like this story, then at least leave something constructive OR nothing at all but not anything mean. Hateful comments go straight to the delete button hell.

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Enjoy ^0^

CHAPTER 1: PEACE IS FLEETING

Déjà vu...it was sunny the last time she saw Tom Riddle slip into Tomes and Scrolls but so much; scorching hot by October's standards. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, too. The difference then was that the ground blew up inches from the tip of her shoes.

And blew up, it did.

The cracks on the paved asphalt slithered across the broken pavement like snakes following their every move. Steam, heat and magma rolled off the fissures and the ground rumbled.

Now she knew why it was that hot.

"Hermione," Harry said.

She was mesmerized; the scene reminded her of a painting in a museum she had visited years ago with her parents. Swashes of orange, red, yellow, black painted the chaos of a war set against the backdrop of an exploding volcano.

Battlefield, the painting was called. And how fittingly dramatic it was.

"Hermione — "

The boy was evil in the way most Slytherins were like Malfoy and his chums but not evil enough to cause destruction in Hogsmeade. Impossible. Plus, Gryffindors and Slytherins didn't just jive.

Yet he had an off-putting quality about him, an air, that she couldn't quite put her finger to.

Or maybe she was just being biased; honestly, she didn't like him that much. He'd been quiet at the start of their studies at Hogwarts but second year came and Riddle stepped out of the shadows and shed his scales. He put on the boy-next-door persona and charmed everyone's pants, skirts and underthings off.

Oh, the stories Parvati and Lavender came home to their dorm with! She'd never be able to unhear them.

The female in her would've probably been taken with him, too, like she had with their former Defense Against the Dark Arts Gilderoy Lockhart, if she hadn't encountered his rude first year self on the Hogwarts Express.

Ignorance was bliss but Hermione Granger hated being ignorant.

"Oh, bloody hell. Let me, Harry." Two hands appeared in front of her and clamped on her arms.

She yelped; Hermione was shaken out of her thoughts, literally, by her best friend Ronald Weasley. He wore a smile that widened into a chortle. "Bloody hell, Hermione. You sure you're awake now?"

"Sorry." Her face flushed red and the color deepened when she noticed people passing by giving them weirded out stares. "It's just, you know…"

"Is it Quidditch?" Luna Lovegood offered. "I know you don't like the sport, Hermione. You don't like flying on brooms, do you?"

"No, just thinking of something." She shook her head. "But that sport should be banned, you know." She grinned. The blonde was way too straightforward for her own good and Hermione had even thought her a wee bit creepy when they first met, though she was thankful that she was friends with someone like Luna.

And a teeny tiny bit guilty for once calling her Loony Lovegood.

"And they let a student play in his first year?" she scoffed. Her eyes flickered to Harry, who rolled his own pair of green ones and exchanged a knowing look with Ron. "How irresponsible."

"Yeah, yeah," Ginny said, grasping her arm. "Let's go get ice cream before you start zoning off on us again."

Hermione shot the redhead a glare which melted under the hot sun re-appearing from behind the clouds.

"Ice cream sounds so good. To Diagon Alley, then." She reached for Ron's hand.

Hot was a mild way to put it. Rivulets of sweat ran down the side of their temples and not only once did the teenagers use the backs of their hands to wipe those off.

"You could cook a stew with all that moisture on your hair, Harry," Luna commented. "The brynskees like drinking human sweat. It's like wine to them, you know." And then she took Hermione's other hand.

"Err, thanks for the heads up, Luna," he said as held his hand to her and the other to Ginny.

Ron made a noise on the back of his throat as he accepted his sister's left hand. "And that's why they called you Loony." He ran his fingers through his red hair, mussing it up. "Fortescue's?"

Luna looked pissed for a moment but it was gone the split-second Hermione squeezed her hand. The bushy-haired Gryffindor tilted her head as she glimpsed one of the few moments the Ravenclaw showed an expression other than that of constant daydreaming.

"You guys ready to apparate?" Harry asked.

"One moment, please." She thwacked Ron on the head with one of her books and Ron turned to scowl at her.

"What did I do?" the redhead complained.

"The usual," Hermione quipped. The corner of Luna's mouth quirked. She hadn't apologized to the girl and made a note to do so before the uncomfortable feeling of Apparation engulfed her.

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"Where's Neville? I thought he was gonna meet us?" Ginny asked. She looked back at the two boys behind them. The wind played with the tendrils of red hair which escaped from her messy ponytail.

"He'll be along soon. At least that's what he said before we left the castle," Ron said. He chose a Butterbeer cone with sprinkles.

How had her group grown from Harry plus Ron plus Hermione into plus Neville, Ginny and Luna, too? She wasn't complaining, though. She loved her friends.

These were the people she got trapped in Hogsmeade with two years ago , the teenagers forced to fight some of Grindelwald's vicious soldiers as Dumbledore himself took on their leader.

She'd trust them with her life. All of them. Especially Harry and Ron.

Especially Harry and Ron.

Neville arrived just as they sat down to eat and conjured a seat of his own, pushing himself between Ron and Luna. "Sorry I got here late. Snape wanted to talk to me about Slughorn's missing supplies."

"What does the great bat want?" Harry glared at his banana-strawberry split before attacking it with the spoon. "Wait...are you still filching those gillyweeds?"

"No!" Neville blushed. "And it wasn't me; it was the fake Mad-Eye." Hermione offered him a sad smile; Neville was put under the ImperiusCurse by a spy of Grindelwald under Polyjuice Potion. That same smile disappeared when a small, dessert spoon landed on her vanilla ice cream.

She swatted Ron's hand. "You have your own ice cream!"

They bickered for a couple more moments until two Ravenclaws walked past their table.

Cho Chang's head was down and only went up when the waitress approached them as they sat at a table. After that, she took to staring at the table and would only occasionally smile as her friend flailed her hands once in a while at points in their conversation. The girl also smiled at the same waitress moments later when their orders arrived.

"I feel bad for her," Luna mused in her dreamy voice. "She's lost friends since Cedric died. Good thing Marietta remained."

The Triwizard Tournament would've been a roaring success if it wasn't for the fact that a student dropped dead during the last task. Cedric Diggory, a HufflePuff in the year above them and one of Hogwarts' representatives for the competition, was the first casualty of the war since Gellert Grindelwald's re-appearance.

Her best friend Harry made it out of the maze alive. Cedric didn't. When Harry landed on the ground as the portkey deposited him and the boy onto the ground, only one of them had a pulse.

"It's been two years, isn't it? What is she still moping about?" Ron grabbed a spoonful of Ginny's apple pie sundae.

"You don't really forget about things like that easily. I still remember the jet of green light and..." Harry put his spoon down and slouched on his seat.

The past few years had been hard on him; his parents died when he was a baby. Murdered, to be exact.

Although the dark wizard who committed the crime had been dealt with and sent to Nurmengard, a Wizarding prison in Europe, her best friend would never be the same.

Hermione's heart broke. She couldn't imagine life without her parents. Her loving and fierce mother became a dentist due to her Hermione's grandfather's wish but secretly wanted to be a painter; her father, who kept encouraging both of them to do what they want and never apologize for it.

Because of him, her Mum was now taking painting lessons in her spare time away from practice.

She could never have imagined growing up without them.

Shaking her head, she looked over to Cho Chang, whose attention was now on them. She gave them all a smile and a small wave.

And then, so subtle Hermione almost missed it, the pretty Ravenclaw's almond-shaped eyes swept over Harry.

She felt the jolt travel between the two former lovers.

The Gryffindor knew she wasn't the only who did: a small smile played over Luna's lips, Ginny looked down on her sundae and Ron raised an eyebrow at her; she shrugged as Neville scratched the back of his nape.

Some things weren't easily forgotten, after all. And some things weren't supposed to be forgotten such as preparations for the upcoming Christmas hols.

Hermione groaned. It'd be Monday tomorrow.

Being prefect added additional responsibilities on top of her school workload, but she had accepted it without second thoughts. She probably shouldn't have.

Now, she had to talk to the infuriating snake slash demon-boy, no thanks to McGonagall and Slughorn.

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Slughorn must really be off his rocker. The Head of Slytherin agreed to the Transfiguration Professor's idea of pairing him, Tom Riddle, the Heir of Slytherin, with a mudblood — not just any mudblood — and a Gryffindor at that; how unfortunate.

House unity, my ass. He'd curse his head of house and Minerva McGonagall as soon as he graduated.

Tom had hated the Granger girl since he first laid eyes on her and her bushy mane. It was on the first train ride to Hogwarts, the magical school which had sent him an acceptance letter by way of owl, and she had rudely interrupted his thoughts when she slid open the door to his carriage.

"Have you seen a toad?" The bossy little chit had stood there with hands on her hips. She hadn't even looked at him as she asked the unusual question; she only glanced at him once. Her light brown eyes were busy scanning his compartment and she bent over to check under the seats.

"No." And why would there be a toad inside the train?

She straightened up with a sigh. "I see. By the way, my name's Hermione Granger. And you are?"

He stared at her outstretched hand. Tom wanted to slap it away. He didn't but he did not take it either. She'd been looking for a toad under the seats. What if her hands were full of bacteria?

"Tom." He looked back down on his Potions book and twisted away from her, slightly facing the windows.

He heard a huff and a "How rude" followed by the sliding of his compartment door close. Finally.

Tom Riddle did see a toad but a scrawny, elfin-faced kid with almost-white blond hair slipped it into his robes and snickered with his two friends.

But why would he tell her that? Besides, the owner of the toad, who also knocked on his compartment earlier, was just a chubby, little kid with splotchy cheeks. The kid didn't command any attention at all. No one of real consequence.

Seven years later and Hermione Granger remained to be the insufferable, know-it-all he wanted to curse and throw into the Black Lake, hands and ankles bound, mouth covered.

Said insufferable, know-it-all hurried away but not without shooting him a disgusted glance. He was forced to follow the Gryffindor after classes as she settled deeper into the library, into another section. Then she vanished from his sight as if she had performed an Invisibility spell on herself.

His jaw clenched and he pulled out and waited. Most girls would try to keep staring even as they floundered and giggled. Most girls would flirt. And he'd indulged most of them, especially if they're pretty, especially when he was hungry and looked to have fun.

And why wouldn't he? They're for his taking. It's a miracle, a shame, even, that he'd even deign to spend time with them. But he was a male and he had urges. Urges that usually led him and his willing partner into abandoned classrooms, alcoves, broom cupboards and occasionally, the Forbidden Forest.

No matter how unfortunate such urges were at least they were pleasurable. Although last night's adventure led to an embarrassing encounter with a certain caretaker.

But he'd taken care of that. It might take months before Argus Filch could wake up. If he ever woke up. And if there would even be a piece left of him once the Warren girl's parents were done with him.

No one would ever think to look into her mind. Not even Dumbledore. The aging caretaker, after all, had a reputation similar to the memories he fed his last night's lover with. Whispers had filled the school ever since he stepped foot in it. And now, those whispers were starting to blaze fever high. He was pretty sure that the Daily Prophet would get wind of the news shortly. Parents would surely be mutinous.

Hogwarts would finally be rid of the irksome Squib. Finally. Everyone should thank him for saving them all.

Plus, there were far more interesting things to do and consider than brew useless, school-grade potions; much less plan an absurd affair for an equally absurd holiday.

He was still staring into space, half-smirking, when a voice broke him from his reverie.

"Staring into space now, aren't we? Well, have you ever thought of checking yourself into St. Mungo's?"

The nuisance was back. He shot her a dark glare but the girl just raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't you just hear what I said?" The Gryffindor know-it-all even had the gall to perch her hands on her hips. He noticed the thin book in her hands. Must be around fifty pages or less. 20th Century Décor Charms, it said on the front cover in sparkly gold and silver text.

Tom scoffed. Whatever would one need a book of decors for? Stupid mudblood. He didn't need such a thing. And what was it with people, magic or non-magic, and holiday-themed stuff with glitter? Was it utterly necessary? If tastelessness was a disease bodies would be littering the country.

"I heard what you said, Granger. I just refuse to listen to your rubbish." He stuffed his books into his messenger bag. Decorations, really. Didn't the Professors have something better for him to do other than the fucking Christmas decors?

He sneered at her livid face. Obviously, when Malfoy pretended to be in continuous pain from the hippogriff's attack, it wasn't only to get off Quidditch but also off his Potions project. Tom couldn't blame the brat at all; better to get a T than spend time with a mudblood. He told her that.

"Yet here you are doing exactly just that," Hermione snapped. "How embarrassing it must be to be seen with me."

"Ah, yes. Poor me. I wonder what my frien — "

"Will you ever shut up, Riddle? And don't pretend to even have friends. Everyone knows you act like you're the bloody Prince of Slytherin. Just keep your thoughts to yourself and let's finish this research. We've got a meeting, remember?"

"This meeting is just a waste of my time. Go ask the elves to put those bloody decorations up. In case you don't know what they are —" He tilted his head at the book she clutched. "Those are poinsettias, mistletoes, Christmas trees, et cetera, et cetera."

"I happen to know a great deal about Christmas decors! I grew up spending Muggle yuletide every single year!"

"Sure you do. But don't go around spreading your festive Muggle virus. We're already sick of you as it is."

"You!"

She stood up and he smirked, slightly tilting his chin up to look at her. The mudblood was so small, so tiny, he could easily crush her under his feet.

"Yes, what about me?" Annoying her was just as easy.

The girl babbled on. "We were put together for this so-called house unity." She made air qoutes around the words. "The least you could do is pretend that — "

Her voice grew one decibel higher with every syllable and it hurt his brain. He'd been nursing a headache since last night and right now, he just wanted to crawl into his bed and sleep.

"That what? We're getting along?" Tom snapped.

Or perhaps curse her.

"We have enough time for that in front of the teachers, Granger," he said, as his hand slipped into his pocket and wrapped around his pale yew wand. Last night was his first time to use one of the Unforgivables; he'd use Dark Magic before but never the triumvirate.

He loved the rush of magic obeying his need to maim, hurt and torture. He yearned for the freedom to use it more often.

"The thing is, I don't really like hanging around mudbloods, which we've established before." He itched to throw the Cruciatus at her. Just the thought of it somehow soothed his migraine.

"You are…insufferable." Hermione Granger sent him a glower full of hatred. "You could've died that day in Hogsmeade and nobody in Hogwarts wouldn't have minded. In fact, we'd probably celebrate."

His first thought was She knew I was there that day? And then…his gut twisted. No. Nobody would ever forget Tom Riddle. He'd done a lot of hard work already. Spent time on research and…experiments.

What he liked about the House of Slytherin were the people and its customs. They mostly kept to themselves and were brought up on traditions that befit a proper Pureblood. But they were people who respected, liked and spent time with him. Malfoy, Zabini, Nott, all of them really.

No. Dying wouldn't do…

He took one look at her smug face and lost it. Tom stood up in a whirl and toppled his chair in the process, wand trained on her. Just a few inches away from her jugular.

"P-put th-that...that a-away..." she stuttered. Her spine straightened. Her eyes darted from his wand to his face and then around their area.

He could not murder her in the library. Must. Not. His jaw and half of his face shook with trying to control his tongue from letting the Killing Curse fly. But perhaps he could maim her...Just a little, he promised himself. A little wouldn't hurt—he almost burst into laughter. Of course it would hurt. Just a little.

"Nobody will hear if we put up a silencing ward, will they?" He leaned closer to her; the tip of his wand now touched her skin and seared the flesh at the point of contact.

Hermione hissed and jumped away, touching the middle of her neck. But before she could run, Tom Marvolo Riddle slashed his wand through the air, caution be damned. She backed away as he went round the table to get to her until her back hit an invisible wall. Her eyes widened and he smirked.

"Nowhere to go, mudblood?" Being a hunter was fun; he loved to see his prey cower.

"You're not gonna get away with this," she spat and pulled out her own wand. "I'll tell them. I'll tell Dumbledore."

He forced his magic to hush. It crackled around him and their warded space; it lashed at her and he pulled it back. But not yet. Not yet.

Tom raised his wand. "Prae — !"

He heard a gasp and his head whipped left and right. It seemed to be coming from one of the bookcases behind him. But no one was there. Huh. It must've been the mudblood. But still…

He took several deep breaths, lowered his wand and glared at her before stowing away his wand. Most of the students were still probably in the Great Hall but with the firecracker his fallen chair made even ghosts in the nearby vicinity would be coming to investigate.

He wasn't up to meeting with Peeves right now.

She wasn't that lenient, though; the mudblood still had her wand trained on him and her eyes drifted from him and to the same bookshelf behind him. The girl shook with fear and rage. He could feel it radiating from her in waves in the form of magic. So potent the emotions were he could almost taste them.

And then she seemed to think better of it and slowly brought her wand hand down. A smug smile crept onto her lips again.

His eyes narrowed.

"I knew it. You were crazy. Not everyone can see it, but I do."

Was she just purposely doing it to annoy him? To get him undone so that he'd be caught in the act? She'd willingly sacrifice herself? How very Gryffindor.

His fists shook but didn't do anything as he heard footsteps. After a few moments, Madame Pince came into view. The librarian's face scrunched as soon as she saw them.

"What's the meaning of this?" She looked from him to the blasted Gryffindor and back. "Mr. Riddle? Ms. Granger?"

"Nothing," the girl said. His eyes snapped to hers. "Tom was quite jumpy today. I don't know why but a small insect seemed to bother him."

"An insect?" Madame Pince fixed the spectacles perched on her nose. "Where?"

"Um, it flew away," Hermione hastily said. "Tom tried to catch it but it got away."

Tom gritted his teeth. How dare she freely use his name as if she had permission. He'd get her. Maybe not now, but soon. That mudblood would rue the day she decided to grace Hogwarts with her filthy presence.

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He stalked straight out of the library after they were reprimanded by the stern librarian. Him, most especially, for causing a ruckus. Him! Madame Pince should've reprimanded the infuriating Gryffindor for bringing her dirty self into the Wizarding World.

Tom was near his dorm in the dungeons when he heard it.

As if you didn't have dirty blood in you…a voice in the back of his head whispered. Shut up, he hissed at it.

A body nearby jumped. "Riddle? Oh bloody hell, Tom. You startled me." The sound of a belt buckle being fixed was heard and then Draco Malfoy stepped away from an alcove, sweating. He clutched something in his right hand.

"What's that?" Tom motioned to his hand and the boy's grin went wider.

"Oh, nothing. Just something an admirer willingly gave to me."

Tom snapped his fingers and the material flew out of his housemate's hand. Malfoy started to protest but he held his hand up, palm forward, and the blond shut his mouth.

"Whose is this?" He examined the glittery silver lace knickers in his possession. "It's so…festive." He smirked.

Malfoy chuckled. "It's Leandra Rumelt's, fifth year. She slipped it into my bag with a note earlier. We had a banging time last night, you know. Still can't help thinking about it."

He handed the lace back with a smirk. So that was what Malfoy was doing in the dark. "Was she any good?"

"Quite adept at pleasing."

The black-haired Slytherin gave a roguish grin which soon faltered as he remembered words spoken to him earlier.

"And don't pretend to even have friends. Everyone knows you act like you're the bloody Prince of Slytherin."

"We're friends, aren't we, Draco?"

"Huh?" The blond's eyebrows rose. He looked perplexed at the change in conversation. "I…I suppose so. Yeah. We do hang out...right?"

Draco Malfoy didn't look too sure about it. The boy rubbed the side of his temple where a few sticky strands of his hair stuck.

"You could've died that day in Hogsmeade and Hogwarts wouldn't have minded."

Tom Riddle didn't like uncertainty. In fact, he hated it. He hated hearing the mudblood's voice in his mind even more.

"In fact, we'd probably celebrate."

Tom gritted his teeth. "Crucio."

Draco Malfoy fell onto the ground, clutching at his head.

Beautiful. He'd heard about wine getting better as it aged. Using the Unforgivable felt tons more fun the first time he had.

"Riddle, stop! Please!" Tears streamed down the boys face and fell onto the cold, stone floor. He twitched and jerked and pulled at his hair. "Enough!"

He turned his wand away. "Are we friends, Draco?"

"Y-yes." The other Slytherin looked up at him, bloodshot eyes half-shut and twitching. His mouth half-lolled to one side.

"Good." Tom pocketed his robe, snatched the panty and the note from Malfoy. "Make sure no one knows of our little chat."

He walked away and slipped into the Slytherin dorm, in hunt of Leandra the fifth year and more of her holiday-themed underwear.

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TITLE CHANGE ALERT:

After changing from a one-shot to a multi-chapter story, I felt like Blasted Mistletoe didn't fit anymore. Starting second week February, I'll be changing this fic's name to Chemical (comes with a brand-new cover, too).

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