Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

I haven't updated this story since 2007. The main reason is that I had no idea where this story was going. Going through it, editing it, trying to make complete scene out of the story was a bit hard. This was one of my first stories and it showed through my small, well lots, of errors and lack of real direction. I hope you all enjoy the new setting.

Intruder

It was the middle of summer and Hermione had just finished reading at the local library and was expected home, she was walking past the beautiful green park so close to home.

She spent most of her days there, slowly going through the dusty shelves, graving the stretched spines and smelling the yellowing pages.

It was her favourite place in the world. The woman who worked there would often go on small breaks and leave Hermione to herself knowing she was trustworthy. This was her dream, to be alone and among some of the most powerful and influential people in history.

Secretly Hermione had always hoped to one day be among them.

It had been a tough year on Hermione. Her Father had moved to Australia for a chance to set up international offices and while her parents had tried they couldn't do it. They had separated. Hermione as smart as she was couldn't understand. Love was meant to be the strongest thing in the world. How can you just fall out of it? When her mother had told her they were separating the first thing she said was, 'It's not your fault. We both love you very much.' She then followed it with, 'Sometimes things don't always work out the way you plan them too.'.

Hermione wanted to know who was to blame? Was it time? Had the years gone by and they didn't notice it? Was it her fault? Hermione knew that it wasn't likely to be her fault as much as magic would be to blame. Those words swirled in her head round and round making her dizzy, sometimes things don't work out the way you plan them too. Like her. Hermione's parents had everything figured out before she was born and then one morning a letter arrived and their plans burnet up and turned to ash.

But these days Hermione thinks someone else was to blame, someone who made her mother happy, made her smile and laugh. A certain guy…

And Hermione wanted to know who this guy was.

As she approached the two story double red brick house with the oak door she suddenly stopped. Inside her mother was giggle like a grade school student who just heard one of her friends say a sexual word, 'Penis' always got a giggle.

She stopped herself was turning the knob and walking into her house. She didn't feel welcomed, like suddenly she was invading someone's world, breaking in and stealing their few moments of happiness. Then there was also the fact she didn't want to meet the new guy. So instead she walked around the back and opened the sliding door. Her white sneakers, she discovered, weren't very sneaky. They squeaked against the polished wooden floor.

Suddenly she heard the click click click of high heels coming her way and Hermione was faced with two choices. Be a mature young adult and meet her mother's new friend or run away like a coward.

She chose to run.

Hermione however didn't even get to turn around before her mother stood before her. She knew the clothes that her mother was wearing. They were her 'good' clothes. She wore them when she wanted to make a good impression and they were divided into three different categories; Functions, Mother, and Cocktail.

She was wearing something from the cocktail section. A red dress that fell just above her knees and hugged her body with ease. The high heels that alerted Hermione to her mother were the satin red ones she once wore to her Grandmother's birthday.

Her mother was beautiful, her light brown hair was always tidy and cut into a bob, her hazel eyes were always shining and her face always young.

In fact Hermione noticed her mother hadn't changed much since she was born.

But suddenly Hermione felt sick with dead shock when she saw a handsome man younger than her mother, only about 5 years older than herself!, walk up behind her. He had soft short wavy brown hair that was parted in an old fashion kind of way, he donned a suit of dark blue and a plain black tie. His eyes were indescribable, not from the colour but from the way they looked at her… with nothing. As if she wasn't even there. He saw her and he smiled, his lips curling up in a completely human and natural way but there was something completely unnatural way about it.

"Hermione you're home!" April gushed, "Is there something wrong with the front door?" Hermione kept her eyes on the stranger, the intruder behind her mother.

"No," she whispered, " I didn't want to disturb you." Hermione couldn't help but wonder if they noticed the slight bit of disgust in her voice. But by the way the new guy eyebrow twitched she figured he had.

"You shouldn't have sweetheart. I was waiting for you to get home, I wanted to introduce the two of you." April walked over and wrapped her arms around her only child, her warmth spread through Hermione with ease. When she let go April looked over at the new guy, "Tom this is my daughter, Hermione. Hermione this is Tom, Tom Riddle."