Hermione stared blankly at the paper. Her kittenish familiar was rhythmically digging into her thighs with his little needle sharp claws. The pain kept her grounded.

She wasn't dreaming.

She wasn't insane.

There was no mistake.

This wasn't a nightmare.

She glanced over at her captor. Was captor the right word? He hadn't meant to drag her back through time. He'd wanted to meet her. It had been simple in his mind. He wanted, and, so it should be.

Three days ago, she awakened on the floor with kitteny Crookshanks on one side of her and a future dark lord on the other. Tom Riddle had introduced himself with a quick smile. He'd been charming, but not apologetic. He gave no thought to the life from which he'd pulled her. It had been an empty, hopeless husk of a life, but he had no way of knowing that.

She'd studied his spell and the book he'd used to engineer the magic. It was quite a feat. She was impressed by the intuitive leaps he'd made in designing the spell. She'd felt guilty for admiring him. She'd felt horrible about it, but he was brilliant.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek and considered him. He wasn't the young man embarking on his quest for world domination. He was a man. His dark hair was trimmed and neat. He was clean shaven. He looked urbane, and though his clothes were dated by her standards, in the wizarding world, he was actually very stylish. He smiled easily and with his eyes. He wasn't some innocent on the cusp of a bad mistake. She knew that. The man was already a murderer. He'd actually killed multiple times at this point in his life. Knowing all of that didn't change the facts though. He was very much a human at this point. He liked his tea over sweet and his biscuits on the plain side. He was damnably intelligent and incapable of reigning in his impulses. His mind was facile and fascinating, but it didn't change things. He was on his way to becoming a monster.

She'd seen pictures of the boy and faced down the thing into which he evolved, but here was the man in his prime. Overly gifted, completely self assured, and he was beautiful as well. So beautiful.

She bit her lower lip and glanced at him through the thick fringe of her lashes. He wasn't watching her. He was reading a section of the paper. It was all very domestic. She looked down at the table where her plate still sat adorned with crumbs. He'd bought pastries for her. She'd mentioned liking She was fairly certain he hadn't made them, and there wasn't an elf anywhere nearby.

She glanced back at him. He'd made two maybe three horcruxes at this point. She'd assumed that would show, that the evil would be easy to see, but it wasn't. He seemed more self indulgent than evil. There was no sign of the insanity that defined his actions later in life.

He was brilliant and so beautiful.

She was trapped in the past with a man that was no longer Tom Riddle but had yet to become Lord Voldemort. She had never considered how he had changed. She saw his lips curve a second before his eyes met hers. This man was Lord Riddle.

"We are going on an outing. I've acquired some appropriate attire for you." He smiled as she blushed. "Not that your dungarees aren't perfectly charming."

"Where are we going?" Hermione stroked Crooks tiny body for comfort.

"I thought you might enjoy seeing some sights." He stood and stepped next to her. She bent her neck back to stare up at him. "Ginger Snap will be fine for a few hours. He seems to be quite the competent fellow."

"Crookshanks is still a kitten." She glanced down at the kitten and rubbed under his chin with her finger.

"He will be fine. I've charmed his bowls to stay full and the litter box is self cleaning." Tom curled a finger under her chin and tilted her eyes back to his. "I know you have things to tell me. I don't want to force them from you. You will come to me soon enough."

She swallowed down the myriad of vile things she wanted to say. This man was not what she expected, but she didn't need to push her luck. She looked at his knowing grin and took a deep breath. This man was not a dark lord.

"You should prepare for the day." He smiled at her again. "I think you will enjoy it."

He left her there at the table. She plucked Crooks up from her lap and headed to her room. She needed time to think.

Lord Riddle was not what she had been led to believe. She bit her lower lip and pulled it over her bottom teeth. This man was patient and relaxed. There was a great deal of power in him, but he didn't use it needlessly.

He wasn't pragmatic. The cabin was richly appointed and filled with odd treasures. He wasn't driven. He preferred to live on his own terms. He liked the finer things and wasn't the kind to wait for something.

He was not the man that rose to power and ripped her world apart. He was powerful enough, but something was missing. He wasn't Voldemort.

Crooks settled on her pillows and pulled her focus down to the clothing.

She tucked herself into the floral dress. It had no give and she had to make a few minor adjustments to the garment. Her modern undergarments didn't create the appropriate silhouette. She glanced at the mirror. It wasn't a huge thing, but she could make out enough. She looked almost like her grandmother had as a young woman. Her hair didn't fit. It was too wild for the time. She yanked it back into a simple bun and frowned. She still looked to be playing dress up. There was no help for it. She glanced at her scars and yanked a white sweater from her purse. It was simple enough to blend in and hid the worst of it. She cast a few spells to make the heeled sandals he'd provided comfortable and stalked from the room.


Tom didn't like the sweater. He wanted to show her off as much as he wanted to show off for her, but forcing her to leave it behind would not be worth the battle. She was a fierce little thing.

In the few days she'd been his guest, he'd watched her rage and fight against the reality of her new world. It had been disturbing. Doubt had creeped in for the first time in many years. He'd spent the second night listening to her tears through the door he'd learned to hate. Her wards were perfect and complicated. He could have forced them down, but she'd have known.

She'd have known, and he wasn't sure of his welcome.

It was unusual. He'd never cared for the attentions of any witch. They served a purpose. He never imagined finding one that could fire his passions and ensnare his mind, and he never respected another's skill with a spell like he respected hers.

He had expected a quick encounter, but she wasn't a witch he could easily discard. He'd pulled her back from a future he was fairly certain did not match his plans. Her knowledge could help him. There was time to indulge himself.

He held out his arm and smiled when she slid her delicate hand into the crook. She didn't tremble or try to close the light distance between them. Her sense of decorum wouldn't allow her to be so vulgar. He covered her hand with his and apparated them to one of his favorite places.

Magical Rome was spread about the city in little pockets. Stores and restaurants were scattered amongst them, but the Praetorium Cultus had none. Active temples that had existed since well before Christ shared the space. Gods and goddesses abandoned by muggles were honored here. It was a place of power.

He heard her draw in a deep breath. This was not a place for tourists, and she knew it. He felt her fingers tighten against his arm. He glanced at her and saw the flush of it in her cheeks. She was glorious as she experienced the call.

"I have nothing to give them." She bit into her lower lip.

"Only a few require more than a simple gift." He let her hand slip from his grasp. "A tear, a hair, a simple prayer is usually all you need."

Hermione moved with grace down the wide corridor. Her eyes traced over each doorway. He could see her curiosity. She paused by the arch that led into Vesta's temple for a moment before moving forward once more.

She stopped and looked back at him before slipping into Minerva's temple. He watched from the main chamber as she knelt and before the statue of goddess. Vesta and Minerva, hearth and wisdom. He nodded.

Women valued a steady home, but this witch held knowledge in greater esteem. Bringing her here had given him the insight he'd sought. He waited patiently as she completed her prayers.

Hermione emerged from the temple with a frown. He held out his arm, but she held up her hand and turned. He saw her eyes lock on the temple of Mithras.

"Only warriors are permitted within." He moved to stand beside her. "There are wards that keep all others out."

"You can't get in there can you?" She smirked.

"The only acceptable offering in that temple is blood."

Hermione shrugged and strode in. The wards shimmered with a flash of gold as she passed through them. He saw her approach the altar, saw her kneel, and saw her cut into her hand with a flick of her wand.

She pressed her bleeding hand to the altar and bowed her head in silence. The torches burned brighter within the temple. He could see swirls of golden light dance about her.

The world shifted around him as he watched her. This was no bit of fluff to enjoy and dismiss. He took a deep breath. Getting what he needed from her was going to be much harder than he had originally imagined.

When she emerged, he could see the golden wash of her power. Mithras had honored her with a blessing, but she wasn't smiling. He wanted to quiz her, to dissect her experience.

"You were blessed." He smiled at her hoping to open a dialogue.

"I can only hope that my prayers were worthy." Hermione shrugged. "You've brought me to Rome. You must have a few more stops on your list."

He held out his arm again and she slid into place next to him. He took a moment to gather the necessary focus and whisked them off to a small café. Perhaps food would loosen her tongue.


Hermione hid her grin by sipping at her espresso. Tom's obvious frustration was wonderfully amusing. His gorgeous smile wasn't flashing her way so easily now. His eyes narrowed whenever she bothered to speak.

"This is a lovely place." Hermione lowered her demitasse cup to its saucer.

"It's acceptable." He shrugged and looked out over the crowd. "Rome is fairly safe. Grindelwald's thugs don't like to venture into the muggle crowds, and the limited public apparition points make things difficult."

"Is that why you keep scanning the crowd?" She frowned and set her free hand on her wand.

"They've been trying to force me to a meeting with their lord for months." He rolled his eyes. "He seems to think I should bend a knee."

"He's a fool." Hermione shook her head. "His ideals are ridiculous."

"Blood purity?" Tom quirked a brow. "It seems to be his driving mania."

"It isn't yours?" Hermione sat back and tilted her head.

"I worked for a blood bigot. As a half blood, he felt justified in humiliating me at every turn." Tom's lips twisted with obvious distaste. "My bloodlines are good enough to befriend, my power strong enough to seduce, but my mom muggle contamination made me unpalatable to my girlfriend and her family. Cassiopeia I,ABlack would rather stay alone than risk breeding anything less than pure."

"They take that family motto seriously." Hermione sighed.

"Yes, they do." He scanned the crowd again. His agitation seemed to grow with each passing moment. "I worked hard to emulate in school. Made a few mistakes. It took watching her stand aside as her father cruciated me to break me of it."

Hermione examined her plate. She couldn't figure out how this man had become the monster of her youth. The pieces of his puzzle didn't fit into the picture Dumbledore had painted. Not that she put much store in Dumbledore's opinions. He thought that children were tools and everyone was expendable in his mad quest to fix the world.

She glanced to the side and saw a thin man scratch his arm.

It was an arm decorated with the mark of the Hollows. She remembered Victor's reaction to the mark, remembered that Grindelwald had used it as his mark. Goddess above, they needed to get moving.

"Put some money down on the table and let's head out to look at the fountain." She glanced toward the structure. "May I have a couple of knuts to throw in it?"

Tom handed her the coins as they left. She slid them in between the muggles and kept her eyes locked on the fountain. It wasn't the Trevi, so it didn't draw huge crowds. It would serve her well enough. She charged the coins with small explosive curses that would cause a distraction and allow them to escape.

"When I say, you have to apparate us away from here." She squeezed his arm. "I know we can't get out of the city from here, but they may have hit us with a tracking spell. I don't have time to check here. Take us to another touristy sight. The more muggles the better. I spent the better part of my childhood concealing myself and slipping out of traps, so don't argue."

Tom looked down at her with narrowed eyes before he nodded. It was good that he could be so reasonable. She took a deep breath and tossed the coins. She watched as they seemed to fly through the air in slow motion, glinting as the sun danced on their edges.

Three.

Two.

One.

"Now." She squeezed Tom's arm and readied her wand. The sudden pull of their trip was welcome. She blinked up at the Coliseum for a moment before she started scanning her companion for tracking spells. It was easier to think of him like that because running with Voldemort instead of from him was too bizarre to contemplate.

She grimaced when she found three tracking spells. They were complex and difficult to break. She needed time. She needed a safe place to unravel those bloody spells.


Tom forced his mind to focus. He followed her through the former arena. She was counting the seconds out loud as they ran. He frowned and trotted along beside her. She laced their fingers together.

The sudden pop of their pursuers arrival ended her countdown. She looked at him and smiled.

"Now." He centered himself and dragged them through space and time to Castel San Angelo. It wasn't as filled with people, but it provided cover for her to work.

"Count." She ordered as she went to work on the tracker. "I need to know how long we have."

He took up the count in the tenth second to be sure they were safe. Her magic brushed against him and caused a comfortable but note worthy tingle in his skin.

When she flicked her wand, he felt his own magic rise to greet hers. He blinked and lost count. His magic wasn't protecting him.

He felt a pulse of fear as she grinned up at him.

"One down." She smacked his arm lightly. "You have to pay attention to the counting. Let's go. The next one won't take this long."

He swallowed and turned his mind to the Trevi fountain. It was a crowded place even in war time. Perhaps because of the muggle war. Wishes. He glanced down at the witch and pulled them away.

He started counting as they landed. She grinned and nodded at him with approval. Her eyes darted around, assuring herself that they were protected from prying eyes.

She dropped to her knees.

It took a concerted effort to count as he felt her fingers unbuckle his belt.

"I hope this wasn't a real favorite." She grinned at him and transformed the belt into a snitch. "It won't last long, an hour at best, but it should get some distance and draw off some of our pursuers."

He watched the toy disappear down the street with a metallic flash and smiled. Gods, she was clever.

He grabbed her hand and smiled at her before winging them away to Hadrian's Villa. It was a bit off the beaten path, but it gave her the needed time to divest him of the last tracking spell.

"Take us to one more mostly muggle place. If they don't show up, we can head home." She flicked her wand at their clothes and improved their appearance. "People don't run around looking rumpled and dirty."

He patted her hand and took her to the Spanish Steps. They walked up the steps and enjoyed a moment of relief when their pursuers did not appear.

He covered her hand with his own as they strolled. Her skin was warm under his. He watched her as she studied their surroundings avidly. The witch's mind never stopped. It was wonderful to find another with a questing mind.

"We should go." She squeezed his arm. "They might happen upon us."

"There is no accounting for luck." He nodded and pulled them into a darkened doorway, tossed up a mild notice me not, and apparated them to the closest site with an open apparition point.

"The Pantheon?" Hermione glanced at the large structure with wide eyes. "They hid the approved exit point here?"

"You can exit from the Praetorium Cultus as well, but they might have traced us back. I thought this would be the better choice." He smiled down at her, enjoying her appreciation of the grandeur of their surroundings. It would be amusing to see the world through her eyes.

They stepped into the building and felt the wards snap down behind them. His choice had led them straight into a trap. He could pull the wards down, but it would take too much time. Eight wizards approached them.

"Grindelwald liked traps and less intelligent minions. He didn't want to catch us with the trackers. They were his back up. They were supposed to drive us here." Hermione nodded. "They won't expect much from me. I'm just a poor little witch caught up in their plans for you. We can do this."

There was no doubt his companion was a Gryffindor. She was all fire and courage. He pushed her behind him more for show than protection.

He would have gone with them if he'd been alone, but he'd seen the scar on her arm when he'd brought her to this time. She'd never survive what they would do to her. She was hiding it under sweaters and long sleeves, but those weren't enough protection.

"You're going to fight?" The obvious leader frowned. "We would have let the bit of muslin go."

"Bit of muslin?" Her outrage was a palpable thing. "What century did they drag you out of?"

He felt her magic swirling and seeming to expand. She held it all in. Most didn't bother. Most didn't have the kind of power she did. He let his own slip free.

"Wait for it." She whispered despite the muffliato she'd cast. "The first two to hex are their decoys. The third bloke will be the best fighter. Take him down hard. No mercy, but don't kill him unless it's your only option. A wound might make his companions take care of him."

"How can you be so sure?" Tom watched the group as they fanned out.

"It's logical. It's also what they teach in battle strategy at Durmstrang." She shrugged.

The first curse was a weak thing, more flash than power. He let her deflect the second one, and watched the men arrayed around them. The third hex hit his shield with shattering power.

Hermione moved from behind him. He fought the urge to protect her. She had been blessed by the deity of warriors. Her hexes flew faster than his. Accuracy and a certain gleeful spite defined her. He'd thought she was quietly pretty, but she was beautiful in the quick flash of hex fire. She cast a shield of bluebell flames around them and pressed her back to his.

He could feel each panting breath she took. She vanished the sweater and transformed her dress and his clothing into some form of leather armor. Her magic wrapped around him and held him to her.

"They're damn good." She didn't seem scared. "He makes sure his soldiers are well trained, but they aren't thinkers. They didn't assign someone to revive the fallen. I hope they tried when I set this up."

"Why?" He didn't like not knowing the answer.

"I layered those hexes with a rebound curse. If they try to revive the ones I took down, there won't be many left." She chortled. "I want you to call Crookshanks by name from now on."

He blinked at her sudden change of topic.

"I call the feline by his name." Tom took a deep breath and smelled her, exotic spices mixed with the floral smelling bath products he'd aquired. "Ginger Snap seems fitting."

"The flames will die in three, two, one." She was firing curses before the fire was completely gone. He felt her magic, the lightness of it the fire of it. His own melded with it, and their spells flew faster and stronger the battle was over in seconds. Eight bodies lay sprawled around them.

"Grindelwald will kill them, so leave them be." She grabbed his arm. "We're leaving."

"The apparation point is over there." He gestured with his wand.

"Yeah, we're not going through there. There are ways to trace the destination from official sites." Hermione shook her head. "The wards are weak here. I'll force us through them."

He felt her power yank him away, twisting them through a tighter swirl of nothingness and dropping them into a woodsy place. Before he could catch his breath she jerked them into the back row of a theatre. They were off again and again until he couldn't imagine where they would be next. He was fairly certain they'd been on the Tower of London with the damn birds. She squeezed his hand and he felt the tug take them again.

Hermione wobbled as he spun and took in the welcome sight of his cottage. Nausea was his closest companion. He considered kissing the earth and swearing off all forms of magical travel. He turned in time to see her collapse and heard the hiss of her familiar as it bounded toward them.

"Fine. Let's take a nap in the front garden." He knelt beside her and checked her over for injuries but found none. She was just exhausted.

Her kitten crawled up onto her chest and stared balefully at him. The familiar would have to learn to share. He was going to keep them both even if it meant making some ridiculous concessions.

"Crookshanks."


Author's Note - It's Tomione Day.

This was supposed to be finished here. It's a fair place to end the story. Hermione even won the battle. She isn't aware of that and Tom isn't likely to admit it any time soon. The problem is that this story grew legs and started running. There is more to it. I've even got notes for future chapters.

So, I'm leaving it up to my readers. If you liked it and want some more, let me know in the review. I'll decide based on your response.

Thanks for taking the time to read my story.