Disclaimer: Nothing by the plot is my own. The world and the lovely characters/things in it belong to JK Rowling and those affiliated.

Three

Tom Riddle wasn't used to being out of the loop.

He'd watched as his follower and the girl chatted for nearly an hour before feeling so left out that he excused himself. As it was hard to determine if Abraxas was just being polite, or if she was actually of some value, he couldn't take his suddenly free time as an opportunity to evaluate his stance on her. It was difficult enough having everyone in the school absolutely taken by the witch, and couldn't stand to imagine what it'd be like the morning after next, when term actually started. Surely, someone had to hate her as much as he did. The Head Girl seemed to be the only one who didn't care for her, and that helped him none, because he didn't consider McGonagall at all. Although, he supposed, if the girl managed to charm her way into the lives of his Knights, he'd require McGonagall more than he really cared to admit.

It was also exhausting to have Granger in his head. She wasn't a constant thought, but catching her perfume in the hallway or seeing her books lying around the commons caused her to plague his mind for much longer than he'd ever admit to. Sure, she was quite pretty, and he'd finally noticed her sexually (which only added to how exhausting it all was), but he did have more important things to worry about. Thankfully, he'd at least managed to slip out of the castle and meet with two people while Abraxas occupied her time.

Having read of artifacts each Founder had left behind, he'd taken to tracking them down, if only temporarily. Having finally gotten a last-known-location of Helga Hufflepuff's cup, he'd made is way to Borgin and Burkes to see about who'd gotten their hands on it. He'd convinced the owner to keep him informed on their process before journeying over to Nicholas Avery's house. While he didn't care much for the family, Avery was a faithful follower and showed a true talent in curse breaking. He'd decided to make it a point to encourage the fellow Slytherin to purse a career with Gringotts as a Curse Breaker after graduation. Of course, he seemed to take charge under his Lord's advisement.

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He woke up the day before term feeling confident and relaxed. After an early breakfast, he walked over to Gryffindor table to collect McGonagall. They'd decided to journey together to Kings Cross before embarking with the rest of the students –sans Granger- to Hogwarts. He was thankful they'd already discussed everything pressing before the start of term, giving them the freedom to only meet during their weekly assembly with the Prefects. Together, they'd decided that Minerva was far more equipped to be their face, though they would display a united front to the school, while he handled their paperwork. With this decided, he had to do little more than help greet the students as they boarded the train, giving him the opportunity to spend the daylong train ride back to Hogwarts catching up with his Knights.

Of course, she barely looked at him when she got up, school bag on her shoulder as she marched toward the exit, where they'd find the arranged port-key. He hadn't expected her to be friendly toward him, despite learning of their mutual dislike for Dumbledore's niece (although he suspected she didn't like the new girl because she posed a threat to the old wizards fondness of her), but her coldness was upsetting. Having females unimpressed by his looks and charms seemed to be a growing problem for him, and he hoped it wasn't a sign.

It wasn't as though he was weak and simpleminded, like many young men of his age, he simply enjoyed reveling in carnal pleasures. For the time being, partaking in such activities was incredibly satisfying. It'd be unfortunate if his charm were evaporating. He'd really have to work on that. Not that it would stop him from seeking fulfillment, if need be.

Upon reaching King Cross, they noted there was about an hour before students would be filling Platform 9 ¾, and went their separate ways to find a seat and pre-check carriages. Tom decided to collapse onto the well-cushioned seat in a way he rarely allowed himself to, pressing his back against the window and kicking his feet up. This particular location wouldn't fit his followers, but it would do for the time being. Rummaging through his day bag, he pulled out the book Granger had left in the commons the day before –he'd picked it up on his way out this morning, drawn in by the shimmering cover. Apparently, she's finished Magick Moste Evile, and had moved on to something she felt the need to keep from curious eyes.

Breaking the notice-me-not charm, which was more powerful than he'd expected it to be, magic hummed through his body, calling to him as he ran his hands over the cover of Secrets of the Darkest Art. Smiling to himself, he considered what the little witch would be doing with it. Would Dumbledore's goddaughter actually be considering creating a horcrux? She seemed curious enough to try, though he wasn't quite sure she could kill someone. However, she'd already proven she had more nerve than she'd let on.

Thoughts of her caused him to remember the girl and Abraxas at dinner the night before. They'd laughed together, speaking in rapid French, largely pissing him off. Had they really gotten so comfortable as to speak in other languages with each other? He scowled; his French was limited at best, it wouldn't do to have his friend and the girl having frequent discussions he couldn't understand. He'd teach himself French, and then every other language in Europe before tackling Africa and Asia. Such a weakness in himself wouldn't be tolerated.

However, their comfort with each other allowed Tom the opportunity to see how the rest of the house would react to her. Her charm was more powerful than his, and he had to force himself not to be so taken by the way she'd relaxed before the fire in their private sitting room during their group nightcap. In the haze of the room, as he and Abraxas had been smoking, she'd had that damned chain over the collar of her robes, her fingers fiddling with the emblem. He could think of other places for her hands to focus.

Presently, he found himself scowling at how quickly his thoughts had gotten away from him. Propping open the book, despite that he'd already read it a few times, he allowed himself to fall into the history. As the free hour drew near to end, he shoved the tome back into his bag and dropped his things off in a larger carriage at the back of the train before making his way toward the main entrance. McGonagall was already there, looking at him pointedly as though he were late. He gave her a handsome smirk as the doors opened, and helped her greet each student kindly as they boarded the train.

Abraxas bowed his head slightly as he boarded the train, earning a nod from Tom. He was the last person to board, and McGonagall greeted him more kindly than either boy expected. As she hurried away, they shared an amused look, and followed behind her to get to the last cart. His Knights, as well as a few boys who hoped to gain his favor, had congregated in the pre-selected area. They cleared space as the pair made their way to their seats. Tom noticed his follower looking around for Granger, and smirked before whispering, "She isn't here, Malfoy. You'll see her at the feast."

With that, they sat back and listened as the others carried on. Tom liked Abraxas because he was a man of few words, preferring to listen and observe, much like himself. He made for spectacular company; as did the cousins Orion and Cygnus Black. The latter was more similar to Abraxas in his behavior, though he was easily friendlier and easier going, while the former was colder and more ruthless. Tom enjoyed Orion for those reasons, often gravitating toward him when he did partake in unmentionable desires.

Tom took a few moments to openly study the witch sitting on his lap. He recognized her as a current Ravenclaw sixth year, from the Crouch family. She was one who was quite fond of Slytherin house, particularly the Blacks.

He tilted his head as he watched her giggle at something Orion whispered into her ear, her fingers ghosting over the chain around her neck. She wore her family emblem in white gold, and he found himself studying it in thought before resisting apparating to gates of Hogwarts and storming Miss Granger's room to get a better look at hers. He'd noticed that it wasn't a cross, and now believed she was at least half-blood, which had been his original thought. She had too much power to be a filthy Mudblood. It left him feeling better, and he sat in introspection for a while.

There wouldn't be an opportunity to speak with Abraxas until the next morning, which wasn't exactly a problem, but he'd hoped to know his position on the girl before the feast tonight. He would, no doubt, have her by his side again, as he'd meant it when he told her she'd join him for dinner from now on. Knowing she was at least half-blood made it easier for him to admit her beauty, and less worried about his followers no longer taking him seriously with a worthless witch beside him.

With his thoughts back on her, he decided he'd collect her upon arrival. Perhaps he could even convince her to wear her family emblem with pride. Having a snake falling between her breasts, pressed nicely against the green of their house would do quite nicely. The gold of the jewelry she'd like to wear always picked up the light prettily, the black of the diamonds holding it. If he was recalling correctly, even the M attached to the snake had a diamond in it. Yes, she's looked quite lovely beside him, indeed.

Satisfied that he'd been able to recall the emblem, he sat back and continued to listen to his followers. Idly, he decided it was quite odd to have a first initial on a family emblem, and found himself feeling as though ice water were just thrown on him. He knew from her door that her initials were a quartet of M's.

The remainder of his train ride was spent silently stewing, wishing she'd been forced to accompany them on the train. What he'd give to get his hands on her right now, particularly around her neck, where she'd been hiding another necklace. He wondered if it held more secrets to her identity. How had he missed it?

She was a little liar, after all.

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When the Hogwarts Express finally stopped, he was off of it in an instant. Apparating to the castle gates, he shocked Slughorn, who'd just been getting there to great returning students. "Where is Miss Granger?" He asked angrily. The professor had barely stuttered out that she was heading down to the dungeons before the Head Boy was storming away. He made it to the commons just as she was coming down their staircase, ignoring her surprised exclamation as he shoved her into the wall. She looked incredibly nervous, which allowed his anger to deflate a bit.

"So," he started casually, "Miss Granger, is it?"

She was so tense under him that he didn't notice when Hermione calmed slightly.

He no longer believed her to be a Granger. She supposed that was good, as it wasn't exactly a pureblood name. So, what was the deal? Thinking about it, she felt him use his wand to fish the long gold chain, out of her Slytherin robes, letting it slide down the tip until he got to the emblem. Oh. Oh.

Hermione froze instantly, her heart skipping a beat in her chest at the realization. How had she and Dumbledore missed this? She walked into her room multiple times a day! Eyes widening and hands gripping at her robes, she hoped the raw emotions were at least convincing. It wasn't the end of the world that he fond out. He would have eventually, though she'd hoped she'd have longer. Had Malfoy even gotten the opportunity to explain? It wasn't likely.

She would have cursed the castle for its intelligence if the quartet of M's were actually her name. Instead, it'd solidified her role, as though she were actually a Montague. Angrily, she realized this wasn't the time to think of such things. For all intents and purposes, she was a Montague under the guise of Granger, and she wouldn't feel guilty about anything except trying to protect herself. Forcing herself to accept this, finally, would do her some good.

"I believe we are both aware of my name, Monsieur Riddle."

"Yes. It's curious, really, that your name plate has no G on it."

"Would you believe me if I said the initials were that of my married name?" Hermione was purposely stalling, as though to seem like she was hiding something of greater value. She hoped and prayed to every god and deity that he'd believe this one thing. If anything, his disbelief in her so far could help her now. This 'mistake' could also help Malfoy, who'd no doubt tell Riddle by the end of the night, now. The only question now was whether she should spill the beans herself, and let Abraxas solidify her story, or if she should avoid answering in questions, allowing fear to cloud her eyes and shake her body, giving his follower the chance to gain more favor. The latter would be beneficial. He wasn't a fan of weakness, but she'd been so fearless since her arrival. Surely, someone somewhere was expecting a breakdown.

He tilted his head in observation. She really hadn't noticed the difference between the door and who she claimed to be. Perhaps she had too much on her mind? Still, everyone was fool to believe they could deceive the castle. Finally, as he noticed her trembling and avoiding his eyes, he spoke. "You don't wear a ring."

"He is dead."

"I keep things of sentimental value."

Hermione filed that away for further knowledge. She knew that he liked things of value, but keeping them went against anything she'd known about him. Where on earth would he have kept them? He didn't have his own residence in her proper time. Maybe in his Muggle father's house? Presently, she resisted laughing at the thought. No. He most definitely didn't do that. Had she…had she been the one to stop him from keeping sentimental objects? Oh god, she thought, her body shuttering. But no, he wasn't capable of holding value in anything other than himself. If he'd stopping keeping things, it wasn't something that anyone else had done. She hoped.

She looked away, figdeting. "I can not tell you, Monsieur Riddle. He will find me," her eyes widened with contagious fear, which pissed him off. Why should he be afraid of Grindelwald finding her? It'd be good for him to do away with the distraction.

He leaned closer, his breathing ghosting over her skin. "Your first mistake was leaving Beauxbatons. Things were going so well for you there, Miss Granger. And with your interests," he laughed bitterly as she frowned, "yes, I've seen your dark tomes. Heavy stuff, horcruxes." He reveled in her quick look at him, feeling as though he'd caught her red-handed.

"Durmstrang would have done you some good, much more than Hogwarts. Access to the Dark Arts should have interested you greatly. But, you're afraid of Grindelwald. Why, ma Cherie? Surely, you'll be liberated from whatever you're hiding from if you join him. He could teach you as well," Riddle pulled away, opting to stand close to her in the cool dungeons. He left one hand against the stone, keeping her in place. "If you're worried about what Uncle Albus will say, then you must not know he'd been a supporter of old Waldy at the very beginning. I doubt he'd hold your curiosity against you. What was that you said to me? Know thy enemy." His smirk was wicked.

"He killed my family. I won't join him."

At the venom in her whisper, he had to resist attempting to convince her to join him. He could turn her hate into passion, passion to power (combining what he could teach her with what he knew about her made her suddenly very attractive). Maybe later. Instead, he asked, "Who are you?"

Tears filled her eyes, and he scowled. What the hell had gotten into her? Where had her fight and bite gone? Was she really that afraid?

"I'm a Montague," she mumbled, rubbing fiercely at her checks. It wasn't a name he recognized, but her earlier confidence paired with the sudden fear of being discovered made it clear they were valuable. "The last Montague."

"Are you pure?"

She looked up at him, the fire in her eyes back. She was offended that he even had to ask. "You would do well to learn some history, Monsieur."

Gripping her arm, he pulled her up the stairs and toward her door. It was a rash decision, showing slight mercy. But he couldn't deny someone hell bent on self-preservation. It was something he understood. With a wave of his wand, he charmed the placard to say Mimi. Tugging her back down the hall, he charmed his door to say Tom without a second thought, and continued to pull her out if the commons and toward the staircase to the Great Hall. Just before they cleared the staircase, he turned and tucked the emblem back into her robes.

"Be good tonight, and perhaps you'll have nothing to fear."

Author's Note: A very big thank you to everyone who has reviewed. It means to much to read them and know you all are enjoying this! Also, thank you to everyone who has followed or favorited (as well as those simply reading along, I see you!). All of this really encourages me to update more often than I really ever planned to.

I have two specific replies this go round. To the Guest reviewer, you're right! There was a Montague as the chaser on the Slytherin team. Let's just ignore that for now ^-^

And to Atlantean Diva, I'm really happy you picked up on that! Buuut, I think it may just be Snape being a gentleman... ;D Also, neurotic Hermione sets me really on edge, so I'm hoping to keep her away from that. Thank you!