A/N: I am so sorry for the delay with this chapter. I will try to get the next one out very soon! Thank you to all of my wonderful readers, especially those who reviewed, keep 'em coming ;)
xXx
Chapter Four
These days, Riddle was still a mystery to himself. He had his theories, his reasons how he had come into being, once again. All of the dark magic he had endured throughout his lifetime was admittedly confusing and somewhat muddled. But, oh Merlin, it was all worth it.
His memory remains befuddled, with clouds swirling within the pits he so desperately craves to reach. He knows was supposedly happened to him, he knows how his life had played out, and he knows that he's back. Yes, he is back for good.
He does not sleep anymore. The light and the voices within his room do not bother him, and he has no need for comfort nor a need for sleep. Never is he tired nor drowsy, but he loves seeing Nott's eyes falter during every shift of his. Nott is obviously physically and mentally weak, a perfect subordinate and victim. His father had been a loyal slave, perhaps this one… No, no, he was sided with Granger, thus, Nott would have to be disposed of.
Yet, he no longer recalls the glorious feeling that soars through his veins when a light leaves a person's eyes. He knows who he has killed, and he knows that he had enjoyed it, that he lived and thrived upon the taste and the screams his victims would shriek, and how they would beg, plead for their pathetic lives. But he cannot remember it. Not fully. Not the way he wanted. Not the feelings. He supposed though, that once one has a shattered soul, that feeling that he desires may never be quenched. And since he has been reborn, he has not felt it once, because of that bloody witch and the fucking useless Minister.
It was all her fault in the first place, and she then dared lock him up! In a place that could truly test his sanity, so now she knew, that he had none left. But he didn't care what she thought, no, he had plans. She was only a pawn lying within his game of chess.
Unfortunately, he needed the damn witch. If he had the choice, he would have chosen anyone else, someone without her threshold for intelligence and spite. Preferably a pureblood. Hell, he'd even take a slimy Malfoy. He knew he could break her though, erase her independence and make her his, but he hated being dependent upon her existence. It sickened him how refreshing it was when she was in the room with him, how alive he feels. He would have even taken over that Weasley girl again. She had been very useful those many years ago. Of course, she had been young and susceptible, without a clue. Now she had fucking Potter protecting her.
Though, it would be nothing answering the mudblood's questions. It no longer mattered what he revealed about himself to her, not even he knew how to destroy him this time. Horcruxes, how beautiful they were. No, her questions meant nothing, but his questions meant everything. He needed to grasp her and her consciousness. The more she revealed, the more he could break her into millions of shiny, sharp pieces.
Riddle could leave the damn Department of Mysteries whenever he'd like. He just wouldn't. Not yet. Granger had to fear him. She has to be able to shiver whenever his name is uttered, whenever the thought of him crosses her mind. She isn't allowed to be numb. No.
And he needed to know more about her, just like she needed to know more about him, how he came back. Perhaps, she would give him insight into his sheer madness. She'd kill herself though if she knew, and he can't have that.
Yet, the way he had come back into being, he had not even known it had been possible, and cannot fully grasp this concept or what it exactly was, how it was done. He simply knows the gist and theories. His theories though were normally correct. When Potter had flung his own curse back towards him, his old body, Riddle no longer had hope, and hope was once a thing he had used to wish to crush within his pointed fingertips. But then, it was gone, and he had been floating away from Hogwarts with screams in his blood red eyes, until he could see his body lying upon the cold ground of Hogwarts, the only thing he could ever say, or will ever say, he loved.
And his soul, though small, fragile, screaming into the deep darkness that was the end of the world, was sewn together in ways he never imagined, and ways he wished to comprehend. There was now only a portion of his original infant self left. Though, he wished he could live without a soul binding him to this ground, forcing him to wander among other humans. Definitely, he would make a deal with Satan, but how can he? When he is already the devil himself.
xXx
What does one ask the devil? Hermione wondered to herself. Kingsley, at least when it came to other people's personal issues and personalities, was useless. Yes, he was a genius when it came to politics and managing the Wizarding world, but, Hermione felt no guilt in saying his drawn-up questions for Riddle were utter shit. It was as though he printed out the guidelines for an interview for a position for a Muggle job.
Riddle was bound to yell, snarl, and he was prone to violence. He hasn't raised a hand to her, not yet. But if he was in possession of his wand, everyone would surely all die. Though because of the other night, Hermione was disappointed in herself. She was the one who had lost control. Not Riddle this time. She regretted it. Now she thought that there was no way Riddle could take her seriously anymore. Thankfully, Nott and Kingsley had shifts that day and the day previous. Hermione did not have to worry about seeing Riddle until the morning.
Yet, he still remained keen on her asking him questions while he asked her questions in return. It was interesting and peculiar of him. Psychologists would have had a field day. His behavior was not how she would have predicted it to be. At times, he was calm and suave, other times; he was an angst-ridden, bigot. She knew that he carried all of his memories, but it was as though he had never matured sometimes.
Hermione's hands ran up to her hair and pulled it back in a ponytail, a few strands gracing against the side of her face. Her face scrunched up as she scratched another question onto her parchment.
A whoosh then sounded from her fireplace within her living room, but she did not lift her head. It was only Ron. It was always Ron. His feet thudded throughout her flat, but she did not make a squeak, he would find her quickly. The door to her bedroom clicked open, and Ron peaked in.
"You ready?" Ron asked.
"Hmm," Hermione muttered, her eyes scanning over her parchment, hoping that Ron would give up and leave her alone. After this, she had wanted to relax, sink into the comfort of her bed, for she had an early shift in the morning. Ron groaned, and without looking up she felt him sit upon her mattress.
"Mum invited us for dinner tonight. Remember?" he reminded, annoyance dripping into his words.
"Aw crap!" Hermione exclaimed, pressing her hand against her forehead. "I forgot."
"What does Quentin Bulstrode have you working on now that takes you away from me?" Ron asked sadly.
"Actually, it's an assignment from Kingsley," Hermione let slip. "It's brutal."
"But that's great, good opportunity for you I guess," Ron said. "I'm just, I guess, annoyed with Kingsley for doing this shit to you. You're always so tired and you can never do anything anymore. And Mum wanted to talk about the wedding, and Harry and Ginny were gonna come over to the Burrow too."
Hermione moaned to herself, her lips shaping into a frown. "I-I'll come."
"Really? Because you don't have to," Ron added, his ears perking up like a dog's, and if he were a dog, he would no doubt be furiously wagging his tail. For, he always craved his mother's home cooking, take-out food and easy prepared dinners were simply not enough for his bottomless stomach.
"Yeah, just give me a few minutes," she requested as she started filing her questions away. She supposed that they'll have to do for now, they were not going to get any better, and Riddle probably would not allow her to ask all of them quite yet.
So soon, she and Ron flooed to his parent's home whilst Hermione was anxious, thinking about the parchment she had left behind, thinking about Riddle. How he was just sitting there, in his damned steel chair, smirking and never sleeping.
Mr and Mrs Weasley greeted her warmly when she and Ron entered the Burrow, but they had unfortunately arrived before both Harry and Ginny. Mrs Weasley squealed with delight and instantly drowned Hermione within her litany of thoughts about her and Ron's wedding ceremony. Hermione found herself faltering in and out of space. Ron should have let her sleep if she were to listen to this nonsense. She loved Mrs Weasley with all of her heart, but her overbearingness was annoying, especially with trivial matters such as this.
Thankfully, Harry and Ginny soon swooped in, and Mrs Weasley moved onto her own blood-related daughter, talking endlessly over Ginny's pregnancy after she congratulated Harry. Ron was busy talking with his father, and that left her and Harry alone. Every moment she spoke with Harry, she was filled with a saturnine guilt. He deserved to know everything, but Kingsley always refused.
"Hermione!" he greeted, and enveloped her within a hug.
"Forgot to give my congratulations to you, but I'm so excited for you guys," Hermione told him. "It's riveting!"
"I'm still in shock myself," Harry replied, mindlessly adjusting his askew glasses.
"Any name options?" Hermione teased.
"Yes, actually," Harry informed, his voice taking on a serious tone. "Tom Marvolo."
"What?" Hermione blanked, suddenly feeling light.
Harry's mouth formed a grin, "Just kidding, but, uh, I suppose you'll know when the baby's born. Ginny thinks that if we tell our prospective names, that you all will look at it with disgust, so when the baby is born, no one can complain about its name."
Hermione felt the blood rush back to her face, and she smiled. "Oh yeah, my mum was the same. Though she claims when she saw me, she just knew I was Hermione Jean."
Harry grinned, but before he could speak, Mrs Weasley ushered them all to the dinner table, and Hermione found herself thrown into yet another conversation about weddings and babies. As the conversation went along, she found herself simply nodding and agreeing to whatever Mrs Weasley said. It was not like she was getting married anytime soon. There was no need to begin planning, especially because of work and Riddle, there was simply no time to spare for it.
Finally, she and Ron were able to leave at ten, and he gave her a kiss goodbye before he parted for his own flat. No matter how much she loved spending time with these people, she did not have time, she had her responsibilities and Riddle to fret about.
But she knew one thing for sure, from the happy look upon Harry's face, and the gleaming in his green eyes, and the child growing within Ginny.
The Aurors ought to know, and they ought to know soon.
xXx
Hermione was back, staring at him. He had not moved nor had he even flinched or blinked his black, crazed eyes. Riddle was waiting for her to speak, to utter a single word. But she was not ready, and yet she had to be.
"Good morning, Tom," she said, her mouth a flat line.
"Good morning, Granger," Riddle reciprocated, his head tilting to the side as he studied her.
"You're not bothered by the name your mother gave you?" Hermione pondered, leaning closer to him.
"Is that a question?"
"Well, that wasn't an answer," she snapped.
"It means nothing coming from your slippery lips, you use it to get a rise out of me, and I shall not let you. You can play your insipid games with someone else," Riddle answered.
"I see, you wanted your questions, didn't you?" Hermione reminded.
"My turn."
"But I-."
"My turn," he ground out, and his eyes glinted red before he relaxed back into his seat. "I've been thinking this over, and I wish for you to tell me, how did it feel to get your Hogwarts letter as an eleven year old girl?"
Hermione swallowed her breath that she did not even realize she took. What game was he playing. "I-it felt satisfying, as though, I finally knew I belonged somewhere, that my parents would see me as someone special instead of a-," and she paused.
"Go on," he pestered, his sadistic grin returning.
"A monster," she finished, pressing her lips together, sensing his eyes looking at them. He opened his mouth to speak, but she won. "My turn."
Riddle nodded, "Very well, go on, little monster."
Hermione glared at him as she pulled out her parchment, and she felt his insane, boggling eyes wander to it. "Why did you settle for horcruxes, while you could have found other options?"
He clicked his tongue. "The simplicity of the process. I assume you understand that murder is nothing to me, taking away a life is pleasurable even. And making the horcruxes would ensure that I would return if and when harm came to me, and here I am, returned for a second time as though the world craves for me to survive endlessly and youthfully."
"Nothing! It doesn't mean shit to you that you took someone's life with a wave of your wand?"
"Oh," he teased. "My dear, I could take yours just as easily."
"You're sick," she sneered.
"You say that like you're healthy," he mentioned, his tongue sliding over his top lip. "My turn, dear. Why did your parents think you a monster?"
"Before," she began, but paused, inhaling the swirling air and the giggling voices around her, "Before I knew magic was real, that I wasn't making it up, I caused bad things. I was bullied in primary school. It was all minor, until one time when I was seven, this girl was picking on me, like she always did, except this time, I had had enough of her crap. I wanted her gone."
Hermione's voice cracked as the memory came rushing back, she could not breathe, and her throat swelled, and she knew that this was pleasurable to Riddle.
"Do go on, I'm enthralled," he encouraged.
"Her face had suddenly sunk into itself, into despair and pain. She twitched from the inside out, the pain was controlling her, and I couldn't stop it. It was me, but all I could do was scream. I didn't mean for it, but it lasted forever until teachers came running and my other classmates surrounded the two of us. The pain subsided when one teacher quieted me," Hermione elaborated, and the tears strolled down her cheeks, and so she began to wipe them away.
"Please, I beg of you more," Riddle persisted, and Hermione sighed, looking away from his imperturbable gaze.
"The girl became insane, never returning to a normal school. Throughout the years I have checked in on her, and nothing has changed for her since that day. When I had told me parents the story when I returned home that day, they were afraid of me. Before that, I had shown my capabilities with the silliest things. The teachers at my school became afraid too, but they couldn't prove what I had done, and they had pathetically been my only friends. Soon, my family and I moved, but it wasn't the same. I became cautious from then on, kept to myself and my books, until the letter came, and I knew I could finally learn to control myself," Hermione finished and bit her lip, staring at her twitching feet.
Riddle had watched in sick yearning as Hermione finished her story and the tears continued to fall down her cheeks, down down down. He wanted to taste her salty tears. Oh, he had been wrong about Miss Hermione Granger. So wrong indeed.
Hermione began to compose herself, and she started her next question without looking towards him. "Did you consider other precautions for immortality?"
Riddle took a moment before replying, "I'm sure you know of my quest for the Elixir of Life during your first year of Hogwarts, which Flamel had destroyed after your precious Potter fought myself and that worm, Quirrell. But besides for that and Unicorn blood to restore myself during that time, no. It was horcruxes only. Unfortunately, I had not been able to form seven, and seven being the most magical number…" he began.
"You never knew did you?" Hermione questioned, wiping the remaining tears away as a victorious smile took over.
"What are you talking about, girl?" he snapped, sitting ever the more straighter in his steal chair.
"You had seven horcruxes, but you were so broken and in disrepair that you never realized!" Hermione exclaimed, her tired, saddened eyes widening in realization.
"You lie, there were only six, and you and your filthy friends and Dumbledore destroyed them," he responded with a hiss.
"No, you see, Harry was a horcrux, that's how he survived in the forest, you killed the piece of yourself within him! It's perfect, isn't it?" Hermione mocked. "And you never knew."
Riddle did not utter another word, but his eyes glared daggers towards Hermione, and his lips twitched. He was burning inside, and he was shaking. He studied his flinching hands in front of them, how they craved to wrap around her throat, for he had never felt such an urge to murder her, and just when he was beginning to appreciate her meager existence, she had to tell him, she just had to. She was more like him than she believed, for she tasted the sadistic pleasure out of this, and thus, she could be potentially dangerous. He would have fun, but in all due time.
Finally, he opened his mouth. "I have enough of these questions for today. Pester me another time."
And Hermione knew she won as Riddle thought of his life to come.
xXx
A/N: Thank you all for reading the chapter! I hope that you all liked, I personally think it came out well, especially as I kept changing around what I wanted to happen here!
Please leave a review :) !
Love you all!