First I want to thank to Lity, guest, angel897, JuliSt and The Butterfly Dreamer for their thoughts on the story. And second this chapter is for Bre-Ann Ford, without her this chapter would not have been posted for another 2 weeks, 'cause I am very busy. I hope you like it.

Thoughts of the past, hopes for the future

Hermione was sleeping peacefully on the sofa in the library.

He hoped he hadn't hurt her when he abducted her from The King Cross Station, just before she passed trough the barrier to muggle London. He had brought her in this particular room of the house he prepared because he believed that she would be more at ease if she woke up being near books, after all weren't they her specialty?

But she was much more than just a bookworm as Draco has described her, he knew that since her first year at Hogwarts. At that time he was hidden behind Quirrell's turban and she didn't know he was there, but he had watched. From the beginning he had watched her, intrigued how could a muggleborn be the smartest witch of her year? She had known spells no first year should and she used them successfully, something that in 200 years nobody, but him and Dumbledore had done.

At first he didn't believe she belonged to Gryffindor, well he didn't believe she belonged at Hogwarts at all, he thought, but she proved herself be more than worthy of being there. He stopped questioning her sorting when she had set Severus on fire at the first quidditch match of that year. She had to have some nerve to do that to the notorious potion master.

And this year at the ministry she was so brave… He hoped that his death eaters had not hurt her, but that was a futile wish from his part, he knew that, 'cause the scar he had had a glimpse, when he had carried her into the house and put her on the sofa, on her left arm couldn't have been done by anything but a dark curse. She was so brave and loyal, he didn't even deserve to be in the same room as her, to have touched her pale skin and to have traced his hands over her face…But he did and it only left him wanting more.

And another reason for bringing her in the library, which library he had set especially for her was because he didn't want her to wake up in an unknown bedroom with him, of all the people. He didn't want her to get the wrong idea, although he did want her that way, but not without her will; he will never force her, he couldn't, he wouldn't.

Now that the potion kept the monster within locked, deeply inside him, only Tom remained, no dark lord, just Tom the boy that had always been the odd one out at the orphanage so many years before, the boy who had dreams and ideals, who wanted to be understood by the other kids, the boy he was before his heart turned cold, demanding revenge on his colleagues, the boy who whished his mother or father would come back to take him, not the boy that Dumbledore had met , that boy hated his parents with passion and enjoyed tormenting the other kids; when he had changed so much?

If he looked back he couldn't really tell. Was it at his fifth Christmas when Dory Marson had laughed at him for writing a letter to Santa Claus and tore it apart, after telling him that Santa doesn't come to whiny little kids? Or when his only toy was broken by Dory's brother Alexton? Or when the same Alexton has convinced a couple not to adopt him, telling them he was a problematic kid, and Alexton being "an eminent student" everybody agreed with him while Mrs. Cole had done nothing to convince them otherwise, and thanks to the shock of once again being denied a family he had his first magical outburst consisting in destroying Alexton's toys? He didn't know when he had become who he was now. He had called himself Voldemort long before he had split his soul, but was he really the heartless dark lord since then?

He didn't really believe that. Perhaps it was the potion fault that he had started to think this way, but it was true; before he was six his favorite word was hope. Even at eleven he still "liked it". Now he felt again as back then,a boy in love, not one who wanted power, fame. He had wanted to be a teacher, to guide the next generations in the art of magic, to help out the students that were considering it their home as he did. When that had changed in training them in the dark arts ?

Another question he didn't know the answer. But for a thing was certain, had Dumbledore allowed him to teach, he would have risen earlier, making his students death eaters, raising his army…

But now it was useless to ponder the past, he had to focus on the future; a future with her at his side; if she accepted him.

The potion requested that for him to make her happy, to be with her… no to keep her under key. If she hadn't warmed up to him in two months he would send her back to her family, he would not keep her locked in the house against her will. It only would make her miserable; he couldn't be more selfish than he already was kidnapping her in the first place. Even if it hurt him do so. For the first time he was going to put someone else's well being before his; he just wished he didn't do it thanks to potion, but his free will.

He will go with her, plead with her and her friends, beg them to let him stay, before he disposed of all his horcruxes. Dumbledore knew about the potion he surely would understand, he had to. He would dispose of all the death eaters, he would give each one of them to the aurors, if that was what they wanted, he would tell them how to destroy him, if they wanted to do so themselves; only for him to be allowed to stay near his beautiful before the potion killed him. He was certain that it was never going to wore of, after all if that was to happen what was the point of giving him in the first place, why not just kill him ?

Although how could he hope for understanding from the people whose lives he had destroyed in his quest for power?

How could he hope for her to love him? Him? Who could ever love a monster like him? Even his mother, had she been alive, probably would have forsaken him.

He didn't deserved to, but he desperately whished that she would see Tom, the real one, the one he had killed permanently when he had created the diary years ago. Now he saw things more clearly than he ever had when he was not controlled by a potion.

His old professor was right after all, love was the most powerful magic in the world; it wasn't the base of the potion that controlled him now?

He looked at her with loving eyes. Loving! Hff! Only days ago he would have killed whoever would have been foolish enough to even suggest the idea and now…. He was praying she would not runaway screaming when she saw him. "She is a Gryffindor, she is brave, unlike you", a tiny voice said in his head.

She was so beautiful and he was so ugly. He was old and she was young, a mere child in comparison to him, he could have been very well her grandfather, had he not believe muggles were dirt under his feet at that time; perhaps he would have been her grandfather, if he would have been more in muggle London he would have met her grandmother at the clinic visa-avis from King Cross, where he recently found it was their private cabinet since 1890,he was sick once and he had dragged himself to Diagon Ally to buy a potion, looking with distaste inside where were muggles crowded in the waiting room ;he was sure he would have liked her and if he would have behaved back then as he did now, she would have liked him too, after all both her mother and grandmother had a heart as big as his angel's and they were equally beautiful and intelligent.

His heart, now his unfrozen one, skipped a beat when he noticed that she began to stir. She was waking up.

Quickly, he hided behind a shelf of books not wanted to scare her from the start. He wanted her to realize where she was before she saw with just who she was in the room.

Tom felt his heart would break out of his chest when her lovely brown eyes fluttered open.

Well, that's it. Hope you kike it. I wanted to Hermione as well here, but I felt like that I have to show some background of Tom and it wouldn't feet in. I always wandered why he was so evil, but the next chapter would be from Hermione's part, if the muse does not dictate otherwise. Sorry for any mistakes I am too tired to double check.