Chapter 4
Hermione peered at her ugly, swollen lip in the mirror of her room. The smug bastard had bitten her. What was worrying her was that she didn't know why but she knew it would have been for a purpose- everything he did had a purpose.
She couldn't believe she had kissed him back, however briefly, but she had been taken unawares. She felt a little bit guilty but knew there would be no way she would ever mention it to Ron. Knowing her luck, Ron would probably do something stupid like come down to have a 'chat' with Tom- which would end up in Ron being murdered or maybe just tortured. Hermione rolled her eyes. Men could be so stupid when it came to being macho.
She pulled off her shirt and turned towards the bed. As her hand reached under the pillow to pull out her night t-shirt, something moved in the corner of her eye. She screamed and whirled around. Tom Riddle stood in the corner of her room with an eyebrow raised and a satisfied smirk on his lips. Throwing her arms across her naked chest she backed away from him.
"Don't worry, Granger, I'm not checking you out." Tom said, making an exaggerated show of turning his back so she could pull on her t-shirt.
"How are you here?" Hermione licked her lower lip nervously and then winced as it stung. Tom, turning round, saw the wince and stared at her lip in fascination.
"One little drop," he said, almost in awe. "That was all it took- one little drop of your blood. I didn't know if it would work but the Old Fools magic is fading. Now that I can leave the chamber I can grow stronger."
Blood magic, she should've guessed. Though it seemed that Tom Riddle liked to underestimate her, he didn't seem to realise that she knew a little about blood magic.
"Until you're corporeal, you can only go where I go." She reminded him, a smug smile settling on her own face. His face twitched in annoyance.
"So if I was to move into the chamber, you would've tied yourself to me for nothing." She taunted him.
He growled in frustration. "You can't stand it down there."
Hermione watched as he paced the room in agitation, but didn't answer him. She was exhausted but she couldn't climb into bed with him there- and she was still wearing jeans. She picked up her pyjama shorts and fidgeted nervously. Tom didn't notice. She cleared her throat.
"What?" He demanded, turning on her angrily.
"I want to change." She gestured to her pants in her hand.
"Go on then." His eyebrow raised as it so often did, challenging her.
She would have met his challenge but she couldn't for the life of her remember what underwear she was wearing. You know doing something like this would upset Ron, her subconscious reminded her. But Ron didn't know how challenging dealing with Tom was, she reasoned, how much he infuriated her. She had to show Tom that she wasn't scared of him, that she wouldn't let him walk all over her.
Deciding to meet his challenge, she swallowed and ignored her pounding heartbeat. Her hands inched down to her button and popped it free. She had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen like saucers. Growing bolder, she pulled down her zipper. Okay, her underwear was green, she was just glad it wasn't black and lacy.
She couldn't meet his gaze then as she quickly dragged her jeans down her legs and fumbled with the pyjama bottoms. Finally decent, she dragged her eyes up to meet his. His eyes were bright and she knew it was with anger for daring to challenge him. His eyes were always angry and she wondered if he knew any other emotions.
She tried to feign nonchalance as she headed for her bed. "If you feel the need to spend the night, please do so on the floor. I'd offer you a blanket but it would be of no use to you."
He gave a dark chuckle at her words. "So the little kitten thinks she has claws, does she? I'll rip them from you soon enough."
He flexed his hand as if he was choking her but made no movement from the corner. She dimmed the lights but the blue of his eyes flashed brighter than ever. She tucked herself under the quilt but she couldn't sleep with him in the room, no matter how tired she was.
"Do you even need to sleep, Tom?" Hermione asked curiously.
He sighed loudly. "Of sorts, not that it is any concern of yours."
She was astounded that he had answered truthfully. He often answered her with riddles or questions though she doubted that he outright lied to her- that was not his style. He liked to convolute the truth, yes, but she had noticed he rarely lied.
Silence fell over the room and Hermione had just started to drift off when Tom's voice jolted her back to awareness.
"Granger, tell me how Voldemort died." His voice was silky as it was whenever he asked her for what he considered important information. She considered what to tell him.
"He made too many horcruxes and we destroyed them all. Not even the most powerful wand could save him then." Hermione spoke softly. She knew that he had always feared death, a left over phobia from the death of his mother. She understood it- but that did not mean that she understood his actions towards immortality. She could never understand someone who sought to preserve life by killing.
He didn't answer her. In fact, Hermione couldn't even see the flash of his eyes anymore. But she knew he was still there, she could sense his presence. She almost thought she could sense his anger, but she must be imagining that- they hadn't shared enough blood for a bond that deep. She hoped.
