A/N: Hey guys, hope you missed me because I did miss all of you. So I am starting school on Monday and have been very busy, I will try to write next chapter during my spare time, you know, when I don't have much homework and stuff.
I really hope you enjoy!
Thanks to my lovely and super amazing beta Pooja (murtagh799) for editing this chapter and giving me suggestions and ideas. Visit her page and send her all my love. She is amazing!
And thanks so everyone who reviewed. You're awesome!
Disclaimer: I seriously don't own anything, all belongs to J.K Rowling except for the plot which is all mine!
Hermione woke up early the next day, having already forgotten about the diary incident and her meeting with Dumbledore. She felt like she had barely slept at all. She could see a few beams of light beginning to fill the sky with its luminosity, indicating it would soon be morning.
She tightened the grey blanket around her body, noticing the cold sweat covering her.
It was then when the 'Riddle Dream' —as she had taken to calling it —made itself known in her mind. His voice resounded painfully in her ears, sending shivers down her spine. Authority punctuated each of his words, though there also seemed to be an indescribable edge to his voice.
It didn't quite seem like just a dream to her, it felt more as if it was a memory. It held such a livid quality, something she couldn't describe… something that her mind could not have come up with on its own. Though such an assumption was probably pure foolishness. It couldn't be a memory, because she wasn't in it, and thank heavens she wasn't. There was no way she could have another person's memory inside her head.
She wondered if it could possibly mean something, although such an idea seemed insane. Hermione shook her head. Dreams and its interpretations were considered part of Divination, and she considered the subject to be completely inexact and a total waste of time.
She drew in a deep breath, looking around blankly. The silence was beginning to burden her. She clutched her knees against her chest and stared at the window hopelessly. She still felt the uneasiness stirring from within, though she still couldn't figure out why she felt that way.
It had been quite some time since she had been able to produce sufficient answers for the quandaries of her life. In the past, it had been as easy as going to the library and searching for solutions. But much time had passed since then, and now she knew books did not hold the answers for everything. Harry was a proof of that. He had been a bright wizard, loyal, brave; he possessed every quality worthy of a Gryffindor.
But where was her inner Gryffindor now? She was supposed to search for the light even in the darkest of times. So where was the light now? Where was the last beam of light that assured her even a small hint of hope, hope that she and Draco would succeed?
Hermione inhaled deeply, watching the sun make its trek across the sky. If she had waited so long hidden in the dark during this past year, then she could wait a little longer. It didn't matter how long it would take her, she wouldn't give up. She and Draco would succeed. If they couldn't change Tom Riddle for the good, then they would have to kill him.
Hermione swore to herself she would be brave, just like Harry had been along with all the innocent people that died in the war. She was clever and no matter how her heart twisted at seeing that monster before her, despite the fact that her need for revenge grew stronger each time, she would not allow herself to get carried away by her impulses. Hermione wouldn't crumble or give him the answers he needed. She and Draco would play his game and kill him when the opportunity arises.
But something deep down told her that killing the future Dark Lord wasn't going to be easy.
oOo
After breakfast they headed to London and the Leaky Cauldron.
Apparently Dumbledore had spoken to Mrs. Cole—When? Hermione didn't know— but the matron let them go accompanied by Tom to get their school supplies.
Both Hermione and Draco had gotten a letter with the Hogwarts' emblem.
Dear Ms. Austen and Mr. Laurent,
Professor Albus Dumbledore— professor of transfiguration—has informed me of your current situation. While we have never accepted foreign students to our school, viewing the increasingly difficult times of war, I am willing to offer you both a place in our castle. Professor Dumbledore has informed me of your parents' deaths and I give you my most sincere condolences.
I do hope, as a Headmaster, both of you find the castle to your liking and comfort. I request that you meet me in my office directly after the sorting feast after your arrival to Hogwarts so that we may attend to all necessary details.
Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts express will leave from King's Cross platform 9 ¾ at exactly eleven AM.
As I have been informed you do not possess any monetary funds of your own at the moment, we will supply a special fund for you to obtain all materials required for your stay at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
You will find a list of all necessary supplies and books enclosed, along with a note for the Goblins at Gringotts in order to obtain the gold needed.
Yours sincerely,
Armando Dippet
Headmaster of Hogwarts
When they finally reached the Leaky Cauldron, Riddle opened the door for them. Hermione scowled and walked in. She had forgotten how it looked like after all this time. The place was small and held an air of comfort. It was dimly lit and Hermione spotted some ogres sitting in an obscure corner. There were a group of witches sitting near them and quickly started murmuring as they walked past them.
Tom—the barman—was polishing a cup when he looked up and spotted them. Before he could offer anything they were startled by the sound of a very familiar voice.
"Tom?"
Tom smiled mechanically. He turned his head, closely followed by Hermione and Draco.
Both of them flinched slightly.
"Professor Slughorn."
Draco glanced over at Hermione uneasily as she stared at her old professor.
He was wearing an embroidered velvet coat with gold coloured fastenings. He wasn't as rotund as they remembered and he wasn't bald either. In fact they were quite disconcerted at seeing his thick and shiny straw-colored hair. His mustache was gingery-blond and it was less massive than it was back in their time.
"M'boy, what are you doing here?" asked Slughorn astounded. "You haven't been waiting until the last moment to buy your books, have you?"
Tom chuckled lightly. "Of course not, sir—why do that if I have enough spare time to do so?"
Slughorn chuckled.
"Very well, m'boy. It's good to see you, good to see you!" he said as he took a sip of his drink. He peered over Tom's shoulder and noted Hermione and Draco for the first time (whom had remained silent and immobile as they threw each other furtive glances). The professor studied them with curious eyes.
"And who might you be?"
Hermione smiled shyly. "I-I'm Hermione Austen…and this is Draco Laurent."
Slughorn's eyes widened "Laurent? Was your grandfather, by any chance, Callum Laurent?—from the International Confederation of Wizards?"
Draco seemed taken aback by his intense gaze.
"Er— no, I'm afraid not."
Slughorn almost seemed disappointed but covered it with a brief smile. "Oh, such a shame that is—outstanding wizard he was!"
Malfoy neither moved nor spoke. Hermione was shifting uncomfortably by his side though Slughorn didn't seem to notice as he turned to Tom instead.
"Anyhow, as you're here, I would be extremely delighted if you could join me for a drink."
"Oh professor, I am afraid we haven't got much time for…"
"Nonsense Tom, I shall not keep you too long," he said jovially. "What's a few drinks? It could also bring me time to get to know your friends better."
Friends.
Hermione and Draco grimaced imperceptibly whilst Tom managed to keep his handsome face blank, his lips twitching lightly into a smile.
"Very well, sir," he said flatteringly.
"Marvelous—Tom …?" said Slughorn, now referring to the landlord.
"Yes, professor?"
"Bring us a pot of tea, please."
"Right away, professor"
Slughorn turned back to them. "But sit down, sit down please!" he said, gesturing to chairs near them. Probably where he had been sitting before they had entered the pub. Hermione settled down, feeling something tickling her skin and her insides twirling, making her feel nauseous. Draco sat down gracefully, his jaw clenched.
"Now tell me, what brings you here if not to buy your school supplies?" asked Slughorn, focusing his attention on Tom once more. "I don't think I've seen your friends before…"
"Well, I think I might just start from where I should sir," Tom began to explain with certain wariness in his tone " Both Ms. Austen and Mr. Laurent appeared unconscious and injured four days ago near the orphanage and I brought them inside…"
"Merlin's beard! That's horrible," interrupted Slughorn, aghast. "What, with the war prevailing—I could only imagine what would have happened if Tom hadn't found you"
Tom smiled shyly "Surely someone else would have sir."
"Don't be so modest boy," Slughorn replied giving him a pat on the back. "In such hard times we are living, I would find it very unlikely someone would risk rescuing strangers from the street, Tom."
Riddle had an endearing shyness on his face as he composed a smile.
It was amazing how foolish Slughorn was, how they all were, believing Riddle's lies and acting so easily.
"As I was saying…somehow professor Dumbledore became aware of their magical abilities and had a talk with them yesterday. He offered them a stay at the castle, given the increment of the war," he said quietly, as if questioning himself why Dumbledore gave that sudden and odd offer to complete strangers. But then again, the old man had a sort of fascination in helping the needy.
"Ah," Slughorn said absently. "Good old Albus—it's like the years had passed in vain. I still recall our earliest years as colleagues. Good times, good times!— I think I'm becoming a bit sentimental, never mind me—Albus seems as if nothing can escape him, extraordinary man he is."
Hermione gave him a shy, brief smile, whilst Draco seemed to find himself in a very uncomfortable situation.
A flicker of annoyance passed over Tom's face, but he suppressed it masterfully before anyone could notice.
"Now I am guessing you are here to buy your books, am I right?" asked Slughorn, now turning his attention to Hermione and Draco.
"Er—yes."
"Fifth year," Draco hastened to say before Slughorn could ask anything more.
"Ah, looks like you will be coursing Tom's year, as well," he said happily. "Isn't that marvelous Tom?"
He turned to face Riddle, a smirk plastered on his face. Tom nodded slightly, glancing over to Draco and Hermione. "It is, sir." The girl flinched at his intense gaze, amusement clear in his dark features, as if enjoying a private joke. She looked away hastily, playing unconsciously with her fingers.
At that moment Tom the innkeeper appeared with a tray of tea. He placed the tray on the table, beamed, and then left.
Slughorn started pouring tea to his cup. "Tea anyone?" Hermione and Draco nodded cautiously as the professor started serving tea.
"Good gracious," he exclaimed, startling the two of them. "But where are my manners! I haven't introduced myself properly, have I? Do not think badly of me now, I don't know where my mind has been lately. I'm Horace Slughorn, current potions teacher at Hogwarts."
Hermione composed a smile. "It's a pleasure, sir." Draco nodded in agreement.
Slughorn smiled over the rim of his teacup. Neither knew what to say next.
"What is it that brings you to Leaky Cauldron, professor?" asked Tom after a short while, his expression shrewd. Slughorn turned to his student and stared at him, his large round eyes scrutinizing him intently.
"Oh, well I've just came from Diagon Alley, m'boy. The prices are sky-high for a few bottles of dragon blood and unicorn hair at the moment…couldn't let the opportunity go waste, could I?"
Tom smiled charmingly. "Of course not, sir, a good decision indeed. I am aware dragon blood is quite sought lately and given a fairly good price for those who posses them. I've also heard dragon liver and horn, especially the powdered horn of a, I believe it was called, a Romanian Longhorn is highly valuable these days."
Slughorn nodded proudly.
"Indeed, they are! You never fail to impress me boy with all your knowledge. But then again, you are more knowledgeable than half of the students, you are."
Tom merely smiled; an endearing dimple appeared on his cheek.
Hermione narrowed her eyes and exchanged looks with Draco.
Something on a table near them caught her eye. It wasn't the one eyed witch, neither was it the leprechaun sitting next to her, but what was resting in her hands. It was the Daily Prophet. Hermione squinted. Draco followed her gaze as he intended to read the headline as well.
August 27, 1942.
Albanian Ministry Succumbs to Grindelwald
Tom whom had been watching her throughout their time at the Leaky Cauldron, was now too staring at the newspaper.
"What's that all about?" Draco asked sharply. Slughorn, whom had been too occupied serving himself more tea, looked up, following the direction to their gaze.
Slughorn gulped as he stared at the burning village in the moving black and white photo below the headline.
"People are speculating, what with the Albanian Minister of Magic surrendering and all, it is said the ministry didn't want to make it public in the Daily Prophet to not scare people more than they already are…"
He said shakily.
"—It looks like Grindelwald's planning to invade Britain and soon, according to the minister. It was to be expected he would try something, likely after having almost all Europe under his regime. It is known he and his forces are attempting to have Holland under their control very soon…
"Of course, the Ministry was right of not letting too many things slip, since people are starting to panic, not only wizards but muggles too. You see, it is said the only thing keeping him from attacking is the only person Grindelwald has ever feared—"
Tom raised an eyebrow.
"You mean Professor Dumbledore?"
"Indeed, m'boy. I fear if he attempts to attack there will be no choice but an imminent duel between them—"
Something in Hermione's mind snapped. She remembered having read something about it. Dumbledore confronted Grindelwald in 1945 in a legendary duel and prevailed in the end. Afterwards Grindelwald was imprisoned in his own prison, Nurmengard. But they still were two years away from that occurrence, so there wasn't anything to worry about for now—why was the ministry fussing?
After saying goodbye to professor Slughorn, they went out into the backyard. Riddle took out his wand and tapped the third brick from the left above the trash bin. They stood back as the archway into Diagon Alley opened.
Surprisingly enough, Diagon Alley hadn't changed much, except for the vendors.
It was crowded with wizards and witches of all ages. Everyone was dressed in purple, green, and other exotic robes with crazy patterns. They were all—as Hermione assumed—doing their last minute shopping.
Hermione looked around, storing each aspect of Diagon Alley in her mind. She remembered when she had come here for the first time with her parents. She used to be so amazed, and now she could sort of relive the emotions she had felt back then. Her stomach gave a twist as she continued to walk with Draco, completely ignoring Tom.
For Draco, it had been quite the contrary. He had never enjoyed buying his Hogwarts supplies. The stores were all the same in the future, the same displays with just a few changes here and there. He would have preferred sending some House-Elves to buy what he needed. But as much as he hated spending his afternoons in Diagon Alley and was sure that there wasn't anything that would caught his attention, shopping with his parents at least meant a present for him.
Tom, on the other hand, didn't say a word as he was immersed in his thoughts. Was it possible that there was going to be a duel between Grindelwald and the old man? If there was, he hoped Grindelwald would prevail. He wouldn't mind seeing Dumbledore's charred, dead corpse on front page of the Daily Prophet, but then again, it would bring him greater satisfaction if he were the reason of his demise. Perhaps, if his plans resulted victoriously this year, the man would live no more. He smirked, satisfied with this thought.
They had to make their way through the crowd. At their right, there was a pet store; the owls were hooting excitedly, there were bats flapping their wings, cats purring, snakes hissing and a big group of people clamored for the store's entry smacking one another.
"—I can't believe I am finally getting my own owl—"
"—speak for yourself. I think I'm getting a cat—"
"—if you get an owl, you can write to me when we're away—"
"—you're right—"
Although, most of the buzz was coming from a store below, where a big group of teenagers were huddled around something Hermione couldn't see. She stretched her neck and was able to catch a glimpse to what appeared to be the source of their commotion. A broomstick. She never really understood the appeal of Quidditch and broomsticks, but apparently it meant a big deal to everyone. Even Draco had stopped and edged his way inside, accompanied by Hermione whom squeezed in among all the excited wizards and witches until she could see it better.
"—I heard it's the fastest broom ever made—"
"—I heard the Scottish international Quidditch team has ordered seven of these—"
"—they're favorites for the finals, aren't they?—"
"—with ones like these they will surely become champions this year—"
Draco frowned. "A shooter? The fastest broom? This is an antique."
"Shh," whispered Hermione as she looked around. Thankfully no one had heard them as they were still enthralled with the broomstick. "Well what did you expect? A firebolt?—it's obvious, a shooter is the newest broom in this time…"
"I didn't know you were the Quidditch type."
Hermione flushed "I—I'm not—I've only read about it."
Draco rolled his eyes "How very likely of you—still, you went to the games, didn't you?"
"Well y—yes…the fact I don't play it doesn't mean I don't enjoy watching it," she joked.
They made their way out of the small crowd and met Tom who had been watching them from afar. Hermione had the impression he hadn't had lost them out of sight for a moment.
The kept walking until they finally stopped in front of a big snowy-white building that rose well above the tiny stores. There were two goblins at the entrance, both clad in a crimson and gilded uniform.
Gringotts.
The three of them passed through a set of bronze doors and then through a set of silver ones before entering the lobby. They were greeted by hundred of goblins seated on high stools behind long counters, stretching along the length of the hall. Some of them were closely inspecting some odd stones, some transparent and others quite colorful, while others were scribbling down notes on a large parchment, or weighing coins on a big scale.
It was just as they remembered.
They stopped in front of a counter where a spectacled goblin was revising what appeared to be a long list of numerals in a big black-leathered book. His index finger was scanning the page while he read and then scrabbled down something quick on a piece of parchment beside him.
"Er—Good morning," Hermione said quietly intending to get the goblin's attention. "I—I need to enter a vault."
By the way she said, it sounded more like a question than an order.
The goblin seemed to not have heard them because he kept reading without noting their presence.
Draco appeared annoyed as he tapped his foot uneasily. Though it wasn't exactly the goblin's nescience what frustrated him most, but the odd sensation of the fifteen year old version of Voldemort, who's his gaze had been locked in his back since they entered the building.
"Do you have your key?" asked the goblin with a monotone voice, without looking up to see them.
"Er—well I have a letter from Professor Albus Dumbledore and Headmaster Armando Dippet," she said shyly.
The goblin raised his head and narrowed his eyes for a split moment, then extended one large hand. Hermione stuttered for a moment and then handed him the letter.
He read it cautiously.
"Everything seems to be in order," he said after a moment. "I will have someone accompany you. Aelfwine!"
Soon, another goblin appeared. It was smaller than the first goblin, but it had the same shrewd expression and long feet and hands.
Tom stared disdainfully at the creature as if it was something gross he'd found under his shoe.
Hermione heard the other goblin murmuring something unintelligible to Aelfwine.
"A letter…special fund for them…Dumbledore…Hogwarts special vault…"
Those were the only words she managed to hear before Aelfwine guided them to one of the doors. They left the big lobby and found themselves in a narrow stone passageway, dimly lit by torches. They hopped into a small cart, which immediately launched them into the dark tunnels.
Left. Right. Down. Right. Up. Left. She had a hard time keeping her eyes open. They were going so fast through what seemed like a maze that she could only see blurry images. Draco suddenly became nauseous and thanked heavens he had not eaten anything for breakfast.
Tom didn't seem to be affected by how fast they were going, however. His eyes didn't flicker by the gusts of wind unlike Hermione's. On the contrary, he kept them wide open, scrutinizing the darkness with apprehension.
He recalled his early years, when he was eleven and went to Diagon Alley for the first time—alone of course. He didn't need anyone to help him when he was perfectly capable in doing it on his own. He had seen Gringotts and instantly knew there were magnificent things hidden in the vaults within. Everyone who owned a key to a Gringotts' vault had gained his envy instantly. To him, it was a symbol of belonging to the Wizarding world, a distinctive trait of being a true wizard.
Hogwarts had a special vault with a small fund for him to attend school and to buy his supplies—Austen and Laurent were probably using money from the same vault. Was that what the letter was about? Was it similar to the one Dumbledore had given him when he had been eleven?
They had just gone through an underground lake and then took a swerve to the left.
Hermione wondered if Riddle had ever had a vault, but then she recalled Harry's words from a year and a half ago.
"He never had gold there when he was younger because nobody left him anything," said Harry. "He would have seen the bank from the outside, though, the first time he ever went to Diagon Alley."
Before she could ponder on the subject, the cart stopped abruptly.
She saw Draco getting out, his face sickly pale. He looked as if he was about to throw up. Hermione was next to get out. She had to hold onto Draco to stop the dizziness, her legs began trembling. Afterwards, Tom stepped out gracefully as he arched one perfect eyebrow. "Are you feeling well, Ms. Austen?"
She scowled and let go of Draco. "Yes," she replied curtly.
Aelfwine placed one finger on the door and the vault opened. The goblin stepped in and grabbed two medium sacks and handed them to Draco and Hermione. "This is all that will be needed according to Hogwarts."
They both took each sack without saying a word and went back into the cart. Hermione didn't hesitate this time as she closed her eyes to avoid the motion sickness.
After having adjusted their eyes to the sunlight, they walked down the Gringotts steps wondering where they would go first.
"I recommend you go buy your robes first," said Tom, pointing at a small store ahead. It was where Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions should've been, except now it was named 'Wynn's marvelous robes emporium'.
At the shop, they were attended by a tall, thin, and odd looking witch, who they thought might be Ms. Wynn herself. Hermione watched as a measuring tape flew around her body, taking measures at different angles.
Tom began pacing around the shop without taking his eyes from them.
Beside Hermione stood Draco on a stool, who was going through the same procedures.
There were suitable robes for them that just needed minor adjustments. Ms. Wynn started to set Hermione's robes right. When she was done with the hems, Hermione was discharged from the stool, leaving to attend to Draco.
"Just hold still, dear," the woman said as she started to put pins in his robe.
"Wait," snarled Draco after a while, making the witch flinch. "What are you doing?"
"Well, what does it look like boy? I am trying to fix it. Now lift up your sleeve…"
Hermione, who had been paying for her robes now stood next to Riddle as she frowned.
Draco looked uncomfortably at the witch—scared almost.
Then something stirred in Hermione's mind. Left arm…the Dark Mark. If he pulled up the sleeve, Riddle would see it.
"Is there something wrong with your arm Laurent?" asked Riddle suspiciously, looking baffled.
Hermione flinched, clenching her teeth. Draco refused to lift his sleeve and swallowed hard. He shook his head brusquely before getting off the stool ignoring Madame Malkin's scolding.
Hermione looked at him as he stormed out of sight, losing himself among all the witches and wizards who were at the shop. Two minutes later he came back carrying a small bag with his robes.
Once they were out of the shop they continued their way down. Riddle continued to stare at them intently, recalling Draco's horror when Ms. Wynn asked him to take up his sleeve.
Could he possibly be hiding something? He mused inwardly, was there something he didn't want anyone to see?
They went to the Apothecary and bought their potions ingredients. Afterwards they went to Flourish and Blotts for their books. They walked towards a bookstore employee and Hermione pulled out her books list. Tom, however, made his way to the back of the store. Draco narrowed his grey eyes, trying to see what sort of books were there.
"Anything else?" asked the employee after having stacked a pile of books on a table.
"Yes, we'll need the standard book of spells, grade five by Miranda Goshawk," Hermione said as she looked down at her book list. "Two copies please."
"Very well, if you'll follow me," said the employee as he led her into the opposite corner of the store. Draco walked behind her, peering over his shoulder, attempting to spot some sign of Riddle.
Her gaze stopped on a small table in one corner. It was stacked with Divination books of all sizes. Deciphering the Indecipherable, Delve into the Future: How to Look Through the Orb of your Life.
"Here you are," said the employee, who had to climb a moving staircase to get two copies of a big book. "Two copies…is there anything else you need?"
"That'll be it," Draco said curtly, following the employee to the counter. Hermione whom hadn't been listening continued to stare at the books. Her gaze lingered on—what ought to be—the biggest of them all. Dream Interpretation: How to Decipher the Movements of the Inner Eye.
She held it in her quivering hands and opened it, careful not to damage it.
Introduction: What are dreams?
Dreams are one of life most fascinating and intriguing mysteries. Humanity has had a love affair with attempting to understand the meaning of dreams since the dawn of man.
Throughout history, many wizards and witches sought meaning in dreams or divination through dreams.
Many wizards have, indeed, become obsessed with the possible significance of their dreams. Such is the case of Charles Dewhurst, a wizard of middle age, who used to dream daily of a veela and a goat and by not knowing what it could possibly mean, killed himself in the early 20's.
With Dream Interpretation: How to Decipher the Movements of the Inner Eye, we will help the wizard or witch decipher the origin of their subconscious images…
Well, this is extremely dumb, Hermione thought frustrated, closing the book harshly. What was I thinking reading this utter garbage?
"Looking for something in particular?" said a silky voice behind her; she could feel his breath tickling her ear, surprisingly warm against her skin as it sent some sort of electric current through her body.
She turned around and panicked inwardly as she found Riddle closer than what she would have preferred.
Calm down!
She shook her head nonchalantly mimicking his disinterest. "No, just looking," she said. Tom's gaze clashed against hers as she leveraged to put the book back in its place without him noticing.
His lips twirled upwards as he broke eye contact with her, glancing over to the book she had just placed back. "I don't think we will be having Divination this year."
She stood there attempting to mask her nervousness with the only innocent façade she could muster.
"Dream interpretation, I see?" Riddle raised an eyebrow as he examined the book closer "Such an imprecise subject if you ask me, never could imagine a witch like you would find this useful."
"I don't," she spat harshly. A witch like her! her mind screamed outraged,is he really trying to flatter her or insult her? "And I certainly don't know what you mean with 'a witch like me','" she said rapidly, crossing her arms against her chest to show her discomfort. "You clearly don't know me."
After furrowing his brow Tom replied silkily. "I-I'm sorry, It wasn't my intention to offend you…"
Lies. Every melodious word slipping through his lips was a lie.
"It's just there are so many fascinating books… I find it very unlikely a witch with common sense would be looking at this particular subject."
"I was just looking," she said innocently, trying to ignore the frantic pounding of her heart.
He didn't reply. His gaze lingered on her face for a moment. There was something in his grey orbs, eagerness perhaps? No, that wasn't it. He looked at her with such intensity, as if he could see directly through her soul.
"How about you?" she snapped as she saw him flinch lightly. Hermione couldn't help but see the bewilderment in his eyes, although it was probably one of his million masks.
"Pardon me?"
"Were you looking for something in particular? I couldn't help but notice you disappeared through the book shelves." He smirked, though there was no doubt it bothered him that someone had questioned his affairs.
"Not really," he replied simply, leaning against one shelf and scrutinizing each book intently. "I have some sort of fascination to the written word, but can you possibly blame me?" Again there was a mocking edge in his tone that simply unnerved her.
Before Hermione could retort, Draco made their way towards them, eying Riddle suspiciously as he handed Hermione her pile of books.
"Is everything alright?" he asked briskly.
"Why wouldn't it be?" Tom queried softly, his countenance filled of contrariety.
A half hour later, the sky had already begun to darken as they arrived at the orphanage. Judging by the lack of sound, something told Hermione the children had already had their dinner. Mrs. Cole appeared to be in her office and didn't seem to notice their presence as they saw her start to drink from a large bottle of what appeared to be whiskey.
They climbed the staircase in silence and Hermione saw Draco stop at his room. He hesitated as he stared at Tom uneasily, but Hermione gave him a significant glance. After a moment of silence, he bid her goodbye and entered the room, carrying all of his supplies along with his new trunk.
Both Tom and Hermione continued to walk silently through the dark corridor until she finally stopped in front of her door. She extended one of her free arms to open the door, but Riddle put a hand on the handle, blocking her entry.
Hermione slowly turned to face him. She had almost drawn her wand out on instinct. She would have to hex him if he dared touch her.
His gaze flickered towards her hand and she swallowed thickly, cautiously withdrawing her fingers from the vine wood.
Just relax! she told herself. He doesn't know anything, so don't give him an excuse to suspect any more than he already does.
Their eyes met once again and she was surprised to see that they seemed darker. She couldn't help that her heart began to race in trepidation at his proximity. Hermione instantly recalled the moments where she had stared into the very same haunting eyes. Although back then, they had been a shade of crimson—shimmering with malice and blood without any drop of humanity left in them. Now they were so different. Though, instead of reflecting the soul of a fifteen year old, it seemed to portray someone much older.
"Is there anything you need?" she asked impatiently. Act normal.
"Yes, you see…I couldn't help but noticing Laurent was behaving quite strangely at Ms. Wynn's today."
She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise, but she tried her best not to give away anything. "How so?"
He stared at her suspiciously, as if it had been the most obvious thing in the world. "He would not lift his sleeve," he replied. "Quite adamant, in fact. Ms. Wynn was not able to alter it."
"So?" her throat tightened.
"I am merely wondering if there is possibly something he doesn't want anyone else to see."
"Are you suggesting he is hiding something?" she inquired, as if it were such a ridiculous notion that shouldn't even be discussed. She did not trust what was probably going through his mind right now. "With all due respect, I do not think that is something you should be worrying about. It isn't important at all."
Riddle smiled smugly "One does not react as he did if something wasn't primordial, much less if one wasn't hiding anything. All I wonder is if he is completely trust worthy?"
Something burned within her. How dare he question someone else's trust when he was a complete murderer? If anyone's trust was to be questioned, it was most definitely his.
But he doesn't know you don't trust him. Act normal, act innocent.
"He is," she said quietly. "I—I trust him."
But did she really trust him? During her years at Hogwarts the only thing he had proven himself trustworthy of was humiliating them. He had discriminated her for being a muggleborn and preached she was not worthy of studying magic. He had called her a mudblood. He had Insulted Ron's family countless times and labeled him a blood traitor, although Harry had probably been the one he had hated the most. His father was a Death Eater and had attacked them during their fifth year in the Department of Mysteries. So was he really trust worthy? After all he was still a Slytherin and had traits that even Voldemort himself had almost considered valuable.
She almost bit her lip at the thought. Of course he was trustworthy, why else would he have saved you? He could have just as easily handed you over to the Dark Lord and claimed the honor of having captured the last member of the Order alive, a reproachful voice said in her head. She felt bad even thinking about it.
Her hesitancy did not go unnoticed by Riddle of course, who had been attentive to any gestures that might denounce her lie. She tried to avoid his eyes at all costs, intending to block her mind from something that could betray her in case he decided to intrude her mind with Legilimency.
"For someone you seem to know since childhood, he seems to have something he isn't ready to be completely truthful about."
Says the king of honesty, she thought mockingly.
"I believe whatever he keeps to himself does not concern you or I," she responded with more confidence than she actually felt. She snatched his arm from hers and stared at him defiantly. "And I don't understand why I have to tell you everything. Certainly I don't have to." His remarkably grey eyes darkened dangerously and she felt afraid once more.
"Are you possibly suggesting he keeps secrets, Hermione?" She hated the way he said her name with a certain mock marring his tone.
"Everyone keeps secrets Riddle, it's part of human nature. I am sure you do as well," she blurted out before she could possibly stop herself. Real smart of you Hermione.
She knew she had hit a nerve. She could see the annoyance flicker in his eyes, almost imperceptible. His gaze lingered on her face for a while, analyzing her. His tall and slim figure was towering above hers, intimidating her as a predator would do to its prey. After a few minutes of deadly silence she could see him moving closer to her with excruciating slowness. She closed her eyes, terrified, and shrank back against the door.
Hermione could feel as if an electric shock had been sent through her body. She was aware of each of his movements, and suddenly she felt her knees very weak as his scent began to overwhelm her. She dropped her new trunk along with her supplies, both hitting the floor with a sharp noise.
Riddle leaned closer and whispered slowly in her ear. "One might assume it is proper for one to respect another's privacy. I'd suggest you follow that principle closely." His breath burned against her skin making her feel extremely dizzy. Her skin crawled at his contact. She was trapped between his left arm and his head.
Oh dear god.
Her heart began to beat erratically. Her eyes fluttered open and could see his ivory skin so close to her, his cheek barely brushing against hers. Hermione couldn't help but notice his silky and smooth hair, his perfect cheekbones, and as her eyes traveled along his neck, her gaze was enraptured with the sight of his chest.
She couldn't have believed it possible to feel so many things at once. Utter revulsion, undeniable fear, and inadmissible desire.
"Is that clear?"
She swallowed as she felt his arm brushing against hers. Stop it, please stop it.
Her wish suddenly came true as Riddle suddenly pulled away from her. Darkness abruptly shone on his face in a way that seemed dangerous and terrifying.
Hermione didn't respond. Her mind was still reeling. She caught his smirk and all of a sudden she hit ground again, coming back to reality. That bastard, thinking he is so attractive…
"If you don't mind, I think I shall go to bed. Goodnight, Riddle," she retorted coldly, gathering her stuff that had fallen in the floor. Before he could say anything further, she turned the handle and entered her room, closing the door behind her.
Hermione wrapped the grey blankets close to her body, somehow in an attempt to bring her protection. She stared at the ceiling, absorbed in her thoughts.
Stupid Riddle. Thinking she would be too dazed with his charms to notice it was a threat he whispered so softly in her ear.
She couldn't help but be angry at herself for being at the edge of falling for it. For his entire act.
Oh how she wished Harry was here to hug here and comfort her. Or even Ron, whom would simultaneously make her laugh and irritate her.
But that was not something she should focus on. She would be attending Hogwarts soon, she and Draco, along with that bastard. She didn't quite know how she felt about it. She knew life would get harder now. They weren't in their time now, they didn't have their friends, their family—no one. Not even Hogwarts would bring her the warmth it used to give her.
She had to be strong and brave. For the first time in a long time, she felt a dull shadow of her inner Gryffindor made its way to the surface.
Slowly she felt her eyes began to close until finally, she was shrouded in obscurity.
So they're going to Hogwarts now huh? So excited to write Hogwarts. As you can see in this chapter nothing big happens, but I thought, and my beta does too, that this was nice filler. I don't want to rush things and I really wanted to try Diagon Alley.
I have written like two thousand words of next chapter so far I hope I can finish soon, and have in mind that I also have to send it to my beta so it may take long for me and her.
But you know I am having quite a tough time and I would really love it if you told me what you think of this story so far, even if it is only a 'nice chapter' or 'good' it makes my heart jump in excitement.
So you're good persons right? You want my heart to jump in excitement, don't you? So leave reviews. Thanks for everyone who has reviewed so far. I got 52 reviews, I know it's not much for other authors but it is for me, so thanks. Can we at least get to 70? ;) love you guys!
Until next time.