The third time he met her was the night of his seventeenth birthday where she had, yet again, taken something from him.
This time it was one of his few sanctuaries from the rest of the student body.
He had headed to the Astronomy Tower, as he has always done on the night of his birthday every year since his first year, and found her lying underneath the open sky. Her honey locks were splayed around her like a chaotic halo. The full moon had bathed her in its white light and she seemed almost ethereal – a fallen star among the world of mere mortals.
If it weren't for the steady rise and fall of her chest, she could have passed for dead with how still she laid. As he watched her, he wondered how easy it would be to push her off the tower. It would be a simple shove, really, and she was so small that he was certain it would be like pushing open a heavy door. She could be his first Horcrux and with what Professor Slughorn had told him the other night, the first of many. She was a mysterious anomaly in his equation, and therefore, should be eliminated. After the Masquerade Ball, Tom came to the logical conclusion that she must have been the source of that powerful magical energy.
Before he could decide on whether or not he should push her, Hermione sat up and stretched, distracting him from his musings.
"Didn't your mother teach you to not stare at a lady? It's rude."
Without missing a beat, Tom responded, "she died before she could teach me anything. And I'm certain you're not a lady."
Hermione hummed, nonchalantly. She didn't offer her condolences but said instead, "I may not be a lady, but it's rude to stare, nonetheless, Mister Riddle."
She looked over her shoulder at him for the first time that night and gestured at the empty space beside her. Tom scowled at her for the action, as if he needed an invitation to sit somewhere that was already his.
He took a seat anyway.
A rather comfortable silence fell between the two of them as Hermione laid back down and stared at the night sky. Hours seemed to pass as the two of them stared into the universe.
Tom broke the silence first.
"You can call me Tom," he offered cordially.
She turned her head to look at him, and her gaze seemed to pierce through him before she responded.
"Hermione." A small smile flitted briefly across her face.
"Hermione." Tom tested the name on his tongue and marveled at how wonderful it felt. "As in Hermione, the daughter of Menelaus and Helen?"
"Gods, no. That Hermione was something akin to a mess, don't you think? No, my mother was a Shakespeare fanatic and named me after the Queen of Sicily in The Winter's Tale."
"Doesn't the queen have a rather tragic story?" Tom asked curiously. "Her husband nearly destroys their family with his jealousy."
"You know Shakespeare? Most wizards know almost nothing about the population that shares this space with them," she commented in mild annoyance with a delicate sniff. "But yes, her story is tragic; however, she survives in the end, and that's what my mother wanted for me if nothing else, for me to survive a cruel world."
Silence befell them again as a more solemn mood followed her statement.
"What brings you here on this fine night?" She asked him after a while.
"Tradition."
"Really? In anticipation of the New Year?"
He decided to be poetic because it had been a good day for him, and seventeen years ago, the world was blessed with his presence.
"No, the universe shifted seventeen years ago to accommodate a strong and powerful presence."
Hermione looked at him oddly before she took on an incredulous expression. "Merlin, Tom, are you talking about yourself? Wait," she paused briefly as she furrowed her brow in mild confusion. "You're only seventeen? You're practically a child!"
Her response wasn't quite what he wanted, and he glared at her as she laughed heartily, her frame shaking with mirth. It could have been endearing if she weren't laughing at him. As she began to calm down, she gave him a warm and kind smile that had him wondering what type of witch he was dealing with.
"I'm sorry about that, you just seem much older, and it took me by surprise that you are only seventeen. Gods, you're young." Hermione quirked her lips at him. "The world shifted, indeed. Happiest of birthdays, Tom," she said before staring back at the skies.
His nose flared but he thanked her politely.
"How have you taken to Hogwarts?"
She sighed as she contemplated her answer.
"I can't complain about much. It's very beautiful, but it makes me nostalgic. It somehow reminds me of home. It does get rather lonely. I've only just arrived, but I'll be leaving soon, and everyone else already has their own friends. I miss mine."
"Where are yours?"
She glanced at him, and she seemed smaller than usual as she thought of how to answer him.
"They're someplace where they are resting easy and their lives are uncomplicated and happy. Or, I hope they are."
Somewhere, they heard fireworks go off with her statement, and he looked at her again. There was something radiant about her, and she was witty and intelligent and for a second, he wanted to chase away whatever sadness was dampening her shine and to know what it would be like to receive her affections before those thoughts disappeared.
"Hermione," Tom began. She hummed in response with her eyes closed. "It might be best if you no longer frequent the hallways alone at night."
"And why is that?"
"There may be creatures that you are unaware of roaming the school that could harm you."
"I can handle myself very well, Tom, but thank you for your concern," she retorted.
He warned her. If she wouldn't listen, then that would be her own fault.
They stared at the stars all night until the sun rose, and the brilliant orange of a new day engulfed her. She seemed to glow like a burning ember, and if he got too close, he'd burn. As she got up, she stretched as if she was a kitten. She smiled softly at him.
"Happy New Year, Tom."
"Happy New Year, Hermione."
And again he was struck with the pesky thought of what it would be like to have her affections as his, to make her happy. He crushed it vehemently before it could be anything more than a mere thought.
He attributed it to the fact that it was his birthday and he always felt dizzy, and therefore illogical, with power with each year he grew older.
Author's Note: Something that I wanted to point out about my characterization of Tom is that I try to still make him out to be a young, adolescent boy in some modem. It irks me when people write about 16/17-year-old who is so incredibly clever, suave, and evil. I completely understand where they're coming from because I was mature as 16/17-year-old and that characterization is accurate but I had my moments of just being an adolescent as well as my maturity, you know? Tom is clever and mature but he's still a boy. So Tom has his moments. He doesn't know the world as well as he thinks he does, yet, and he'll be awkward and just a kid.
Much thanks to my beta devdevlin for catching my grammatical mistakes and pointing out holes in the chapter. Find her on Tumblr at devdevlin and on FanFiction at Devlin085!
FUN FACT: title of this story is from the song auntie's lock/infinitum x flying lotus ft. laura darlington. The song makes no sense but it gave me goosebumps the first time I heard it in lecture?
As always, thank you for reading and find me on Tumblr at quitethesardonic.
Revised April 16, 2019.