He felt it when the other boy entered the common room below. That tingle... the strange little feeling in his mind. He compared it to the feeling of Dumbledore's legilimency but it was very different.
It was peculiar that he could feel anything at all at the distance 'harry' would have to be at to be at the door of the common room. Nevertheless...
Perhaps it was some kind of binding spell? Something that connected that boy and the dark dour professor Snape to him for security?
Something that reported on his actions?
That would be possible he realised. He had after all been probing concentratedly at the binding necklace for the last hour and a half. If there were some way of registering his thoughts or movements or the use of magic, it was possible that it had alerted harry and brought him here to investigate.
Standing quickly he moved to the door, needing to confirm what that tingle was telling him.
He opened the door quietly and slipped down the stairs, his eyes on the bookcase as if in search of something to read.
The flinch and halt was almost entirely artificial.
The component of it which was not simulated was due to the tableau of Hermione in the comforting arms of a tall red headed boy.
Harry was standing several steps away and looking at tom with that hateful expression again, his wand drawn.
The other two only noticed he was there from the reaction of their friend.
He looked between the three of them. The red head was now also fixing him with a murderous glare and had released Hermione to draw his own wand.
"Harry! Ron! Stop!" Hermione cried, seeing where the two boy's intents were focused.
Ron was his name then. Ron was her beau.
Tom wondered idly whether she had given herself to him. Their embrace had seemed quite chaste. Of course there were pros and cons to chastity. It would be easier to bring her to fall if she had already given herself to other wizards... but if she were virginal, it would be possible to possess her fully.
It could be very useful to have the dedicated service of what Albus Dumbledore termed the greatest mind to pass through Hogwarts since his own graduation.
Since the two boys were ignoring her and the redhead had actually dared to raise his wand now, Tom thought he had better inject some reason here.
"I apologise" he offered neutrally. "I couldn't sleep and thought I'd read. I didn't mean to interrupt." He turned about to return to his room.
"That's Voldemort?" the voice in the room he didn't know spat incredulously, blatantly ignoring the "Ron ! NO!..Be quiet" that his girlfriend was urging.
"It's a little kid. I thought he'd be...bigger... or something... or more like the ferret at least."
Tom smirked inwardly, thanking the twit. Voldemort. It seemed that his aims had indeed come to some fruition. That cleared up that question. Hermione feared him because of his other self... his primary self... the avatar he had created and named Lord Voldemort.
He wondered what he had achieved as lord Voldemort... what he was doing right now.
Turning around he met the eyes of the redhead.
He had narrow priggish eyes of a paler blue than Tom's own deep royal tones. He was freckled. He was...avoiding meeting tom's gaze.
How wonderful. This one was afraid of him too, despite his bravado.
Hermione looked unsure what to do and seemed on the brink of leaping between them.
Walking a step closer, Tom barely noticed the way harry stiffened and clenched his wand tighter.
"Why do you call me that? What does it mean?" He asked quizzically. "My name is Tom Riddle. I don't believe we've had the pleasure."
The redhead snarled and muttered something about it not being any bloody pleasure to meet a slimy murdering bastard like him, before Hermione actually did step in and insist "that's enough. I'll speak with you tomorrow Ron. Harry – it would be better if you both left, don't you think?"
The redhead actually whined. "But...Mione!.." and darted a glance up toward her bedroom.
The sharp flare of anger tom felt was easily suppressed. He turned his eyes toward harry and raised an eyebrow. "So. What... or who's Voldemort then? Did the other me end up changing his name? Is this somehow a big secret?"
He took a half step toward the green eyed boy, who raised his wand threateningly.
It didn't matter. Tom felt all he needed to know. The tingle grew when he neared the boy.
He resisted the temptation to probe at it with his mind.
"Mione's right, Ron. Come on. We're leaving."
He looked at Hermione seriously. "Are you sure you're alright here? You can come with us you know."
Hermione looked from face to face, uncertain and angry and now embarrassed too. "I'm fine Harry. Tom hasn't done or...or said anything to deserve this treatment.
A spell flashed for a moment as harry pre-emptively silenced Ron who now seemed to be arguing vehemently against this description of tom's current threat potential and just desserts.
"Shut up, mate." Harry grumbled and backed up slightly, turning, with great will power forcing himself to display his unguarded back, and stalking to the door.
The redhead followed a moment later, but not before shooting tom a poisonous glare and mouthing what was probably a choice threat.
When the door had closed Hermione huffed and sighed, looking conflicted.
"I'm sorry about that" she commented after a moment. "Ron...well... that is kind of typical for him. Don't take it personally. He's a bit of a hothead and doesn't always think things through."
Tom took a step toward her and raised his eyebrows as if surprised.
"I have to admit he's not...exactly... the type I imagined you'd gravitate to. But...perhaps I'm missing something about him. He seemed a fairly uncouth and petty fellow.
Nevertheless... perhaps he is capable of providing other benefits, even if he cannot offer stimulating conversation."
He ignored the way she'd turned bright red and seemed to be sputtering again and advanced a few more steps closer
"-After all.. Why would you pursue a boor if he were not at least sexually proficient?"
"I do not yet know you (the words.. although I would like to.. seemed to hang unspoken in the air as he moved slowly nearer) but I have observed you to be a highly intelligent and capable witch"
He watched as she flushed deeper in confused, angry, overwrought frustration and continued
"Not to mention...quite attractive.."
Her inadequately hidden disbelief explained all to him. The 'witch of the generation' was with the red headed boy because she lacked the self esteem to realise that he was below her.
"-and so I'm certain ...Ron... must have...at least...most of the qualities you look for in a partner, whatever they may be. I suppose not every witch desires a partner as capable as herself..."
He could see the witch was preparing to explode into rage. Any second now. He hurried to get the final lash in. "-then again... Perhaps you simply gave up on looking for one. It is... as they say – lonely at the top. Perhaps you resigned yourself to a world of simplifying your thoughts for the benefit of other weaker minds."
"SHUT UP!"
He complied immediately, now only a few steps away. He'd expected more, somehow. She'd looked fit to curse him. But this cold hiss of fury was markedly restrained.
"Don't think I don't know what you're doing. It's clearly you that assumes the rest of the world is too slow to notice your manipulations."
"My personal life, my friends and possible relationships are none of your concern, Tom."
"You can not undermine my confidence in Ron... you won't succeed in driving a wedge between Harry and myself, no matter what you do. The only reason I haven't told them about...the little things you've done to unnerve me...is because if I did, they'd make sure I was out of here and I am not giving up the head girl's quarters for you."
He smiled and stepped one further step, to the edge of her personal space, delighted at seeing the confidence in her eyes waver suddenly as she retreated a pace automatically.
She was half a head taller than he; He decided he didn't like that. She should be below him looking up.
"Is that the only reason?" he enquired curiously. She didn't reply, but her eyes widened and her lips tightened.
His smile grew a little as he advanced a tiny step on her again, and again she retreated.
"You could hex me... I'm unarmed..." he mused aloud. "You could run... I'd almost certainly not chase you... "
"On the other hand...I haven't done anything to suggest i'd hurt you...unless challenging your perceptions and complimenting you is to be considered harmful... and after all – you want my help, don't you?"
The moment he said it he knew it to be the truth. Not in the way the girl reacted, which was telling enough, but in the symmetry of it. It fit. Hermione had already retreated so far that she was against the desk looking furtively at the stairs to her room. She was obviously actually considering running.
He stepped the two steps closer and while she was distracted and startled by his proximity, darted his hand forward, lifting her wand with a pickpocket's grace.
It was foolish of her not to have drawn it already.
He had her fixed in place by her feet on the floor and her hands on the desk behind her before she could blink.
While she reacted and struggled and snarled, he turned and stepped away a couple of paces, examining the wand he held. It was a light brown shaft of perhaps eleven inches. The wood was striated with lighter lines in a vaguely pleasing pattern.
It felt sluggish and wrong in his hand although it had obeyed him sufficiently... which suggested to him that it wasn't a purely light wand – he'd never had any success with any light cores. Unicorn hair, hippogriff claw... they were all so much dead wood to him.
When he turned back to Hermione she flinched back, her eyes darting between his face and her wand.
"What are you going to do?" she whispered.
To her credit her voice was steady.
He moved closer again and placed the wand on the desk three inches to the side of her affixed hand.
"Well... I'm certainly not going to curse you." he murmured "But I do think it's time we spoke bluntly with one another."
"Dumbledore does like to varnish the truth. It would be impossible to prevent him from doing so I imagine. ...But I expect...more... from you."
As he spoke he moved until he could stand close enough to catch the scent of her hair again.
It was different. She smelled of apples today. He suppressed the tiny disappointment inside.
No doubt she had changed it intentionally because she'd become aware that he liked it.
He noticed she was trembling. Her eyes were a little glassy as thought she were trying not to cry. "Ok..." she answered in a small voice. "What do you want to talk about, Tom?"
He took a deep breath, letting his head tip back slightly and enjoying her supplicating tone. "Let's begin with...Voldemort."
Her eyes darted in slight panic. He decided to put her out of her misery.
"Lord Voldemort. I am quite aware he is out there somewhere. I should thank him; if I ever meet him – although he left me in the diary to rot...
if not for him – I highly doubt Dumbledore would have bothered to retrieve me.
You all would like to use me you see." He raised a hand and brushed the pads of his fingers over her jaw. She turned her head and flinched away, looking like a spooked animal.
"You want to use me to get into his head... anticipate his behaviour... perhaps even his past actions.
I wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to find some way to use me to track him."
Hermione was definitely shaking now. "What are you going to do to me?" she whispered and there was almost a hint of whimper in it.
He snorted.
"Are you in pain? We are having a conversation, Hermione. One that I did not believe you would remain still for under other conditions."
"Do you concede that Dumbledore placed you here... in such close...proximity...to me-"
he trailed a fingertip down her side slowly, ignoring her attempts to move away
"-in order to hopefully...befriend the impressionable fourteen year old and wrap him around your little finger?"
Her face said it all. He wondered how Dumbledore had phrased it. 'Oh Hermione.. do you think you might whore yourself out to a murderer for information gathering purposes? It would be a big help'
He let his hand rest on her hip possessively and raised an eyebrow.
"yes." She bit out reluctantly.
Allowing a small smile to twist his lips again he continued. "I'm certain you must have realised the subtext... the implication."
"You are intelligent enough to realise the position the professor urged you into, almost certainly pushed you into through guilt and your oh so Gryffindor sense of honour."
Her eyes hardened stonily and she didn't respond. He reached out and caught one of her soft brown ringlets, wrapping it around a finger, distracted for a moment by how soft it felt.
Had he ever touched another person in this way? He didn't think he had.
It was exciting. Allowable because she was currently entirely at his mercy.
"I was already interested in you last night, but Dumbledore sold me on the idea this morning when he described you as... i quote..."the greatest mind to pass through Hogwarts since my own graduation".
"I think he did it intentionally... don't you?"
Her eyes were like windows betraying her surprise. Before she could ask again what he was going to do with her he plunged on.
"And so I have decided that I will help you. That is to say - I will help YOU. Not Dumbledore or any of the others."
This was his play and I rather doubt he will backtrack now, irrespective how you might present the case to him for doing so."
"I will spend time with you. Alone."
"You were supposed to observe me... learn about me, I assume? Well... your task will be much easier now. Which brings us to the next question." He smiled as she seemed to steel herself for something even worse.
"I would like you for to explain to me why you are dating that redhead. Name the reasons."
After she'd essentially listed the primary criteria of all Gryffindors and he'd displayed his raised eyebrow scepticism, he asked her what the criteria of her ideal match were exactly. She refused to answer.
He snorted and turned away for a moment, uncertain how far to push the girl right now.
He certainly had no intention of attempting to force her into any form of sexual service. No... That would ruin everything later.
He sighed inwardly. He had the most unwise temptation to taste her lips.
Glancing back at her thoughtfully... her trembling bottom lip was just begging to be nipped.
He moved closer once more and leaned in against her. She shook but did not pull away as he slung his arms casually about her waist and spoke softly.
"You will have to break up with him, you know."
He ignored her sudden sharp defiant expression. It was on her lips to shout her refusal.
"..Oh I am not attempting to force you to do so. I would not dream of doing anything so crude. It's quite up to you...I'm merely stating a fact."
"You will have to end whatever misguided little flirtation you have engaged in with the boy. I am going to require... a lot...in fact I would go so far as to say all of your time outside of your academic responsibilities."
"The less often you are here, actively seeking out my company, the less inclined to spend time with you I shall be when you are here and, conversely, the more preoccupied I shall become with the particular charms and binding spells on the doors, floo and this wonderful necklace that Dumbledore gave me."
"It is obvious that spending so much time here... alone... with me... and avoiding Ron's no doubt scintillating company, will cause the poor wretch to become quite distressed."
"He does seem the jealous paranoid type to me.".
"Also..just between the both of us, I rather suspect that...Ron... is not a particularly alert or aware fellow and is quite liable to have an accident if he is in these rooms too often guarding you
...or Salazar-forbid attempting to threaten me."
Hermione was as still as a statue. Even her shaking had stopped.
He glanced up at the amber eyes that were staring over his shoulder at the round rug, unseeing.
She looked haunted.
He smiled. "I see you are accepting the logic of my words, Hermione."
Turning his head, he caught the apple fragrance of her hair again, frowning slightly.
"I would also prefer you to use the peach scent in your hair that you were wearing last night."
He had the delight of feeling her shiver and tightened his arms around her marginally, enjoying it.
The half breathed 'ok' was almost inaudible.
Unwinding his arms from around the slender waist he moved back to scrutinise her expression.
He wasn't certain whether she was terrified and attempting to show strength or unaffected and attempting to feign terror. It was intriguing.
He placed his hand subtly on her wand. "I'm going to have to ask you to give me your honest word not to run off to Dumbledore or anyone else to tell tales of the things that happen between us, Hermione. Otherwise you'll be forcing me to place you under a geas. I would like to have some secrets from the man."
"And so...what we do when we are alone...will be our little secret. Do you understand?"
The balance on her face had shifted again toward more convincing horror and fear as she nodded slowly.
"Promise me" he prompted lightly.
She made the promise.
He smiled as he felt her wand heat under his hand.
He wondered whether she knew it. It very rarely happened that another held one's wand after all and the practice had been abandoned so long ago. Even in his own time one had made wand oaths while holding one's own wand in hand.
And that was still necessary for general oaths pertaining to behaviour.
However, there was another form of wand oath - it was more closely related to the unbreakable oath than the standard wand oath.
In this form one made the oath to a specific person who held one's own wand during the casting.
To break such an oath would not render one a squib...necessarily. It would merely place the control over one's ability to use magic at the whim of the one to whom the oath was made.
He rather hoped she discounted the magical nature of the promise she'd made and tried to break it. It would be wonderful to have her magic at his disposal to turn on and off like a faucet.
Sighing he dispelled the fixation charms on her hands and feet and placed the wand back on the desk, stepping away. Hermione did not move, merely watched him warily, as if to risk taking up her wand and hexing him might only provoke greater threat.
It would, naturally.
At present he preferred her not to know of his wandless magic, however.
He gestured magnanimously toward the stairs up to her room and she snatched up the wand and skittered away immediately, fairly pelting up the stairs and slamming the door after her.
He felt several wards being laid in quick succession