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ANOUNCEMENT: I need a beta reader. If you all want to edit or know someone who would like to edit my story, then please PM me. I'm looking for someone who will correct my faults but will still stay true to my writing style. Thank you.
And sorry for the reposting; I keep on forgetting that I can just replace the chapter.
A/N: Sorry I haven't been able to update much lately. I'm in college now, but I try to get to this fic as often as I can. Sorry for the long wait. Thank you so much for your lovely reviews. You guys are truly amazing! I hope that this chapter is an enjoyable read for everyone.
Warning: I made a minor plot change, so disregard the previous chapter preview.
Coming up: An unexpected occurrence and a shift in the world.
Shout Outs:
Moviesaremagic: Thank you so much for your compliment. I know the grammar was a little rough last time, but, after your review, I fixed it. And hopefully my editing is a bit better this time around. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Riuet: Amazing compliment! Glad you're enjoying the story so far. And I especially liked your last comment. I hope this chapter meets with your expectations.
Nile: I'm so happy you're enjoying my story. And you're right about the wordiness. It's my weakness as a writer, so I made it a point to improve a bit this chapter. Enjoy!
4EvaInHim: I'm glad your love for the pairing came back! And thank you so much for your other compliment as well!
Lady de Winter 27: Thank you so much for reading. I'm glad my plot appeals to you. I try to keep it interesting for everyone.
Rmartin318: Your review made me laugh, in a good way of course. Glad you're enjoying it!
October 14th, 1944, 2:00 PM, the lawn outside Hogwarts
Roger Longbottom, Gryffindor Prefect, died near the Forbidden Forest at approximately 9:30 PM two Saturdays ago. His corpse was found pale white and perfectly at peace, his uniform immaculate with no signs of struggle – the signs of the Killing Curse.
The whole school had been in mourning for a week and a half. Roger had been well loved by the students at Hogwarts; he was genuinely nice, confident, and motivated, qualities that attracted both student and teachers alike.
And now, he was gone.
Today, while everyone took turns saying their goodbyes to Roger, several of the more perceptive onlookers noticed that the Trio, who had not known the Gryffindor Prefect well at all, was mourning his loss as if they had known him all of their lives. Those perceptive onlookers commented snidely under their breath on the indecency of the new students' fake mourning and over-acting.
What those onlookers didn't know is that, unlike the rest of the student population, whom were only shedding tears for one person, the Trio was shedding tears for two.
Roger, in a few years time, would have married a smart, pretty, and charming woman – the women who would eventually give birth to a beautiful baby boy. That baby would himself develop into a young, strapping Gryffindor and find a woman just like the mother he loved so dearly. The younger Longbottom's wife would also be blessed with a beautiful baby boy.
And that child would be named Neville.
Yes, if Roger was still alive, he would have continued the chain of events that would lead to the birth of one of the Trio's truest and closest friends. Now that he was murdered, the events that could have happened, should have happened, were no longer possible, and the birth of Neville Longbottom could no longer exist.
If Hermione understood the rules of time correctly, she knew that, in going back in time, the Trio had torn the fabric of their Universe; and by doing that, they had created another. However, the new world is still intertwined with the old. And since the Trio had gone back in time as opposed to the future, then their actions will affect the old world, since, technically, the old world hasn't happened yet. Neville's death, therefore, would cost the Time Travelers younger selves dearly, as he had contributed greatly to one or two of the Trio's decisions.
So the world, as they know it, was finished. Now, the only way to truly guarantee the future peace was to kill Tom Riddle.
The Trio knew this, but they still wanted to take the time to shed tears for Roger, Neville, and everything else they had lost.
And they were so wrapped up in their mourning that they didn't notice the two determined figures briskly walking toward them.
Those figures belonged to Headmaster Dippet and the Head Boy. The former was walking with a hearty smile on his face while the latter followed with what could only be interpreted as a somber look. Those who were watching the Trio curiously also noticed this other disturbance in the sea of black and shamefully watched. Some were even hoping that the three Gryffindors would get reprimanded for their bad taste.
But little did they know, both of the powerful men only wanted Hermione.
"Miss Granger, will you follow me to my office," Dippet commanded without delay.
Hermione, her brain's gears shifting to overdrive at this strange request, threw Harry and Ron an 'I'll be fine look' and followed the men to the Headmaster's office. She couldn't help the feeling of uneasiness rising in her stomach.
What do they want with me?
Ten minutes later, when everyone was situated in the Headmaster's office, Hermione had already gone through several terrible scenarios on how this 'visit' could turn out badly, so she decided to just come right out and ask.
"Sir, what exactly am I doing here?" Hermione inquired, trying to channel Draco's Head Boy tone – confident and authoritative. There was no way she would let Riddle know that she had put herself in an illogical state of fear.
"You cut right to the point, just as Slughorn had warned me," Dippet chuckled, taking a sip of his tea as he observed her.
"Sir, I would like to know what's going on as well," Riddle asked, the very picture of innocence and manners.
His acting skills are impeccable, Hermione thought in disgust.
"Oh, how this school has raised the cream of the crop to have a wonderful thirst for knowledge," Dippet boasted, apparently deciding to take his time. There was a long pause, and just when Hermione thought she couldn't take this nonsense anymore, Dippet spoke again.
"I'm sure you're aware of the death of Roger Longbottom?" he asked.
Of course not, sir, Hermione wanted to blurt out. Even after the Gryffindors created a remembrance for Roger and everyone has been crying about him for weeks, I still have absolutely no earthly idea.
Instead of voicing her sarcastic thoughts, she responded with a curt, "Yes."
"Well, as much as I am saddened to see him die – wonderful student that he was – I, as Headmaster of this institution, need to find a replacement for him," he said, suddenly eying Hermione with a curious stare.
Did he bring me here to give him advice? Hermione asked, trying with all of her powers of self-restraint to not show her bewilderment.
"And, after a lot of thought, I have decided to name you Prefect," Dippet declared jovially, as if he had just announced a sure-fire way to solve world poverty.
Hermione's eyes bulged. "Why?" was all she could manage to say.
Really, what is this man thinking? Does he honestly think that my House and the school will accept me as a Prefect after I've only been here a month?
"Why ever not," was his jovial reply, completely oblivious to Hermione's discomfort. "You have the highest marks of the year, beating out any other of our candidate's records immeasurably, without contest. Your home-school records on your marks and behavior back up your performance at Hogwarts. In my eyes, you are the very definition of a Prefect."
Hermione found that she was completely not surprised when Tom Riddle's innocent, inquiring voice penetrated the awkward silence that followed Dippet's statement. "Sir, I say this with no offence to Hermione--."
Oh, so it's Hermione now, is it?
"—but she's only been here a month. Wouldn't this be unfair to the other students?"
Hermione braved a sideways look at him, and she saw a genuine concerned look on his face.
She tried not to vomit at his disgusting display.
Looking back at the Headmaster to keep her stomach in check, she saw a sly smile on his face, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that Dippet was immensely happy with whatever argument he had come up with.
He put his teacup down and folded his hands over his desk, his smile only broadening as he looked at his Head Boy. "That is why I have brought you here Tom."
Hermione cast another sidelong glance at him and saw that Riddle had raised his eyebrows. For being so inhumane, he certainly had human reactions down pact.
"You see," Dippet continued, "I would ask Delaney, but to be frank, you have slightly more influence than her at Hogwarts. Therefore, once Hermione is a Prefect, it'll be your responsibility to oversee her achievements and failures within the leadership and with her peers."
After the Headmaster's comments, Hermione finally decided she had had enough. She knew the rules of the Hogwarts hierarchy like that back of her hand, and becoming a Prefect had always been a two way street. She would have to agree; and if Lord Voldemort was going to be her babysitter, than she would rather live in mediocrity for the rest of her life.
Mustering her calm and collected voice, Hermione innocently asked, "I would have to agree to this, wouldn't I, Headmaster?"
Dippet's smile fell a little at her question. He obviously didn't expect her to know that. "Of course, my dear."
Hermione's sat up in her chair, trying to make herself look more stern. "Well then, Headmaster, I would like to respectfully decline your offer. Riddle is right. Give it to the students who have been here and have worked hard for the spot."
"None of them --."
"If I may, Professor," Riddle interjected, his voice sterner now. "Her skill and intellect have nothing to do with it. Her being a Prefect is unfair."
Dippet, knowing he had been trapped, looked from one know-it-all student to the next and sighed. "Very well."
Hermione, glad she had escaped this potentially disastrous situation, rose from her chair and made to leave. She was almost to the door, when the Headmaster's sly voice cut through her relief.
"I'll give you two weeks to change your mind."
Hermione frowned as she walked out of the door.
Believe me, Headmaster, there's no way in Merlin I'll agree to this.
Same day, 9:00 PM, Room of Requirements, same layout
"Why would you blow a perfectly good opportunity like that?" Draco asked, intensely frustrated at the busy-haired girl sitting across from him.
"Because, unlike you, Draco, I will not sacrifice my morals or my life to be a Hogwarts Prefect," Hermione retorted through gritted teeth.
The blonde Slytherin had been berating her for the better part of ten minutes, and if he didn't stop, Hermione wasn't sure if she could control the actions of her fist.
"Really, because, after knowing you for a good part of my life, I would think that you would have jumped out of your knickers to be a Prefect again," Ron muttered, not too happy with her either.
Or, she could just accidently miss Draco and knick Ron instead.
"Oh, stop giving her a hard time. It's bad enough we were all thrown back in time and expected to adapt without any preparation whatsoever. You can't expect Hermione to feel even more out of place by alienating her whole house," Harry said, placing a soothing hand on her back.
Oh, thank dear sweet Merlin for Harry Potter.
Instinctually, Hermione knew that Harry was the only one who understood how she was feeling right now. Lately, as the rush of first appearing in this decade died down, Hermione began to see just how much she didn't belong here. She noticed when little things happened, like when the girls in her dormitory used expressions she didn't know or when the boys played games that were considered out of style in her decade. And then there were the big things, like the old technology and the fact that she never saw Ginny Weasley…
"To hell with that," Draco growled. "She is on a mission."
"Exactly," Hermione snapped back, her patience being stretched again. "And it won't do to just throw myself into Tom Riddle's schedule after he has just killed a Gryffindor Prefect. There are other ways."
"The other ways are too slow," Ron argued, showing some of his Weasley temper. "We're barely getting anywhere. You have to fight with him all of the time, Draco can't find a way to be his friend, and there's no way in hell he'll ever let me approach him during a Death Eater meeting with my current rank."
Hermione gritted her teeth again. Even though she just wanted to strangle her short-tempered best friend, she made allowances for him and Draco because she knew that this decade was wearing on them, too. Now that their lives have fallen into a sort of schedule, they've had time to truly think about the fact that they can't go back to their time. They'll never see their family and friends, and they'll never see their homes ever again.
And, it had slowly started to kill them.
"And the meetings he's going to have no substance to them. Riddle is being secretive. Not even his inner circle knows what he's planning. We need to catch him off guard." He then turned to the bewildered brunette across from him and stared intensely at her. "The only chance to get to him is you, Hermione. Find a way to ask him. You're a Gryffindor. You're not supposed to have much common sense when it some to this being brave shit," Draco said, his voice law.
"We don't know enough about his temperament for me to just be thrown deeper into his life," Hermione argued forcefully, hating how she was being treated. She never asked for this. She never wanted to be in this position with Tom Riddle.
"Well, Hermione, this is a good way to find out," Ron said, giving her a long, meaningful glare.
"No. I'm not going to change history any more than it has. The killing wasn't supposed to happen," Hermione said miserably.
The group paused, contemplating Hermione's statement; and the questions they have been asking themselves for these past two months resurfaced in their heads. Are we ruining the future? How many rules of time are we violating? What if we can go back to the future? Will it even be worth it? Will it even be recognizable?
And then, Harry surprised them all.
"Who says it's him?" Harry asked, his face thoughtful. "Who says he killed him?"
They other Time Travelers stared at him in shock, wondering what kind of knowledge he possessed that made him feel the need to actually defend Tom Riddle.
"Harry, WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU SAYING?" Ron blurted, clearly convinced that his best friend, who has spent his life trying not to be brutally killed by Riddle, was clearly under the Imperius.
"Ditto," Draco said, looking at Harry as if he were infectious.
Harry locked eyes with Ron. "I've been thinking about the Death Eater meetings."
"Yeah," Ron said, clearly exasperated, "and it's the same garbage. We're all going to take over the world with scary Dark Magic…"
"Oh, shut up, mate," Harry snapped, tired of Ron's attitude. "You've told me a lot, believe it or not. You just haven't sat down and thought about how potentially helpful your information is."
Hermione looked at her other thirds, feeling beyond annoyed. "Before I say this, I just want to say that I love you both," she prefaced before she let her fury surface. "But, since the mission has unpredictably shifted on mine and Draco's shoulders, shouldn't you, Ronald, keep us more informed on the events happening in you delusional maniac meetings?"
Ron, knowing that not saying the right thing could result in Hermione chastising him for the better part of the week, gave her a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry Hermione, but I really haven't heard anything at these meetings other than the usual motivational 'death-to-the-muggles' talks. I was just as clueless to Roger's murder as you were."
"He was Hermione," Harry implored. "I've just been doing a lot of thinking, and I've discovered another missing link in the chain."
"Potter is using his deductive reasoning skills," Draco said intrigued, while leaning back in his chair and raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "My, my, we really are changing the future."
Harry was most definitely not amused. "This is important."
"Well, then, by all means. Do go on," Draco drawled with a gesture of his hand.
Harry rolled his eyes and then shifted his focus back to Ron. "You remember the meeting you had last week? The one where Riddle threatened disciplinary measures to anyone who got caught being in his 'exclusive club' by a Hogwarts official?" Harry asked intently.
"Yeah, but I don't see how that will help, mate," Ron replied. "I don't think Riddle applied that rule to himself, since he "founded" his "club.""
"You're right," Harry agreed. "But you just had an emergency meeting two nights ago."
Ron's face contorted in confusion. "Yeah, what about it?"
"Oh think about it, Ron," Draco sighed. "The Death Eaters are a secret society. An emergency meeting should have raised your red flags undoubtedly, no matter how thick you are."
"Stop it, Draco," Hermione reprimanded, forgetting her anger at being left out for her intrigue in the conversation. "Go ahead, Harry."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, Ron," Harry said, now leaning forward, his arms folded over one another on the table. "Right, well, as Ron was describing the meeting, something that Riddle said towards the middle didn't seem right. He said 'Killing is not the way to immortality'."
Hermione's curiosity fell a little bit. "That can be interpreted in many different ways."
"I know, Hermione, let me finish and give more credit than that," Harry said affectionately, knowing her brain couldn't help but calculate every angle of the situation. "Anyway, I told Ron to describe the meeting for me again, because that particular phrase could have been confirmation for our suspicions."
"Oh, right," agreed Ron, his mind finally realizing what Harry was getting at. "You think that he must have known?"
"Yes," Harry confirmed.
"Known what?" Draco asked annoyed, his impatient nature starting to show.
"Harry is suggesting that the meeting, somewhat subtly, was Riddle's way of warning us Death Eaters," Ron replied, not fully confident about his grasp on the situation. "Thinking back on the conversation I had with Harry, I think what he's getting at is that Riddle knew that someone else was trying to kill Roger."
Hermione couldn't help her eyes from widening in shock. "Go on."
"I can't remember word for word," Ron warned, sending a please-don't-hex-me gaze at Hermione, "but from what I remember, he said 'Our plans are extraordinary – something that the Wizarding World has never dared to explore; but these plans cannot evolve into fruition if we do not watch ourselves and our actions. Killing is not the way to immortality, my fellow Death Eaters. Survival is the only key to eternal life.'"
"What the hell is Riddle on?" Draco exclaimed. "It's one thing to be killer, but being indecisive about it is just downright annoying."
Hermione felt a little more hopeful than the blonde Slytherin. "So, would it be too much to assume that there was dissension in the ranks?"
Harry smiled. "No, but we still can't rule Riddle out. Just like Draco said, the Dark Lord sometimes doesn't follow his own rules."
"But, this is good right?" Hermione persisted, her chest, for the first time in a long time, filling with hope. "It's good that we're getting some sort of tentative confirmation about our hunches."
"Yeah, and those words certainly sound like the Dark Lord," Draco said thoughtfully. "All hot and bothered over immortality. You were right, Ron. This is definitely a big deal."
Ron smiled and looked at Hermione. "See, Hermione? Now you don't have to be scared."
"About him killing me? No, I think I'll stick to being scared," Hermione replied sarcastically.
"Well, don't you have to go to the Forbidden Forest with him next week for your Potions Project?" Ron asked.
Hermione's heart dropped to her stomach. "Yeah, I suppose I have to."
"We can always follow under the cloak," Harry offered gallantly.
"I'll think about it, but right now, I'm too nervous about the Prefect situation and my possible revocation of my library privileges," Hermione answered honestly.
"Have you decided what you're going to do about both?" Draco asked, sending her a meaningful look, warning her to tread carefully.
"No to the Prefect question, and yes to the books," Hermione replied sternly, asking her friends not to push her on the matter. Despite the fact that they were all in this together, Hermione knew for a fact that they could not advise her on this. At the beginning, not so long ago, she would have definitely asked the other Time Travelers for help, but now, Hermione felt that each of their parts in this mission were so specialized that they were basically running their own operations.
And even though this scared Hermione – how isolated their goals were becoming – she knew it was the only way.
Same day, 10:18 PM
After leaving, Hermione felt too exasperated and confused to sleep; so, despite the dangers, she briskly walked to her sanctuary: the library. As her footsteps lightly echoed in the hallway, her mind was telling her two things: 1) She was crazy. Her Restricted Section privileges were basically gone. Now she was risking a month's detention. And 2) This would probably be the last time she could access the Restricted Section for a while. No one was awake. And, after a very intelligent suggestion from Harry and Draco, she had memorized the Prefects' rounds schedule and routes.
She had to take this opportunity. The Midnight Memory she witnessed two weeks ago weighed heavily in the back of her mind. She had to solve the mystery behind Riddle's soul and his obsession with the Potion of Elysium. Hermione knew that those two conundrums, along with the emergency Death Eater meeting, were all interconnected pieces that would help solve the Memory. And she couldn't move on to the second until she solved the first.
Therefore, she needed the Restricted Section.
And, she couldn't let herself dwell on Roger's death. If she stopped now, if she relaxed, she her emotions would take over.
And emotions had no place in war.
Riddle's quote at the Death Eater meeting sparked something in Hermione's mind. From snippets of different Order members' experience with the Dark Lord – especially Snape – Hermione concluded that Voldemort liked to quote passages from influential books. Her former Potions Master – when he had been lucky enough to ask the Dark Lord a question without being Crucio-ed – received several wise book quotes from him.
And, if Tom Riddle still had that habit here at Hogwarts, than he had inadvertently connected himself to a book – either one in his possession, one in the library, or the one that Hermione was holding hostage. And, since her mind was screaming for reading material, she might as well infiltrate the Restricted Section again.
Spotting the last corner before reaching the library, Hermione pace quickened. Though her heart was pounding, a smile graced her face, like it always did before entering her favorite place in Hogwarts. She was almost there….almost……almost….
"It's after hours, Granger," a cynical baritone reprimanded from behind her.
Tom Riddle.
At his voice, Hermione's spine stiffened and the hairs on the back of her neck stood in alarm. Her analytical brain was telling her that there were no people around, and it was just her and Tom Riddle.
Alone.
If he wanted to, he could curse her dead, and no one would see him do it.
What's he doing awake? He's not scheduled to patrol today!
Summoning her Gryffindor courage and shoving that thought out of her mind, Hermione turned to face him. Her mind whispered to her to calm down. She had been alone with him numerous times, and she was still alive. Forcing a shallow smile to appear on her lips while inwardly chanting 'he won't hurt me, he won't hurt me, he won't hurt me', Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest.
"I couldn't sleep."
Though his face remained emotionless, Hermione got the feeling that he wasn't buying it. As she slowly tried to inch towards the library, he started to stalk towards her, the moonlight giving his pale skin an ethereal glow. "I'm afraid that's not an excuse," he said authoritatively.
Fighting off her flight instinct, Hermione's mind raced to find a plausible explanation. Because, it just won't do if you say, hey, I'm just going to the library to find a way to kill you. I promise I'll go straight to bed afterward.
"Uh…I…I," she stuttered, mentally cringing at her blunder.
Riddle continued slowly walking towards her. "Yes? Before I deduct House Points."
Oh, no you won't.
"Our Potions project," Hermione said resolutely, hoping her words sounded like they contained a modicum of truth in them.
I really need to get some lying lessons from Draco.
Riddle stopped a few feet in front of her, his facial features still frozen in an unreadable expression. Hermione, thinking that she was either going to die or receive a month's worth of detention, didn't anticipate his next move.
"Well, then I think it's best that I accompany you, since I am your Potions partner."
Hermione, at his suggestion, didn't know if she should a) Curse him b) fear for her life c) curse him then fear for her life d) head back to her Common Room and just try again tomorrow or e) risk allowing him to come.
Being the exceptional test taker that she was, Hermione quickly thought of which option would be best for her cause and assessed the risks. The first three were derived from her flight-or-flight instinct; therefore, those options were logically irrational. If she looked at her past situations with Tom Riddle, she still had no reason to fear him. Her wariness was mostly based off of the future Lord Voldemort and the intelligence she was receiving from Draco and Ron. Yet, Harry had made a good point. Events that hadn't originally happened in their time were manifesting because of the time traveler's intervention. They had to be unbiased and rational in their accusations toward Riddle. Otherwise, they would never figure out how to complete their mission.
Option D wasn't a viable option as well. Tom Riddle held the deed to her only trustworthy resource. If she tried again tomorrow, she would have to try again at night. The future Dark Lord's official patrol was tomorrow, and, her gifts for stealthy operations aside, Hermione was not about to risk Harry's invisibility cloak falling into the hands of his arch nemesis.
Therefore, Option E was her only option. Most of the books they needed were in the Restricted Section, and she figured she could attempt to let the Head Boy allow her to go for 'the good of the project'. If that plan succeeded, then, one inside the Restricted Section, she would try to pinpoint the section with the most possible options and have one of her boys finish the job.
So, Option E it is.
"Fine," Hermione agreed in what she hoped was a pleasant voice. She stepped aside and motioned for her counterpart to take the lead. There is no way I am turning my back on you for a second, Lord Voldemort.
As they arrived in the Hogwarts library, Riddle, to Hermione's great and utter surprise, headed straight for the Restricted Section, not even turning his back to see if Hermione followed.
Hermione hesitated, feeling suspicious towards his actions.
The Dark Lord never did anything without a purpose, and if Hermione had learned anything, she had found that Tom Riddle didn't either. Once again, Hermione felt her most familiar fear – the fear for her life. But, as her heart pounded erratically, her mind once again urged her to relax. Missions required a certain amount of risk taking. This was a great and unexpected opportunity. The Head Boy was supposedly trying to keep a low profile, according to Ron. He has also made no attempt on her life yet, and she couldn't logically, despite all the evidence stacked against him, assume that Tom Riddle had killed Roger Longbottom. And, her skill in Defense Against the Dark Arts was exceptional. Despite the risk, she would probably leave her situation unscathed.
Plus, he could legitimately want to work on the project; but Hermione highly doubted it. Riddle only put himself in her presence when he absolutely had to be or when he wanted something.
What else would he want from me?
The Gryffindor in her growled for her to follow him and make it extremely difficult to obtain whatever the hell he's seeking.
Hermione, her courage renewed, steeled herself and followed him, determined not to go down without a fight. If everything they knew was true, and if his past behavior was anything to go on, Hermione would not die tonight. And her gut and her mind were willing her to take the risk. She could tell lately, now that the Time Travelers were sufficiently settled, that this universe was wearing on them. Ron's temper had started flaring more often, Harry felt restless and depressed at times, and Draco sometimes reverted back to his snider, eleven-year-old attitude. These differences were slight, but it showed Hermione that her boys were starting to feel how much they didn't belong here, and it was killing her.
We need to take risks, or we'll never get anything done.
The brunette lit her wand and quickly found her Potions Partner perusing the shelf on advanced Potions, and Hermione decided it would be best to do the same before she continued to research Riddle's demise.
As she began skimming the shelf across from him, the air between Hermione and her Potions partner hung thick. There was tension there, and, coupled with two months of tirelessly studying him, her gut's assumptions were reaffirmed.
Tom Riddle wanted something. The air was practically crackling with that fact.
After five minutes of half-hearted searching, Hermione had to commend the Heir of Slytherin on his penchant for not wasting time. "So have you decided yet?" he drawled, not bothering to hide his interest. "My books or your books?"
The brunette became slightly off-balance at his blunt question. She had expected him to ask eventually, but not here, and not now. Yes, she had made a decision, but she had wanted to be prepared to bargain with him.
Hermione frowned, not liking the situation. "Yes," she replied. "I have."
"Oh," he said, as if they were talking about the weather. "And?"
Hermione took a deep breath, knowing that her boys would strangle her for her decision. "I'll make the exchange."
She then took a quick look at Riddle, and she saw, even through the dim light of his wand, that he didn't even have the good grace to smirk. His face was still a mask, as always. "I knew you would come to your senses."
I didn't have a choice now, did I? Hermione thought bitterly. He had backed her into a corner, and her experience with war had allowed her to know when she had to evaluate her opportunity costs. She had to give up her leverage on him, which killed her; but, in exchange, she received access to the Restricted Section and less strain on their partnership.
After her previous encounter with Riddle and Dippet earlier that day, her emotional trauma over the loss of Neville, and her other opportunities, Hermione decided that she had enough cards left in her hands to part with the book temporarily. Later, the Time Travelers would find a way to get it back, but now, she had to sacrifice in order to gain.
"It's not like you gave me a choice," Hermione said honestly, knowing that he responded more when she was direct with him.
"I only forced you to make the right one," he replied simply.
Arrogant prat.
Hermione rolled her eyes and went to "look" in the aisle next to them. Hopefully, if she was stealthy enough, she could manage to slowly get away from him.
To her dismay, his voice floated over the shelf separating them. "Don't forget about our appointment next week."
The Gryffindor, who by then, had tried to tiptoe to another aisle, had to fight all of the forces of nature to keep from stomping her foot like a child.
Now he wants to talk to me…Brilliant.
Judging from the past couple of weeks, Hermione never thought she would be able to witness a talkative Tom Riddle. Yes, he had spoken to her more often when he began to get more desperate for his book, but Hermione had subconsciously acknowledged that that inconsistency would stop after she gave it up. The fact that he was still talking to her meant that he wanted something else, and whatever it was, the answer was no.
I have to make it clear that I do not want to talk, or else he'll be able to use my voice to track me.
"Yes, midnight at the Great Hall staircase," Hermione replied in a clipped tone.
She, again, attempted to walk over to the next aisle, but his voice stopped her. "I'm curious, Granger. Have you decided on being a Prefect?"
Merlin, he's going to be the death of me.
Hermione winced at her thought and answered as nonchalantly as she could. "No, I haven't. Although, I'm leaning towards a no."
In retrospect, Hermione thought that maybe she shouldn't have volunteered information, but, as she has recently discovered, slight honesty with Tom Riddle was the best policy.
Her theory was proven correct when he said, in his signature monotone, "I think you should accept."
Hermione's lungs burned as she restrained herself from screaming 'What is wrong with you? Has all that dark magic made you completely daft?'
This behavior that he had decided to spring on her – this talkative, curious Tom Riddle – had only appeared one other time in Hermione's memory. It had happened in another world, where the Heir of Slytherin was slyly asking Slughorn, his supposed favorite professor, about Horcruxes. And, since she doubted that his attitude towards her had changed, Hermione could only conclude that he wanted something from her.
Again.
After a ridiculously awkward pregnant pause, she responded with a simple, "Why?"
Tom Riddle once again showed his amazing skill at avoiding a question. "Why not?"
"Because it's unfair," Hermione replied sternly. Didn't he think it was unfair as well?
She heard him utter 'typical Gryffindor' but Hermione declined to comment. Even though there was no need to worry about her library privileges any longer, she was still in the Restricted Section. She still had a mission, and there was no use wasting an opportunity. The Midnight Memory needed to be solved. Dumbledore had instructed to not move on to the next one until she uncovered the first ones secrets. Therefore, she needed to at least pinpoint one book that could possibly contain Tom Riddle's quote.
The sooner I solve this damn mystery, the sooner we can be happy.
Hermione attempted to move to the next aisle yet again, and this time, to her relief, that evil bastard didn't say anything to stop her. To be safe, Hermione stayed in that aisle for an extra five minutes, and, once again, he didn't say anything.
Deciding that this would be a good time to make a run for it, Hermione cast a nonverbal charm on her shoes, unlit her wand, looked around the bookcase to see if he was switching aisles, and then swiftly ran deeper into the Restricted Section.
As she reached a good distance away from Riddle, Hermione put her back against the bookcase and took a breather. She hadn't realized that she had been holding her breath, afraid that he would shoot a Body Bind curse towards her at any second. With one hand on her heart and one hand on her wand, she tried to force her erratic breathing to calm down.
C'mon Hermione. You need your senses cleared so you can listen for his footsteps.
Before she started searching the shelf, Hermione made sure to come up with a plausible excuse for why she was 'researching' so far away from him. Though she got away from Riddle, she knew that he would wonder where she had gone off to eventually, and she wanted to achieve her objective before that happened.
Closing her eyes, she forced her body to calm down while she thought about her goal. The Restricted Section, with its many options, only had a couple of places to look. Hermione's mission was to find the section that contained a book about death.
Lord Voldemort's obsession.
Hermione took her wand to see how much time had elapsed since she had left Riddle.
11 min 38 sec
The brunette cringed. It would only be a matter of time until he came looking for her. Sure, she could wait until tomorrow, when she would be free of him; but grieving over Roger and Neville shifted something within her. She had blissfully been hiding behind her mission, but now, the veil had shredded, and the only thing left was the feeling that she didn't belong here.
Hermione, despite her bravery and her determination, just wanted this to be over.
And she would do whatever it takes to make sure Voldemort did not breathe past the end of the school year.
At the thought of him, a dangerous, risky idea entered Hermione's mind. The quote Ron had repeated to the Time Travelers during their meeting had been running through her mind over and over again. And her head, who was surprisingly in accordance with her gut, was telling her that there was no harm in asking him where he read that quote.
The Pros to doing this were obvious. Ron was the only one in her friend group to have heard that quote; but Riddle has no reason to believe that Ron would betray him. Recently, Ron had decided to try to move up in the ranks by showing Riddle his loyalty. Harry and he had spent a good portion of a night trying to discuss which secret passage way they could reveal to the Dark Lord that a) he didn't know about already, and b) would seem useful, even though it really wasn't.
Surprisingly, the boys had decided on the Shrieking Shack. Despite Hermione's reservations, Harry's logic was sound. The Shrieking Shack provided access to a relatively unoccupied part of the castle, so if an attack were to happen, the opposing forces would have some time to mobilize. The fact that the Shrieking Shack was relatively cramped and the tunnel to the castle was narrow would deter the Death Eaters for a time as well.
The second and most important pro to her decision was that it would save Hermione some time. If she managed to get the information out of him, she could narrow her search; but, she would have to play her cards right if she didn't want to raise his suspicions.
Nonverbally taking the charm off her shoes, Hermione walked up and down her aisle, noisily clicking the small heel on the bottom of her shoe against the old wooden floor.
And that was all it took.
In a matter of two seconds, she heard his rapid footsteps walk quickly towards her. And, by the sharp sound they were making, she guessed that he probably wasn't too happy with her.
"What are you doing back here?" he hissed, showing a minimal amount of annoyance on his face.
Hermione turned to face him. "Our Potions Project," she replied innocently.
"Yes, I'm aware. But why did you need to look back here?" he asked a little more forcefully, stalking towards her with the grace of a cat.
Why does it matter? What else are you hiding back here?
"We have an essay to do along with this Potion," Hermione said matter-of-factly, while trying to muster her confidence. "And you know as well as I do that a good essay has an original view with support from outside sources."
He continued to stalk towards her, his annoyance replaced by his usual impassive mask. She didn't move back, because, though he resembled a tiger ready to pounce, Hermione's instincts were not alarmed. And her instincts had been right.
So far, at least.
"And you didn't care to discuss this with me," he asked with a raised eyebrow.
Hermione got the impression that he was trying to intimidate her.
Is he scolding me?
"Not as much as you care about discussing things with me," Hermione couldn't help but retort, tired of his high-handedness.
Riddle ignored her small jibe and continued with his questioning. "Then what, pray tell, are you researching?"
Hermione, though loathe to admit it, replied, "The soul."
If Tom Riddle was put off by her statement, he didn't show it. "What about it?"
Hermione took a deep breath, hoping he would take her explanation. "This Potion plays with people's emotions, so I thought that it'd be a good idea to do some research on the place that feelings can change."
"Feelings are chemicals, Granger," Tom corrected coldly. He was clearly not buying her argument. "They don't affect the soul."
Oh, how condescending he is towards humanity.
"Listen Riddle, even if you only believe in the baser nature of feelings, you can't ignore that the soul is shaped by feelings. Emotions and reactions to events can affect the soul eternally. Soul Magic would not exist without it," Hermione replied in the same cold, factual voice.
To her surprise, Tom Riddle stared at her, hard, and Hermione realized that she might have just given herself away. His pace quickened towards her, stopping only inches away from her.
The defiant Gryffindor Lioness stared daringly back at the Snake, and she suddenly became acutely aware to his proximity. Even in the dim light, she was sure that he could see through her with his intense gaze, even as she desperately tried to see through him. Her eyes, trained to search him every time he was near enough, found all but one feature in its rightful place. His brown hair still had that slight wave at the front and his face was still eerily pale, but his eyes, for the first time, were not stubbornly silent. They were actually…saying something.
At that moment, surrounded by books and a tension filled silence, Hermione felt a shift in the world.
She didn't know what it was or why it happened at this precise moment in time, but she knew that something had changed; and her gut instincts, who were becoming more attuned to the Head Boy, were telling her that it affected him as well.
It was as if they had come to an understanding.
Hermione's comment had clearly ousted her in some way, and he knew she was on to him. But, whatever she felt told her that they would pretend like nothing happened, like nothing went wrong.
For now at least.
The smartest witch of her age worked her brain to exhaustion trying to understand why he wouldn't tell. She knew that he wanted something; that much was clear. But was it something so necessary to him that he would allow her this one mistake in order to achieve his ends? Was there another reason it was in his best interest to let the matter pass?
Hermione didn't mind his decision, because it allowed her to keep her secrets. But, the fact that he had yet another blunder to dangle over her head made her feel intensely uneasy.
And, it also meant that she would have to do more research and come up with yet another strategy for Tom Riddle.
Dear Merlin, he's definitely going to be the death of me.
"Your idea is actually sound," he conceded, trying to dispel the awkwardness. Whatever had passed had caused a truce for the remainder of their time in the Restricted Section; and even though Hermione knew that he didn't want her anywhere near books on the soul, she didn't call him out.
And even though she didn't want to wait, Hermione knew she had to find another opportunity to slyly ask him about his quote. If she quoted verbatim what he said at his Death Eater meeting now, then he would become even more suspicious. And she couldn't have that. Not after their temporary, fragile truce.
And especially not after, despite his plans, he had decided that it was too dangerous to accuse her of anything.
Though belated, she attempted a haughty, superior look, hoping to get out of the weird lull they had both created. Yes, her mission was to crack him, but, strangely, with this weird and sudden break through, she wanted to retreat.
To her surprise (and her relief), Riddle had let her walk back to her Common Room unescorted.
And thank dear sweet Merlin for it.
For a minute there, Hermione had felt as if her world had tipped over its axis, making it unbalanced and wrong. But now that she was away from the prat, she could finally think about the situation.
She hadn't meant to give herself away. And she really needed to be more careful in the future. Tom Riddle, and Lord Voldemort, had amazing powers of perception, only to be matched by the crafty deceit of Severus Snape.
Her mistake had been small but significant, not necessarily telling him that she knew what he was up to, but revealing that she was headed in the right direction. And, even though her words should have been minor (barely noticeable really) his quick mind and his powers of perception had somehow known that she knew more. She had felt it in her gut, in her bones. In that one moment, she had understood him, and he her.
And it was scary.
Even though her stomach, at the time, was screaming for her to never experience that "connection" with him again, her mind told her differently. Her thoughts were actually elated about the fact that she had broken through him, and they were urging her to create that connection again.
Her heart was telling her to never try to understand him ever again. Its reason, however, were totally different from the slight nausea and shock that had risen in her stomach.
He's just too dark, her heart told her. He's in so much turmoil, and he's absorbing the Dark Arts like a sponge. Getting deeper into his mind, into his mangled soul, would engulf her with him, and she feared that she would be forever traumatized by what she saw.
As she rounded the corner, deep in her thoughts, someone grabbed her from behind. Hermione tensed, ready to use her adrenaline and her elbow to hit her attacker in the stomach; but then, she heard a familiar cynical drawl that made her relax immediately.
"Honestly, Hermione, you'd think you'd be ecstatic about being ambushed by me," Draco whispered in his best seductive voice.
Since it was the egotistical blonde Slytherin, and not her other thirds, Hermione decided that a light jab with her elbow would be good retaliation for the minor scare he gave her.
"Ow!" Draco exclaimed, immediately letting her go. "And before you object to my loudness, let me just say that I put a silencing charm on this corridor."
Hermione turned around and put her hands on her hips. "What are you doing out here?"
"Well, I didn't want to head back to my common room after our meeting, and lucky I didn't, because I saw you get accosted by that son of a bitch. So, being the hero that I am, I decided to stay here and see if you would come out alive," he said, raising his eyebrows at her. "Plus, I have an interesting piece of news for you, courtesy of yours truly."
"Hmm, your second contribution to this mission," Hermione said with a teasing smile. "Must be important."
"Contrary to popular belief, I have contributed greatly to this mission; but, since we're technically fighting, I haven't been able to acknowledge you in public," he said, smirking at her.
Hermione's smile fell a bit, her mind intrigued. "Go on."
"My dear grandfather was throwing a fit last night," Draco explained, a bit of disdain creeping into his voice. "But he provided an interesting crumb of knowledge about the future Dark Lord."
"Wait, why was he throwing a fit?" Hermione asked.
"I don't actually know. Anyway, you might be surprised to know that Voldemort's fear is not what we thought," Draco said.
Hermione's mind resumed its gears as she absorbed the gravity of the situation. "He's not afraid of death?"
"I'm sure he is, but it's not his biggest fear."
Hermione looked at Draco suspiciously. "Wait, how did you get this information from your grandfather?"
Draco sighed in mild exasperation. "I wasn't planning on giving you a full recounting." He leaned against the wall, settling in before starting his tale. "I was about to open the door to my room when I heard grandpa talking to Nott Senior. Unlike myself and my father, grandpa's fault is indiscretion. When he's angry, half of his logical abilities leave his mind completely."
"Anyway, I guess it's important to say that grandpa feels a little annoyed towards Riddle," he finished, holding out the suspense in true Malfoy fashion.
"Is there dissention within the ranks?" Hermione asked excitedly.
"From what I've been able to pick up, and from what Ron has observed, no there isn't," Draco replied, to which Hermione deflated a bit. "Turns out Ron's assertions were right. They were chastised against killing. Grandfather, naturally, was annoyed."
"Because he wanted to kill Roger?"
"Stop getting ahead of yourself, Granger," Draco sighed, smirking at her mind's ability to run rampant at a small piece of information. "I'm saying that my Grandfather and Nott are both within the inner circle, so Riddle has naturally told them some kind of reasoning behind his plans. Of course, he didn't disclose anything truly important, but just enough for his inner circle to do his bidding."
"And what was his reasoning?" Hermione asked in suspense.
"Apparently, right now, the Death Eaters are laying low for a different reason than we thought. It's because their strong and glorious leader is scared of fear," Draco revealed.
Hermione stared, dumbfounded. "That makes absolutely no sense."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course it does. He's scared of being scared."
"Yeah, I gathered that," Hermione snapped. "But if you're scared of being scared, then you must not want to be scared of something. What could he possibly have to fear?"
"The only conclusions I came to is that he's afraid of losing something," Draco replied. "Apparently, this laying low and doing everything behind the scenes is Riddle's way of safeguarding a possession of his."
"His soul," Hermione stated.
"Wrong," Draco corrected, leaving the know-it-all Gryffindor across from him staring incredulously into his blue eyes. The Slytherin puffed his chest out with pride. "Wow, saying you're wrong gave me some surprising satisfaction."
Hermione took a deep breath and tried not to strangle the infuriating blonde in front of her. "Just tell me why I'm wrong."
"This is what I heard verbatim," Draco said, straightening a bit and taking on the manner of his snotty Grandfather. "'Lord Voldemort needs to stop being so damn afraid of losing these stupid material possessions. They're just so many of them; it's hard to keep up. And, he won't even need them once he leads the most powerful organization in the world."
"Material possessions?" Hermione said thoughtfully. "His Horcruxes?"
"No one knows about them, Hermione," Draco said. "Not even Aunt Bella knew about the cup when she put it in her vault. She just knew she had to guard it."
"His books then?" Hermione guessed.
"That was my initial reaction. But then I thought, 'why in the hell would Hermione be able to guess what he's hiding?'"
"Well then what else could it be?" Hermione asked frustrated. She ran a hand through her long, bushy curls as she sorted through every mental filing cabinet she had, searching for a clue. "What else could this lunatic possibly have?"
"I don't know, but remember, my dear grandfather said material possessions. He could be guarding either multiples of the same object, or several objects all together; and since we weren't here to screw up history when Riddle made his first Horcrux and grandpa said there were many of them, I think it's safe to assume it's not the pieces of his soul."
Hermione sighed, suddenly exhausted, as she leaned against the wall next to Draco. "How has no one been able to know this? How were all of these mysteries not in existence in our time?"
Draco turned to look at her. Even through the darkness, Hermione could see the resolution on his face. "It's because, dear Hermione, you were right. Something that happened, either this year or in the next four or five years, changed Riddle."
"Yeah, but if that's true, then we know --."
"—that those objects didn't exist in our time. We have to find out what they are and protect them at all costs."
A/N: Once again, I'm so grateful that you, my readers, have made it to the bottom of my seventh chapter. I'm get so motivated and exited to hear your wonderful compliments and even your critiques! I write for myself and for you guys, and I'm so glad that we can enjoy this story together.
And, once again, I'm providing another chapter preview. Until next time!
Preview: (yes, it does imply that my next chapter will be the first that is pure Tom and Hermione)
"Hermione, you're going to be in the Forbidden Forest alone and unprotected for at least three hours with that evil, serial killing maniac."
