A/N: Wow, long time no see, eh? I apologize for the super long wait, but my summer job held me up a lot and then the new semester began. Things get a bit crazy sometimes! However, I am still set on finishing this story and though it may take a while, it will be done! ...Eventually! Since the holidays are coming up, I hope to get at least two more chapters in this year, excluding this one.
So... sorry for leaving you guys hanging and thanks for sticking around. I can't believe how many of you guys reviewed the last chapter! You guys are ah-may-zing! Like, seriously. The amount of views on this story are getting ridiculous. It's fantastic. Ridiculous.
So... Thank you. Also, I apologize in advance for any grammar and spelling mistakes. I'm truly beat.
With that all said, enjoy the new chapter!
A Pinch of Salt
Chapter 7
Hermione wasn't sure whether to be curious as to why the handsome professor had wanted a word with her or annoyed that she'd have to put her nap on hold. She settled for the latter. Balking her journey towards the door, Hermione hesitantly turned around to face Riddle, who was typing away at his keyboard.
"Please do come a bit closer, Miss Granger. I would prefer if it weren't necessary for our conversation to require yelling across the room."
Hermione fought the urge to simply turn around again and leave. She didn't need this today. It was bad enough that her perfect grade in this class was ruined; the last thing she needed was to put up with the man who gave it to her. Begrudgingly, she walked towards his desk in the front of the classroom and waited for him to look up. After a moment, Riddle finally ceased his typing and gazed at her with his gunmetal irises behind the glare of his framed glasses.
Sighing, he began, "How are you, Miss Granger?"
You have got to be kidding me, Hermione thought.
Biting her tongue, "I am doing well. Yourself?"
"Quite alright," he grinned flatly, taking his glasses off with the long fingers of his right hand.
Silence.
"Is there something that you wanted, Professor?"
"Why yes, Miss Granger, a matter of fact there is."
Silence.
"Can I ask what it is you wanted to speak about, then?"
"Yes, I'm certain you can," he responded, his upper lip twitching.
An angry blood vessel became apparent on Hermione's forehead.
"Well, what is it that you wanted to speak about?" she bit out.
"Today's assignment," he finally revealed, "Your performance today was lackluster, Miss Granger. Amateur, almost."
"I know Professor, it's just that I was paired with McLaggen and I–"
"Yes, yes, I am quite aware. That, however, is no excuse for your poor performance. I had expected more from Gryffindor's star pupil."
"But I–"
"Please, spare me the excuses, Miss Granger. They are pathetic, really, and in no way will help your case. It was unfortunate that your partner was not exactly the most cooperative, but let me tell you this, Granger - you will never make it as a chef if you do not learn how to work with people, even the most brainless. You're working at Phoenix now. I am certain that Dumbledore has you working with other line chefs, correct?"
Hermione could only nod dumbly, too unnerved from Riddle's chastisement to speak.
"I myself have experienced how trying group tasks can be, but sometimes you have no choice but to work together to achieve the higher goal of the establishment. Had you and McLaggen served that garbage to an actual customer anywhere, that would have been detrimental to not only the restaurant, but both your jobs as well."
Her mouth opened, but no words came out, so she closed it.
"Do not think that I am picking on you, Miss Granger. I assure you, I am not. I simply know that you can do better and I expect nothing less from you than your best. Though I can't say the same for Mr. McLaggen, whom I did not bother to speak to because I know people like him – they don't want listen and don't wish to learn," he glanced at his watch quickly, "No matter, I must be somewhere soon. I expect you won't let this happen again."
"No," Hermione spoke, finding her voice again, "Of course not, Professor."
"Good."
With that, he hurriedly stowed his laptop away in his leather satchel and stood to leave. She watched him and then thought quickly.
"Um..." she began hesitantly.
"Yes, Miss Granger?" Riddle questioned, seemingly annoyed as he adjusted the strap of his satchel.
Hermione did not want to ask, but she had to; it was her last chance to save her grade.
"Would it be possible for you to give me a redo on this assignment?"
"...Redo?" he tested slowly and gave a short laugh.
Hermione swallowed.
"There are no redoes in the culinary world, Miss Granger."
"A bit loony that one is, isn't she?" Ginny spoke lowly, observing Luna, who was slowly dancing in circles across the studio.
"Loony? No, I don't think so," Hermione responded, "I'd call her... whimsical. Very enraptured with life, itself. I envy her sometimes."
Ginny hummed in agreement.
"What's that girl's name again?" Ginny questioned, pointing her chin in the direction of a darker skinned woman with marvelously straight black hair.
"Padma," Hermione answered, "Quite gossipy, but really sweet."
While at work the day before, Hermione was discussing the ridiculousness of her redheaded friend's insistence of taking Hermione to Zumba class in order for her to feel better about her swollen tummy. Padma had laughed loudly at Hermione's expense, but then offered to attend the next Zumba class with her. Hermione gratefully accepted Padma's offer, and the black haired woman then extended to offer to Luna, who was always up for anything.
Hermione smiled to herself, pleased that her friends at work were slowly navigating into becoming friends outside of work. Finishing her stretching, Padma grabbed the spinning Luna by the wrist and dragged her over to where Hermione stood next to a very pregnant Ginny, who just finished a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.
"How far along are you?" Padma asked the glowing redhead.
"Oh, just around eight months. Only one more left! Though by the way he kicks, I'm guessing he wants to get out as soon as possible," Ginny laughed.
"Usually Veela pregnancies are much quicker than human pregnancies. They last around five months, more or less. When being birthed, the child will try to tear through its mother's stomach with it's sharp nails to be freed, which is why Veela mother's must be admitted to the hospital a week before their due date so surgeons can remove the child safely before they can cause their mother harm."
Everyone stared at the blond.
"What in the bloody hell are Veelas?" Ginny asked.
"Oh, they're a semi-human, semi-magical race of humanoids. Very similar to Sirens. Fascinating creatures, really."
"I'm sure they are, Luna," Hermione chimed in, while everyone else stared at Luna disconcertingly.
Breaking through the awkward conversation, the door to the studio burst open and the Zumba instructor bounced into the room. This time, she donned a vibrant purple sports bra and matching trainers. Throwing her curly, dirty blonde hair into a ponytail, the instructor turned around to face the class.
"Hello class! To those new here, I am your Zumba instructor, Lavender. We have a great workout planned for today, so everyone get up and let's begin!" Lavender recited.
"Oh Lord," Padma groaned, "I'm not quite sure if I'm ready for her enthusiasm."
"You'll get used to it," Hermione assured her.
"Ready people?" Lavender shouted, as the beginning to a cheerful pop song filled the studio.
"Get up, 'Mione!" Ginny growled angrily, tugging Hermione on the sleeve of her raggedy t-shirt.
Hermione glared back, "I'm going! Good lord, you don't have to yank me, Gin!"
Standing up, Hermione moved with Padma and Luna towards the center of the studio where they blended in with the rest of the Zumba goers. Turning back to glare at Ginny one last time, who waved and smiled at her as she opened up another bag of Doritos (this time Nacho Cheese flavored), Hermione found herself following Lavender's steps once more.
"Bloody hell, that was great!" Padma exclaimed, breathless after following Lavender's lead for eighteen songs.
"Yes, I found it to be quite exhilarating," Luna added.
"She goes so damn fast, I could barely keep up!" Ginny complained.
"Gin," Hermione tutted, "You were sitting, stuffing your face with junk food the whole time."
"That's what it seems like I was doing, but spiritually, I was dancing right next to you."
Padma snickered while Hermione rolled her eyes at the redhead.
"Of course, Gin, whatever you say."
Hermione lead her friends out of the studio and to the stairs.
"Oi, Hermione, did you see that bloke behind you?" Padma started, "He was totally staring at your bum!"
"Oh, stop it Padma," Hermione snapped, yet began to blush lightly, "You're just saying that."
"No, I swear the bloke was!" Padma defended herself.
"Padma is indeed correct, Helen," Luna chimed in, "I was observing him while he was observing you."
"Well, can you blame him?" Ginny began, "I'd stare too if someone was shaking their rump in my face. Especially with one like yours, 'Mione."
The women made their way down the stairs and to the exit of the complex.
"I was not shaking my rump, as you so eloquently put it. And you all are mistaken! I just so happened to be in front of him, so it may seem like he was staring, but most likely, he was not," Hermione retorted, reaching for the handle of the glass door, "And what do mean 'with one like yours'?"
"What I mean, 'Mione, is that you have a big, fat arse–"
"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," a deep voice greeted, interrupting Ginny. The voice's owner pulled the door open before Hermione could grasp onto it.
"O-oh," Hermione stuttered, shocked, "Hello Mr. Riddle. What are you doing here?"
Riddle stood tall in front of her, sans his usual spectacles and clad in a red sweatshirt that was pushed to his elbows, stylish black sweatpants (if sweatpants can even be stylish), and trainers. His keys dangled from his right hand while a perspiring water bottle was held in his left. Raising a dark brow, he questioned, "Is this not a public gym and recreation center?"
"Yes, it is," Hermione blushed further, "I just didn't intend on seeing you here."
Riddle opened his mouth to respond, but Ginny beat him to it.
"Hi! I'm Ginny, Hermione's friend," the redhead greeted, eyes twinkling mischievously, "I've heard absolutely wonderful things about you from Hermione. She says you're a magnificent professor!"
"Does she now?" Riddle stepped inside the building, the glass door banging behind him.
"Actually–" Hermione spoke, trying to take control of the conversation back.
"Why, yes!" Ginny cut her off, "When she found out that the head chef of The Hallows was going to be her guest lecturer, she was beyond excited!"
"Well, I'm certainly surprised to hear that after she and her friend had a less than pleasurable experience there," he said, directing his gaze to Hermione, "I was meaning to offer you another meal at The Hallows, Miss Granger. It's in our best interests to make sure all patrons are pleased with their experience and leave with a good memory of our establishment. Why don't you stop by sometime this week and I can assure you that I will personally make your meal myself?"
"I don't think so, Mr. Riddle," Hermione immediately rejected, "I would not want you to go through all that trouble just for me, especially after our bill was covered that night."
"Please, Miss Granger, I insist," he smiled tightly.
"Well... I am quite busy this week with schoolwork and I am expected at Phoenix–"
"We both know that you are top of your class, Miss Granger. I am sure that spending more or less of an hour to eat will certainly not disturb your packed schedule."
"But–"
"It will be free of charge. You may even bring another guest," Riddle added, his tight-lipped smile thinning.
"Of course she accepts your offer! Hermione likes to be stubborn sometimes. Isn't that right, Hermione?" Ginny intervened. She gripped Hermione's arm firmly and gave her a pointed look.
"...Sure. Why not?" Hermione gave in, flashing a small, strained smile.
"How about this Saturday?"
"Saturday is great!" Ginny answered for her.
"I will have arrangements be made," Riddle nodded, dropping his keys into his pocket, "I'm afraid that must be going now. Good day to you all."
Abruptly side-stepping all four women, Riddle made his way up the stairs in the complex and disappeared from their sight.
"What a fine piece of arse!" Ginny said, gazing after Riddle.
"Wow Hermione, your professor is fit!" Padma gushed.
"Hmm... I admit he is attractive. However, I prefer my partners to have a lighter aura around them. I could practically feel his dark magic crackling in the air," Luna commented dreamily.
"Gin! What the hell was that?" Hermione angrily asked, ignoring Luna's strange statement.
"What? Did you really think I was going to stand there and let you pass up on taking me to eat at The Hallows for free? Certainly not!" She argued.
Rolling her eyes, Hermione opened the door and the four made their way out onto the streets of London.
"I hope you know that I don't owe you shit now. We're even," Hermione informed Ginny, irritated.
"Forget those damn photos, seeing the sexy genius chef in person is a thousand times better!" The redhead chirped, "Let's go to Honeydukes! I need to refill my supply of licorice snaps."
It was a couple of days later that Hermione found herself facedown on her mattress, under her deep purple duvet. She groaned lowly as she rolled over onto her back, the muscles in her shoulders cracking. Usually on Fridays, Hermione would already be up and studiously taking notes in her Marketing and Promotion class. Glancing at the alarm clock sitting on her nightstand that read '12:30PM,' Hermione silently thanked whatever power that was responsible for making her ancient Marketing instructor, Professor Binns, to cancel Friday's morning class. She sat up and wiped the dried drool from her lower lip, eying her hand in disgust.
Today, Hermione was supposed to be picked up by Harry so that they could drive down to London together and meet Ron at Wembley's Stadium, where the Chudley Cannons were versing the Falmouth Falcons. Apparently, it was the biggest game of the football season and Hermione could not give a rat's arse about it. She thought any professional sport that was partial to any form of violence was ridiculous. But she had to suck it up – today wasn't about her. It was about bonding with her best friends (minus Ginny), whom she hadn't been able to hang out with for a while – all three of them at the same time, that is.
After lazing around for a few minutes, Hermione finally made it out of her bed and into her en-suite bathroom where she took her time brushing her teeth with her electric toothbrush and showering. She headed to the dresser back in her bedroom with her towel wrapped tightly around her form. Hermione yanked open her top drawer and threw a cotton black bra over her shoulder, onto the bed, followed by a pair of black cotton knickers. She closed that draw and then opened up another to pull out an old pair of faded jeans that she had since secondary school and then a Chudley Cannon's jersey that her on-again-off-again university boyfriend, Viktor Krum had given her before they called it quits for good. Hermione chuckled as she thought of what Ron's face would look like when he saw her wearing Viktor's jersey. While Hermione and Ron's romantic relationship was effectively put to an end, the redhead had never quite liked Viktor.
During her first year of university, Hermione had been rejected by Ron who claimed to have thought she was "more of a mate" than anything else and proceeded to move on to a leggy brunette. Heartbroken, Hermione met Viktor as she was busying herself with forgetting her tomato-haired idiot of a crush in the university library and had bumped into him - literally. Viktor was quite the charmer and though Hermione hated that he was most interested in football, his dimpled cheeks and firm biceps were enough to allow Hermione to think, "Screw it!" and give it a go with the handsome Bulgarian.
When she first introduced her first official boyfriend to her closest friends, Ron immediately became jealous over how fast she had gotten over him so quickly and decided that he hated Viktor Krum. It was then that Viktor had been scouted for the Chudley Cannons (a year before Ron did) and had began to see Hermione less and less over the months. Eventually university ended, as did their relationship – Hermione wasn't one to do long distance. So while she busied herself with the start of medical school, Ron slowly made his interest known to her. She had entertained him for a while before she realized that there's something about being considered someone's second best that was not all too appealing. Not to mention, after his hard work on the field, Ron too had been scouted to the Cannons. And once again, Hermione did not do long distance. Not that that played a major part in their mutual splitting; Hermione was more concerned over her grades in chemistry than she was in her own boyfriend. After two months of flirting and going on occasional dates, Hermione called it quits with Ron.
The buzzing vibration of her phone snapped her out of her past. Throwing her towel on her bed, Hermione got dressed quickly and picked up her phone.
Here, Harry had texted her.
She toed on a pair of socks and trainers as she typed out a reply.
On my way out.
Hermione ran back into the bathroom to quickly brush her hair, but the uncontrollable bush of curls and wouldn't budge, so she quickly tied the mass into a messy bun, threw a jacket on, grabbed her tote bag, and made her way out of the apartment complex. She spotted Harry's silver car on the curb of the building.
"Thought you might need this," Harry commented once Hermione got settled into her seat. He held a cup of tea from some café in his hand and a chocolate chip muffin in the other.
"How'd you know?" Hermione grinned, leaning over to plant a kiss on her friend's cheek before taking both out of his hands.
"Eh, well it's certainly not like I've known you for over a decade or anything like that," he smirked.
"Of course you haven't," she declared, "This is why you're my favorite, Harry."
"I knew it!" he exclaimed, as he started the engine and pulled away from the curb.
"You can't tell Ron, though. Or Gin, for that matter," Hermione said thoughtfully, biting into the muffin, "Yeah, especially not Gin. She'd go bonkers."
"Tell me about it. At least you don't have to live with her."
"No one asked you to marry her. You knew very well what you were getting into."
"Yeah," he smiled, "I did."
They arrived at Wembley Stadium in no time and after their tickets were checked, they made their way into the crowded stadium and up the stands to their assigned seats. Before they even reached them, they were able to spot Ron's ginger head, which stood out among the other fans.
"Hey, mate," Harry greeted Ron, who was stuffing his face with vendor-bought fish and chips.
"Hey guys," Ron returned, swallowing his food before, squinting his eyes up at the two with a smile. He got up to slap Harry on the shoulder twice and then moved to briefly hug Hermione. They all sat down and engaged in light conversation about how each of them were doing and how their work was. Hermione watched as the players who were practicing on the field stopped and made their way to their individual sidelines. The game was about to start. She shrugged her jacket off and went to place it in her bag.
"What the bloody hell are you wearing?"
Hermione turned to face Ron.
"A jersey...?" She answered unsure, raising a single brow.
"Is that Krum's?" He asked, nostrils flaring.
"Of course it is," she replied, angling her body slightly to show the large block letters that spelt 'KRUM' on the back. "You never did give me one."
"Whatever," Ron said whilst the tip of his ears turned red. He turned back to the now empty field and glared. Hermione chuckled under her breath.
"So much for getting rid of that bleh feeling, eh?" Harry whispered into her ear.
"I just couldn't resist," Hermione giggled back.
Hours later, the trio arrived at The Three Breadsticks, a local bar not far from the stadium. Once inside, Harry and Hermione sat at a table near the back of the establishment while Ron immediately went to the counter and ordered them drinks. The pub was crowded with fans from both teams, but it was the fans dressed in dark gray and white that were the most rowdy – the Chudley Cannons lost to the Falmouth Falcons by one point. Harry was mildly disappointed but understood that the loss didn't mean it was over for the Cannons this season. Ron, on the other hand, was wildly outraged at the turn of events and left the game heated, still cheering for his fallen team in his violent, bright orange Cannons sweater.
"Thanks, mate," Harry said once Ron slammed the three large mugs filled to the brim with beer onto the table. They each grabbed their respective drinks.
"So, did you like the game, 'Mione?" Harry began.
"It was… quite the experience," Hermione responded, wiping some foam from her top lip. To be honest, the only thing she enjoyed about the game was when Ron was heckling the players on the field, who obviously couldn't hear him, and when the game had finally ended.
"I'll say," Ron added, "Bloody horrible! I can't believe Krum let Broadmoor score like that!"
"I do not think he let him score the goal on purpose, Ronald," Hermione tutted.
"Oh, come on! Did you see that wanker? He could've blocked it, I'm sure. Isn't that right, Harry?"
"Yeah, definitely," Harry mumbled noncommittally.
Shaking her head, Hermione was reminded of how she used to get caught up in her boys' crazy schemes all throughout secondary school. Harry and Ron were really supportive of one another and sometimes would drag Hermione along even though she protested and criticized their ideas the majority time. As annoying it was, she had to admit she quite enjoyed their adventures. After all, the two of them could not possibly have survived secondary school nor university without her – for reasons other than those that pertain to academia.
They finished chatting about the game and began discussing anything and everything that came to mind. After an hour or so, Hermione got up to go refill her beverage. Making her way to the bar, she greeted the bartender and decided to get a rum and coke for herself.
"Miss Granger! What a surprise this is!" A loud voice belted from across the bar. Hermione turned to see her old Contemporary Desserts professor, Horace Slughorn, at a table nearby.
"Hello, Professor," she blushed lightly, waving from the bar.
"Come here, my dear girl!"
Grabbing her drink from the counter, she made her way over to his table.
"Oh, what a pleasant, pleasant surprise! How are you Miss Granger?" He laughed, his large belly shacking with every chuckle.
"I'm doing well, sir. And yourself?"
"Quite good, dear. I'm just here catching a drink with dear old Severus. You should join us!"
"Actually, I'm here with–"
"Good evening, Granger," Severus monotonously greeted Hermione, appearing at the table and sat next to Slughorn.
"Professor Snape," she nodded in return.
"Go on, Miss Granger, take a seat! I haven't seen you since your first year at Gryffindor. Took the school by storm, I'd say," Slughorn laughed again.
Oh, dear Lord, she thought, Here we go.
She dragged by the wooden chair across from them out and sat down.
"I regret leaving Gryffindor sometimes. Such bright students, you lot are. Good-natured, too," Slughorn thought aloud, "But there's something about Slytherin that makes you feel at home. Isn't that right, Tom, my boy?"
Hermione could feel a dark presence approach behind her.
"Certainly, Horace," Riddle's smooth voice filled the air around her.
"Glad you could make it, Mister Riddle," Snape said as way of greeting.
"I almost didn't. I was caught up with grading papers and then I had to deal with Malfoy for the better part of an hour," he explained. Turning slightly, he nodded at Hermione, who was sipping her drink, "Hello, Miss Granger. I was not aware you were one to frequent pubs."
"Oh, I'm not," Hermione blushed, "I am just here with two of my friends. Whom of which I should probably be returning to."
With that, Hermione scrambled out of her seat and bid good day to them all before nearly running away with her drink clutched firmly in her hand.
"Do you always have to scare them away, my boy? I was just beginning to converse with Miss Granger," Slughorn chastised.
"I'm sure the last thing that the girl would want to do is sit down and have a chit chat with three of her professors," he returned coolly.
"Hmm, nice girl she is, Tom. Bright. Good future ahead of her. Pretty too," Slughorn listed slyly.
"I'm going to have to stop you right there, Horace," Riddle said.
"What?" Slughorn asked innocently, "I bet the two of you would make such a strong duo. Both of you were top of your classes and hold such promise. Imagine what could happen!"
Tom merely stared at him.
"Mark my words, boy! Miss Granger is one woman who would keep you on your toes."
