Andron - Corridor
Well, well, what do we have here?
In front of him was an extremely odd setting, to say the least. It was a room he'd never seen before, and it looked oddly like the Hogwarts library, except the book shelves were completely empty.
There was one, solitary, leather-bound book sat in the middle of the library, on the floor. Curious, he approached it, and picked it up, reading the title on the cover.
Hermione's Diary.
Was this really?
He unclasped it and flicked through the blank pages. Nothing was written inside... unless...
...Could it be like his diary?
Quickly, he searched his pockets for ink and a quill, found none and nearly sighed in exasperation when said items suddenly popped into existence at his side. He had his suspicious about this room already. Could it be... Regardless, he grabbed the quill, dipped into the jet black ink, and began writing on the first page.
Hello.
Hello, there. May I know your name?
He hesitated, then decided to fake a name, Alexander Edwards. Who are you?
Hello, there, Alexander. This, here, is Hermione Granger. How may I help you?
He stopped.
Granger?
Could it be a different Hermione?
May I ask how this diary was created, and where it's owner is right now?
Brilliant questions, Alexander. This diary, technically, is not real. It was merely created by this room to answer your questions, and thus, there is no owner to this diary.
Who is Hermione Granger, then?
Hermione Granger is a current Hogwarts student, at some point in time, she made a very strong connection to this room. She would remain here for hours on end. As you know, this room is psychic. It knows your needs and grants them, and the room became accustomed to Hermione's strong presence, creating this diary to preserve her memory within, as she once dreamed would happen.
Riddle frowned. Hermione spent hours here? Doing what? And what does it mean by preserve her memory? He noted, with sudden intrigue, that the diary had said at 'some point in time.'
Interesting.
Right now, is it as though I am speaking with this Hermione?
Yes, Alexander, indeed.
May I ask what is this room you speak of?
My dear boy, it is the Room of Requirement, of course.
He knew it! Oh Merlin, this was absolutely brilliant.
His conversation continued.
Oh, yes, of course. Does this diary contain Hermione's memories, then?
It does not, I must disappoint. However, it does contain her opinions and her knowledge. So ask away, I'm here to answer.
Where are you from, Hermione?
Wouldn't you like to know, Riddle?
His heart beat nearly stopped.
Riddle!? How did it-
He wrote: How did you know?
No point lying to a piece of paper.
Didn't I tell you the room was psychic? You, as Thomas Riddle, requested to receive answers from a certain girl, Hermione Levesque, and thus this diary was presented to you. The room and diary already know of your identity. I merely feigned ignorance to see if you would continue with your slanders. You continued. And so I am afraid, until you prove yourself worthy, I will not answer any more personal questions.
Stupid diary. Why was it refusing him answers? A book was angry at him! That was certainly a new low for Tom.
Why not?
Because, I am Hermione Granger. And she would not do so.
How will I ever be of worth, then?
You're an intelligent boy. Figure it out.
He was being fucking ignored by bloody pieces of paper. Sighing, he grabbed the diary, left the room and headed back to his dorm.
What an eventful day.
Hermione had two free periods first thing that day, and so after a hurried breakfast (thankfully, with an absent Riddle) she went and sat down with the rest of the Slytherins in the Common Room.
Amanda caught sight of her and rushed over, "Hi, Hermione!" she greeted cheerfully.
The poor girl was Obliviated by Riddle, and couldn't remember a thing. Hermione still found his antics that day disturbing, what had he wanted with the little Greengrass girl?
Hermione smiled and patted the seat next to her, thankful for company. Amanda called two of her other friends over, whom she introduced as Sally Rosier and Marianne Peters.
Rosier? Could she be Rosier's younger sister? She had to be.
Speaking off.. where were Riddle and his followers?
The girls sat together, chatting a midst the rest of the Slytherins over silly things, gossip, news, who was dating who. All the usual things, and Hermione found that these girls weren't all too bad, to be honest. Before long, she was smiling, laughing and giggling.
She was happy, for the first time in a long time.
Christopher Avery.
Alphard Black.
Abraxas Malfoy.
Emperius Lestrange.
Elliot Rosier.
These were his followers, in order of currently most-favorite to least-favorite.
Avery did not stutter. He liked him.
Black had been sent to Little Hangleton to ensure the.. mess was cleared up at the start of term. He should be back tomorrow. Though Riddle thought Avery was a sufficient man, he knew that Black would get the job done. He, however, doubted Black somewhat. He felt the boy was too kind.
Malfoy was no where in sight. Just the way he liked him.
Lestrange dealt with his other issues. Women. Riddle received too many an a offer a day of so-called dates and other useless events, and Lestrange always seemed to provide the ladies with a 'substitute' for Riddle. Good.
He currently disliked Rosier the most, because his stupid, little sister in 6th year was head over heels for him. She was infatuated with him, it was rather annoying. Thus, he hated Rosier by association.
Skip a few Weasleys, Slughorn, the Ministry, first years, house elves, Muggles and Mudbloods down the list and Hermione's name was the most prominent in his mind.
He absolutely loathed the girl.
When he'd entered the Common Room, he'd seen her sat with a group of chattering girls, laughing, smiling.
What was she so happy about?
It mattered not, though , for he had figured that since the girl wouldn't be telling him anything anytime soon, his best bet was to get information from that diary.
But the diary had told him to prove himself worthy.
And so, he was here, approaching Levesque - Granger? - in an attempt to, God forbid he ever have to do this again, ask her out to dinner.
He was walking slowly, and he realized that he had never in his life done this before; he had never asked a girl out.
He contemplated turning around and making a run of it.
Dear lord, was he nervous?
As he was contemplating whether to approach or retreat, Hermione caught sight of him, and the look on her face should have confirmed his doubts.
Then, she stood up, approaching him.
What on Earth?
She had never - not once in the short time he had known her - approached him before, and he realized that he was inwardly, panicking a little. She looked like she was ready to rip him apart piece by piece.
He smiled at her cockily, raising an eyebrow, but before he could speak. She grabbed him by his arm and pulled, dragging him out of the Common Room.
She was dragging him!
Angrily, he yanked his arm from her so strongly, she nearly lost her footing.
"Don't touch me, girl," he spat venomously.
Hermione laughed, "Don't touch you? Wasn't what you were saying last night,"
She regretted it as soon as she'd said that, and she felt herself being dragged by him now and oh god, it was painful.
"Stop it," she screeched, "you're hurting me,"
He laughed, "Is that so?"
Suddenly, he stopped, and she was pulled flush up against his side in a haste. He turned to her, eyes flashing dangerously, and she stepped back immediately.
It was a dead end. And it was unbelievably colder here. She'd never been to this part of the castle before... was there something here?
Riddle turned to the black wall and spoke in Parsletongue.
Oh god.
What was he doing! What was behind that door?
She looked behind her, and was more than tempted to make a run for it. when his cold, long fingers grabbed a hold of her left hand, still facing the wall.
He was holding her hand. She was going to shout at him to let go when she realized that her voice would probably come out squeaky and breathless and goddamit, why were his hands so cold, and long-figured, and Godric, what he could do with that hand-
The door in front of them made a noise, Hermione watched as it slid upwards slowly. Incredibly wary, she stole a glance at Tom, who was watching the pathway in front of them so intently it scared her. Without a care in the world, he yanked her inside harshly, and she noticed that it was a seemingly never ending corridor, it was dirty and bits of rubble littered the floor.
No one's been here in ages, she thought.
"Quite right," Tom's voice broke the silence, and turned to look at her, watching her expression carefully.
Hermione backed away, tried letting go of his hands but could not; his grip was far too strong.
"How did you-" she stopped, and found she didn't know what to say.
"You can just say I'm an expert at reading people," he said, seeming slightly bemused.
Ignoring him, she looked around. What part of the castle is this?
"The Corridor of Secrets," he said, much to her horror, "leading into the Chamber of Secrets. Ever heard of the Chamber of Secrets before, Hermione?" He stared at her, as if he already knew the answer. But she'd never known of this Corridor... clearly, Moaning Myrtle's bathroom was not the only entrance.
His eyes were still on hers, looking lost...
Was he-
He was!
Shit, the hand-holding, the eye staring-
He was looking into her mind!
She grabbed his collar with her right hand and pulled it to break his eye-contact. The look of surprise on his face did not pass her, and yet the bastard still refused to let go of her hand. Godric, had he found a way to perform Legilimency with just bodily contact?
Perhaps, last night, the reason he asked for a-
"Dear Godric, get away for me, you-"
"Godric?" he mused, gripping her hand tighter, "A Gryffindor then, I see,"
This was it. She had to run away. She began pulling her hand away from his, running back towards the door, unwillingly dragging him behind her.
She stupidly left her wand up in her dorm, thinking she wouldn't need it in the Common Room.
Why was she so careless lately?
Riddle let go of her hand, but quickly wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back flush up against his front.
"You stupid, little girl," he hissed, and angrily pushed her body around so that she was pressed facing the wall. Her cheek collided with the ice cold surface and she yelped. Riddle pressed his front to her back, effectively trapping her. All the more, he'd grabbed both her hands, and held them behind her back.
Hermione's breathing was erratic, she was dizzy, and cold... she felt as thought she would faint soon.
She whimpered.
"Listen to me, Levesque," he growled in her ear. And when she didn't respond, he pushed her harder to elicit a reaction from her. She shut her eyes from the pain, "When I say that, I expect you to answer me properly."
What? Did he want her to say something like yes, my lord?
"That would do very well, actually," his voice was low, sultry.
Hermione's eyes snapped open. Oh, god he was still in her head! She tried to push him out mentally, imagining closer doors at every crevice of her mind.
He laughed, a traitorously harmonic noise that echoed through the corridor. "Despite your current position, I'd say you needn't worry. I can only access the frontal parts of your mind. And in answer to your previous questions: yes, this a form of Legilimency, though indefinitely weaker. I can only catch straying thoughts here and there,"
"Get," she hissed, eyes shut in pain, "away from me."
He didn't.
Instead he let go of her hands and she immediately let them relax at her sides, then, he pressed his front fully against her back, inwardly sneering when he saw her face flush.
"Liking this?"
"Fuck you,"
"I will. If you go out to dinner with me,"
"Like hell I- what?"
"Dinner," he enunciated, a bit mad at having to repeat himself, "with me."
"..."
"Hermione?"
God, Riddle wanted to punch himself. He was asking a girl to dinner - what low of lows had he succumbed to now? This better be "worthy" enough for that ridiculous diary.
Hermione shivered, and he noticed then that she was only in a shirt and a knee-length skirt. She'd probably left her school jumper at the Common Room.
"I'm cold," she said tiredly, as if expected him to do something about it.
"That does not answer my question."
"Yes, but if you're taking me to dinner, you need to learn how to treat your lady right," she snapped and he immediately stepped back, eyeing her as she flexed when released from his grasp. He watched her curves and the way she arched her body to stretch. With a body like that, he mentally noted, fucking her wouldn't be all too bad. Then, he looked away, wanting his thoughts to trail no longer.
Then - God, he was definitely insane - he shrugged off his grey sweater, his arms and torso flexing attractively, and threw it at her face. He was now only in a pure black matching dress shirt and trousers (his entire day was practically free, save for his Prefect duties. No need for uniform. An odd timetable this year, indeed). Save for his silver belt buckle, he could've probably camouflaged with the dark corridor walls had he wanted to.
She clearly was not expecting him to give - throw - his sweater at her, as it hit her right in the face, and ever so slowly slipped off of her and pooled on the floor.
Tom stared at his favorite sweater, on the floor, on the unclean, disgusting, unhygienic floor.
"Are you stupid?" He reprimanded angrily, and marched towards her, grabbed the sweater, spread the neck and shoved it down her face.
She was staring at him, lips parted.
"I gather you know how to put the rest on, or are you also handicapped in that means?" his eyes never left hers and she hurriedly put on his sweater, it was too big on her and dammit, it smelled like him. Masculine, and enticing, alluring, so so-
"Will you go with me?" He interrupted her thoughts, and she could tell he was losing his patience with her.
"Depends if you're willing to answer my questions," she said, pretending not to feel at least remotely pleased that she was in his sweater.
Oh, the irony.
"What questions?"
"Why did you bring me here?" she murmured.
"Not answering that," he stated.
He had brought here because he felt as though she knew more about him than she let on. She probably already knows of the Chamber of Secrets, and of the fact that he's the Heir of Slytherin. He had brought her here to see if she would get afraid, maybe even ask him how he knew Parsletongue.
But of course not.
She wasn't surprised. She didn't ask how he knew Parsletongue, because she knows he's the Heir. He doesn't know how she knows, or exactly what or how much she knows, but she bloody knew a lot for someone who was 'new' to this school.
He wasn't about to tell her that, though.
"You're infuriating," she snapped.
He ignored her outburst, and attempted to change the topic of conversation. "Now tell me, when you approached me in the Common Room, what had you wanted to say?"
"I wanted to know why you hurt Amanda!"
Riddle raised an eyebrow, and chuckled without humor, "She was an experiment... I wanted to see if my new and improved Legilemency techniques were working. Now, darling, why are you not surprised?"
"What?"
"I led you to the Corridor of Secrets, an area no one has entered for hundreds of years. I spoke Parsletongue, a language only inherit to those of relation to Salazaar Slytherin. I used a form of Legilimency on you, something not taught at school and beyond an average teen's abilities. And yet, throughout all this, you did not seem surprised. It's as if you were... expecting this. You didn't ask any questions. Have a mental breakdown. Scream and run away. It's because you know more about me than you let on, correct?"
She refused to answer, just crossed her arms over his sweater.
"And then you say Godric. You're a Gryffindor, aren't you? And you're not from here. What is it that you want from this place, girl?"
"I don't want anything," her eyes were stern, voice steady. He couldn't for the life of him figure out what she felt on the inside.
"Oh? I'm sure you want something. Some sort of treasure? Perhaps something belonging to the founders? A long-lost spell only found in one of Hogwarts' exquisite libraries? That would explain all that time you spend dawdling about the restricted section,"
Hermione watched him, backing away slowly. He was scaring her. He was far too smart.
"Or maybe," he smirked, and let his eyes travel down her body, "you're here for someone?"
Hermione's back hit the icy cold wall.
He approached her, until he was standing right in front of her, looking down on her with pure mischief. "Maybe.. you just want a good fuck from the Heir of Slytherin?"
Riddle's smirk grew when he watched her eyes widen, and her cheeks tint pink.
Perfect! He was sure her mind was unprotected now.
He grabbed for her hands, and a flash of realization washed through her eyes.
He was trying it again!
Then, they heard a loud thud nearby; a sound that echoed throughout the walls of the Corridor.
Riddle stopped dead in his ministrations, and immediately let go of her hands, ready to yank his wand from his robes when he realized that shit, he wasn't in his uniform.
"Get behind me," he ordered, eyeing the pathway ahead.
Hermione didn't need to be told twice, she stood behind him.
A loud, terrifying sound bounced off the walls.
Oh, Godric. Hermione grabbed the back of Riddle's shirt, curving her front against his back.
At that movement, Riddle - for a second - lost concentration, feeling her curves press up against him.
He willed such disturbing thoughts to go away, and began speaking in Parsletongue.
Hermione shut her eyes. She was scared and yet all she could think about was his muscular, lean torso and how him hissing in Parsletongue was probably the sexiest thing she'd ever heard. God, his voice was low and husky, and she imagined the look on his face, his jaw angled and gorgeous and his eyes-
She would not think of this nonononono-
-hissssssssss!
The thing was getting closer!
If this thing led to the Chamber of Secrets, couldn't have Riddle at least made sure it was safe before bringing her here?
Frightened, she pulled at his shirt harder, and she heard his breathing hitch.
Fuck, she was distracting him. This was not the time for his body to be reacting this way.
In a heap of anger and frustration, he snapped, "Granger, stop doing that or I'll fucking feed you to the Basilisk."
..Granger?
Oh God, he knew! He bloody knew. No no no, shit! He knows!
He knows.
Merlin, he knows! He knows, he knows, he knows everything-
Hermione felt dizzy. And she had already been dizzy. It was worse now. The cold suddenly felt ten times worse, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw a creature slither into view.
Without really thinking, she whispered into Tom's ear, "Don't look it in the eye!"
Tom stopped. Yes, he knew that. But how did she know?
A loud thud interrupted his train of thought, and he quickly began speaking in Parsletongue again, willing the creature to go away, to tell it that they were not its enemies, to remind it that it was its master.
As the creature retreated, Tom felt the hands at the back of his shirt loosen, and he whipped around, saw that the girl was falling to the floor and without thinking, caught her bridal style before she hit the ground.
She had fainted.
Typical.
He would have loved to access her mind now, but unfortunately, his new technique required the victim to be conscious.
He sighed, and lifted her up, heading out the door.
He took a moment to study her; she looked so calm, her crazy hair tamed. Her lips were parted, soft and pink.
His eyes trailed down, and the devil in him wished that she wasn't wearing his sweater. It was too baggy, and hid her figure well, but from what he'd felt earlier, she was clearly not lacking...
These thoughts.. How repulsive.
He forced himself to look at her no longer, as he walked towards his dorm.
When Hermione woke up, she was in a cold, icy room. Her arms were aching -
What the-
It was dark.
And she was-
-oh, god, she was chained to the wall, her hands tied above her head.
Oh, god, nonononono-
A male voice said, "Honestly, I prefer you more when you're like this."
Hermione screamed.
Thank you all sooooooo much for the reviews and follows! Please do continue. Love you all.
Merry Christmas!
Also, apparently the Corridor of Secrets is a legit real place, except no one has ever been there! I thought it would be fun to include something like that.
But ooooh, now Riddle has a diary that can tell him everything! Where did it come from? And what exactly will make him "worthy"? I wonder.
READ AND REVIEW, MY LOVLIES!