Tempora Mutantur
AN: hello all! I'm sorry this chpater took such a long time yet again but life's been very busy lately and I just can't find the time to write.
Thanks to puresilver for beta-ing this draft! I hope your internet gets better! As always, you are more than awesome!
Now to my wonderful readers!
Thank-you to: megami, Mrs Pierre Bouvier, MandaPandaAR, puresilver, amrawo, Maeve18, vla1diva, Tom Riddle's Reluctant Bride, madthegrlw/thecoolst... , Sandy , LaNi-GoLDfiSh, lolaleddir, Isolated Mind, rentjunkie525 , BlackNeonTears, Ariadne, pyromaniac102, cdlowe8, adarsha, gisse, mandi, janelle, EriEka127, Schermione.
madthegrlw/thecoolst... : yes, I know, I know, boy do I know. But the plot is necessary is all I can say. I promise, promise, promise you that the next chapter will be filled with smutty goodness!
Sandy: well, I hope this chapter will answer some of your questions. Ron and Harry will filter in later in the next few chapters. Don't worry, I didn't forget them. They play a big part in the coming chapters. And yes, there will be more weasleys.
pyromaniac102: "so is hermione gonna do the same thing as tom like corner him in an empty classroom whisper sweet nothings into his ear and like touch him every so slightly then whisper 'your mine' in his ear then walk away you know turn the tables on him"
hmm...great idea! unfortunately, no she isn't doing that...yet. but you know hermione...i'm sure she'll think of something to get back Tom...
Maeve18: lol. to tell you the truth, the end of chapter 7 was my favourite part too, and if I have any say in it, there will definitely be more on the way. most likely in the next chapter. god sometimes I want to say "to hell with plot!" and just stick to smutty romance.
cdlowe8: thank-you so much darling! your comment made me squee. I'm glad you liked the last chapter. I was a bit apprehensive about it. And thank-you for your comments about balancing the themes. It was very helpful.
Ok. so without further ado, here's chapter 9. And yes. I promise to you all that there will be more Tom/Hermione action soon.
Reflections and Turning Tides
The break of dawn was a magnificent sight to behold on the high ranges of Hogwart's epical grounds.
From the edge of the forest, one could usually watch as the sunlight grazed over the high towers and set the ancient school into a silhouette of shadow and mystery amidst the fresh smell of morning.
Today, however, something was amiss on the edge of the Forbidden Forest…
"Hurry up!"
"We're almost done!"
"You sure this is the right place?"
"Yes!"
"You sure they said…?"
"Yes! See the red mark? Now, let's finish this before we're caught! Ogg will be here any moment!"
On usual mornings, the Forbidden Forest smelt of many exotic scents: the tangy sting of flowers and fruits, the dewy freshness of plants and herbs, the distinct and biting odour of wildlife; but on this day, on this morning, there was something else intermingled with all these pungent aromas, a presence like none other.
It was the smell, the feel…of magic.
Of Black Magick.
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"…I'm sorry, Hermione. We'll have to think of some other way."
Hermione walked down the corridor, Dumbledore's words from earlier that morning still ringing inside her head.
"It seems your stay here will have to be prolonged."
True to his word, Dumbledore had contacted the Ministry in an attempt to acquire any time travelling device which might return her to her rightful era. They both knew it had been fruitless from the beginning. Time Travel hadn't begun to develop until the late 1950s, but Hermione knew the old man was desperate to have her go back.
He'd been hounding her for the past few weeks about her "independent study project", which was a guise for her research on time travel. Hermione had tried to explain her situation to him several times, how going back was no different than digging a grave, how he would be forcing her into the mercy of a monster.
But the Dumbledore would hear nothing of it. He had his principles to consider.
"You must go back, Miss Granger. It is your duty."
Wouldn't want to rip the fabric of time, Hermione thought snidely as she rounded the corner. Does he really think I'll return to a future where only death awaits me, just because he tells me to?
Truth be told, it surprised her a great deal how she could think so deploringly of a man who had once been her saviour and inspiration. Hermione had studiously learned everything she could about Albus Dumbledore, the greatest sorcerer who ever lived, in her first year at Hogwarts.
It was the primary reason she'd wanted to be sorted into Gryffindor; to follow in his footsteps, to be a somebody, make a difference.
But many things had changed since she'd first arrived here and the Dumbledore of this era no longer resembled the professor of old who had favoured Harry and Ron and herself above all others.
To be sure, the man himself had changed very little. No. Rather, it was the circumstance which had changed, and herself. To Dumbledore, she was no longer 'best friend of Harry Potter' or 'brightest witch of the year'.
She was now 'one of the crowd', a plain nobody.
Hermione was suffering the effects of a life without Dumbledore's constant favouritism. It was the first time in her life that she'd allowed herself to see 'the greatest sorcerer who lived' in another, certainly less amiable, light.
She could now understand the resentment some students had always felt towards 'The Golden Trio' (as they'd sarcastically termed them) during her years at Hogwarts.
How many times had Harry and Ron broken the rules and escaped expulsion? That certainly hadn't been the case with Gregory Hanes, she recalled.
Dumbledore cared more about his principles than for her life because she wasn't important. She was no Harry Potter, destined to save the world. She was the help, the aid, someone who was dispensable for 'the greater good.' Hermione thought back to when Dumbledore had hid the prophecy's tale from Harry at the risk of thousands of lives and expense of Sirius' life. Dumbledore had sacrificed Sirius for Harry's peace of mind. Of course, it had been a miscalculation, no one had expected Sirius to die, but still, Dumbledore had been prepared to sacrifice thousands of lives…
Would he now do the same to her to assuage his own troubles, his principles?
As she rushed through the corridor towards the Great Hall for lunch, Hermione wondered just how many other aspects of the 'Light' side she'd been blind to all her life. She wondered if the 'justice and good' she'd been fighting for --if it was really true justice? Wasn't the Ministry a lesser evil to Voldemort? Wasn't Fudge also a puritan in his own right? And Scrimgeour? Didn't he manipulate those around him as liberally as Voldemort himself? He'd certainly tried to use Harry.
Hermione knew that it was dangerous to question her own beliefs, to question her Gryffindor foundations, but she really couldn't help it. Not when these 'beliefs' were threatening her very existence. What were freedom and justice anyway? What were "right and wrong"? Was Dumbledore right in sending her back before they faced time distortion, even if the action would cost him her life? Was the possibility of avoiding time alteration worth a human life? Was she wrong in wanting to stay in this era, to avoid death? Should she sacrifice herself for only a possibility of what might occur?
The old Hermione would have, she thought wryly. Without a doubt.
But what of the new Hermione? The battle-torn, emotionally scarred, cynically bitter Hermione?
As she pushed open the double doors and headed for the Gryffindor table for lunch, her mind skimmed across the last warning Dumbledore had issued her.
"Stay away from Tom Riddle."
The boy was dangerous, that she knew. Yet Hermione felt an irresistible pull towards him, nevertheless. Memories of their last encounter resurfaced.
You're mine.
She shivered. That boy affected her more than she cared to admit. It was yet another test of her beliefs.
How far could she go with the future Dark Lord without getting emotionally involved? It was a dangerous game she was playing with him, Hermione knew. Tom Riddle was no longer simply toying with her. The warning he gave the other day had been testament to that fact.
…fingers danced over one breast, barely touching, fingertips tracing the contours of her curves, making his movements all the more sensual and arousing. His breath brushed her cheek again, a low whisper….
"It's only begun."
She knew she could do nothing now.
She was trapped in a box of her own making, having unconsciously challenged the future Dark Lord to a duel of intellect and cunning without ever intending to. It had been foolish, but Hermione found that she could not regret her actions.
How could she, when this was the most stimulating challenge she'd ever encountered?
How could she hate what she'd longed for all her life? An intellectual equal. Someone who wouldn't laugh at her for knowing the hundred cures of Dragon Blood or the 13 Amendment Acts of the East Goblin Tribe.
How could she possibly give it all up now?
She remembered back to the Sorting Hat's words:
There is one other in Slytherin House, whom you've already met, who could help you greatly, in more ways than one. You would meet your match there, meet the challenge you've so desperately wanted in school, in your own time…
Could she bear to do it? Give it up? Her perfect challenge? The ultimate riddle for her inquiring mind?
Hermione laughed inwardly. Ironic. Under different circumstances, she might have seriously fallen in love with Tom Riddle. He was everything she'd ever dreamed of in a boyfriend since childhood.
Intelligent, charming, incredibly good looking…It was a shame he had to turn out as a Dark Lord, try to take over the world and kill off all her friends and family. It really was a shame…
"Jane!"
Minerva McGonagall was waving at her from one end of the Gryffindor table. Since the night of the horrid nightmare, she and Minerva had become friends. The Gryffindor Prefect had stayed until morning comforting her, even sneaking food from the kitchen for a small private feast. The two girls might have only talked for the first time that night, but come morning, each had found a kindred spirit in the other.
They were both intelligent, determined women, and though Hermione thought it a little disconcerting to see the younger version of her future Professor, she embraced the newly found friendship with open arms.
It was good to see a familiar face. The Professor McGonagall of her own time had died from torture of Cruciatus at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange.
The two weeks that Tom had been assigned to Hermione as a guide were long past, and Minerva, who held a girlish affection for the handsome boy, could now freely interact with her friend "Jane" without the presence of a certain Slytherin.
"So what did you think of today's DADA lesson? I was…"
Hermione smiled warmly before seating herself.
Yes, many things had changed. New friendships were being formed while old ones broken, and as Dumbledore's words came back to her mind again,
"Stay away from Tom Riddle."
Hermione knew, that whatever her decision, Dumbledore's opinion would play no role in it whatsoever.
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Tom sat at the edge of the table, carelessly taking a bite from his barely touched plate, lost in a whorl of thoughts, mostly on the person across the room.
Her.
It had been a full week since the dream, and Tom still couldn't clean it from his mind.
In fact, it had only gotten worse, both his need and desire to kill. Every night now, he would awake in a cold sweat, with thoughts of Cacher coursing through his mind. Dead Cacher, a Cacher crying out in ecstasy…him strangling Cacher, making her scream…screaming in horror…screaming in pleasure…
It was driving him insane.
Planning to use the girl was one thing, but this, this was...he didn't know what it was. But Tom knew that he needed a solution. Fast.
This girl, this mudblood, was becoming a weakness, and Lord Voldemort did not need weaknesses.
He had to get rid of her, get her out of his system, but short of killing her, Tom had no idea what to do. He had never felt this way before. And though he masked it well, sneered at her whenever she passed in the hallway, the feeling, that twist in the stomach, was always there every time he was in her presence.
Lust.
The double-edged sword. He smiled at the irony. After all, hadn't it been him, Tom Riddle, who'd used the same lust to bend females whichever way he chose?
This was not supposed to be happening.
He was Lord Voldemort. He. Would. Not. Be Weak. He couldn't afford to. Not when the foundations of his future empire were still being built; not when he still needed his Death Eaters to perform that final step…that step which would bind them forever…make them his eternal slaves…the stupid Purebloods. He'd show them. He would finally pay them back; pay them all back for those taunts in first grade, about his blood, his background, his lack of wealth.
Lord Voldemort did not forget. And he never forgave. They will pay with double the humiliation and thrice the pain, Tom thought with a smile, barely able to contain his glee.
Of course, Aldous might be spared his share of his plans, if that is, he performed to plan. Black had a very special assignment on his hands, one he'd leapt at the chance of.
It involved a Gryffindor and a certain conversation Tom had overheard this morning, after Transfiguration.
Needless to say, anything Dumbledore had to say to the girl would spark an interest…but this…well…
flashback
Tom raced back towards the classroom, reprimanding himself for forgetting the damn textbook. His hand was on the doorknob when he heard the whispers, spoken furiously:
"You must go back, Miss Granger. It is your duty."
"But Professor, you don't understand! They'll kill me! He-I have no place in that-"
"You have no place here, either. Do not fool yourself into believing that this is your home. Think of the dangers. You belong there and you must return. At any cost."
The bitterness in the next few words uttered shocked him, as he realized whom Dumbledore was speaking to.
"Even my life?"
"There is no way of knowing that you'll-"
"I'm telling you, Professor! There's no hope. Please… please…don't send me back…I can't…I can't…"
The voice was quiet now, soft and quivering. A plea.
One Dumbledore was apparently immune to.
"I'm sorry, Miss Granger. It's too dangerous. I cannot take the risk."
There was silence, then the sudden scuffling of parchment being pushed into a knapsack and the sound of approaching footsteps towards the door from the other side.
Tom backed up in shock, knowing she'd be out the door any second when—
"One more thing, Miss Granger."
He didn't stay to hear Dumbledore's last comments to Cacher, sprinting up the hallway and towards his next class, mind running rampant with questions at this sudden new development.
What was going on? What were Jane and Dumbledore discussing?
And why on earth had Dumbledore referred to her as "Miss Granger"?
These were the questions whirling in his mind as Tom once more took a bite of his cold lunch.
Black was going to get him the answers. His life depended on it. Quite literally.Aldous knew the price of failure. For all the pain of punishment, death would be preferable.
But the problem wasn't even that conversation, or the dreams. Lust and curiosity he could deal with. It was the stupid damn girl!
As much as he tried to ignore her, she stood out at every turn. Though they never spoke, she did not fade into the background as he'd expected either. Oh no. Instead, she'd decided to challenge him by equalling, yes equalling, his grades. If nothing else, Tom was furious about this single fact.
No one ever beat Tom Riddle in academic prowess. No one.
But Cacher hadn't been satisfied with only matching him academically. She'd also befriended Minerva McGonagall, Gryffindor Prefect. The two were now always chattering down the halls, always together, so that Tom could never sneak in a good hex at her. That would have done it, solved his misery. A good hex which sent her to the deserts of Africa…
Befriending McGonagall had also introduced Cacher to the inner circle of Gryffindors and if nothing else, Tom had to marvel at Jane Cacher's cunning and ability.
It had taken him two years to gain the trust of his own House members, two years before they openly acknowledged his power and Slytherin heritage. This girl had done it in less than 3 weeks since her arrival. Of course, Gryffindor was a House of idiots and morons, but, nevertheless, Cacher had managed to make friends, even against his best endeavours to keep her alone and singular for the first two weeks of her arrival here.
Then, of course, there was his revenge to consider. No, he hadn't forgotten about that.
Tom wanted it to be special, really special, for all the pain and misery Cacher was inflicting upon him, however unconscious.
Phase one was already complete, he thought with a smirk, as she gulped down her pumpkin juice from across the hall, happily replying to whatever McGonagall had to say.
It was only a matter of waiting for the right time to pounce…
His next class was Care of Magical Creatures, with Cacher. As he saw her stand up and leave the Great Hall, Tom leisurely followed.
They were partners for the project assigned by Professor Gubblyplank, which involved exploring a relatively safe part of the Forbidden Forest for witch-hazel leaves used in Hypnosis.
Jane and Tom had found a patch already, relatively deep into the forest, and their task today would be simple retrieval of the leaves.
As he followed her over the hill towards Ogg's hut for class, Tom thought vindictively about his plot for vengeance. She was going to regret she ever crossed his path and crept herself into his thoughts.
It was all her fault, this newly found weakness of his. He hated her. She was contaminating him with her weakness. With her dirty mudblood lineage. How on earth had muggles produced such a brilliant witch anyways?
Tom watched as her bushy hair slowly disappeared over the hill, and amused himself by taking out the vial of potion in his knapsack. The key to his revenge.
A tiny drop would suffice. He was going to have his perfect revenge…perfect…and he was going to—
A sudden high-pitched scream in the direction Cacher had headed bolted him from his thoughts.
Tom looked up in alarm and saw the eerie glow of green. It couldn't be…
But it was. And as he raced towards the looming green smoke, Tom wondered who on earth could have triggered that spell. And more importantly, why.
