Disclaimer: Honestly, do you people have nothing better to do than read that I don't own this story? Well, just to clarify (again) I don't.

As Hermione had suspected, Tom had definitely not given her a Christmas present, and neither had Hermione. She had no time to go to Hogsmeade and pick out things, and even if she would, she wouldn't have a priority to get something nice for Tom. And it was a vice-versa situation.

Tom never left the school, it seemed. Not to have snowball fights, slide across the lake, visit Zonkos or Honeydukes in Hogsmeade, or be the social butterfly in the common room. Most of this was because of the fact that he had no friends and didn't want any.

But she never would have suspected that Tom would avoid her fully on Christmas day to make out of guilt of not getting her something. And Hermione stayed out of Tom's way, to save herself from having any 'incidents' under the mistletoe.

Hermione was just walking back from Herbology on a day when summer was creeping into the castle. The lake rose, the flowers bloomed brightly, and muddiness was all around the outside.

She could still hear the rain pouring onto the windows as she shook off her bag, which she had been holding over her head to prevent getting showered when running back into the castle.

With muddy shoes and dirty puddles, the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were fuming about their state of attire when they heard the familiar wheezing of Filch looming around the corridors. Glancing a fretful look at Ernie Macmillan and Susan Bones – whom she had been talking to – the three separated and Ron ushered her through the hidden corridor behind one of the tapestries.

"Filch won't find us here!" He hissed, as Hermione reluctantly shot him a hesitant glance. "C'mon!" And he pulled her through it.

Making their way through out the deserted passageway, Ron lifted open another tapestry at the end to reveal a corridor near the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Muck… Dirt… Mud… More scrubbing than I ever saw… Those kids are going to be a–"

They heard nearby, and Ron rushed forward with Hermione at his heel. Ron was steering toward Gryffindor tower, but Hermione turned earlier and rapped on the hospital wing door.

"No visi–" Madam Pomfrey recited sternly through the door creak, but stopped. "Oh, Miss Granger. What is it now?"

"Can I see Harry, please?" She asked pleadingly.

"Miss Granger, have the circumstances changed at all from the last time you asked to come in? We are not taking any more chances with these kids." She repeated briskly, starting to turn away.

But Filch had limped past her, not minding to notice a hospital patient. Hermione darted toward the common room, where Ron was not sitting. He came slumping in ten minutes after Hermione settled comfortably on the couch.

"Filch caught me, I have detention." Ron growled, throwing himself in an armchair.

Waking up on a fresh Christmas morning, Hermione wasn't all that pleased.

She stayed in her room until ten o'clock like usual, and traipsed tentatively down the stairs, dressing rather slowly.

Tom wasn't sitting in one of the leather armchairs or the couch; the common room was as empty as ever. Hermione peered around the beds right next to her.

The boys' dormitory seemed to be exploded in wrapping paper and gift bags. Sighing at the sight, Hermione eased the door closed again after edging into the Head Boy bedroom.

Tom didn't visit at all, not until Hermione heard boys yawning up the creaking staircase and slumping onto the bed. She waited until she heard the last light click off before she slipped out of the room again to see if Tom was in the common room.

"Riddle, are down there?" She hissed in a whisper, careful to avoid the third step from creaking.

His jet-black hair bounced out of the shadows and a ghostly white face appeared in the moonlit rays.

"Are they all asleep?" He mouthed quickly. Hermione furrowed her eyebrows before peering into the boys' dormitory again and nodded. He beckoned her down with his hand.

"Christmas pudding and Christmas tea gets them sleeping like they've been walking for miles," Riddle said rather amusingly. "But that's good, of course, that gives me more time to talk to you."

Hermione's stomach lurched. She knew he was only questioning inquiries about Harry, but couldn't help getting excited. But Hermione could barely see his face; the electric-blue and white fire flames were extinguished.

"Did you have any classes free today because of the holidays?" Hermione asked quietly, sinking into the couch.

"No. Holidays are never an excuse for no homework. But Dumbledore had Christmas music playing during Transfiguration. The Trans-Siberian Orchestra." He said slowly, recalling the day's classes.

"I love the Trans-Siberian Orchestra!" Hermione squealed excitedly, repositioning herself on the couch. "My father taught me how to dance the Waltz to 'Carol of the Bells'." Hermione said silently.

"How do you dance the Waltz to Carol of the Bells?" Tom asked with a disbelieving expression. Hermione jumped up and positioned her hands on an air-figure in front of her.

"It would look better if someone would actually be here." Hermione said, laughing, and Tom twitched.

"Can I help?" He offered uncertainly. Hermione stared.

"Um – sure, I guess – it would make it easier, I suppose – uh, okay–" She stuttered, and Tom slowly got up.

Hermione spent the rest of the day reading, Ron playing with an old Fanged Frisbee in the common room. After seven o'clock, he slumped out of his seat for his detention.

Hermione was losing a game of Wizard's chess to Lavender – who didn't have anything else to do either – in the common room when Ron came back, sour.

"What happened, Ron?" Hermione sympathized.

"That foul Squib had me cleaning the second floor corridor – mud all over the place!" He howled, nursing his hands.

"Aha! Checkmate!" Hermione said triumphantly, knocking over Lavender's white King. "It can't have been that bad." She continued, leaving the chess table.

"I went through four buckets of Mrs. Skower's All-Magical Mess Remover." Ron growled, rubbing his hands tenderly. He punched the pillow next to him.

"Not that bad." Hermione idly said, reaching for 'Guide to Advanced Transfiguration'.

"If I would have kept going through the night, by morning I would have looked like I'd have competed in a mud wrestling competition." Ron said wearily.

Hermione hit him over his head with a pillow.

She was already biting on her tongue when Tom placed a hand on her waist and swallowed her voice into her throat in a gulp so loud that he must have heard it. When Tom was staring blankly at her, she remembered that she was supposed to be showing him a dance she learned.

It seemed that Tom's hands were slipping ever so often, leaving Hermione blushing in the shadows. Neither of them were really steering. In fact, neither of them were actually moving, as more or less moving one foot three inches right and the other foot following every minute or so.

Was it her imagination, or was Tom's hand definitely not on her waist anymore – she didn't dare look down. And was he leaning in toward her? She looked up slowly into his black eyes, with no hungry, greedy, or even impassive look mirroring through them. A look of adoring and sensitiveness was in them, when Hermione realized that this was her eyes reflecting in his and for that to happen they had to be really, really close, which they were… and closer, too.

A sudden wave of impulsiveness blew over her and her eyes closed.

They must be a centimeter apart, she could feel his breath on her lips – she was just about to lean forward just a bit more, when a sudden, new wave overtook her.

Physical nausea.

"Are the Easter holidays already over? I don't remember them. N.E.W.T.'s shouldn't be here yet." Ron said worriedly, rifling through a pile of Hermione's notes.

"Yes, they are. You should have followed that planner I gave you two years ago for Christmas," Hermione snapped briskly, shuffling through the pages of 'Advanced Rune Translation' and 'Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions'. "Ron, have you seen my 'Confronting the Faceless' book? It was just here!"

Ron shot her a glance. "No. Where are your Defense Against the Dark Arts notes?"

Hermione looked up from 'Important Modern Magical Discoveries' and looked at the large stack of notes she had lent him. She pointed to a foot long pile of yellow parchments.

It wasn't like she had thrown up on his shoulder. It wasn't like she had thrown up on the leather couch next to them. She had simply wrenched herself from Tom's grip the moment he drew a strangled breath and rushed up the boys' dormitory stairs with her hand over her mouth to charge into the Head Boy room adjoining the dormitories and make it to the sink in time.

The next morning, Hermione definitely didn't want to get up. It was around six in the morning, a faint yellow and pinkish glow forming on the horizon. Hermione rolled over on the Head Boy couch and grumbled silently.

What an idiot she had made herself in front of Tom.

And she realized, with an unpleasant 'pop' in her head, that she had a deep crush on him.

And it wasn't a five thousand-piece puzzle to figure out that crushes on Tom Riddle were painful, horrible, terrifying, and repulsive things.

Author's Note:

Merry Christmas! New Year is fast approaching and I'll let you all know that I'll have an update on New Years Eve! I hope everyone had a good holiday, I sure did. But on Christmas Eve I did have a rather nasty case of caffeine boosts, and was practically bouncing off the walls when I climbed into bed around midnight. And now, three days after Christmas, my parents are still regretting giving me that video camera. (This chapter was four and a half pages – you should be proud!! Sorry for the slow updates!) Lastly, just to say - it's the Cruel Intentions ten year annivesary, or for you oldies, or regular reviewers, The End, if it helps. Ten Chapters and nothing interesting yet... I hope you aren't bored! I'm not, and hope to make this a long, long story, so expect more and much more with essence of more angst and drama!! D

Review Replies:

JuliaKerns5: Read the books, please! It'd be so fun to talk about that. Let me know the minute you have an email account or an account. Since these reviews are like pen-pal emails, I'll tell you that I live in Kansas (cool, huh? Not…) and am also 15 years old. I absolutely love writing and reading and drawing, too, and my favorite movie is Moulin Rouge. My favorite book is definitely HP3, read it! I originally lived in Germany. Thanks for reviewing; I hope you had a great Christmas!

Heatherness2134: Yes, it was a Christmas update, and so is this, in all logic. Please review on but ask one of your English friends to spell check your reviews!

Tom Riddle's reluctant bride: Cool name, I'll say! Thanks for being one of the first to review, makes me feel so special! D Hope you had a happy Christmas, if you celebrate Christmas – and will have a good New Year!

MiKaYGiRl: Ha! I've memorized how to spell and capitalize your name without checking! Are you proud of me;) ?? Merry Christmas, please review on!

Mrs Pierre Bouvier: You're welcome for the update:D For me, reviews are the best kind of present, they are such a nice moral booster! I know what you mean, Christmas stories without mistletoes – ugh – it's always a nice opportunity that's right under people's noses! I've taken your idea with the kiss on New Year's Eve – (want me to put you in disclaimer? ;) ) I really like it! And, as I said in the Author's note, I'll review on New Year's Eve! Are you proud?? D Thanks a bunch, happy Christmas!