Author's Note:
This is mainly review replies, but the second reply might be enlightening (in terms of the possible directions that I'm pulling this fic towards) for some of you. If you're really in a hurry, just skip straight to the story.
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- To Guest from Norway: Thanks for dropping by! It was nice to hear back from you. I'm glad to hear that my efforts at characterising Hermione and the potential dark lord that is Tom Riddle worked. That's one of the things that easily turn me off from any fanfic—when the writers fails to convince me in-story that the characters would act in the way they described. Happy to hear that my particularly obsessive worldbuilding adds realism for you.
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- A longer reply to the Guest who gave a perceptive review in Chapter 8: You said [Oh.. this is a bit unsual, usually Tom/Hermione ship include a large part of denial, Hermione trying to bring Tom to the light side or Tom dragging Hermione to the dark side.]
Congrats, you've just found out what I tend to avoid like the plague—unnecessary angst and drama. The reason why I don't particularly enjoy the romance genre in fanfiction, particularly when the characters are from diametric sides, is because I mostly feel like banging my head on a desk whenever a main character enters denial-land, or "I can't fall in love with him/her because reasons."
Look, (insert character name here), when you're already unreasonably attracted, that's too late. It's easier just accepting it and decide what to do with this new development. It might be avoiding the person because you're not looking forward to having a relationship with them and hope the feeling would die away with the distance, or actually trying to get a date and see if you both would actually fit together in a relationship. It might be asking your friends to introduce you to a lot of new people in the hopes that you can find someone else you're even more attracted to than Person B. Really, I'm happy for whatever plan gets chosen and acted on; it's certainly better than just pretending/denying that the feeling is not there because that's ignoring the bloody problem. It's just going to bite you in the backside sooner or later. If the character still gets surprised when their whole denial effort blew up in their face, it's no longer the urge to headdesk that I have to stifle, but that to bang my head against the nearest wall.
Secondly, 'trying to bring the partner to the dark/light side' thing smacks of either a) rather naive idealism to me, or b) someone who's been trained (and probably partly indoctrinated) for the purpose of turning foreign agents by counterintelligence agencies, since turning people to a very different side than the one they started in does require some efforts in, hmm, reeducating them. These motives aren't mutually exclusive. Keep in mind that I'm definitely not trying to write high fantasy here and is sticking to an approach with more realism. I may or may not elaborate on Hermione's pragmatism through her perspective in-story.
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- As for Zucca, I'm sure you've heard of my many thanks and appreciation already through chat, but thanks again just to be sure.
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11 Uncomfortable Truths
Hermione avoids the crowd once more. Stargazing in the astronomy tower. An accident occurs and Tom forces Hermione to confront something she'd missed all this time. Supper and the art of making sandwiches. In which Tom procures some insurance.
'-
Hermione's stubbornness and remembrance of Luna had made her pick up her flower crown and wore it when she went out again, all the way through the afternoon. It didn't matter if she was casually reading in the common room or was presently meandering back to the library.
The blatant stares were starting to get on her nerves, though. Her mood had only improved slightly when she met Professor Merrythought, a woman with a warm smile and a shock of white hair. The Defence professor beamed the moment she saw the intertwining red-yellow and white blossoms, admiring her taste in accessories. The older witch only recommended adding a spell or two for resilience, to ensure that the flowers won't fall easily, and Hermione did just that after she thanked the teacher for that good idea. After that, they simply set off to Diagon Alley for another round of shopping (she still didn't have any combat-worthy boots).
Yet Hermione had only been back for ten minutes before she stumbled upon one of those Hogwarts idiots, outright gaping at her. The experience soured her from the idea of dining in the Great Hall tonight. Perhaps she'll have an impromptu picnic yet again, if only for herself. She'll pack some food from the kitchen and then make her way to one of the astronomy classes in astronomy tower.
Hermione had been going out of the Ravenclaw tower with Lakshmi when the other witch noted that she wasn't going in the direction of the Great Hall.
"Once more to the library, eh?" Lakshmi asked.
"No, not really. I'll just walk around. Maybe drop in at the astronomy tower."
"You're not having dinner?"
"Oh, I plan on getting some food from the kitchen. It's just…" the brunette sighed, rubbing her forehead. Her dormmate waited for her to collect her thoughts together with unexpected patience. "I'm just not in the mood to encounter the more foolish and dense denizens of Hogwarts. I'm sure most of the people here are great, really. But some are simply…"
The brunette faltered, ending her statement with a soundless shrug. Lakshmi must have recognised her agitation in the way her fists occasionally clench, or how her shoulders sometimes stiffened, for she replied with ease.
"Sure. Just make sure you don't get back too late. We do have curfew you know?"
"I know, Lakshmi, I know." It was on the list of regulations that Tom had handed to her on their first few meetings.
"And there's no guarantee that the prefect you might stumble upon on your way back would be Riddle, who would certainly let you off scot-free." Lakshmi said with a slight grin.
Hermione snorted, unamused. "Right. Say hi to the others for me at dinner."
"I will." She waved Hermione off.
It was only after she made her way to the kitchen that Hermione realised Lakshmi hadn't even blinked at the fact that she had been wandering around Hogwarts with a crown of flowers on her head. Hermione would've forgotten that she'd been wearing it if the scent of honeysuckle and orange blossoms didn't delicately wreathe her from time to time. Lakshmi has a higher tolerance for the weird than she seemed.
She didn't dwell on it for too long once she reached the kitchen. Hermione had greeted the elfs cheerfully, surprising them with her second effort to remember the names of any elfs she'd forgotten. She made an effort to memorise all their names, even if she did say that she probably wouldn't be able to remember all of them at once. It was rather sad to see that they were excited for something so simple.
Her supper was certainly packed in no time because of it.
After that, she was left to wander and find an unused astronomy class for her purposes.
Not all Hogwarts students realised that the castle actually had more than one astronomy classroom—though arguably, most who thought that way noticeably lack common sense. Technically, there was only one tower, but a little jiggering of space ensures that the windows and retractable ceiling of a class on any floor show the vistas from the top of the tower, ensuring that all classes have the best view for observation.
The technical proof on how this is managed is much longer than the margins of Hermione's essays can contain. Suffice to say that she had enough of an understanding about it to know that if she wanted some time to herself and enjoy viewing the stars on her own, she could pick any unused class in the astronomy tower and it would serve her as well as the ones most often used by the astronomy professor.
The doors of one opened easily with a slight push—like all astronomy classes, all the walls except for the one that covered the winding stairs were the tower's outside walls, and all the outer walls were covered with French windows to allow a full 360 degrees view. A step out in any direction would lead to the balcony (observation deck) that ringed the tower in a continuous circle. There was only the lightest of dusts over the tables, which showed just how zealous the house elfs of Hogwarts are at fulfilling their tasks. She cast Lumos and then tapped her wand over several lighting fixtures to light them—she didn't need that much light, just enough to see her way to the windows without tripping over chairs or stools.
The wind was refreshingly cool on her face. She wryly thought that she did remember to bring her jacket this time.
She placed the basket on top of the bannister and then climbed up to sit on it.
Hermione didn't know how long she spent sitting on the balcony, her legs dangling down in the air, the treetops far below her as she ate sandwiches and pies in turn with only the barest acknowledgement of their flavours. She entertained herself by watching the sun setting slowly at some time after five, admiring the bright pinks and peach glows of the sky that slowly flowed into rich purples. She tried to find the Venus once the sun was down and its glare no longer obscuring the paler celestial objects, and yet she failed because the planet had set faster than the sun.
That implied that it probably rose faster than the sun too and would be visible right before dawn. Hmm. She supposed it was being the morning star more than it was the evening star right now.
The calming breeze and the wide, wide sky made it easy for Hermione to lose herself in observations and thought just then.
'-
"Hermione."
She pulled away from watching the stars come out and fill the sky with their innumerable lights. He stepped forward from the darkened doorway, the warm glow of the lanterns flattered his pale skin better than she imagined harsh electric lights would, making him seem more human. He was dressed for dinner, with a dark green waistcoat that she suspected was made of silk.
"Tom. How did you get here?"
"By the stairs." When she kept staring at him for a little while, unamused, he gave slightly more information. "Your dormmate told me of where you were going."
Well, she knew he was diligent for the things he cared about. Even if she had no idea why, it was obvious that finding her this evening was in his interest. The part of her that was taught by Daphne bemoaned her rather simple dress of celadon that she'd worn to the picnic that would definitely lose in elegance to his current suit. She was too aware that her curls weren't tied up in any form and had fallen wildly down her back. A savvier part of her insisted that she managed to pull off looking 'unearthly' rather well, what with the flower crown she still wore.
Hermione huffed inwardly, still not quite convinced. She probably looked like a deranged dryad right now.
"Watching the stars?" He asked.
She nodded, looking up again. "At first, I came to watch the sunset, after that I stayed for the stars." It was difficult for her not to feel pensive and she sighed.
"It was just like the old times. Luna used to pull me to the rooftops or the nearest available tower to see the stars whenever she thinks I need distracting or if I was thinking myself into circles. We'd start from the brightest constellations, if we were in the city, though we can find the fainter constellations if we were in the countryside. The stars are also comfortably familiar—wherever you are, however much your surroundings change, they stay the same."
Perhaps that was the reason why she was being maudlin. If she didn't look down and see that she was in a different Hogwarts, she might even convince herself that she was here with Harry and Ron. Or maybe she was at the roof of the house she shared with Malina, with Malina and Luna—each of them doing it for fun as well as their own respective projects. She heard his steps approaching, stopping at some point behind her, but it did not concern much. Tom placed his left hand next to hers on the balcony but leaned no further into her space.
Pieces of pastry fell from her hand and she watched the paper-thin pieces twist and turn in the air as they fall before the darkness swallowed them. She scattered several more pieces on purpose, just to see the fragments dance in the wind again.
"Why don't we get down and have a proper dinner in the Great Hall?" He asked, to her left.
"I'm already somewhat full from all the food the elfs packed for me."
"I heard that you were avoiding the hall for a particular reason."
She huffed. Must Lakshmi tell Tom everything? Then again, she probably thought that there was no harm about it, and Hermione couldn't exactly argue with that. There was no harm about it.
"I don't want to be someone else but me, and if I see one more idiot I today, I might blow my top."
"We can go anywhere else but the Great Hall if that's what you wish."
Hermione glanced to the side. Why was he suddenly being so solicitous? "I don't know. I don't think I want to be anywhere but here."
Here, she could almost convince herself that her friends were merely out of sight, not gone.
As if to make her point, she stood up from her sitting position—not by setting her feet on the ground, but by standing on the edge of the balustrade. A small remaining piece of peach pie was on her hand, and she deftly stepped over his hand and walked several steps away. To her left were the tree tops of the Forbidden Forest that brushed against the castle on this side, hemming the grey stones like prickly waves of a churning cove. The darkened grounds also hid just how high the tower stood from ground level, else she might've been suddenly gained altophobia.
But at this height, she could also see the sea of green spread far and wide, with a distant twinkling of lights that she suspected was Hogsmeade. She understood in that moment why Harry loved flying. It was the prospect of freedom under the open sky and no boundaries or limits to hold you back—
"Hermione."
Tom's voice pulled her back from her musings. "What?"
"Please get down."
He sounded like he meant it, which surprised her enough to turn around.
Her foot met empty air instead of stone and Hermione slipped.
She swung out her left hand, scrambling to catch the balcony's edge. Her wand was in her right hand, and even as she fell down, she could cast flame whip fast enough to catch the edge of the railings. The way her right shoulder yanked was a comforting sensation that told her that the flame whip had managed to grip something. It was only getting up that was going to be a problem. Hermione couldn't easily cast any other spell without releasing the flame whip. If she did, then she would need to start considering what she could do to make her fall hurt less, or not hurt at all…
Fortunately for Hermione, Tom cast a Summoning Spell on her. The first jerk was uncomfortable, but it was rather smooth sailing right until she crashed right into him and they both toppled down on the floor.
"If you really want to die, couldn't you at least have the grace to do so when I wanted to kill you?" She had never heard him sound so sarcastic. His hand firmly gripped her shoulder.
"I don't want to die!" Hermione countered.
"Right, and any sane person would have sat on the balcony's edge."
"I was fine. I could use Wingardium Leviosa to slow my fall—it worked on a falling quidditch player."
"And a quidditch pitch already has a hundred and one charms to slow down fall and buffer the impact! You can guarantee that the grounds here wouldn't have any."
Her face heated up because she knew he was right. They were sitting almost face-to face on the floor now, one of her leg sprawled over his, while Tom's expression was dark. His next words held a coldness she didn't expect, but it was the words themselves that was a direct hit.
"I should've known. You're as selfish as anyone else."
Hermione gaped. "What the hell?"
"Does it amuse you, Curie, to overturn someone's future completely and walk away? Laugh at the wreckage you've carelessly left behind?"
"I do not do that." She hissed. She had grabbed his lapels without thinking.
"It's your current plan, isn't it? For all your promises, you'd leave me without so much as a by-your-leave."
"I'm still here and right in front of you!"
"Not for long. Only until you chose death. Your memories hold more sway with you than the living—your dead friends hold more sway with you, so much that I suspect, you'd rather choose to be with them than be here."
She drew a sharp intake of breath.
"You are suicidal, Hermione."
He could have struck her physically right there and then and cut her less. Hermione stood up quickly, her cheeks red with rage while he pulled himself up with no less speed.
"I am not! I know a hundred and one spells that would allow me to fall safely from a great height. Since I've already managed to hang on with the flame whip, I have more than enough time to come up with a good solution. In fact, I can demonstrate that to you right now!"
"No."
"Ha! You're afraid to be proven wrong?"
"You're only proving me right." He snapped.
Hermione's had gripped the bannister with one hand, fully prepared to pull herself up to it once more, but Tom had grabbed hold of her and wasn't letting go. He wasn't easy to dislodge, and soon she'd realise that it would require a full-blown grapple to escape.
"What are you doing?" She hissed.
"Apparently, stopping you from doing something stupid." His expression was the distaste of someone whose friends had abandoned him to shovel manure.
"And I've heard enough of your insults that I'm going to prove them false right now." Her arms had been pressing outwards against his for some time, always varying her position and trying to find a weak spot. Yet his restraint was more resilient than she thought as he changed his own hold whenever she changed hers.
"And I was only pointing out something you're too blind to see."
Hermione dropped her knees and let herself fall to the ground, surprising him with the sudden change in their centres of gravity while her hands grabbed his arms. Tom didn't adapt fast enough and fell forward as she went down; she deftly used his forward motion to throw him back over her shoulders. Her sensei would be proud.
(All thanks to Harry's insistence on getting martial arts instructors for the Auror corps).
Hermione stood up. She had only climbed half way up the balcony before she was tackled down again. Her breath was knocked out of her lungs as her back hit the floor and she could feel his weight over her. A distant part of her was dryly remarking that this seemed to be turning into a new habit of his.
"Let go!"
"Only if you promise to stay away from the balcony." He bit out.
"You accused me of lying to you and you won't even let me prove you wrong?" She was incredulous. "You jerkass."
Something in what she said irritated Tom even more and he cursed.
"Oh, for the love of—"
And then his mouth crashed over hers, a culmination of the frustration and edge he felt. Hermione was only surprised for a second before her outrage rose up again and she met him move for move, for the aggravation that she felt was certainly no less than his. She was all too aware of the feeling that they'd been dancing on the brink—it was there from the moment they exchanged words with the precision of knife throwers letting their daggers fly. This was a debate in nips and tongues, of heat generated by anger.
Channelling all that physically towards each other was inarguably cathartic for both of them. It was probably why when he pulled away soon enough, gazing down at her, his voice was more composed even if there was still colour high on his cheeks.
"Are you going to actually listen now?"
Hermione gingerly retracted her left hand from the nape of his neck (how did it get there?), slowly catching her breath. His eyes were dark, the pupils fully dilated. She closed her eyes for a second to regain her composure and focus, to not automatically stare at his lips.
(It's all just the emotions running high in the moment.)
"It depends whether you're going to keep accusing me." She said.
He rolled his eyes and she thought she heard him sigh as he sat up.
"Let me tell you a story, then."
When she opened her eyes again, she could see him offering his hand. She took it, the movement felt more natural in that moment than it had ever been. He pulled her up and didn't release that hand afterwards.
"Alright."
"A friend of mine had a father who was an Auror." Tom began the tale. Hermione leaned back against the bannisters, the leg farthest from him pulled up against her chest. "The man joined the force for his love of the hunt, of finding and catching a challenging prey—for he was bright and bored and he scarcely needed to enter profession to earn a living, considering how prosperous his family's estate was. One day, a family member of one of his prey decided to pay him back for his favour and kidnapped his wife and child. It was a tight chase. He was in suspense for weeks during the process—something that you needn't be, as I can tell you the ending easily right now."
His neutral tone made it difficult to discern the fates of the unfortunates in the story, so she asked despite her own misgivings.
"What happened?"
"Pain, blood, death, in that particular order. I'm sure you're not too interested in the gory details even if I can provide it to you." Tom said calmly, and he was right about her preference too. She did not delight in suffering; she had no need to know the exact way it was inflicted on the man's family. "Afterwards, people say that he was so brave, to be able to move on from such tragedy. He threw himself into his work, caught the guilty people and went on to catch even more criminals from that point on. All in all, he seemed fine."
Hermione nodded slowly, following the story but unsure of where he was going to take this.
"If there was a dangerous dark wizard or witch that needed to be questioned or apprehended, he was always the first to volunteer. He didn't care if the situation was dangerous or if the risks were high. He'd been hospitalised more a few times after that, and always he returned to the field whenever he recovered."
He paused, dark eyes staring at her, and she had to force herself to breathe after she realised she was unconsciously holding her breath.
"And?"
"How long do you think he had until the hunt claimed him?"
"I don't understand…"
Tom's gaze didn't waver from her, his tone still dulcet even if every point he made had the precision of a scalpel cutting out the heart away from the lungs.
"He might insist that he was not suicidal, but I don't see how his carelessness over his life was a significant improvement over it. He courted death. He practically danced with his own demise with every close shave, every near-impossible case that he took on himself." He leaned forward now and took her closest hand in his.
"Now, Hermione, tell me. Is that what you're going to do? Or can you give me your promise that you would not be reckless with your life while I still live?"
'-
It was to Tom's credit that he didn't push her for an answer this time, content to simply stare at her hand that he was holding. She did not know what thoughts occupied his mind even as his thumb idly traced patterns at the back of her palm, particularly over the parts skinned when she tried to grasp the outer walls of the tower. The witch had the weirdest idea that he was going to continue holding her hand hostage until she came up with some sort of answer.
"I really did come here to look at the stars." Hermione said. He glanced up at her and said nothing. "And I was being impatient with some of the foolishness the other students display."
"I didn't say you weren't." Tom said.
"I know. I still needed to say it." She said.
His reply was a wordless hum.
"And I'm not suicidal." That earned her a sceptical, though silent, look. "It's true! I'm not. I'm just…sad, I guess. I miss them."
She was lost in her own thoughts. He gave her time. When Tom spoke up next, his voice was soft.
"Tell me, then, would you regret being able to meet your dead friends sooner than you expected?"
She hadn't even realised that she'd looked away until she felt a light tap on her cheek and she turned back to him. Hermione supposed she could say 'no', but she would be lying. And she so disliked saying untruths about something so essential to herself, lest she inadvertently believed the lie and became blinded to her own nature.
"It's as I thought. They're more important to you than this castle full of strangers, isn't it?"
He didn't need to say that she valued her memories more than him or her newer acquaintances as he turned away from her. She wanted to say that it wasn't strictly true—if she was too lost in her memories, the thought of changing his future wouldn't have even occurred to her.
Hermione sighed.
"Luna always said that I need to live in the moment more. That I need to appreciate what I have and not spend all my time mourning my losses or tirelessly reaching into the vision I have of the future."
He might be mostly looking ahead, but she knew he was listening in the slight tilt of his head.
"If she could see me now, she would've told me that I can always make new friends." Hermione admitted.
A few moments passed before he turned back to her and spoke up.
"And?"
"I can make that promise to you, that I won't be careless with my life, but I'll have you know that it's the sort of promise you can only make to your real friend." She said.
His brows creased at her statement, and she realised she had to clarify it for him. He was perhaps one of the few people who didn't immediately see the implications of her statement.
"If I'm going to be your friend, Tom, you also have to be mine." She said.
"I think I did fine on that part. I've just prevented your accidental suicide, didn't I?" He asked dryly.
"I'm not suicidal!"
She glared and he smirked, probably because he'd successfully baited her, yet she did understand the point he was trying to make. Hermione would've been more pissed off at him for all their previous shouting and his accusations if she hadn't managed to recognise by now what his fear-driven anger looked like. She couldn't even be angry at him right now even when she wanted to.
"You know what? You absolutely suck at showing concern, Tom. You should practice more." She said sardonically. "It's excellent for your first try, though. Thanks for caring."
The incredulous expression on his face was priceless, and Hermione couldn't hold back her laughter at that. She didn't think she'd ever seen him without his polished façade before—and she wasn't talking about his dark lord side either.
"I don't care."
"Yeah, sure." She managed to choke out between chuckles.
"I don't." He insisted as she picked herself up. Tom followed suit at that. "If you were to die, I'd still be on that road to death you saw before. Currently I'm no better than a traveller without a roadmap and who knows how many dead ends I'll have to go through before finding the path I'm looking for. That's not including the probability of fatal paths that exist and—are you even listening?"
She turned back at the door, waiting for him. This time, their arms linked with barely a thought.
"Oh, I understand completely. I'm Miss Map to you, right?"
"Precisely."
Her innocuous smile still earned her the occasional flat look from his direction, but she didn't change it at all. If he can push her buttons, the good news was that she knew what pushed his buttons as well.
They walked out of the astronomy tower, picnic basket included. By some wordless agreement, they talked of nothing much beyond the lessons and classes.
'-
They supped in one of the greenhouses.
How Tom managed to get the keys to one, she had no idea (his only answer was a mysterious smile, and she wasn't about to feed his ego by actually asking). Yet she certainly wasn't turning down the opportunity to sit among some jasmine bushes. What she did know, was that he listened to her statement that she was not up to meeting the crowds at the Great Hall again (or to use Tom's terminology, apparently 'not fit for company'), and he adjusted accordingly by finding a different but suitable place. Their supper was thus a humble affair that suited her.
Well, the fragrance tropical flowers, the single lantern lighting the place and the innumerable bright stars wove the illusion that of the secret garden of some sultan straight out of a thousand and one nights, where a princess enchanted into a bird by daylight was imprisoned. She shook her head before her imagination ran away with her.
The meal was mostly cold meats and pies, though there was enough variety in bread, cheese, meat, condiments, sauces and several vegetables for her to construct almost any kind of sandwich she wanted. There were some bottles of butterbeer. The kitchen elfs had outdone themselves yet again. A few years (as she remembered) of living either alone or with a friend meant she was too used to surviving on her own haphazard cooking—she was more aware of the blessed cornucopia that is Hogwarts' kitchen now than she had been when she was younger and had nothing to compare it to.
From the ease that Tom sliced bread loaves, cut meat and spread dressing (not a drop spilt, and she envied the evenness of his slices), while focusing completely on her conversation, he probably had no idea what this competence in making his own meal told her. His first reflex wasn't even that of most purebloods like Draco's, which was to wait for the hostess to prepare the food, even in a picnic. He even took one loaf away from her with an appalled glance after he saw how she had roughly cut the first slice away.
"Are you trying to bludgeon the bread to submission?" She didn't understand why he had to look dismayed. It was just bread, for goodness' sakes.
"No! I just need another slice—"
"Oh no you don't, Hermione. Stop. It's not firewood, so don't hack." Tom criticised.
"My bread is fine."
"It's lopsided and the thicker part looks torn through than cut. It's as appetising as a random kitchen sponge you've just picked up from the cleaning bucket." His reply was downright acerbic.
He was even looking down on her poor bread! She folded her arms defensively.
"Oh, fine! Show me how it's done, then."
Even as she harrumphed in disagreement, she did let him show her how to cut properly. It started with choosing the right knife instead of just picking the first average-looking one that drew her attention ("there is a reason the serrated knife is used"). She didn't know that making sure it was at least a third longer than the width of the loaf was even necessary, or that if the bread was soft it would be better if the knife was longer.
"Oh. And here I was wondering why the kitchen elfs gave us so many knives." She mused.
She could hear him huff. "Obviously. Have you been raised by wolves all this time?"
Tom easily ignored the fact that she was trying to burn him on the spot with the force of her glare.
They only started to talk about other subjects once he was done casting aspersions on her barbarous sandwich-making skills. It wasn't her fault that modern supermarkets provided cut loaves! He was the one who was being as exacting about domestic skills as her mother.
The way that Tom actually looked like he enjoyed his simple meal made her suspect that his own basis of comparison was no less stark than hers, if not more so. It struck her that his orphanage probably experienced the full bore of wartime rationing. Compared to that, any meal out of Hogwarts' kitchen were feasts fit for a king. His skill convinced her that he had his share of chores to do when he was in the orphanage too, which probably included preparing food for the younger kids.
Hermione had to look down and focus on her own sandwich as she replied to some issue of transfiguration. Even if the Ravenclaw managed to keep her tone normal, she didn't know if she would manage to successfully hide all hints of pity from her expression, and so it was better if he didn't see her face at all until she managed to compose herself in a moment or two. From what she'd known of him so far, she thought he'd hate it rather than welcome it.
As reluctant as she was to acknowledge it, she had to admit that Tom was actually excellent company, especially with the breadth of conversation topics and the full extent of his courteousness—that is, when he was not being sarcastic. Even then, he was still amusing, and it wasn't as if she didn't have her own scathing wit when she was annoyed enough to stop being nice or polite.
Hermione had to keep reminding herself that he was most certainly a practitioner of several branches of dark arts at this point.
'-
"I can find my way back to the Ravenclaw Tower on my own." Hermione said.
"I'm sure you can."
It did not stop him from escorting her there. She knew that staring him down wouldn't make him go way—she'd done that several times to no effect.
"Tom,"
"Does it occur to you that I might actually have other affairs of my own to settle at the Ravenclaw Tower?" His tone was mild as he said this.
She had to admit that it was entirely plausible and she said so, but follow-up questions about what exactly his business was had not been answered satisfactorily.
When he asked Hermione to find 'Misses Delacour and Chakravarty to join us', she was curious but did went off to her dorm to look for them. If Olive Hornby and her posse gave her the stink eye the moment she stepped into the common room, especially once they noticed that Tom was casually waiting outside, the brunette couldn't care less.
She found Eugenie and Lakshmi alright. Eugenie was surprised that Tom might be looking for her, while Lakshmi was undoubtedly intrigued. The minor mystery deepened when he asked them for their patience and a little of their time to find a slightly more private surrounding before he'll clarify his intention.
One corridor later and the four of them found themselves in one of the many unused classrooms that was prevalent in Hogwarts.
"Thank you for coming at such a short notice." He said.
"Oh, it's no problem at all," Eugenie assured him. Lakshmi mostly only shrugged.
"It's fine."
"Ladies, I'm afraid I would have to ask a favour," Tom said. Hermione was about to ask why she even needed to be there if that was the case, if his gaze didn't imply that there would be answers coming. He was back to being the respectable prefect right now.
"Which is?" Lakshmi asked.
"Please be Hermione's friends."
Hermione closed her mouth before she started imitating a goldfish. It was the last thing she expected him to say.
"It's always been my pleasure to be Hermione's friend," Eugenie assured him with a warm smile. Lakshmi seemed to be having more fun from staring back and forth between Hermione's disbelief and Tom's apparent seriousness and sincerity.
"What. The. Hell?" Hermione blurted.
"You did say that you miss your friends and you don't have any here." He answered, as if his solution was anywhere in the vicinity of normal.
"Yes, but that doesn't mean you get to be ham-handed and—" She stopped herself and took a deep breath before she started yelling at the bloody interfering wizard. "I can make friends on my own, you…you lummox."
She thought she could see his slight smile growing when she became so irritated that she ran out of words.
"There was no guarantee that it would be fast enough to counteract your recklessness." Tom answered. He dodged the swipe she'd just aimed at his shoulder.
"Recklessness?" Eugenie asked, confused.
"Oh, yes. You should've seen what she was doing when I found her this even—"
"I was star watching! In the astronomy tower!" She yelped, lunging at him. He might be fast enough to avoid her grasp, but she managed to cover his mouth with her hand. He was more amused than affronted since he wasn't trying that hard to get her hand off. In fact, she could swear that he was silently laughing.
Of course, that was when Hermione turned around and saw that both Eugenie and Lakshmi had eyebrows that rose up to their hairlines. Eugenie herself was covering her mouth with both hands, while Lakshmi was sitting at the edge of the teacher's table with a wide grin on her face.
"Well, Riddle, I know we're not exactly friends, but I swear I've never seen you get so cosy with anyone before." She drawled.
"Um, this isn't what it looks like?" Hermione sheepishly said, even as she slowly stopped yanking his tie.
"Why not? It looks like you're good friends." The blonde Ravenclaw answered innocently.
Lakshmi bit her lip and waggled her eyebrows at that, clearly holding back her laughter even as she answered. "Yes. Very…good…friends."
Hermione couldn't have pulled her hands faster if it was burnt.
Unfortunately, she forgot that it meant Tom was free to speak.
"She was lonely this evening. I don't think I can be of much use since we're not even in the same house, so you see, I'm worried for her." His words sounded so genuine and caring. Eugenie was already nodding fervently at his request.
The tone was so alien to what she knew him to be that it gave her goose bumps.
"Cut out that fake smile! You're making me want to hurl." Hermione hissed as she glared sideways, sure that neither Lakshmi nor Eugenie could hear her.
He had the audacity to grin, and he still used that oh-so-concerned tone even as he spoke softly only for her ears. "But I do care so much about your well-being, Hermione."
"And pigs may fly."
Tom shrugged, his tone turning more neutral. "Consider them as my insurance, then."
Their gaze met, and she knew that even if he hadn't said anything about the main causes of their argument this evening, it was still at the forefront of his mind. She tightened her jaw, realising that she couldn't exactly laid his accusations to rest easily or prove him false. He'd surprisingly managed to find a blind spot of hers at so short an acquaintance. Then again, their conversations had blasted through small talk, whirled past mundane concerns, and right into life-and-death territory. She'd stared into the abyss of his soul unflinching and the abyss had stared back into hers.
They had a brutal honesty with each other that most people don't even have after years of friendship.
Lakshmi cleared her throat and raised her voice.
"You know, if the two of you want to look into each other's eyes the whole night and whisper sweet nothings to each other, you really don't need us as an audience." She waved one finely manicured hand carelessly at them, her amber eyes half-lidded. "Not that I mind, to be honest. Go on. Pretend we're not even here. I haven't had this much entertainment in ages."
Eugenie blushed and looked away while it only made Hermione stare at the ceiling in despair.
"Merlin's underpants, Lakshmi! Your imagination doesn't so much as run away from you as win the Olympics!"
The brunette dearly wanted to wipe off the smug smile from Tom's face.
Lakshmi smirked. "Well, it's not just my imagination if you've laid your hands on him in front of us all this time, is it?"
Hermione let out a frustrated growl, threw her hands in the air, and then stalked out of the class without further ado. Tom turned back to the two remaining Ravenclaw witches, as courteous as ever.
"I hope my request isn't too much trouble for you, then, Delacour? Chakravarty?"
"It has never been any trouble at all. I'd be happy to." Eugenie insisted.
"I'm intrigued enough for now to accept, Riddle." Lakshmi said. "Though now that Hermione isn't here…what is this recklessness that you mention?"
She was not a Ravenclaw for nothing, and she was always perceptive at the prospect of new information. Tom leaned back against the table nearest to him and think, picking parts of it, considering whether it was to his liking and discarding those that was not.
He carefully began his tale. "As you are aware, I was looking for Hermione earlier this evening when I met you, and you informed me of her plans…"
'-
René Descartes might have posited way back in the Age of Reason that mental processes can exist outside the body, and that the body without the mind cannot think, but the scientific progress of subsequent eras would batter the position of such extreme dualism until only a shadow of it remained.
Hermione's education on wizarding healing as well as anatomy and physiology has provided her with plenty of cases that spoke of the reverse. If the mind is separate from the body, why do people who have experienced damage to the Broca's area of their brain have difficulty expressing themselves through language that they've used without any problem before? Or witness the famous case of Phineas Gage, who somehow improbably survived an accident that destroyed a good chunk of his left frontal lobe and was afterwards reported by his friends and family to be a different man than he was before.
It is not difficult to acknowledge that the mind—and even the self—emerges from the structure and chemistry of the brain, even as one acknowledges that life experience and learning constantly alters it as well.
Why Hermione thought it prudent to run through these old memories as she made her way back to the Ravenclaw Tower reflected her effort to calm herself—she hadn't completely recovered her equilibrium after all that happened this evening. She did not think her temper was volatile, nor did she think that she was impatient. At the very least, she didn't think she was after her Hogwarts years were passed.
Yet she clearly had exchanged harsh words with Tom before and acted rashly, and she could not even blame him for this. He'd been unexpectedly reasonable before he also blew his top. Hadn't she also walked out of her companions just now without giving them much explanation? Caught in a snit of her own?
She groaned. Her cheeks coloured as she covered her face with her hands.
Hermione found that even if she knew all these things about how the mind emerged from the brain, she hadn't exactly understood what it meant. Whatever neural architecture that her brain has that reflected the memories and skills she'd kept, no matter the structural similarity or dissimilarity between her current brain and her brain before the accident that landed her here and damaged it, she could not deny that she'd missed a change that was just as significant.
Her body was one that fitted perfectly for fifth-year Hermione, not Unspeakable Hermione who'd started to settle to her position and feel comfortable in her occupation a few years after she entered the Ministry.
Of course, the largest chunk of her memories and her sense of self was that of an ambitious and industrious witch a few years out of Hogwarts. That was beyond doubt. For any problem she might encounter as a Hogwarts student, she can come up with more alternative solutions and actions to it just due to a few more years of experience than other student of her physical age. Not to mention all the skills she possessed (of which not all she could account for, nor remember how exactly she acquired them). She would never be as foolish or desperate as an actual Romeo or Juliet—wherein faking your death and not informing your impulsive lover of the subterfuge sounded like an excellent idea.
Yet her brain was part and parcel of her current body; it was a continuous part of it, not something separate or disconnected. Adolescence was a period where you're constantly bombarded by a cocktail of hormones, along with the accompanying mood swings that come with it. She had no doubt that she was experiencing more-or-less the same thing that other people of similar age to her body experienced. Many hormones can easily traverse the blood brain barrier with impunity, not to mention that there are also parts of the brain without normal blood brain barrier that would allow hormones with larger molecules to pass (see: circumventricular organs). Many brain cells are also hormonally active. Her brain was practically bathed in adolescent hormones.
Simply put, instead of cogito ergo sum, she had to conclude that corporeo ergo sum. 'I am embodied, therefore I am'. Her emotions and their intensity were also the product of the youth of her body, not just the rational musings of her mind.
My body is that of a teenager, therefore, my emotional reactions are approximately close to one too.
'-
The next time Lakshmi and Eugenie caught Hermione was when she was reading in the Ravenclaw common room—there was no one else who wore a flower crown on her head without the slightest care in the world.
The brunette witch had all the appearance of being absorbed in her reading, or at other times, whatever it was that she was seriously writing on a scroll. Lakshmi would wager that she was not as oblivious to her surroundings as she seemed from the way she still replied Olive Hornby's occasional question sent in her direction with aplomb. Eugenie would rather the other blonde stop, but since Hermione seems to have it all under control, she only huffed at Hornby and then walked up to their room.
Lakshmi found a nice, unobtrusive spot to keep watching (of course). Sure enough, it was not long before Hornby spoke up again.
"Curie is such a great reader, I'm sure, because how else would anyone explain her amazing scores?" Hornby said.
"The mastery of magic requires as much practise as it does theory, Hornby. But I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that, right?" Hermione absently replied. She hadn't taken her eyes off her book.
"Did you have a good day, Curie?" Hornby asked sweetly.
"I did."
"It's hard to have a bad day when the company is so pleasant, isn't it?"
She's only glanced up from her book once before she returned to it easily.
"I admit that Tom is very good company."
Hermione's remark sounded careless, but the slight twitch of her lips as Hornby fell into appalled silence at the implied familiarity of her words assured Lakshmi that the transfer student was fully aware of what she said.
"Don't you think it terrible when people impose themselves on your company just because you're being unfailingly polite?"
"Oh, very terrible indeed."
"I wouldn't even dream of using a familiar form of address with a gentleman merely based on a few weeks of acquaintance." Hornby stated.
"I wouldn't dream of stopping the gentleman's pleasure of using my first name." Hermione replied. "Nor would I be so unkind to give the impression that I am ungrateful about his considerate attention by not reciprocating his pleasure."
Lakshmi covered her mouth to stop from laughing at that last hit. Hermione had clearly checkmated Hornby there, as the only way she could defeat the brunette's position was by proving that the other witch's claims of familiarity was false, or showing that the blonde could claim the greater familiarity with the aforementioned gentleman. Obviously, Hornby could claim neither.
It also needed to be said that the innuendo was sublime. Lakshmi loved innuendo. It's always nice to find out that there's another sharp-tongued student she can sharpen her wits against.
To no one's surprise, Olive Hornby beat a hasty retreat after that. Of course, she merely looked as if paying attention to Hermione was beyond her, and that Hermione should feel sorry that she was not invited to her circle. But to any observer with a functioning brain, it was clear who the winner of the last repartee was.
'-
"Do you want to talk about it?" Eugenie asked softly.
Hermione had just changed into her pyjamas and dropped herself on the bed when she heard the question from her dorm mate. She raised her head and saw that Eugenie, Lakshmi and even Lucretia was looking at her with varying states of concern. She sighed and sat up again.
"Talk about what?"
"I don't know. Anything? Tom said you were lonely. Well, he also said how he you were so lost in thought that he had to catch you from slipping a few times on the astronomy tower stairs. It was why he was concerned." The blonde Ravenclaw said.
Hermione winced. She had to commend Tom on his discretion and creativity—instead of telling her dormmates of their complicated argument, he came up with a similar case that was milder still. Her expression, of course, only affirmed to both Eugenie and Lakshmi that Tom was telling the truth.
I suppose his story is still in the neighbourhood of truth, she conceded. Apparently, he had better common sense than she thought. It was certainly much better sense than Voldemort.
"What else did he say?"
"That he wished you would not be so alone."
The strongest urge that she felt right then was to ask the password from Eugenie, march all the way to the Slytherin common room, and find Tom to tell him to mind his own business. The less hasty part of her had to admit that his observations was rather accurate, if overblown in the conclusion (she wasn't suicidal. She just wasn't). She was still surprised at the 'solution' he came up with, because she'd half expected that he'd follow her everywhere to assure himself that she wasn't going to jump out of some random window.
"He didn't say much of what happened between the two of you, if that's what you're worried about," Lakshmi shrewdly noted.
"Nothing happened!" Hermione insisted.
The other Ravenclaw snorted. "Right, and two people could be as close as you both are in such a short time when they're only talking about the weather all the while. I noticed that he told us about what happened as you leave the astronomy tower but not what your meeting there was about."
"I don't think we're very close." The brunette denied.
"He's oddly informal with you and allows you such familiarity. I've never seen him giving anyone else that privilege all this time."
"What, and you've been watching him all these years?" Hermione was sceptical.
Eugenie was nodding at Lakshmi's answer. "That's true. He was careful enough never to be asked to escort any witches around anywhere before or stand right next to them. I wouldn't have realised it if you didn't say that."
"Exactly, Eugenie. Anyway, he is rather striking and conspicuous that I always notice what he's doing or who he's with whenever I see him around. Look, Hermione, I don't really care about the details, but it's obvious that he's concerned. So, I'll just cut to the chase and ask if there's anything wrong with you."
Hermione only shrugged.
"Oh, nice put down of Hornby, by the way. She does grate on the nerves at times."
"I know it was probably evil of me, but it was fun," Hermione admitted, as Eugenie was a little surprised though Lakshmi only smiled wider. Lucretia seemed content to be the observer among them.
"Yes, her overactive imagination is very convenient, isn't it?" Lakshmi said, knowing. The brunette couldn't even hide her slight grin even if she tried.
"Alright! So, considering that we don't know each other that much yet, why don't you tell us of how your day went as well as all the people you've met so far? We'll give you a sketch of most of Hogwarts' denizens and we get to get to know you better. A slumber party isn't such a bad idea, right?" Lakshmi had walked into the tea table in the middle of the room and rung the service bell. A house elf instantly appeared.
It was Lucretia who stepped forward and Lucretia whom the elf addressed. She seemed to be asking for…refreshments? Hot chocolate as well as some snacks.
"But we have classes tomorrow," Eugenie answered, confused.
"Oh, come on, Eugenie. What's a little lost sleep compared to getting to know our newest dormmate?"
Hermione didn't think she can say no to Lakshmi's winning smile. Moreover, she knew that she does need to care about her current life. And what better way than gaining some new friends?
"Alright," Hermione agreed. "But you're going to have to spill on some of your embarrassing secrets too."
"There's a good number of that if you're interested," Lucretia spoke up, her expression knowing. "Trust me."
The brunette smiled as Lakshmi tried to persuade Lucretia to stay away from a particular second-year incident of hers, while Eugenie looked almost too afraid to ask about what exactly Lucretia knew about her. For all of Lucretia's appearance of calm respectability, there was a worrying glimmer of wicked humour in her eyes.
'-
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End Notes:
List of Stuff One Might Try to Look Up:
Broca's area/Broca's region: Region of the hominid brain linked with speech production. (Humans are hominid too, in case you didn't notice).
Cartesian Dualism: (philosophy) Also known as 'substance dualism', the most famous proposition of which was put forth by René Descartes (several other philosophers from different places and earlier times have espoused something similar, but their works was not widely disseminated in Europe just before the Renaissance took off). To quote Wikipedia: Descartes in his Passions of the Soul and The Description of the Human Body suggested that the body works like a machine, that it has material properties. The mind (or soul), on the other hand, was described as a nonmaterial and does not follow the laws of nature.
Cogito ergo sum: (philosophy, Latin), a famous quotation of René Descartes, most commonly translated as "I think, therefore I am".
Phineas Gage: (medical case) A man who during his work as a railroad construction foreman was famous for his improbable survival of an accident in which a large iron rod is driven right through his head. As I mentioned in-text, his left frontal lobe was destroyed. Also known as 'The American Crowbar Case'.
How different his personality before and after the accident is subject to much debate (and not a little exaggeration among different parties in the medical establishment trying to use him to support their pet theory), but his ability to adapt and overcome the difficulties apparent in the early days of his recovery serves as a good example of how flexible the human brain is at adapting to losses of its parts and taking over the tasks previously done by those lost/damaged parts.
'-
Additional Trivia:
Hermione dropped her knees and let herself fall to the ground, surprising him with the sudden change in their centres of gravity while her hands grabbed his arms. Tom didn't adapt fast enough and fell forward as she went down; she deftly used his forward motion to throw him back over her shoulders:
This is not a move that should be tried by a beginner.
It doesn't exactly require dan-level skills (that is, black belt levels), but it's not newbie level either—conservatively speaking, it's a solid intermediate one. It's a combination of two things:
1) mastering the ability to fall properly without injuring yourself (yes, believe it or not, this is a skill), and
2) mastering at least one move of unbalancing and disarming a standing attacker while you're sitting/kneeling/at a lower position than the attacker (none of these movements are tested in the middle-kyu* tests in the martial arts school I'm from, even if it was taught earlier).
(*kyu ranks, that is, the junior ranks below the black belt ranks. Some schools give colourful belts for different kyu ranks, others are less flashy/doesn't care about impressing outsiders and simply make all of them wear white until you're 2-kyu and 1-kyu, which is respectively 2 levels and 1 level below the first dan belt.)
I'm not giving any precise waza/movement/technique names, because there are definitely several moves that fit the bill in any given martial arts branch. I also know that at least aikido, judo and jujitsu have many waza that addresses what to do when you're sitting/kneeling and the attacker is standing.
'-