A/N: Woooow is this the fastest update ever in the history of this fic? Haha. I was in no doubt spurred on by the response to the last chapter - we've passed the 200 mark! I'm utterly thrilled, so I just want to say a massive thank you to everybody who takes the time to review this fic. Mega mega mega amazing, the lot of you. Internet cookies for all! I have no idea what's happening in the next chapter, but with any luck I'll think of something in the next week or so. (She says). Anyway, hope you enjoy this. =]

Tempora Abducto.

by Flaignhan.

"Something's not right," she said, sitting down heavily in the squashy armchair opposite Dumbledore. It was the second Thursday back after Christmas, and she was in another of her private Occlumency lessons with Dumbledore. The sky outside the leaded window of his office was already pitch black, tiny stars blinking in the distance.

Dumbledore straightened in his chair, wearing an expression of mild curiosity. "With your Occlumency or just in general?"

"Just in general," she said, fidgeting in her chair, fingers twisting as she tried to think of a way to best communicate her concerns without damaging the time line any further. She wondered what the consequences of her and Tom's little New Year's Eve party had been, if any at all. Did Voldemort even remember that they had shared cake at the top of the astronomy tower? She had to repress a shudder when her mind drifted to what else they had shared.

"Would you care to elaborate?" Dumbledore asked, pressing the tips of his fingers together, his blue eyes looking at her patiently over his half moon spectacles.

"It's Tom."

"I'm afraid there isn't much we can do about Tom Riddle."

"Well that's the thing," Hermione replied, "Tom Riddle isn't acting at all like Tom Riddle. He's almost...human."

"Tom has always been a good liar, Hermione and –"

"I know," Hermione said, shocking herself at her audacity – she had never interrupted the Professor before, perhaps being around Tom so much was having a bad effect on her. "I know when he's lying though, and he rarely bothers to even attempt to lie to me because he knows what I know, and he knows there's no point, but this is just confusing."

Dumbledore said nothing for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Tom Riddle has fooled almost everybody he has ever come into contact with on this Earth. Please, Hermione, do not make the mistake of thinking you can trust him. Tom Riddle does not understand the concept of friendship, or love – "

"I know," Hermione repeated, interrupting Dumbledore for the second time, though he did not show any sign of offence, merely his usual willingness to listen. "That's what I've always been told and it's what I always believed. It's what makes sense. At first I could tell, I could tell what he was and what he would be. I could feel it. Now...he just seems...I don't know...he doesn't feel evil though."

"Hermione," Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair, his palms flat on the oak desk between them. "Tom Riddle knows where you are from. Do not risk your life by being close to him. He wishes to use you for his own ends, as most people in this castle would, though his ends are rather more sinister than the usual troubles about the future that most people have."

Hermione considered his words. They sounded sensible, after all, they were talking about Lord Voldemort and anyone in their right mind would stay away from him. "It still feels like something's not as it should be."

"Perhaps you came here with too fixed an idea of what Tom was like? Perhaps you believed him to be outwardly evil, and are surprised by how charming and pleasant he can be?"

"No..." Hermione said slowly, her eyebrows creased into a frown. "I knew he'd be a good liar...I don't...I don't know."

"Exercise caution," Dumbledore said. "Trust nothing he says."

Hermione nodded.

"Now, if you'd like to clear your mind, we shall practice."

Hermione did as she was told, though her attempts at Occlumency this time were far worse than her previous lesson.

"You're quiet."

"Yes."

He smirked and pulled the chair out opposite her, sitting down in one graceful movement. "Any reason?"

"No."

He brushed her short replies aside. "I've been offered a job for when I leave school," he said, and Hermione glanced up. Tom looked as though he could barely contain his excitement. His eyes were lit up with a brightness she rarely saw in them, and he was almost smiling, though at the last second it turned into a smirk. She couldn't help but feel disappointed.

"Where?" she asked simply, setting down her quill in order to give him her attention, if only for a short while.

"The Ministry. It's quite a senior position for a school leaver but they seem to think I'm up to the job."

"The Ministry?" Hermione asked, her arm sliding on the table and knocking her bottle of ink to the floor. Tom waved his wand and cleaned up the mess before she even realised what had happened. "And you're going to take the job?"

"Absolutely," Tom said, frowning slightly, apparently confused as to why she thought he might not. "I'm going to be assistant to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Do you have any idea how many doors that opens?"

"You want to work in the Ministry?"

"I have political ambitions," Tom said plainly. "Law Enforcement seems to be a good place to start."

"Political?" Hermione repeated, her mouth slightly agape as she digested this new piece of information. "You want to go into politics?"

"I do, and I think I have some rather good policies that will get me plenty of support. Plus, you can guarantee most of the staff will vote for me, and several of the students once they come of age. It'll be a good few years before anything really happens but patience is a virtue..."

"Right," Hermione said, eyes wide and blank. "What are these policies, exactly?"

"Vocational training for those who don't want to take their NEWTs but still want to further their education."

"That sounds...incredibly reasonable."

"There's no need to sound alarmed."

"What are your policies on muggleborns?" she asked, knowing she was most likely setting herself up for a raging argument in the middle of the silent library.

"That they be thoroughly checked, as well as their immediate family. Do you know the memory modifiers have been called out on forty two occasions in the last two years, purely because muggleborns or their families have started shouting about witches and wizards to whoever will listen? It is dangerous for us, and so I plan to be much more selective about the people we allow to join our world."

Hermione's stomach plummeted as she realised she couldn't really find much fault with this. Even in her time there were some muggleborns who had got into trouble, or their families, because they had let slip (or boasted, in a few cases) about their magical power. While it might be a little drastic and unfair to those who would get left behind because of loud mouth parents, it certainly wasn't anything like the anti muggle sentiment that she had expected he would throw at her.

"I have to go," she said quickly, packing her books away, not looking at him as she tried to run the details over and over in her mind.

"Why?" he asked.

"Are you absolutely sure about politics?"

Tom hesitated, and looked down at the desk. "It was my second choice."

"And your first?" Hermione asked.

"Teaching. But Dippet said I was too young."

Hermione felt the colour drain from her already pale face, her heart jumping into her throat as she realised that there was no doubt about it. Time had been changed. For good.

"Bye," she said quickly, and before Tom could even utter another word, she was out the door of the library, rushing down the corridor, skipping down the stone staircase, before hurtling down another corridor, skidding and almost losing her balance as she turned the corner at the end. Professor Merrythought exclaimed loudly as she almost collided with him, and she threw a hurried "Sorry Professor!" over her shoulder before finally reaching her destination.

Peering through the small, square pane of glass in the door, she could see that Dumbledore was still teaching his third year class, all of whom had varying looks of interest on their faces. Those sat at the front had the keenest expressions, eyes bright as they drank in every word that Dumbledore said, while those at the back only found themselves listening because Dumbledore wasn't somebody they could ignore. Hermione's admiration for him grew exponentially. In her classes, all of the students were there because they wanted to be, so Dumbledore didn't have to try particularly hard to make them listen. The younger students were much more difficult, and this was the first time she had seen him teach the lower years. While Professor McGonagall was a wonderful teacher, she couldn't help but feel a little envious of the children who were sat in there now, who would have seven years of teaching from Dumbledore.

After five minutes of anxious waiting, during which she bit her thumb nail down as far as was possible with human teeth, the class began to file out quickly, before they headed off to their lunch break.

"Come in," he said pleasantly, holding the door open for her. "Would you like a sherbet lemon? They're wonderful, I've only just discovered them." He offered her a small glass bowl containing individually wrapped sweets and she took one, laughing as she unwrapped it.

Dumbledore smiled in amusement. "The start of a lifelong habit?" he asked.

"Mustn't tell," Hermione replied good naturedly, though her words came out a little jumbled as her mouth had become rather preoccupied with the sweet.

"What can I do for you?" Dumbledore asked, sitting down and unwrapping a sweet for himself. He popped it in his mouth, his cheeks narrowing as he sucked it briefly.

"Politics," Hermione said, leaning against the front row of desks.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to help you with such things. I tend to stay out of politics, too many people who think they're much cleverer than they are."

Hermione didn't manage to suppress her laugh, especially after her recent conversation with Tom.

"Why the sudden interest?"

"Tom wants to go into politics," she said. "Or so he said just now. He's got policies and everything."

"Yes..." Dumbledore said slowly. "Professor Slughorn did mention he had political ambitions...though Professor Dippet tells me he asked if he could stay on to teach after this year. I'm not quite sure he's ready to let go of the castle just yet."

"So he actually wants to be Minister? It's not just something he's saying because he thinks it's what people expect to hear?"

"Well, that is always the trouble with Tom, one can never really tell. Why the surprise?"

"He's been offered a job."

"I did hear, he seems to have made a good impression with the Ministry," he said, and Hermione briefly wondered whether Dumbledore knew everything that happened to each person in the school, or whether he just paid special attention to Tom.

"He's going to take it."

Dumbledore surveyed Hermione's worry torn face for a good few seconds, then tilted his head up in a half nod of understanding. "And he's not supposed to."

"Exactly."

"Perhaps it will change; there's still a few months before you take your exams, and I do believe the position was dependant on him receiving all Outstandings for his NEWTs."

"Yes but you said he doesn't have Ministerial ambitions! So even if he doesn't take the job he still wanted it, he still wants to go into politics."

"I did?" Dumbledore asked, mildly bemused.

Hermione clenched a fist slammed it down onto the desk she was leaning against, though not so forcefully that Dumbledore showed any sign of noticing. "You will. You will and it will be the truth because you're the one who knows him best, so why on Earth is everything happening differently?"

"Hermione, I don't really know him at all."

"You know him a hell of a lot better than Dippet does!" she was raising her voice slightly now, and once she realised it, she bit back her next sentence, took a breath and continued in a more even tone. "You know him far better than Slughorn does too, and he's his Head of House! Even when Tom opened himself up completely to him, more or less told him what he was planning on doing, Slughorn still decided to ignore it and treat him like he's the most perfect person to ever walk the planet."

She had probably said too much, and this was evident in the fact that Dumbledore was pressing his lips together, curiosity for once becoming too strong even for him to risk opening his mouth. Silence fell and Hermione looked down at the classroom floor, guilt washing over her. How could she storm in here and expect him to have answers which he wouldn't be able to give for another fifty years? He couldn't tell the future, and he couldn't explain away things that his older self had said in her past. But this was Dumbledore. Surely he would know something? Surely he would be able to say something that would ease her worry over Tom so she could focus instead on being stressed out over her exams?

"Will time progress as it always did? If I was always here, will it still –"

"Only as long as you don't make a conscious decision to change it," Dumbledore answered, his blue eyes piercing her brown ones. "For instance, were you to kill me right now, I daresay it would change things rather a lot, but having this conversation, does not."

Hermione nodded. Dumbledore dying fifty years too soon was the last thing she wanted to think about. Even in her own time it had been fifty years too soon. She supposed that whenever it came, it would have always been fifty years too soon – with people like Dumbledore, it always was.

"Keep battling on, Hermione. I can only imagine how difficult it must be, seeing him walk about, probably the most vulnerable he will ever be, and not being able to change what he becomes, but you must not fail. After school has finished, you need never see him again. In fact, I suggest you choose those you remain in contact with very carefully. He will no doubt wish to call on your knowledge at some point, and the less people know your whereabouts, the better."

Hermione nodded again, not wanting to think about the day when that would come either.

"I'm sorry I can't be of more help," he said after a moment, watching her forlorn expression and sagging shoulders as she sighed heavily. "I can only advise you as best I can, though it is not advice that you are obliged to take, of course."

Hermione smiled. "The general rule, in my time at least, is that if Albus Dumbledore offers you advice, you'd better take it."

He chuckled, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I fear the future holds rather high expectations of me."

"And so it should," Hermione responded, standing up straight and adjusting the strap of her satchel on her shoulder.

"Have another," Dumbledore said, holding the bowl of sherbet lemons out to her, "you look like you need it."

Hermione smiled once more, and took a sweet, as instructed.

"Will you take a walk with me?"

Ava stopped speaking mid sentence and a rather shy smile appeared on her face as she looked at the person standing behind Hermione who had just spoken.

"Why?" Hermione asked, flicking the page in her Transfiguration textbook, without paying attention to any of the text.

"Please?"

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Joanne shoot a warning glance in her direction while Lucy merely looked curious.

Ava continued to smile.

"Fine," Hermione said, snapping her book shut and getting to her feet. She checked her watch. "We've got a lesson in twenty minutes though."

"Oh I'm sure it won't take long," he said, stepping aside so she could clamber over the bench. He held out a hand to assist her but she ignored it, having managed perfectly well for the previous six years with no assistance from Harry or Ron. He smirked, and let his hand drop.

"I'll see you in a bit," she said to the girls, who all watched her leave with various degrees of shock on their faces, though there was still a hint of a smile in Ava's expression as she continued to watch Tom until they disappeared from view.

The frost crunched under their feet as they strolled across the grass, cloaks wrapped tightly around them, attempting to block out the January chill. The lake had a few patches of thin ice floating on the surface, reflecting the dull clouded sky above them, through which the sun was not remotely visible.

"I want to talk about what happened," he said after they had been walking in silence for several minutes. "On my birthday."

Hermione didn't meet his eye. She had hoped he would forget it, surely he would want to disregard such an event, considering it was so human. She tried to ignore the acid that rose in her throat as she thought about it, and him, and what he would become.

"Are you listening?"

"Yes."

"I don't know what I want to say."

Hermione turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised. "So you bought me out here in the cold because you don't know what to say?"

"I'm not good at this, I don't...care about this sort of thing. But..."

Hermione had almost breathed a sigh of relief, and then he'd said that awful word: But.

He took a step closer to her, and she took one back, her body meeting the wall of the castle behind her. Tom pressed one gloved hand against it, his arm blocking her in, and he took another step towards her closing the gap between them. She glanced to her left, wondering whether she should just run, but that would look far too suspicious. After all, she regularly sat with him in the library, and they often teamed up in potions, why should she be scared of him now?

She wasn't even particularly scared. She was sure he wouldn't do anything right under Dumbledore's nose, especially seeing as he knew how little trust Dumbledore held in him, and as several people saw them leaving the castle together. No, it wasn't fear that was troubling her, it was the sickening feeling in her stomach, which seemed to have risen so it was now a lump at the base of her throat, gurgling away unpleasantly.

"I don't know what I'd like to say, but I do know what I'd like to do," he said, his other arm blocking her in completely now. She looked up briefly as he got closer, and her stomach seemed to settle a little. Her head was screaming something at her, though she wasn't sure what. And then his lips touched hers and her brain might well have not even existed.