Disclaimer in Chapter One
Author's Note: My dear readers, in this new chapter I'm going to drop a few more canon characters into the story. I know some of them are not Purebloods but I'll still have them as students. For the sake of this story, let's just pretend that they are all purebloods ;)
Oh, and I believe there are a few awkward sentences in this chapter. I tried and tried but they only ended up sounding even weirder -.- It was as if English has escaped me. Maybe the next fanfic I shall write in German.
A BIG thank you to all of you who reviewed! I am still awed that so many of you read my story and then review, too. Thanks a whole lot!
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Chapter Eleven: To Change Thee
"Hermione? Are you even listening to me?"
Hermione looked up and found Riddle staring at her, exasperation clear on his face. The honest answer to his question would have been 'no' but, of course, Hermione couldn't say that. So, she smiled at him sheepishly and whispered,
"Of course, Master."
Riddle quirked a sceptical eyebrow and inquired sternly, "Really? Then what did I just tell you?"
Hermione pursed her lips as her eyes fell down to the opened Transfiguration textbook in her lap. As much as she racked her brain, she simply had been too distracted and had no idea what Riddle had been going on about.
"You… you wanted me to…" Hermione guessed wildly. "To get you a cup of coffee?"
Riddle simply drowned her in a disapproving glare. A long suffering sigh left him as he flopped down on the sofa beside Hermione.
"Wrong guess," he told her dryly.
Hermione had her eyes downcast as she mumbled contritely, "I'm sorry, Master."
Riddle peered at her and commented sardonically, "Sure you are."
He snatched the Standard Book of Spells Grade 7 from the stack of books beside Hermione and lazily flipped through it. The book's cover was rather worn and some of its pages were crinkled. Riddle found a torn page and frowned angrily at the missing part.
"This is even worse than my copy," he remarked, displeased.
Hermione glanced at the tattered book in his hand. A small smile flittered over her face and she hugged the Transfiguration book against her chest.
"It's perfect," she told Riddle softly. "Thanks for buying them for me, Master."
Riddle carelessly threw the Spells book back to the others and replied indifferently, "Well, the books are required for seventh year curriculum. I hardly had a choice."
His blue eyes travelled back to her. Hermione still hugged the book, blissful smile on her face. Riddle frowned at her and stated tartly,
"See, that's what I've been talking about. Obviously I don't stand a chance against a simple book in holding your attention."
A guilty blush hit Hermione and she bowed her head. "Sorry, Master."
Riddle waved her apology away with a dismissive gesture of his hand. His frosty eyes didn't leave her as he remarked curtly,
"As I was saying before: I'm out of money now that you have your beloved books."
Hermione bit her lower lip as she peered at him. She was immensely grateful that Riddle had bought her actual books, but she still didn't see why he had done it. His idea of her going to Hogwarts was never going to work out. As much as Hermione would love to go, Riddle's plan was bound to fail.
While Hermione worried, Riddle continued his lament, "I can't get you the other things for school. A cauldron, a telescope for Astronomy, Herbology gear... everything costs a fortune…"
He ran a hand through his silky hair while sighing, "At least you already have a wand. For now, we have to share my things when necessary. The school usually has a few spare sets of equipment, too – for those idiots who forgot their stuff at home."
Hermione nervously fingered the spine of her Transfiguration book as she listened to Riddle. She still couldn't quite picture herself as a student.
"Master?"
"Hm?" made Riddle distractedly, obviously still occupied with his imaginary bill.
"Well… I…" Hermione said hesitantly. "You see, I would really love to go to Hogwarts as a student but… but I really can't. I'm not a Pureblood. Master Malfoy and Mistress Black also go to that school. They'll recognize me. Even if it wasn't for them, I can't identify myself as a Pureblood. I don't have an ID. Your school will instantly know that I'm lying and then… For a Mudblood to impersonate a Pureblood, they'll-" Hermione gulped fearfully. "I'll surely get executed."
Riddle studied her with his frosty eyes. Shyly Hermione looked back at him. A nasty sneer drifted over his handsome features and he scoffed,
"Really, Hermione. Have a bit more faith in me."
Riddle reached for a green folder, which innocently lay on the side table, and offered it to her. Hermione cautiously took it and looked at him questioningly.
"Those are your documents," Riddle explained curtly. "Birth certificate, ID, your OWL results, such stuff."
Hermione furrowed her brow and opened the folder. The first document was obviously a birth certificate. Hermione raised her eyebrows as she read the name:
'Hermione Rookwood'
As Riddle saw her reaction he leaned a bit towards her and pointed at the document.
"As you can see your father was Augustus Rookwood. Rookwood is undoubtedly a Pureblood name. No-one will question you about it," he told her casually. "Augustus Rookwood worked as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. A few weeks ago he was injured during one of his experiments. Although he was instantly rushed to St. Mungo's he succumbed to his severe injuries."
Hermione nodded shakily, quite impressed with the material Riddle had come up with in such short notice. With shaky hands, she picked up another document. It looked very official, with seals and certificates from the Department for Observation of Magical Bloodlines.
"How…?" she stumbled breathlessly. "How could you get this?"
Riddle threw her a haughty smirk. "I'm just that good."
Hermione ran a finger reverently over a thick seal from the Ministry. 'Rookwood, Hermione; Pureblood status: confirmed'. Could it be that easy? Riddle still grinned smugly as he continued,
"I chose Augustus Rookwood, because he was the last in his line. He had no family whatsoever and no friends. Very reclusive man. That means there's no-one to blow your cover."
Hermione's eyes were still glued to the document as she asked,
"And my mother?"
"Millicent Rookwood née Bulstrode," Riddle told her impatiently while gesturing at another document. "The woman died fifteen years ago. Augustus never re-married." A smirk twisted his lips as he added, "Which leaves you pretty much orphaned now. And being seventeen, you are off age and don't need a legal guardian anymore."
"I see," said Hermione while her eyes scanned the document.
Riddle really had thought of everything. She glanced at him and said, still stunned by it all,
"That's really impressive."
Riddle sent her a charming smile and commented, sarcasm bending his nice words in the opposite direction,
"Why, thank you for your precious approval. Just what I wanted."
He took the green folder from her and added, now serious, "The documents are still fakes, though. They might convince Dippet and maybe an overworked official from the Department of Bloodlines, but if someone digs deeper, they won't hold for long." He threw Hermione a stern look. "You have to avoid drawing attention to your person. Do you understand?"
She quickly nodded. "Yes, Master."
Tentative hope dared to flare up in the pit of Hermione's stomach. In wonder she stared at Riddle. Was he really going to make it work? Seeing the adoration shining in Hermione's eyes, the hard look dropped from Riddle's face and a vicious smirk took over. One of his hands slipped into the pocket of his pitch black robe as he stated,
"Now to your other question…"
Hermione watched in confusion as Riddle produced a potion flask from his pocket. Offering it to her, he drawled condescendingly,
"I believe you voiced your concern about Draco and Bellatrix recognising you at school."
Made of dull dark metal, the flask rested coldly in Hermione's hand. Riddle still eyed her smugly, obviously enjoying himself. As he wasn't very forthcoming with an explanation, she asked cautiously,
"What is this, Master?"
Riddle snickered darkly. "Polyjuice Potion, my dear."
Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. "Polyjuice…?"
Riddle inclined his head, still smirking.
"Yes," he purred. "A diluted form actually."
Hermione's fingers tightened around the metal flask. "You want me to take it?"
Riddle nodded before he said matter-of-factly, "I considered using Glamours or other spells to change your appearance, but a skilled wizard would be able to counter them. Polyjuice Potion, though-" He gestured at the flask in Hermione's hands. "-can't be reversed by any magic."
"But it wears off with time," Hermione interjected. "As far as I know it only lasts for two to three hours. Tops."
"It does," replied Riddle. "But, as I said, that's diluted Polyjuice."
"Diluted?" Hermione was confused. "What does that mean, Master?"
A smirk danced around Riddle's lips as he replied, "It means that, while the potion's effects are not as strong as in the undiluted version, the duration of the effects is extended."
"I don't get-"
Riddle rolled his eyes and explained, "This potion will not completely alter your appearance. Some of your attributes will change, others will be retained. In return, though, the effects will last for up to ten hours."
Hermione furrowed her brow and asked sceptically, "And you think no-one will recognize me?"
Riddle gazed at her languidly. "You will be a Pureblood with all the necessary documents to prove it. Why would anyone try to draw a connection between Hermione Rookwood and that Mudblood from the Malfoys?"
"Hm," made Hermione, not really convinced as she eyed the flask in her hand.
Riddle didn't seem to be bothered by her scepticism. He merely raised an expectant eyebrow at her.
"Well, why don't you try it?"
Hermione's hand trembled as she unscrewed the bottle. She threw an insecure glance at Riddle. He just eyed her, impenetrable expression on his face. Hermione threw in a shaky breath of air. Then she raised the bottle, closed her eyes and took a swig from it.
Peppermint. Very strong. It burned on her tongue and down her throat. Almost alcoholic. There was something more… coppery… Iron?
†
An almost-smile washed over Riddle's face as he watched Hermione cough. Holding her stomach, she stumbled away from the couch and leaned against the wardrobe, breathing heavily.
Faked papers and Polyjuice aside, having Hermione pose as a student entailed a lot of risks. Riddle's fingers ran over the metal flask as he watched indifferently how the Mudblood doubled over in pain. If Hermione were to be exposed, though, and everything went up in flames, it was her who would get burned. Not him. Only Draco and Bellatrix knew of Riddle's association with the Mudblood and he knew how to make them shut up.
With morbid fascination Riddle watched as Hermione's body started to change. He had been surprisingly reluctant to change her appearance, but the lack of an alternative forced his hand.
'I have to obey every wizard,' Hermione's shaky words echoed through Riddle's mind. His magic bristled irately as he remembered how Malfoy had dared to slap Hermione. How Bellatrix cursed her. Riddle's hands balled into fists. Apparently, every idiot had the right to order his Mudblood around. Intolerable! No-one – No-one! – aside from Riddle was allowed to use her.
He had thought about hiding the little Mudblood away in his bedroom. It would be a pleasurable solution to this problem – promptly a smirk curved Riddle's lips – but it would be a waste of Hermione's talents. On top of everything, there was Hepzibah Smith and the locket to be considered. The ghost of a plan already wandered Riddle's mind. For that plan to not hit him in the face, it would be prudent that 'Tom Riddle' never owned any Mudblood. No retraceable evidence…
Riddle was pulled from his plotting as Hermione moaned softly before she stumbled and lost her balance. Instinctively he stepped forward and caught her. The potion's transformation seemed to be over. Riddle's eyes shortly skimmed over Hermione's soft hair which now was shorter, shoulder-length, and a few shades darker than before. In relief Riddle noted that it still was an untameable mass of exiting curls. Obviously the potion hadn't been strong enough to overcome her messy hair. Riddle grinned amusedly.
He took a hold of the girl's chin and bent her head up to inspect her face. Her eyes had changed. The irises were now such a dark brown, they were almost indiscernible from the black pupils. Gently Riddle ran a finger over her cheekbones. They were higher, sharper, making her face look more angular. He wasn't sure he liked it. He would need time, getting used to that new face. Riddle's fingers skimmed down her cheek, making Hermione shiver under his touch. A smirk tucked at the corners of his mouth as he ran his finger over her lips. Thankfully the Polyjuice Potion had left them untouched. They were still deliciously red, plump and very soft.
He wanted to bite them. Why he would enjoy doing that to a Mudblood, Riddle had stopped to ponder. Now that the girl belonged to him, he didn't need any justifications anymore. She was powerful, she was smart and she was his. After all, he wouldn't be the first one to enjoy a Mudblood more than was decent.
As the girl looked up at him, Riddle could still see traces of his little Mudblood in her features. Yet she also resembled that Muggle girl he had got the hair from. Riddle snickered darkly. Poor thing. But no need to tell Hermione about her.
Riddle's fingers left her face and teasingly skimmed over her neck. He quite enjoyed the contrast of his pale hand against her now tanned skin. Amused, Riddle noted how the Mudblood trembled as his fingers curled around her neck. Her pretty eyes widened anxiously. Her fear thrilled him. What did she expect? That he would… choke her?
A cold laugh escaped Riddle. He couldn't blame her. He had tried that before. Back then, he hadn't known how very valuable Hermione truly was. Abruptly Riddle removed his hand from her neck. Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, he pulled her small body flush against his. He could feel her breasts pressing against his chest. A sly smile danced around Riddle's mouth. Another thing the Polyjuice Potion had changed. This time, though, he wasn't about to complain.
Riddle's hand wandered to the back of Hermione's head. Not waiting for her consent, he bent down and captured her mouth with his. Contently Riddle nibbled at her fat lower lip. A smirk begged to take shape on his own lips as he felt how the little Mudblood shuddered under his ministrations. She even nestled a bit closer to him. Riddle wrapped a possessive arm around her waist. Once again, his self-restraint flew out of the window and he couldn't help but deepen the kiss. He was pleased to notice that she still tasted the same. Strangely exciting. Riddle let his magic wrap around his little prey and enjoyed how her Dark Mark reacted so obediently to his claim to power. She was still his. Domineeringly Riddle rubbed his tongue against hers and heard a little sigh coming from her. She did enjoy that, didn't she?
Smiling viciously, Riddle ended the kiss. Hermione blinked and looked up at him. Her eyes were glassy and a pink hue coloured her cheeks. He fully enjoyed that embarrassed look on her face. Stepping a bit away from her, Riddle reached for her left arm and pulled up the sleeve of her pullover. The Dark Mark was still there. As expected.
"My mark's not disguised?" the Mudblood exclaimed worriedly, her voice suspiciously shaky.
Riddle glanced at her and explained, "It can't be hidden. Not even with Polyjuice. You'll have to wear long sleeves at all times."
Another risk. Riddle sighed inwardly while he handed the potion flask to Hermione and ordered,
"I want you to take the potion three times a day."
"Yes, Master"
Riddle enjoyed how that word fell from her soft lips. Finally it was directed at the right person. Hermione nervously fingered the flask as she inquired,
"How am I going to hide it from the students?"
Riddle smirked at her. "Sometimes it's best to hide in plain sight. So, due to a chronic ailment, Hermione Rookwood has to take a potion every day."
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With huge eyes Hermione took in King's Cross Station as she followed Riddle, a few steps behind him. She was on her way to Hogwarts. Excitement fluttered through her stomach while a happy smile was permanently plastered all over her face. Hermione could barely believe her luck. She was truly going to school. Not in her wildest dreams, had she dared to hope for something like that
"Come here." Riddle's deep voice brought her out of her musings.
Hermione blinked but then quickly stepped over to him, giving up the servile distance she had kept. Riddle scanned her with a detached look on his face.
"You really need to stop creeping around like the mute servant you so like to impersonate."
With that he continued his way, keeping Hermione now right beside him.
"You're a Pureblood," Riddle continued in his silky voice. "Behave like one. If you continue to prostrate before everyone you meet, people will get suspicious. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master."
Riddle nodded. He scanned her for a moment, before he inquired, "You remember what I told you about the house system at Hogwarts?"
"Yes, Master," answered Hermione, smiling happily. "There's Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Huffl-"
"I want you to end up in Slytherin," Riddle cut over her.
Hermione frowned in confusion. "I didn't know I could choose my house. How should I-"
"New students are sorted into their respective houses by the Sorting Hat," Riddle explained, smirking at her. "Make sure that it puts you into Slytherin."
Hermione shrugged. "Okay."
"After you enter Slytherin I don't want you to speak to me – at least for a few days." Riddle continued in his velvety voice. "You're a transfer student, so we, of course, don't know each other yet."
Unbidden, insecurity bubbled up in Hermione. Somehow she had hoped that Riddle would 'show her around' so to speak.
"Yes, Master," whispered Hermione reluctantly.
Riddle didn't seem to care about her upcoming anxiety at all. With an uncompassionate look on his face, he shoved Hermione over to a brick wall between platforms nine and ten. A vague advice was all she got from him.
"You have to run through it."
†
Hermione sat in a crowded compartment of the Hogwarts' Express, squeezed in between a bunch of third years. Luckily the kids didn't pay her the slightest attention, preferring it to share stories of their Christmas holidays. Hermione was tense. The compartment – the whole train – was full of witches and wizards. Surely someone would punish her for her impudence of sitting with wizards.
Hermione forced herself to look out of the window. The rough wilderness of Scotland rushed by. The grey sky hung low, heavy with snow, and the highlands were shrouded in a haze. Hermione exhaled a shaky breath of air. Riddle was probably sitting just a few compartments away, chatting with his friends, while she could only hope that his crazy plan would work out.
It was a few hours later that Hermione finally stepped out of the train. Hogwarts' uniform felt strange on her skin. Seemingly she fit in well with the other dark-robed students, but Hermione felt like a thick wall separated them. She was following the other students, as a voice stopped her.
"Hermione?" that voice called. "Hermione Rookwood?"
Her new name sounded foreign to Hermione, but she still turned around. A tall and slender girl walked towards her, big smile on her face. Her hair was almost as black as the nightly sky above them.
"Y- yes?" stuttered Hermione cautiously.
"Excellent," the girl declared happily. "I've been searching for you. Couldn't find you in the train."
"Er…"
"My name's Lisa Turpin," the girl introduced herself. "I'm Head Girl."
"H-hello," mumbled Hermione shyly.
Turpin smiled at her encouragingly and explained, "The Headmaster told me to look after you and bring you safely to the castle."
Hermione tried to smile at the girl. "Thank you."
Turpin waved away Hermione's thanks, still smiling amicably. Despite the Head Girl's kindness, Hermione felt incredibly nervous. Cautiously she followed Turpin away from Hogsmeade train station. Hermione flinched violently as a second or third year student accidentally brushed her left arm. She pulled her arm securely against her side, acutely aware of the Dark Mark on her forearm. Only a thin layer of cloth hid it away from prying eyes.
Fortunately, Turpin hadn't noticed Hermione's peculiar behaviour. In a good mood, she ushered Hermione to a carriage. Hermione's eyes widened as she saw the Threstrals, harnessed in front of the carriages. The fearsome beasts looked strangely docile.
"It's not far," Turpin informed as they had settled down inside the carriage.
Hermione nodded at the smiling girl before she again cast her head down.
"Are you alright, Hermione?" the Head Girl inquired kindly.
"Yes," Hermione replied quickly.
It made Turpin laugh softly. "No need to be so nervous. When we get to the castle, the Headmaster'll will have a quick word with you. Then you can join the welcome feast in the Great Hall. I think you'll get sorted then, too."
Panic once again mounted up in Hermione. Seeing this, the Head Girl continued soothingly, "It's nothing to be alarmed at. Really. The sorting's a piece of cake and the other students are really nice."
Hermione wasn't so sure about that. What if that 'sorting' didn't work with her because she was a Mudblood? Hermione glanced out the carriage's window. A soft gasp left her. Not far away she could see Hogwarts castle standing majestically amidst the Scottish landscape. An endless forest stretched out behind the impressive castle. The sun had long since set, but Hogwarts' many windows were lit and shone in a golden light, merrily playing with the surrounding darkness.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
Hermione nodded at the Head Girl's comment, still enthralled with the view of the castle. Her previous panic dropped into the background. Hermione couldn't believe it. Was she really going to live here? Excitement warmly fluttered up in her. Not only live here, but be able to learn, too? A smile tugged at her mouth. Maybe, just maybe, this was really going to work out.
†
Hope and excitement still danced through Hermione as she stepped into the castle. Wonder glittered in her eyes as she took in the polished flagstones of the floor, the arched high ceiling and the beautiful stone gargoyles, standing here and there in alcoves in the walls. Awestruck Hermione followed the Head Girl, who was decidedly unimpressed by Hogwarts' beauty.
Turpin headed for a large doorway. The other students filed, laughing and chatting cheerfully, through the door and into the room behind. Turpin didn't follow them, but stopped in front of a tall, stern-looking woman, clad in nothing but black, and a smaller man. Hunched over with old age, the man leaned heavily on a richly decorated walking stick. Feeble grey hair grew here and there on his almost bald head. His small eyes were of a washed-out blue colour as they wandered over Hermione.
"Ah," said the white-haired man. "You must be Ms Rookwood."
"Yes, sir," Hermione quickly replied.
The old man nodded placidly before he turned to Turpin and said, "Thank you for taking care of our new student, Ms Turpin."
The Head Girl smiled. "No problem, Headmaster."
Then she excused herself and walked away, probably to join her friends. Meanwhile the Headmaster returned his attention to Hermione.
"Now, Ms Rookwood," he said in his feeble voice. "This is Professor McGonagall." He gestured at the strict-looking woman beside him. "Head of Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmistress. And I am Professor Dippet, Headmaster of Hogwarts."
Hermione threw him a small smile, not really knowing how to behave in social situations like these.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," she whispered politely. "Thank you for admitting me into your school."
The Headmaster nodded gravely. "I was very sad to hear about your father. Why, I remember Augustus as he was a student at this very school."
Dippet sighed deeply, then he continued, "I'm sure he would be proud, knowing that his daughter goes to the same school."
"I hope so, Headmaster," Hermione said cautiously.
This was probably the longest conversation she ever had with a wizard – aside from Riddle of course – without her getting yelled at. The Headmaster glanced at the door through which the other students had disappeared.
"I think everyone is assembled in the Great Hall," Dipped commented. "Now, Ms Rookwood, I'll announce your presence to your peers, while Professor McGonagall explains how you'll get sorted."
A smile stretched Dippet's ancient face as he said, "Welcome to Hogwarts."
Then the Headmaster swept away into the Great Hall.
"As you surely know-" McGonagall said, her voice as sharp as the glint in her eyes. "-Hogwarts' students are sorted into Houses. During your time here, your house will be your family."
Hermione nodded while she listened to McGonagall listing the different houses. In the end, she didn't really care what house she got into. As long as she was able to go to classes, she was happy. A small smile slid on Hermione's face.
"Ms Rookwood," McGonagall's strict voice brought her out of her musings. "If you please follow me.
Hermione's heart beat ridiculously fast as McGonagall led her into the Great Hall. The other students were already seated at four huge tables. It was so silent, Hermione's steps clacked loudly on the hall's stone floor. She tried to ignore the hundreds of eyes which were clued on her. Hermione glimpse candles, hovering in mid-air, an arched ceiling, which was bewitched to show the night sky, an almost decadent amount of delicious foods on the tables.
Finally McGonagall stopped standing beside a stool. Curiously enough an ancient looking wizard's hat sat on that stool. Throwing McGonagall a questioning glance, Hermione stepped over to the witch. She could feel the eyes of everyone in the hall on her. McGonagall handed her the old and battered hat then she gestured for Hermione to sit on the chair. Hermione did as she was told and slid the hat on her head with shaky hands.
'Why, hello,' she heard an enthusiastic voice in her head. 'Haven't had one of your kind in years and years."
'W- what kind?' Hermione dared to ask.
The disembodied voice answered merrily, 'New blood, of course, my dear.'
That made Hermione panic. No-one was supposed to know she was a Mudblood.
'Please, don't tell anyone. I'm not supposed to be here. They would punish me.'
The voice chuckled and said, 'No, Ms Granger. You are supposed to be here. Believe me that.' Then the voice continued jovially, 'Now let's see. Where to put you… where do you fit…? I see an overwhelming thirst for knowledge. Very impressive. Ravenclaw would help you to satisfy that thirst. But your loyalty is great, too. Hm, maybe Hufflepuff? Difficult, you are. I like the challenge…'
Remembering Riddle's order, Hermione voiced shyly, 'Could you put me into Slytherin?'
'Tsk tsk, Ms Granger,' the voice chided her cheerfully. 'Slytherin is indeed an esteemed house but I see few of their traces in you. Why don't you leave the choice to me?'
'Please,' Hermione begged. 'I need to be there.'
'You do?' the voice asked sceptically. 'Or is it someone else? I am here to sort you, Ms Granger, and not Mr Riddle. Don't worry, I think I know where to put you. You are loyal but how much is forced? Yet, you are still here, braving the world. You are a true-'
"Gryffindor!" the head screamed out, for everybody in the hall to hear.
Hermione tried to hide her terror as she removed the hat from her head. Professor McGonagall smiled at her warmly as she took the hat from Hermione's shaky hands. Then she gestured to the table where students in red and gold applauded loudly. A small smile flittered over Hermione's mouth as she saw all these happy faces. They smiled for her, because they wanted her to be with them. Warmth wrapped around Hermione as she walked over to her house mates.
Then her gaze shortly strayed from Gryffindor and landed on the Slytherin table. Hermione's smile died on her face as she looked at Riddle. There was a dark expression on his face as he glared at her. Hermione gulped and hurriedly walked over to the Gryffindors.
"Here," a voice called for her. "Sit down here."
Gratefully Hermione plopped down beside the red-haired boy. Mirth sparkled in his blue eyes as he grinned at her.
"So, you are a transfer, eh?" he said lightly while filling his plate with chicken drums. "Never had any of 'em."
"Erm… y-yes," Hermione stuttered, not used to such friendly wizards.
The redhead smiled at her amiably and offered her a hand.
"Ron Weasley."
Flabbergasted, Hermione shook his hand and mumbled, "Hermione Rookwood."
"Yeah, Dippet just told us." Shrugged Ron.
The big grin still was on his face as he gestured at the boy sitting next to him.
"That's Seamus Finnigan."
The boy with sandy hair grinned and inclined his head while Ron already continued, gesturing at different people,
"Alicia Spinnet, our famous Quidditch captain. That bloke over there is Dean Thomas. Watch out he's a real heartbreaker, that one. Now, this nice lady is Parvati Patil…"
On and on he went, introducing people. Hermione nodded timidly at everyone. The Gryffindors all smiled at her openly and made her feel a bit better. Still, it was difficult for Hermione to talk with all those witches and wizards. Anxiously she stared down at her plate. A warm hand on her shoulder startled her. Hermione's head snapped up and she blinked at Ron. The boyish grin on his face instantly calmed her down.
"No need to worry, Hermione," he said soothingly. "You'll get to know them in no time… and then you'd be happy to obliviate them out of your head again."
That exclamation was followed by a lot of laughter from the other Gryffindors. Dean playfully hit Ron over the back of his head and admonished,
"Pull yourself together, man. She's going to take that seriously because she doesn't know you're an idiot."
They all laughed heartily and even Ron joined in.
"Say, Hermione," Seamus said. "How come you only now start at Hogwarts?"
"Oh… er…," Hermione mumbled, remembering the cover story Riddle had made up for her. "You see, I was home-schooled by my father until now. But… not long ago he had an accident and… died."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Seamus said gravely.
Ron gently laid his hand on her forearm, right above her Dark Mark. Hermione tensed. He scanned her and said sadly,
"Yeah, that's horrible. But don't worry, we'll make you feel right at home here."
"Thanks," stuttered Hermione.
†
It was after the feast that Hermione walked with her housemates to the Gryffindor common room. Seamus, Dean and Ron were by her side.
"I promise, you'll like it here. It's great fun," Ron said enthusiastically. "…well, okay, Potions is not so much fun. Unless you are really good. Transfiguration is pretty hard, too." Ron scratched his head and added, "Well, charms can be tricky, too. Just like Arithmancy."
Seamus stepped over to Hermione and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Don't worry," he told her. "It's not that difficult. Ron is just stupid."
Ron looked at his friend, affronted, which made Seamus and Dean break down in giggles. Ron just shrugged and then he, too, laughed heartily. Hermione smiled at him.
Tears of laughter still in his eyes, Ron told her, "What's really fun is Quidditch, though. I'm Keeper for Gryffindor." His twinkling blue eyes fell on her and he asked, "Do you play?"
Hermione shook her head. "No. Actually, I've never been on a broom either."
Ron's eyes almost fell out of his head. "Not on a broom?" he wailed loudly. "That can't be. Merlin, how horrible."
Hermione shuffled nervously. Maybe normal witches knew how to fly?
Seeing her insecurity, Ron smiled at her and draped an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry," he reassured. "I'll teach you how to fly."
Hermione smiled up at him. Just as she wanted to thank him, a cold voice interrupted them.
"Excuse me, Weasley."
The three boys and Hermione turned around. Hermione stiffened as she saw Riddle standing in the corridor. He was flanked by two Slytherin boys. One was Draco. There was no recognizing look in his face as he glanced at Hermione. Still, a menacing air hung around all three Slytherins. Hermione felt fear mounting up in her as she gazed at Riddle. Cold fury danced in his eyes as he glared at her.
"What do you want, Riddle?" Ron sneered hostilely, the easy grin having left his face.
Hermione saw Draco's hand wandering to his wand as he heard Ron's snide tone. Riddle stopped him with a small wave of his hand. Then his frosty eyes snapped back to Ron. A dangerous smile appeared on his face as he scanned the Gryffindor.
"I want you to keep your hands off my girlfriend," Riddle said in an emotionless and completely composed voice.
That made all of them gape at Riddle. Even Draco seemed to be surprised by the news. Though he could hide his shock better than Ron whose mouth had fallen open.
"Ex- excuse me?" the read-head inquired weakly.
Riddle threw him a glare. "I want you to not touch my girlfriend."
Ron couldn't reply a thing and his eyes wandered from Riddle to Hermione. Hermione had completely tensed in shock. What did he try to do? She stared at Riddle. His eyes only shortly flickered to her but she could still see that warning glint in them.
"Hermione?" she heard Ron's confused voice. "Is that true? Riddle is your boyfriend?"
She looked at him and Hermione could see disappointment dulling his eyes. In any way, she had to go along with Riddle's wishes. So, Hermione replied softly,
"Yes."
If it was possible, Ron's eyes grew even larger. Dean and Seamus just gawked at her. Hermione felt very exposed right now. Riddle on the other hand smirked nastily, seemingly enjoying the scene. Then he said in his deep voice,
"Hermione? A word?"
Before she could reply, Riddle grabbed her hand and pulled her with him. Swiftly he stalked down a corridor, away from the other students, before he pulled Hermione in a dark classroom. As soon as the door closed behind them, Riddle rounded on her.
"What happened?" he snapped, making Hermione flinch. "Didn't I tell you to come to Slytherin?"
"Yes, Master," Hermione replied shyly. "I tried. But the hat wouldn't-"
"Stop calling me 'Master'. What if someone hears? Are you stupid?" Riddle hissed at her furiously.
Hermione cowered before him, trembling in fear. "I- I'm sorry. I won't do it again."
He narrowed his eyes at her. His hand reached out for her and fingered the red and gold hem of her robe. A look of disgust appeared on his face.
"Gryffindor?" he sneered. "I suppose it couldn't have been worse."
Hermione peered up at him timidly. "I'm sorry."
Riddle just rolled his eyes at her display of fear. "You need to stop acting like a deer caught in the headlights or they'll become suspicious."
Hermione nodded and looked down at her shoes.
"Here's your time table by the way," he told her sharply.
She looked up at him. Riddle was handing her a slip of paper.
"I told McGonagall I would give it to you," he explained gruffly. "And I made sure you ended up in most of my classes. This way I can keep an eye on you so you don't make a fool of yourself."
"Thank you, Mas- Tom," Hermione said, her voice trembled as she called him by his first name.
She could see his eyes narrowing angrily as she called him 'Tom' but he didn't comment.
"Good. Now follow me," he said commandingly.
Without hesitation she obeyed him and followed him out of the classroom.
"I'll bring you to your common room," Riddle explained curtly.
Hermione could have sworn she heard him sneer a disdainful "Gryffindor". They walked through the castle in silence while Hermione tried to keep up with Riddle's brisk pace. Still she had time to goggle in amazement at the moving staircases, the many portraits and even a silvery ghost as they climbed up to the seventh floor. They just entered a dark corridor as Riddle stopped and turned around to her. His eyes were eerily emotionless as Hermione shyly peered up at them.
"Now, to a few rules, Hermione," Riddle whispered, his voice deathly cold. "You might be a Hogwarts student now but that doesn't change the fact that you belong to me. Is that clear?"
Hermione quickly nodded. "Of course."
"I expect you to come to the Heads' common room right after classes each day," he ordered harshly. "You are not going to participate in any extracurricular activities like Quidditch or any clubs and you are not allowed to leave the castle unless you have my permission. If you make any problems, you can be sure that I'll punish you severely. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Tom," she replied shakily.
He threw her another intimidating glare. Then he shoved her over to a portrait of a rather corpulent woman.
"The password's 'mooncalf'."
Before Riddle turned to leave Hermione bowed to him, out of reflex. She cringed as warm fingers grasped her chin. They were gentle, though, as they tilted her head up. Riddle's face was still covered by an unreadable mask, but the menacing glint had by now left his starkly blue eyes. Even a small smile hung from his lips. Gingerly Riddle skimmed his fingers over Hermione's cheek as he murmured,
"I told you, there's no need to bow."
Cupping her cheek in his hand, he stooped down to her and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as she felt his mouth gently pressing against her own. A strange tingling feeling swelled up in her stomach and almost made her burst.
As Hermione finally opened her eyes again, Riddle had already left. Her mouth curved into a smile. Feeling quite elated, Hermione turned and muttered the password to the portrait before she entered the Gryffindor tower.
†
"So you are really Tom Riddle's girlfriend?" Lavender asked curiously.
Hermione nodded shyly. She had managed to escape the inquiring questions down in the Gryffindor common room, and had fled to her dorm. But now her dorm mates continued to press her.
"Wow," made Parvati, sitting down beside Lavender on the bed.
She reached into a bag of Bertie Bott's and plopped a green bean into her mouth. Both girls were staring at Hermione as if she was some kind of alien.
"Don't take me the wrong way," Lavender said finally. "But are you not scared of him?"
Parvati nodded her head in agreement. Their stares made Hermione shift uncomfortably on the bed. She was not used to witches talking with her like this. Like they were equals. She didn't know how to behave.
Parvati elbowed her friend in the side and chided, "Now you've frightened her."
"I'm sorry, Hermione," Lavender said contritely. "I'm sure Riddle's nice to you. Don't listen to me."
"Yeah," Parvati agreed. "And he really looks good, too. He's the hottest guy around here."
Hermione glanced at them insecurely. "W- why should he scare me?"
"Aww, don't worry about it," Parvati said quickly. "It's just that Riddle's got a rather …peculiar reputation. But I'm sure it's all stupid talk. He's Head Boy after all."
Hermione furrowed her brow. "What kind of a reputation?"
Parvati glanced at Lavender before she said uncomfortably, "Er… he's… well, he seems kinda dark. And his friends? I don't know… even the other Slytherins are scared of them."
"Yeah. And Riddle's their leader." Lavender nodded solemnly. "Then there was this thing with Lisa Turpin. You see, she's Head Girl this year. Everything was alright but just a week into the school year, she suddenly refused to go back to the Heads' dorms. She never said why. But suddenly she was incredibly jumpy around Riddle."
{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}
'I would not wish thee other than thou art;
I love thee, love, so well in every part,
That had I power to change thee
In form or face or mind,
I could not find
The heart to re-arrange thee.'
- William Cosmo Monkhouse
(*1840 †1901)