Hey! So sorry it took so long to update! Well here it is and hopefully I'll get the others up soon.
Chapter 11
Tom coolly returned the book to the other ones lying on his table as Hermione's fingers slid across her wand apprehensively.
"Why did you do it?" Hermione asked bluntly.
"I have my motives," he retorted, leaning against the table and lowering his head. "I would not take the blame for a foolish mudblood's drowning." Tom said, boldly meeting her eyes.
"I'm talking about the spell," she responded sharply.
His eyes flashed darkly and he sighed, "Being falsely accused of two Head Girls' deaths isn't pleasant, especially as I was around the second time."
"Falsely accused?" she said, "You're no angel, Riddle. Edwards is dying, and you did it"
He glanced at her calmly. She stared at him fiercely.
He murmured coldly with a devilish grin, "Prove it."
"You lived with her and had every chance to—," she said heatedly, but Tom interrupted.
"Not a strong case," he said bluntly, momentarily looking at her. He approached her calmly, "Haven't you noticed, de Lioncourt? I'm still standing here." The heat emanated from him as he lowered his cheek near hers, making her breathing increase rapidly. "Do you not think that fool Dumbledore thought of all these possibilities?" he replied, spitting Dumbledore's name in disgust.
Hermione growled loudly in anger, "One day they will catch you Riddle and I'll be damned –,"
Before she could utter another word, he pressed his finger gently against her lips. She pursed her lips, prompting his hand to fall back as she continued to glare at him sternly.
If only he had watched another second, he would have seen exactly what he had secretly sought from her. Instead, he turned around, and although she refused to acknowledge her feelings, her face betrayed the resentment she felt obliged to direct towards him. Yet she couldn't shake the wonder that she, Hermione Granger, had been the recipient of such a gesture from him of all people. It sent shivers up her back and affected her more than she would have desired.
The moment passed as discretely as it had arrived, and she reminded herself of Tom's past treacherous dealings that included mixing his charm with malice.
"My time is precious, and surely you have more intelligent things to say besides empty accusations," he said, holding up his chin in a reflective manner.
She gazed back at his disheveled hair and blushed as her eyes lingered on his Oxford shirt which was unbuttoned at the top to reveal his strong neck. Her eyes rose slowly to his and all her words disappeared as he awaited her response. It was something like a mysterious yearning or a deep hunger as their eyes remained locked.
He blinked and ended the eye contact, "Very well then." He turned to return towards his room, but paused and turned his head. In what seemed like disappointment, he muttered, "I expected more from you, de Lioncourt."
He quickly placed a spell to clean up and return most of the items to his room while she stood frozen to her spot.
He was about to step over the threshold of his room when Hermione spoke. "You overheard Dumbledore and Dippet speaking about you," she said, bringing up a part that hadn't been mentioned to Draco. It was one of the few memories that Tom had accidentally transmitted. "They spoke about your equal being in the school, but never stated their name. Why did you think it was me of all people?"
"You're alive, so I was right," Tom said, "There is nothing else to be said about it."
"You wanted me to talk, and now that I ask you're afraid to answer," Hermione said, forcefully grabbing his arm.
"Depends on what you want to hear. An honest answer or a fabrication of lies," he sneered.
"I don't have high expectations for you in the honesty category so it doesn't seem like I have a choice," Hermione said angrily.
A sudden explosion of anger in Tom caused him to forcefully pull her by the hand and slam her against his door all while retaining a calm composure as he whispered, "Now, my dear, you've been less than honest yourself."
"I have," she said, peering at him confidently despite the fear rising in the pit of her stomach. Who was she fooling? If Tom discovered the truth about why she was really at Hogwarts, she would never see her time again.
A sickening feeling gripped her as he tried to access her thoughts forcefully, but her Occlumency lessons with Harry had paid off. Her legs caved in from the pressure, but his strong arms held her steadfast.
"Impressive, de Lioncourt," Tom said silently.
"It's rude to pry in other people's thoughts," Hermione said, pushing him away and glaring.
Tom ignored her comment and demanded, "Are you really Hermione de Lioncourt, and where are you from?"
"London and yes, I am," she said confidently.
He circled around her like a predator stalking its prey and brought his face closer to hers and hissed, "You lie." He released his grip on her and reentered the common room, glancing around as though searching for something.
"You do the same," she snapped, stalking towards him again.
He swiftly turned around and smirked, "So you're not Hermione de Lioncourt."
"No, I'm not," she replied calmly, "I am Hermione, but I am not a de Lioncourt, as you already know." This statement obviously frustrated Tom even more although he refused to show it.
"Believe me, Hermione," Tom snickered, shocking her by saying her first name, "I'm not jumping in joy, knowing that my equal is a mudblood."
"Then why save me if you're so disgusted?" Hermione asked, refusing to back down.
"For the same reason as the first two times," Tom said, running his fingers through his hair impatiently.
Three is a charm.
Remembering Draco's words, she stared at Tom inquiringly, "In class."
Tom rolled his eyes, saying, "Yes, your little tantrum in astronomy class."
"That was you!" Hermione said exasperatingly. It was absolutely preposterous that she had caused the windows to break. It had never happened to her, but the fact that both Tom and Draco wholeheartedly believed in its truth wasn't comforting.
"Wrong," he responded in a daunting tone, "You started it and I stopped you from hurting yourself foolishly."
"Why do you care?" Hermione said miserably. Nothing made sense, and she just wanted to escape to her time and forget everything. Did McGonagall want her to learn that Tom Riddle was her equal on her own? Riddle, the murderer of her best friend's parents and countless others, was saving her and had thought of her, a mere Muggle-born, as his equal above all others. Why?
He didn't bother to answer her question, "The professors want me to help you to catch up. I'll be here or in the library if you need me." He closed the door swiftly on Hermione, leaving many questions unanswered and many more feelings provoked.
Later in the evening, Hermione slid out of the bathtub and wrapped herself in a towel. It was a relief to have a long hot bath after being stuck in the hospital wing. She rinsed the water from her hair and put on her slippers. Leaving the door slightly ajar, she took a quick glimpse around the common room to ensure that Tom wasn't there. After not seeing any sign of the Slytherin, she quickly tiptoed across the room, but yelped as she nearly tripped over a rigid object near the foot of the sofa.
She glanced at the floor and screamed after realizing it was Tom's hand. He was leaning against the sofa not bothered a bit by her reaction. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked him crossly, tightening the towel around her body. Her face reddened as she felt it slipping down with every second.
"Having my afternoon cup of tea," he sneered sarcastically, a grimace on his pale face.
"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, noticing for the first time that he was clutching his side.
"I'm fine," he snapped. "Don't touch me," he barked when her hand reached out to him.
She quickly moved away, mildly hurt by his rudeness.
She realized that he was touching the same area where she had been injured. "It's
the spell, isn't it?"
He nodded and was left confused when she walked away. She returned to hand him a bottle containing a dark purple liquid.
"Pomfrey gave me two bottles in case I experienced any more pains. You can keep the other," Hermione explained, still gripping her towel.
He nodded, opening the bottle and smelling it with an eyebrow raised skeptically. He swallowed some of the potion and waited silently, without saying a word to her. He remembered that she was standing before him impatiently in nothing but a towel. He gulped and forced himself to cast his eyes downwards to only endure the sight of droplets sliding down her long pale legs.
She said in a bossy tone, "Are you planning on sitting there all night?" He glanced up to find her smirking at him.
He sighed and hesitated before reaching out for her hand. "Pull me up will you."
She did as he directed and watched as he stumbled in his spot. He attempted to walk away to his room, but failed miserably and nearly fell. She slipped her arm under his shoulders and held him upwards, but couldn't help noticing how his body stiffened immediately at her touch. Reaching for his head, he seemed bothered by a small migraine, but he shook his head and didn't push her off.
"Are you sure that you don't want to go to the hospital wing," she asked worriedly as her arm wrapped around him.
He shook his head, placing his arm around her wet shoulder unable to believe how much thinner she had become. Turning the knob to his door, she continued to lead him into the darkness of his room. Slipping quickly into his bed, he watched curiously as Hermione carefully pulled the covers over him.
"What?" she said, feeling his steady gaze on her. She blushed and ran her fingers over her mouth, wondering if there was anything on it.
"Nothing," he mumbled, closing his eyes
"Call me if you need anything," she said, but assumed that he had fallen asleep already when he didn't respond. It didn't surprise her; he had probably stayed up late quite often recently to prepare the anima spell. Her fingers stumbled carelessly across his face and swept away a stray hair. She couldn't believe that the person sleeping serenely before her was destined to be Voldemort. Her hand gently cupped his face for a moment, but yanked it away as soon as a troubled look appeared on his face.
She silently left his room and shut the door quietly behind her. Tom reopened his eyes and touched his cheek lightly before drifting off into sleep.
Two days later, Draco finally saw an opportunity to talk to Hermione when he saw a free seat near her in Transfiguration. He waited for her to acknowledge him as she emptied her bag.
"How was the rest of your weekend?" she asked warily after a few minutes.
He didn't have enough time to respond because Dumbledore began the lesson. Hermione opened her book and flipped to the correct page and started reading about an advanced method for cross-species switches.
"You'll have to speak to me at some point," Draco murmured.
Annoyed, she turned towards him, "We're in class."
Glancing back at her book, she was shocked to find that all the words had disappeared off the page. She flipped through the other pages and found them completely normal.
"Draco, that isn't funny," Hermione said scornfully.
"Can you please be quiet," he said mockingly and not aware of the change in her book, "We're in class."
Glancing around the room, she found that all the other books were perfectly alright.
Her eyes narrowed as she looked down and found letters reappearing on the page.
Draco fidgeted nervously with his quill when he found Hermione staring attentively at her book. The page didn't match his at all, but contained only one word.
Thanks
She gazed in Tom's direction, who glanced at her for a split second before continuing to work.
'Thanks for what?' Draco thought, frowning, as many disturbing images entered his mind including sexual services. He shuddered at the mere thought of it.
Later that night, Hermione approached Tom who was busy studying in the common room. She fidgeted with her papers and nervously cleared her throat.
"Yes," he said, barely looking up from his papers.
She muttered something incoherently, forcing Tom to ask her to repeat. "I was wondering if you could help me in DADA."
He sneered and glanced up at her.
"Please?" she asked.
"Oh, de Lioncourt," Tom said dramatically, "I had planned on finishing my Transfigurations' essay tonight… but since you plead so much, I'm sure I can spare you a few minutes of my time."
"Stop being such a prat about it. I can well enough figure it out on my own," Hermione said frustrated. She felt ready to smack him on the head. It wasn't often that she asked other students for help.
"What is it then?" he asked calmly.
"I'm having trouble with the shadow spell," Hermione explained. That particular spell used the caster's shadow to imprison an object or person without injuring them.
"Shouldn't be that bad," he said, standing up and thinking for a moment before transfiguring a book on the table into a black cat.
He walked behind Hermione and murmured, "Close your eyes and concentrate on it." He paused and watched her lift her wand.
"Think of your shadow as a separate part of you. The easiest way is to picture the outline of your shadow, and pretend that you're making it move mentally. Then cast the spell," he explained.
She took a deep breath, following his instructions and said the non-verbal spell in her mind. At first nothing seemed to happen until the cat jumped in the air.
"That's not bad," Tom said, knowing that it was a very difficult spell to complete, "You were able to touch it. Try to remember that you need to cover your shadow over the object before touching it."
She nodded, attempting the spell again except this time a shock coursed through her body. A nauseating feeling came upon her, and everything around her began moving in full force when she opened her eyes.
"I don't feel too well," she muttered, tilting her head backwards. She unintentionally fell against Tom's chest, but was surprised when he didn't push her away. Instead, he led her to the sofa and watched as she regained her senses.
"You're not prepared to do such strong spells," he said calmly, "Don't do it till you've regained your strength."
She nodded, knowing that her concentration had been greatly affected after recovering. "So tell me," she said, as she laid her head against a pillow, "If your interest seemingly lies in the Dark Arts, why be the best in DADA?" Normally, she wouldn't have asked Riddle such a straightforward question, but the words had just slipped from her mouth.
"To be the best at what you like means excelling at the obstacles that hinder it," he said, sitting on the seat opposite from her. "Want to work on the astrology project?" he suggested, reminding her about the project. She recognized that the table in front of them was scattered with astrology documents and books.
She growled loudly, "I'm sorry. I left you with all the work."
"That was the original plan," Tom said, silently.
"No, that was your plan," Hermione said, correcting him and studying his astrology observations. "So why did you change your mind?"
"Check these constellations and planet arrangements," he said, handing her a bunch of parchments that were like wizard photos of the sky. He quickly returned to his books at another table without answering her question.
An hour later, Tom glanced in Hermione's direction and found her sleeping peacefully. He approached slowly and examined the notes she had completed. His eyebrows rose, impressed by her notes. They were extremely concise, and probably as good as the work he had been doing lately. Sitting near her, he began reading through them. Several minutes had passed when her head fall against his shoulder. He flinched at the sudden contact with her body as she cuddled up against him.
Gazing down at her, he found her mouth slightly open as she continued to sleep serenely. Tom cursed their closeness and was forced to place the papers away in order to move. He realized this was a mistake as soon as Hermione changed the position of her arms and hugged his waist.
His body refused to move despite wishing to awaken her. To his displeasure, it got worse when she began trembling, and the peculiarity of the situation made his face heat up.
After muttering a spell to close the nearest window, he summoned an item from his room.
He had never inhaled a sweeter aroma than her hair and all thoughts to move away from her were over and done. Instead, he moved closer to her and summoned a book to read while she slept.
Hermione inhaled the strong aroma of autumn and sighed blissfully. The feeling abruptly diminished when she opened her eyes in fear to find herself in Tom Riddle's arms. She glanced down at the Slytherin blanket covering her and smiled at the boy sleeping near her. His head was lying several inches above hers and she listened to him breathe softly. His book had been discarded to his right. Perhaps there was more to this Slytherin Prince than she had originally thought. She grinned at the serene look on his face. He wasn't all that bad. Before thinking too hard on the matter, she forced herself back to sleep.
The next morning, Hermione was startled awake by Tom slamming the door to his room. Only a pile of astronomy papers were left as a warm reminder of the night before, but that was quickly replaced by the cool draft entering the room.
The moment was over.
