Authors Note:
Okay for those of you reading both this and Private Intentions, I'll also throw this in here.
You guys are probably the nicest people I've ever met. The reviews and messages I received telling me everything would be okay and that they've gone through depression or just anything honestly, it made me cry.
It's hard when you're going through this stage where you can't see anything or anyone that matters then all of a sudden you're just bombarded with these small messages saying, hey. It'll be okay. I mean, it meant a lot and I can't tell you how much that meant to me.
SO not much action in this chapter honestly, lots of backstory and just a filler I guess. I like it to an extent but the next chapter, be prepared. It's going down. I'm excited for it. I've already got an outline for it written and I cannot wait.
I've also gotten one third of the new chapter for Private Intentions written so I guess I'm feeling a little productive lately and maybe it was all the messages or idk. I appreciated it a lot and I guess this is how I repay you, actually writing on a good time frame.
Enjoy, review and all those things.
I appreciate it. =)
Hermione held her breath, crouching as low as her body would allow without being on all fours. The only thing keeping her from plain hysterics was the very classic literature that had been cursed into the side of the trash bin she was hunkered behind. Though, classic might not have been the word she really preferred, more like debasing. Although it did nothing to help her mood because the writing plastered all over the bin was oddly chance to the situation she found herself in at the moment being.
Hermione had read most of the graffiti on the bin several times over and over but she had nothing else to keep her occupied from her current predicament. "Mudbloods eat Dick….Grindlewald fucked my mom…ALL HAIL GRINDLEWALD…Jonathan loves Teresa (that seemed to be the odd one out)…" among many other politely written things, she'd found herself reading them over and over to keep herself distracted.
She was positive her legs and feet had grown numb almost an hour ago, but she'd been in awkward hiding positions much longer than this. That didn't mean it ever got any more comfortable, rather that she was particularly used to these occasions and was becoming quite annoyed by them. However, she was more annoyed by the fact that she was continually forced to put herself into these situations.
Rule No. 27: Muggleborns will not be allowed outside without a wizard of true magical blood.
She was very well aware that while Ron Weasley was a pureblooded wizard, all three of them at this particular point in time were wanted convicts. This did nothing to hinder the fact that they were in constant need of supplies and constantly forced to move around within magical communities, all of which were unfortunately patrolled by Blood Hunters. At this very moment in time, she was crouched behind a trash bin to avoid the Blood Hunter who'd decided to take a rather quick (and quite sickening) pleasure break with a night-walker he'd run into down Knockturn Alley. She didn't think she'd ever been as lucky as she had been at the moment the two came rolling down the way necking all over each other, trapping her in the alleyway, surely they couldn't be much longer. How much was he even paying her?
Blood Hunters were, in layman's terms, the scum of the earth. Though it could be said all of them were Grindlewald's followers, it was probably safe to say some of them were simply witches or wizards who believed that mudbloods were the scum of the wizarding world and needed to be wiped off the planet. It was their duty to make sure all of Grindlewald's blood laws were followed to the strictest T. No matter how much she hated to admit it, they were exceptionally good at their job and they were much better at the punishment that would follow for breaking said laws.
At this moment in time, Blood Hunters were her biggest worry but simply only because she was surrounded by them. They preyed upon Diagon Alley as if it were a feeding frenzy and they were the Piranhas. Currently, she'd left her two friends hidden safely in the depths of a forest some many miles away from here. Stored away in a tent, tempers flaring from being shut away from everyone but themselves for the past three months and forced to keep on the run to avoid being caught. Though Harry had heard no word from Dumbledore nor any of their allies lately, no new word had come upon them. Grindlewald seemed to be growing in power and they seemed to be on no track to do anything about it.
"We're not making any leeway, why are we still here?" Ron's voice was angry, as it always was, she gritted her teeth.
"What do you want me to Ronald? We haven't heard from anyone in weeks and we can't go anywhere until we hear from Dumbledore!" Her voice was louder than she had meant for it to be, but she was angry and that was a light term for how she felt. "Harry won't stop having frantic visions and we can't do anything if he keeps keeling over every two goddamn hours to see Grindlewald kill someone!"
"Would you two quit it? Arguing isn't going to do anything and we're about out of food!" Harry's voice came from the other room in the tent, his voice just irritated as she felt.
It'd been like that every day, argument after argument and when they went arguing, they were fighting for their lives. Dueling spell after spell, searching desperately for Grindlewald who seemed to move every time they did. The only progress they seemed to be making was that they had found one of his secret hideouts, one that apparently contained some very important weapons and secrets and Grindlewald wasn't aware of their knowledge. No matter their progress, the war raged destruction no matter where they turned. Muggles, muggle-borns, and anyone who decided they wanted to be on the wrong side dying left and right and being caught and tortured. Grindlewald was everywhere and it didn't feel like they could do anything to stop it.
She crouched for a moment or two longer in deep thought before finally standing up, groaning as quietly as her body would allow to stretch her legs. She spent a moment standing looking at the corner of the alley before turning her wand on herself to place a quick charm upon her appearance, just enough to the point where she'd been slightly unrecognizable. Her hair a light blonde color, a pair of thick rimmed square glasses, and a rather large portion of freckles across her nose and cheeks helped this quite nicely. She dusted off the dirt that had accumulated on her outfit from crouching next to the trash and walked cautiously out to Diagon Alley, careful to avoid eye contact with anyone around her, though polite enough to nod and say hello to those who passed to avoid suspicion.
"What's a kind lady like yoself doin' comin' outta place like that, hem?" A filthy short nailed hand caught her elbow roughly, yanking her back hard causing her to stumble.
The man was ugly, to say the least. What little teeth that were left in his mouth were a yellowing black, crumbling in their places. His gums would have made her parents cry, black and sore ridden. His face gaunt and covered in matching his infested looking mouth. Pus filled sores and open red wounds near his mouth spreading down the length of his neck to go beneath his grime covered clothing, but it wasn't his appearance that caught her eye. It was the shiny badge pinned to his sagging pocket that clearly labeled him as a Blood Hunter.
"I'd some private business, now if you please." If she wanted to pretend she was a pureblood, she'd to act like it. Though she had a false blood certificate in her pocket, most of the time they would call for backup and eventually it would be revealed. She'd seen it happen several times and wasn't in the mood for it to happen to her. "I've not need to prove my blood status to someone as lowly looking as yourself."
The man's face grew into an angry mask and he ripped at her arm again, preventing her from walking off.
"You'll go when I say so, eh love? Now lemme see them papers." His voice was cracking and furious and he held his ratty hand out.
She felt her pulse quicken and her face redden, though she had honestly hoped that it looked more of anger than embarrassment and fear. She ripped her elbow from his grasp once more before doing her best to send him a dirty look as she dug the official certificate from her blouse. She placed it in his hand, careful to avoid the fingers that looked as though they hadn't been washed in years. Though she had her doubts that he had any idea how to read but he seemed to read it just fine before thrusting the paper back into her hand.
"Good 'nuff for me. Ought to watch yoself in places like those." His smile made her shudder and she haughtily turned her head to walk away.
Though she turned and made to go towards The Apothecary but found herself halted by a commotion behind her. She turned around and found her eyes pulled to the scene and couldn't find it in herself to look away. The same Blood Hunter who'd just finish harassing her had grabbed another patron, though this one didn't look as lucky as she had. It was a woman, probably no older than twenty five, and she looked beyond terrified. Her face was pale and her mouth pumped open and shut as though she wanted to speak but no words would come out of her mouth.
"Sneakin' round with no escort, eh? Thatsa direct violation of rule number twenty seven!" A large gruesome smile was plastered on his face and it made the blood in her skin curdle. She felt a shiver shake her body. "That'll be a punishment, it will."
"Please, I just needed food." The woman was begging, her face draining of any blood that had been left in it. The woman's legs seemed to be collapsing beneath her but the hunter held tight onto her arm, his smile widening at the palpable distress growing on her face. "Please, my children are waiting for me at home. Please." The woman began to cry and Hermione turned her head, struggling to keep her burning tear ducts in check.
The man unsheathed a wand from this trouser pocket, it was coated in the same grime that seemed to cover his body and had several cracks running through its wooden surface. No matter it's unsightly appearance, the wand brought the woman to shambles. Several people had stopped to watch as Hermione felt helpless to stare at the spectacle, though now she felt as though she might upheave anything that was in her stomach.
The man waved his wand and large heavy black shackles bound the woman's wrist, though it was useless. She was frightened senseless and would have been unable to get away, her body shaking and heaving with sobs and pleads. Begging, she was just a witch. She couldn't control that she was born with magic, please don't punish her for it. The man's smile widened, his dingy blackened teeth showing through his dry lips as his wand raised once more.
"Crucio!" The spell had hardly left his lips before Hermione forced herself to turn her head, the screams emitting from the woman resounding down the entire alley. She bit her lip to keep the tears that were burning her eyes from falling, her nails digging deeply into the soft flesh of her palms to keep her seated in reality. "Hapsvera!"
The woman screamed again, louder this time and Hermione forced herself to turn away again, forcing herself to walk away before she did something would regret; however the sight of the woman before she walked away would continue to haunt her every day. The sound of the man repeatedly casting the same two spells, over and over again. The Cruciatus curse and the Hapsvera curse; one to cause unending pain and the other to inflict sets of cuts so deep and painful, they would bleed and sting her until what felt like an almost certain death. The woman's eyes wide open as though she were trying to push her eyes from her skull, her skin a pasty white covered in her thick red blood.
"You're not even reading anymore, you're daydreaming." Harry's words snapped her out of the daydream that had been holding her captive.
They'd been in the library for several hours now. Though it was early in the morning, Harry had begged her to come help him study for their Defense exam that would take place later this evening. Though she hadn't really wanted to come with him, she hadn't exactly wanted to do anything lately.
She felt a heavy indifference following her around and it lingered on her skin. Sleep, even before though she had hardly got enough of it, was now a pointless endeavor. Each hour of her day seemed to pass by with a punishingly slow and she felt herself hopeless to watch it through eyes that hardly felt like her own. She felt a cruel sense of humor at the thought that at the beginning of the year she had guaranteed herself that she would refrain from boys and focus solely on her school work, how quickly that had gone out the window. She felt a sour laugh bubbling in her chest as the irony of it continued to blossom in her mind.
She was only a few days away from Christmas break now and while the stress of her exams and the monumental portions of homework the professors had begun to assign should have been somewhat stressful to her, she felt a very perpetual sense of carefree irrelevance towards it all. Not that her grades were failing, no she wasn't quite at that point of carelessness yet. The usual ferocity that she found that went into all her schoolwork had all but simply disappeared and at one point last week, Professor McGonagall had actually pulled her aside. According to McGonagall, several of her professors had made small remarks about how Hermione had seemed to drop her usual eager participation in class and seemed almost depressed. She simply wanted to know if she was alright or if she'd finally cracked under all the academic pressure and stress from the previous year.
It wouldn't have been so much a bother had her friends not noticed the drop of enthusiasm in her academics. Although Harry knew quite well what was wrong, he seemed to prefer to ignore the entire situation as though it had never happened. Although every now and then she caught the sympathetic almost condescending looks that he passed her when she wasn't looking. Ginny and Ron had no clue as to what was going on and while Ron was never one to really ask what was wrong and just tried to help without doing much at all, Ginny was the complete opposite and Hermione would be lying through her arse if she said that it starting to build on her nerves. It was never-ending, her asking if she was ready to talk about it yet, asking her if she wanted to go do something outside, asking if she wanted to sit in the commons, or just anything to get Hermione out of the Library or her dorm room.
Hermione had found out rather quickly that those were the two places where she was certain to almost never run into Tom Riddle. She'd already written a letter (though it still sat in the pocket of her school bag) that she wished to drop DADA the following term and would instead pick up another free period to fill its place. She found her fingers casually caressing the folded parchment each time she walked into his classroom and was forced to stare at him while he spoke. Each word from his mouth digging the needles further into her chest, stretching the scars so much wider. Every time his eyes would cross the room and settle on hers for just a moment too long, she felt such a thorough sickness and slap across the face that she would find herself training her eyes to the tip of her quill for the remainder of the lesson, watching in some sick sort of fascination at the way her feather wove letters in small slanted cursive on the paper.
Since the moment in the library he'd not spoken a word to her, not even when she was forced to walk over to his desk to turn her homework in. In fact, he all but averted his gaze to some stupid little piece of equipment they'd cleaned from that stupid little room in the back as she made her way forward; acting as though he didn't even realize she was approaching. No matter, she was able to play the game just the same no matter how much it continually seemed to affect her. She could pretend every second of every day if she had too, she had seemed to become an expert at lying anyway, why not lie to herself as well.
"You've been staring at that same page for the past twenty minutes. I've never known you to stare at a book page that long. I was actually quite positive you could read at least three hundred words a minute." Harry nudged the book that sat under her fingers.
"It's really quite a boring book, I'm just kind of glancing at it. It's got some rather usual information in it." She played nonchalance turning the page even though she hadn't taken a word of what was on it in.
"Oh really?" He grabbed the book and turned to look at the title, snorting as he read it. "And what useful information did you find in Love for the Loveless Witch? Did you even see the cover before you picked it up?"
She found herself laughing in spite of herself, he wasn't wrong. She hadn't even read a page of the book, simply turning pages to make it look as though her thoughts were actually consuming her every move. However, she was also laughing at the sordid coincidence of the book title she'd chosen.
"I'm just trying to ready myself for my date with Cormac, can't go in all unprepared you know." She smiled at him finally moving over to his side to read the notes he was taking. "Although, I can say I will be more prepared for the dance than you will be for this exam. None of this is going to help you, he won't have any of this on the exam."
"Ugh," Harry removed his glasses furiously rubbing his eyes. Softly shadowed dark circles had formed under his brilliant green eyes from lack of sleep due to studying every night. Hermione had been all to kind as to stay up with him and help him and Ron study for each of their exams. "You're the only reason I'm going to make it through this year."
Hermione couldn't care the least that she'd stayed up till nearly midnight the past five nights in a row to help her two friends make passable grades on all their exams. She didn't share that she hadn't actually slept in the past three nights, not really counting the small ten-twenty minute naps she found herself taking accidentally in the library.
"At least you're doing better than Ron, he barely passed his Transfiguration exam the other day even though we stayed up till at least one thirty doing those spells. It was like he slept and forgot everything. He was doing so well before we went to sleep." She had grabbed Harry's paper from under his hands and began making marks and underlines across his paper. "This isn't so bad, you're just going over all the wrong things."
"Speaking of Cormac, there's rumor that he's planned to slip you a potion on the night of the dance." Harry had kicked back in his chair watching her work.
"Cormac will be lucky if I let him put his arm around me walking me down the steps, honestly."
"Still don't know why you've agreed to go with him, I've known you for a long time and while I can think of one or two particularly silly things you've done, that was absolutely the dumbest. Didn't know you even had the level of ineptitude in you really."
"Such a big word for a small minded boy." She pushed into his side laughing. "We can just call it a spur of the terrible moment decision and leave it at that."
Maybe it was the fact that Harry was honestly the only person she felt really at comfort with being around, and that probably had something to do with the fact that he actually knew what had happened between her and Tom, but he'd managed to talk her into going outside with him. Some of the fellow seventh years wished to have a very large snowball fight and although Hermione had no interest in taking place in it, she agreed she would go sit outside with him while he participated. "Only to help de-stress before the exam, that's the only reason I'm going."
The ground outside was covered in a thick white comforter, while she normally would have said blanket, that seemed quite too thin to describe the incredibly heavy snowfall that had been placed across Hogwarts. The air outside was frigid and harsh against her face and cut lashes into her skin where she had no cover to protect it. She clutched her fingers in her mittens in an attempt to warm them as she followed Harry towards the land between Hogwarts and Hagrid's hut where it seemed almost twenty other students had gathered in hopes to watch or play along in the snowball fat. Hermione caught sight of several students sitting off to the side and she made her way towards them to sit and watch. She looked over and notice that Professor Sinastra was standing off towards the entrance of the castle but she wasn't surprised, ever since the Dementor attacks back in the fall it was required that whenever students gathered outside a professor must be present, though she didn't look thrilled to be out in the cold watching a snowball fight.
It was Seamus Finnigan who threw the first snowball, striking Dean Thomas hard in the side of his head. After the first snowball was thrown, it was as if a large heavy blizzard had fallen over this small acre of land. Snowballs flying in such a thick flurry it was impossible to see who was throwing what and who was getting hit. The group of children seemed to have grown exponentially, those walking by suddenly joining in on the fun.
"HEADS UP!" A loud voice shouted but it was no use, at least three large heavily packed snowballs landed on the heads of Hermione and several of the people sitting around her, exploding with such ferocity that they were like snow shrapnel bombs, coating everyone in a cold wet explosion.
Whether or not she truly meant to or not, she forgot herself. Immediately standing up and somehow coming next to Harry and Ron who had seemed to have appeared in the fight at some point. Screaming in laughter and desperately trying to pack and throw snowballs while simultaneously being bombarded with heavy hits from all around. She felt something burning inside her, breaking through her blood stream to let her feel again, just for this moment. To feel alive again just for the time being, to forget all about the war that seemed to have conquered her life, to forget about the man who'd seemed to take its place.
It was maybe an hour later when the fight finally ended. Someone, though Hermione had a small inkling that Peeves had something to do with it, had bewitched the snowballs in to jump around as though they were pinballs, bouncing off one student's head to another. They were soaked and Hermione found herself clinging to Ron to avoid being frozen to death, laughing at the soaked hair that was covering his face. Hermione inhaled the high of the happiness that soared through her body, feeding off of it like a drug. Grateful for the feeling that being a regular teenager again had given her, the feeling that maybe everything would be okay. Maybe nothing was going to happen and maybe they would all be okay.
She was desperate to cling to that feeling, even as she magically dried the clothing on all three of them as they made their way towards their final Defense exam. She needed it, she needed it to get through this two hour exam. She had to have something to hold onto, anything that could keep her just breathing when he was around her.
The classroom was darker than usual, a small orb holding a bright candle next to each spaced out desk and there at the front of the room she caught eye contact with him. She'd barely walked through the door when she felt it under her skin, tingling up through her nails and into her stomach. A strange string pulling her chin up, forcing her eyes to the front of the room as if she'd no choice but to look at him as if nothing else in the room was so important but this. His eyes flashed and although their gazes usually lasted no more than a few seconds, he held her strong forcing her to keep contact.
His gaze read a thousand words and yet she couldn't find it in herself to understand a single one, nothing in her would allow the thoughts to form complete sentences and instead she found herself flooded with intense emotions, twisting and racking their way into a bizarre scale across her body forcing her to feel everything all at once. Then a smile ticked, a small wicked smile curled across his lips that held every dark and thick hot feeling that ranged in her chest and it choked her, she felt incapable of breathing and her legs weakened.
Had Harry not walked in front of her, breaking the gaze and forcing her to look away. No words came from his lips, just a look. A hardened look, telling her to move and keep going. To ignore it and fight past it, to make it through the next two hours without simply falling apart.
But it was the longest two hours of her entire life.
Professor Tom Riddle sat quietly in his study, rolling his eyes continually at the level of dunce his students had managed to achieve on their exams. His finger's tapping in an irritated fashion beside his inkpot as he slashed another red mark at the top of a second year's inadequate attempt to a passing grade. He glanced at the watch on his wrist noting that he only had twenty minutes left until he was to leave for the forest.
He finally marked the last test, feeling slightly sympathetic and marking the exam with a barely passing grade before standing up and waving his wand to fetch his coat. He could very easily assume he knew what this emergency meeting would be about and while he was prepared for it, these things always went one of two ways. The castle was still and only a student of two littered from their common rooms, those that straggled were making their way to their proper places for another late night of traumatic study sessions that would seem the following mornings to be of no help on their exams. He nodded in passing to Professor Flitwick who was making rounds out of the great hall towards the staircases but continued his journey towards a side entrance of the castle, walking out the front door would be stupid and raise too many questions.
He reached the edge of the forest quickly, wordlessly lighting his wand to illuminate a soft glow as not to attract any unwanted attention. The forest was crawling with things that had not the slightest problem with harming a friendly wizard purely taking a stroll in the dark. Though Tom was heading for a specific spot, had someone had passed him or been watching, they would have assumed he was very lost and simply wandering hoping to find something to help him out. Turning at random spots and trekking further up into the woods, being very cautious as to avoid any spider webs he saw. Finally he reached his destination, though it was nothing but a rock covered in an odd purple fungus, thick loopy roots scuttling with odd looking beetles and large hairy spiders.
"Early, aren't we?" Fenrir's thick growling voice came from behind a tree with a width the size of a small sedan, his clothes more torn and ragged looking than usual. While his face usually always had the demeanor of someone permanently pissed off, today it was rather gaunt and tired.
"Early bird gets the worm." He made sure that the grip on his wand didn't loosen. "So, do you care to tell me the reason for this romantic meeting?"
Fenrir's face twisted into a half sick sort of smirk before coming out fully from the tree, his usual two cronies walking beside him to lean upon the rock. Though Tom would have suggested not too, he had a feeling that the fungus wasn't exactly non-poisonous.
"There's been an incident." Tom felt a small excitement pump shortly through his chest, gone the instant it appeared. "A robbery, you might call it."
"I've seen nothing in the papers. I've been keeping an eye on the boys here, they've kept mostly to themselves. If they've done anything, it would've been under very good lock and key and I can assure you that's not something they are capable of with me around."
"Not that type of robbery. One of his…personal items." Fenrir's comrades were obviously not allowed to know of the items stolen, the look on Greyback's face made that very clear.
"I see and what does this have to do with me?" He raised an eyebrow while keeping his face blank of any emotion. "I've been assigned a position to keep and have had no contact with him or any of his personal things."
Tom felt a sick sort of happiness at the fact that at one point in time, he'd very much in involved in Dumbledore's pieces of souls, in fact, unbeknownst to any but Dumbledore, Tom had been a large key component in creating the spells, curses, and items that guarded these horocruxes. Though Dumbledore kept the entrances to these objects hidden, their soul locations remained the same. This had also, now unfortunately, been Tom's idea. While the Horocrux could stay safely in the same spot say, in Japan, the entrance might move from Bulgaria to somewhere in the states.
"Be it as it may, you do have a very close relationship with these items and Dumbledore is a cautious man, you know." The smile that was on the dog's face made the muscles in his cheek harden and tick. "He wanted us to be extra sure you hadn't said anything you-"
"If his trust has waived to the point where he believes I'd speak of his personal items as though they were dirty laundry, it might be pertinent to tell Dumbledore to find a new watchdog for his little boy." Tom's words were venomous. "While his cautiousness and his worry is all but understandable, I won't have it directed at me. I did everything in my power to assure safety and security to his things and they aren't in my power anymore. Obviously," Tom made very positive to narrow his eyes at the mangy man in front of him. "If it's come to the point where his things are in danger of "robbery" than maybe he's been too lack with whom he's been sharing information with."
A thick snarl emitted from the scarred, parched lips of the werewolf staring at him. His eyes flashed a dangerous yellow and Tom fingered his wand handedly.
"It sounds like someone needs to be reminded of their place on the totem pole." His fangs bared in his mouth, growing down to his chin as a deep growl continued to resonate from the hairy ropy chest that showed through the tattered shirt. "You're not the favorite anymore and we were sent here with very specific instructions-"
"And you might as well return home empty handed. I've got nothing here but a castle filled with stupid school children who know nothing about the world around them. If Dumbledore wishes me to spread my ear and keep an eye out for information on his things then I've no problem serving our master as he wishes, but I won't be treated as a traitor." His voice was final and he raised his wand.
He didn't notice that it would be a long hard fight, outnumbered three werewolves to one, but he was also very positive this wasn't a duel he would lose and Fenrir seemed to sense this as well though neither his very prominent teeth nor anger seemed to fade, his stance dropped.
"Our master is…angry. You're protections were supposed to guard and prevent this from happening and you've failed him." Fenrir's voice had become deeper and slightly lisped through his large canines. "It doesn't need to happen again or this conversation will be going very differently."
"If he hadn't placed me in such a small inconsequential position, this might not have happened, however I've followed my master's orders and will continue to serve him as planned. I've brought along his reports," Tom reached into his breast pocket with his free hand to remove a rather large scroll upon which he'd done his duty to report all his findings of the school. "Whether or not you'd given him my warning about the Malfoy brat, he's growing worse. While he knows not of whose orders he's following, he's loud mouthed. I'll have it solved with permission from Dumbledore of course."
"We told 'im." Fenrir's teeth slowly were growing back into their normal pointed positions. "He's told us to give you reign to fix this matters as you please. Also to come with warning, things will be happening soon and under no circumstances are you too deviate from the original orders."
Tom said nothing but instead looked at the piece of parchment that one of the brutish men standing next to Greyback had pulled from his pocket. A small letter sealed into a thick white papered envelope and sealed with a heavy purple wax, the stamp a large phoenix rising from flames with its wings spread. Tom stared at it for a moment before reaching out for it to grab it from the man's hands.
"From the master himself. You'll be finding what you want and such in there, we'll be close by if you have any…questions." Fenrir's smile made the tick in his jaw come back and Tom nodded again.
The three men turned and made their way back towards wherever they had come from. He stood there momentarily before finally turning back himself, the letter burning in his hands. He tucked it neatly in the breast pocket he'd just pulled his report from. A small vein of anger palpitated through him, he'd placed him here for no reason, it was as if Dumbledore had placed him here to watch his plans happen while Tom was to do nothing but sit in silence as they continued without him. The boy he'd been sent here to watch knew nothing of what seemed to be happening right under all their very noses and all the only margin of success he'd managed had been with the damn girl and he had somehow ruined all that within moments, that stupid damned girl.
He couldn't get his fucking mind off that injudicious, insolent, brown haired girl. The way she stared at him earlier, she could feel it, he fucking knew it. She knew exactly what she was doing and she was playing along just as he was, pretending like they didn't mean a fucking thing to each other. How he'd let his plan of using this girl for anything but her brains come this far and fuck so much up was beyond him, it burned him everywhere. He'd fall asleep and find her so deeply entangled in all of his dreams that he found himself doing everything in his power to stay awake, to stay out of the damn trap she'd ensnared him in. Dreaming about that smooth soft skin that ran under his mouth and how sweet and soft her lips looked saying his name, how he fucking craved seeing those same lips running on his cock.
He'd never dreamed that way about any woman and now here he was, stuck in this school because the stupid old man had become paranoid (while rightly so) fawning over some stupid teenage girl like he was back in school again. Dreaming about a girl who could hardly take care of herself, dreaming about the way she spoke and begged him to keep touching her.
"Professor?" He snapped his head up, his wand following pursuit to the sound of the voice which had spoken to him. He'd been paying no attention and was now standing at the edge of the forest coming towards the school. Rubeus Hagrid was standing before him (or much more appropriately, above him) holding several dead rats in his hand. "What're ya doin' in the forest?"
"I was doing rounds and thought I'd saw someone walking down here but I didn't find anything." He nodded casually at the large man, one of Dumbledore's many admirers, though he knew nothing of the old man's true nature. "You'll keep your eye out though?"
"'Course I will." His large beard and scraggly black hair made it difficult to tell, but he almost looked rather suspicious.
"That's quite a collection you've got there, feeding something?" He wasn't going to have the great oaf mulling over this too long, he didn't need him mentioning this to anyone.
"Oh, yeh, jus' feedin' a pogrebin, they prefer human flesh yeh know." He shook the chain of very dead rats up at him, his face visually softening and showing an odd excitement when it came to speaking of such creatures. "Tho rats ain't they favorite."
"And they don't mind that? I won't lie, those seem like two very different flavors." He placed a small smile on his lips. "I would imagine that would be like replacing wine with water."
Hagrid let out a gruff laugh and nodded.
"Yeah, well. Yeh find it safer to find them sumthin' a lil rough so they don' come 'customed to the taste of flesh. Would ya like ter come take a look then?" Tom felt the weight of the letter in his pocket but realized this might be the only way to avoid any awkward questions in the morning.
"Why not, I don't think I've ever seen a pogrebin up close before; I doubt I'll get the chance again." He gave a very charismatic smile and followed behind the large half-giant.
It was a rather long hour later that he waved goodbye to the Hogwarts game-keeper and made his way impatiently back to the castle. Though the creature had been rather interesting, the letter in his pocket had seemed to grow so heavy with his wanting to read it that it felt like lead by the time he reached the door to his chamber. No matter, he'd played the part of polite and friendly guest and let himself be invited into the man's small homey hut for a drink. Tom had seen his fair share of men drink and he'd seen also seen his very large share of drunk men, but Rubeus Hagrid had definitely one-upped them all. The man had unveiled a rather large barrel of the stoutest beer Tom had ever tasted and was handed a mug the size of his head. He'd watched in amazement as the large man put away several of these head sized mugs away in a matter of several chugs. By the time Tom had left the man's hut, he'd been so inebriated that he'd not been able to speak without heavy hiccupping and slurring of his words.
He reached his bed chamber and sat at his desk pulling out the letter with light fingers examining the plain envelope. He felt a small sense of angry accomplishment at finally receiving some sort of word from the old man, though back then he would've had no trouble getting in contact with him as he'd never left his side. He very clearly remembered when the old man had given him his new assignment, sending him to this forsaken school.
Tom stared at the portrait of the man who had been his father, his eyes resembling his own and the facial features spectacularly similar to his and it made anger rot his insides. He fingered the wand in his pocket, the burning power twitching his fingers to burn the portrait to stop the eyes from burning into his own, telling him what a disgusting disappointment he was. The man had known exactly who he was when he appeared, his face paling of all color and his finger raising to point at the boy as though he were a ghost, an apparition. He'd taken great joy in killing his father and found himself often dreaming of it, where he'd wake up smiling.
He couldn't possibly know what his whore of mother had seen in this man, if that's what he could be called. It was no wonder to him that the only way for him to even notice the poor ugly woman was by trickery and potions. Dumbledore had forbade him to remove the portrait, he said it would do well for Tom to remember where he came from, and that it would keep him angry. He refused to set foot in this room, the portrait filling his body with a poison he couldn't rid himself of and he could feel it burning through his body, the knowledge that this filthy man's blood run through his veins.
"Think of it Riddle, you'd not be who you are today without him." Dumbledore had entered the den and had been watching stare up at the portrait.
They'd been residing in his father's mansion for several weeks now though Tom hadn't been able to get any information on what they'd been waiting for. He'd realized a while ago that Dumbledore had been less forthcoming than usual with his information towards Tom, that'd he been in less need of the boy as he usually had. Instead of putting him out of errands as usual, he'd instead kept him inside the house as if forcing him to relish in the hate that was building in his system at being in this damned place.
"He was nothing more than a filthy muggle, he means nothing. I'd kill him every day if I was given the chance." He spat the words out before turning to face his master, bowing lowly as welcoming. "You've asked to see me, sir?"
"We've some important things to discuss, I've an important assignment for you Tom." He came around the chintz chairs that faced the fireplace Tom stood in front of. "You've been most helpful these past few months but I'm afraid my need for you as diminished-"
"My lord-"Tom had seen his coming, his own stupidity overtaken him. His questions had come one too many, his need to help too strong. Dumbledore had seen through something and known.
"Silence." The old man silenced him with his hand and Tom bowed his head, the anger that burned his body was heavy and he worked to keep it within his blood.
"However, I've still use for you yet. Unfortunately, the school which I was forced to leave has been left unattended. As you can assume, I cannot send one of the wolves. Nor can any of the others attend, their reputations exceeds them." He was speaking of course of Grindlewald's remaining followers who had switched sides, those whose names were now being hunted. "You'll be of much use there, I've arranged for you to take a spot on the staff."
"A professor, sir?" He spoke through clenched teeth, his eyes searching the old man's face for anything.
"A highly coveted position, you might say." A small smile graced his lips as though he were thinking of an inside joke only he knew. "Of course, you'll have to take care of the current holder of the position. This should pose no difficulty for a man of your abilities."
"Why the school?"
"The boy is still of use to me, I'll need him in the end if we wish for the plan to go through-"
"Sir, you've yet to tell me of what plan-"
"And I've no intentions too." His stark voice cut him off again, his final warning. Tom bowed his head in apology and then looked back up into the dead blue eyes of the man he called master. "As for the time being, I need someone to watch the boy. There was several other things going on at the school that I wish to keep an eye on and you'll do this for me. You'll remain there until I give you word otherwise."
Tom stayed silent and studied the old man's face. When he'd first met Dumbledore he remembered that he originally had very much liked the old man and didn't particularly mind helping him with the large rather dangerous activities he put him on. The old man was obviously a great deal smarter than Grindlewald, who'd rightly never completely trusted Tom though saw his obvious potential. When he'd first met him, he always found himself fascinated by the odd twinkle that always seemed to shine in his eyes. It wasn't until after Grindlewald's "untimely" death that he saw the twinkle had gone, replaced with such a severe heavy look that it sometimes was hard for Tom to look into his face. Tom would never aloud ask for confirmation, but there was something in that believed the relationship between the two enemies had once been something more, something deep and dark that twisted the both of them into the war that Grindlewald had created.
"I understand, sir."
He carefully used his wand to slit the top of the letter open, pulling out the thick yellowed parchment inside. He took his time unfolding the paper and stared at the words that lay upon the letter for some time before the emotions finally took over his body. An anger so deep and welling that it raged from his chest. A loud roar emitted from his mouth, crumpling the letter and throwing it onto the ground.
Be Prepared. The time is coming.
Hermione stared at the light that shone through her bed curtain aware that it was finally morning. It was the day of the ball and not only that, but it was Christmas Eve. She found that she didn't feel quite as excited as the girls that were running around her dorm room were and quietly dressed and made her way down to the great hall for breakfast making her way over to the friends that waved her to their table.
"Tonight's the night then, you ready?" Ginny smiled at her and gave a pointed look over towards where Cormac sat surrounded by some of his friends; he seemed to have been waiting for her to look over and gave her a charming wink to which she felt instant indigestion.
"I think I might stay in bed sick tonight actually," She sniffed doing her best to keep a straight face. "I'm not feeling too well and I don't want to be sick in my dress you know."
"Oh shut up. I don't care if I have to bring you a sick bag, you're coming. I've even managed to get my mum to send the camera so we can all remember what spectacular night we've all had, especially you." Ginny grabber her arm and shook her happily.
"Ginny, I swear to Merlin. If I see that camera I will curse it out of your fingers so fast, you won't be able to hold your wand for weeks."
"No matter, you'll look amazing in your dress and I'll be surprised if Cormac has trouble keeping the men off you."
The day passed and Hermione found herself unknowingly making her way to the library, if she heard one more conversation about the stupid ball she would probably curse her ears off. She found her refuge quickly, the library itself completely empty. The students had quickly abandoned the place once exams had ended and the excitement that had infected the castle had left the place quiet and vacant. She pulled out a book that had become so worn it was a miracle it was still even stitched together, though some of it was honestly magic, Divine Comedy. Though the book was a little dark, she'd read it over a hundred times, completely engrossed by the story's dark descriptions of Hell and their patrons. Though she'd owned the copy that contained the entire trilogy, including Purgatorio, and Paradiso.
She was hardly into its passages when she felt the presence, too strong to ignore. She didn't have to turn around to guess who it was either, the only person who knew exactly the spot to find her. She could feel it tingling her spine, that stinging electricity and then she could smell his scent as subtle as it was. A light woodsy scent prickled with edges of mint and it was heavenly but it made her stomach burn and she closed her eyes, her finger grasping the edges of her book for support.
"That's an interesting read, isn't it?' His voice was closer than she'd though, his breath soft in her ear. "Looks like it's quite worn too."
"Why are you here?" She kept her eyes closed but she felt him come around and she could see him in her head.
When her eyes opened, the sight of him hit her square in the chest like a thick bullet. He wasn't dressed in his usual school robes, rather his casual attire. He wore a pair of casual tan slacks with brown loafers, a thick red sweater pushed up with a white oxford rolled over its sleeves and she wanted to keep staring but wanted nothing more than for him to disappear. It was like she couldn't get away, she could have traveled to the ends of the earths if she'd truly wanted too but his image, him standing so casually and perfectly in front of her would haunt her forever.
"I need you to come with me." A small smirk played on the corner of his lips and she couldn't fully read what was going through his head, not that she'd ever been able too.
"What? What're you talking about? I can't go anywhere. The ball is tonight and I'm not going anywhere with you anyway. You're the one who said you didn't want me helping you anymore."
"That wasn't what I said and you know that. This isn't about that, we have to go tonight. I don't have time to explain but we have to leave and soon." The small smirk faded and a rather serious composure replaced it, the look he gave her when he wasn't in the mood to argue or explain.
"I'm not leaving. I'm not just going to leave because you said so. You can do it by yourself, I'm trying to get my life back to normal and being with you isn't going to help." She had no intentions of being able to read in peace now but opened her book to make it look like she was done talking anyway.
His hand appeared, ripping the book from her grasps and throwing it onto the ground and placing his face close to hers, kneeling and forcing her to look straight into his eyes. She slanted her eyes and glared at him and his scent made her sick to her stomach, his body so ungodly close that she could hardly concentrate on how angry she was for him to putting her into this situation again.
"I'm not going anywhere, I'm not going to repeat myself." Her voice came through her teeth but out of the corner of her eye, she could see her fingers shaking as they gripped the chair she sat in so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"Who says I'm asking?" He'd become angry, his eyes glinting maliciously and the tick in his cheek working magnificently but she wasn't going to argue and she had no intentions of getting out of this chair and walking anywhere with the man in front of her. "I'm not asking you this time Hermione, I'm telling. We're leaving tonight and you've got no choice."
His hand reached for hers and the touch sent heavy coils through her skin and she jumped at the feeling, her body desperately begging her for more but she ignored it.
"Let. Go. Of. Me." She stood up, pushing his hands off of her. His face sat only a mere inch or so from hers and with each inhaled breath, she could taste the scent of him on her tongue and she longed to inhale it deeper into her bloodstream.
"You're making a mistake and I won't be back to fix it."
"Good." Her voice was shaking within her.
He let forth a heaving breath, his body shaking as he pushed past her. She watched him walk off down the steps from the library and she made no move to follow him. She couldn't understand, he'd been so adamant to keep her away from it all when they returned and she hadn't missed the fear in his eyes when she'd awoken in the hotel room. The look of fear when he'd look her she couldn't do it anymore, he couldn't watch her get hurt anymore. Now he wanted her to go, he was so eager for her to leave that he was willing to force her to leave?
Her breath was heaving and she worked to contain it, worked to contain the hurricane that was swirling so violently in her head that she felt like she would faint if she didn't keep trying to lay out all the questions. What had happened so suddenly that he would be so willing to put her in dangers way? That he would be so willing to take her away from here in a heartbeat?
She slowly made her way back to the common room, it was only three hours before the dance and if she didn't get back to the room to get ready now she would never get a chance in front of the mirror and her hair wouldn't get the full attention it needed to attain that straight look to form anything elaborate with. She hugged her book to her chest with one arm and placed the other in her robe pocket, desperate to find an explanation for his sudden ferocious behavior.
She froze, her fingers curling over a folded paper that hadn't been in her pocket when she had went into the library, a piece of paper folded light into her pocket that she hadn't placed there. She looked around, glancing down the halls searching to see if anyone was watching her as she slowly pulled it out from her pocket. A small piece of white parchment, folded simply and crumpled from having being shoved into her robes.
You're in danger, you have to leave.