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A/N: Thank-you for all of your fantastic reviews!! I've read all of them and I am touched by all of your comments. Truly am!
This makes it all worth while, writing for you. They made me laugh and cry so much!! I hope you enjoy this chapter. There is much, much, much more to come. Hope to hear your reviews xxx
W.R.
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Chapter 14
Sneaking in Lairs...
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Friday came at last and Hermione thought the day couldn't get any better.
They had Charms in the morning where she was forced to pair with Malfoy for Levitating Charms—it was only proper that all the Seventh year students revised on every subject from First to Sixth years during the first month at Hogwarts.
"Alright, there Granger?" sneered Malfoy as he released her far too quickly from the air so that she fell with a loud thump on a desk.
"I'm fine!" barked Hermione, straightening up. "Why do you ask?"
Dusting herself off, she gave an upright flick of her wand, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
Instantly, he zoomed up to the ceiling, so fast that his head cracked onto an over-hanging chandelier with a sickening crunch.
History of Magic proved to be duller than Hermione could ever had imagined and she spent the entire lesson watching Malfoy, Rosier, Dolohov, Nott, Mulciber and Lestrange as they fought a losing battle to stay awake in Binn's class. Hermione hadn't dared to sneak a peek at Riddle, for he was sitting a few seats behind her.
"Tonight!" she mouthed to her four friends. Ron nodded while Harry merely picked his nose.
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Hermione, Harry and Ron were rather chatty during dinner at the Slytherin table; it appeared now that Harry and Ron were so popular at Hogwarts—it didn't seem to really matter where they sat; everyone were glad to welcome the new good-looking boys to sit with them.
"Jane, Jane, I'm talking to you..." Hermione tore her gaze from Tom Riddle, who was conversing to a group of girls who were listening avidly to whatever he was saying to them.
"Sorry, Harry," she whispered absently. "You were saying?"
Harry frowned and leaned his head in. "I went to the Room of Requirement this afternoon and tried to get my Dad's old Cloak and the Marauder's map for you—"
"Thanks, I forgot about them. They would definitely come in handy…"
"—but it didn't work, for some reason the Room didn't provide."
She stared. "Are you certain?"
"Yes, so I dunno…can you think of any reason why the Room's acting funny?" asked Harry, poking at a mushroom on his plate.
"I can," said Ron, which made them both stare at him in surprise. He shrugged, "You said it was your Dad's old Cloak, didn't you, Harry? So I suppose that it was probably passed down to him from his Grandad—"
"Dean?" asked Harry, dubiously. "Alright, and what about the Map?"
"Well, that I don't know," admitted Ron, "but you could just ask him."
"No," interrupted Hermione, "there's no need; I have the potion and that's a much better disguise. This way, I can actually ask for information without getting caught."
"One hou,r" said Harry, shaking his head, "that's—"
"More than enough to get through the meeting," said Hermione calmly. "Stop worrying, it'll be fine! I can look after myself, you know…"
Ron glanced at his gold watch. "Listen, Hermione, Harry and me have to run off to Quidditch practice—come along so you can rip out Malfoy's hair and stuff."
Hermione's eyes gleamed with barely suppressed malice and Ron and Harry looked uncomfortably at her.
It was a clear, starry night and she sat on one of the bleachers, watching her friends zooming about the pitch, either swinging a Beater's bat or practice saving Quaffles.
It became a little bit dull within five minutes, so Hermione thankfully had brought out her book bag and took out her homework to do.
"What the devil is she doing here?" demanded Malfoy, as he zoomed past where she was sitting in the stands, his long white-blond hair whipping her face,
Hermione drew herself up, importantly. "As the Head Girl, I have the privilege or chaperoning the team, should anything happen to your team members that may put them out of action before your match—"
"—that's not until November!" yelled Mulciber, as he passed the Quaffle to another player.
"Be that as it may…" she started swiftly.
"Take it easy, Abraxas, she's with me, Sev and Barry," called Alphard Black, glaring at him from his Beater position
"Hey Black," said Malfoy, coolly. "Stay on those Bludgers if you want to stay on the team."
Alphard aimed a heavy blow at a flying Bludger towards Malfoy, missing him by an inch and smashing the handle of his broom.
"That was new!" hollered Abraxas toppling off it. "Did you see what he did?" he demanded at Hermione, who merely crossed her arms.
"Saw what?" she said coolly and Alphard beamed.
Malfoy swore and muttered. "I'm going to see if Slughorn can fix this," and hurried out the stadium.
"Aren't you afraid that Malfoy's going to kick you off the team if you keep destroying his brooms?" said Hermione sternly.
Black, still hanging off his Nimbus 500 shrugged and gave her a lopsided grin.
"Nah, he knows that the team needs me more than they need him," he said indifferently. "Besides, Dad's friends with his family so he has to suck up to us. And Slughorn seems to like me more than Malfoy anyway," he gave a rascally titter that made her smile.
Truly, he reminded her of a more immature version of Sirius—like someone's younger brother, in an absurd way.
"Anyway," he smiled. "I'd better tell the team that our Captain's gone running off to another rump that he likes to smooch, so, I'll see you, later, Granger!"
"Wait," said Hermione quickly. "Can you tell Sev and Barry that I'm leaving…got something else I need to do. They know where to find me," She added with a rueful little smile.
Alphard grinned and zoomed off to find them as she grabbed her bag and dashed off after Malfoy.
Hermione hurried to the dungeons just in time to see Abraxas Malfoy walking out of Slughorn's office with a satisfied smirk. She ducked behind a pillar and waited for him to walk towards the entrance—her way.
She crouched down low and counted the seconds before he reached her; five, six, seven, eight …
Leaping out she hissed. "Stupefy!" A burst of red light flashed from her wand.
"What the—?" she heard him mutter before he was knocked to the ground, completely immobile.
Smiling broadly, she walked over to him and levitated the lifeless form to a room where Snape had vacated fifty years in the future and dumped him on the floor.
"Hermione, is that you?" whispered a scared voice.
Harry and Ron appeared at the door, panting; Ron was holding a stitch at his side.
Hermione waved them in with a friendly smile. "Listen, couldn't keep a look out for me, could you?" she said and they happily obliged.
She reached down to Malfoy's head and tore out a few of his silvery-blond hair.
"Urgh, I can't believe you touched him," said Ron with a shudder from the door.
"Shh! Harry, help me hide him in that broom cupboard."
With Harry's help, Hermione managed to shove Draco's grandfather into a musty, spidery closet full of dusty books and mouldy spare cloaks.
"Harry," mumbled Hermione, turning faintly pink. "Since I'm a girl, would you mind taking his clothes for me?"
He grinned. "It'll be my pleasure." Hermione turned her back while Harry yanked off Malfoy's robes, shoes and shirt "Good thing the git changed back into his uniform" he grinned thoughtfully as he snatched off the unconscious Abraxas' tie.
Ron came over and burst out laughing. "Nice underwear," he managed, tears of mirth running down his long nose.
Hermione looked and choked; Malfoy was wearing white cotton briefs with a pattern of Snitches. On the seat of them was something brown that she suspected was—
"Maybe he should cut down on the goulash a bit," sniggered Harry, pointing at the poo stains.
Hermione frowned and looked at her watch; it read 8:32 P.M.
"Alright, we're way ahead of schedule, so you two can go back and rejoin the team while I gather some things upstairs before I take the Polyjuice Potion, alright?"
Harry took out a packet in his pocket and gave it to Hermione
"Flash Powder," he said in a low voice. "Alphard Black confiscated this from a first year and gave it to me before."
Hermione stared "Why on earth did he give it to you?"
"Because he thought me and Ron should be able to use it on Malfoy sometimes for kicks," he shrugged. "I really think he ought to be in Gryffindor, instead of Slytherin."
Hermione nodded brusquely. "I'll tell you how it goes tonight, ok?" she said.
Ron gave her a weary chuckle. "Don't look so sad, Hermione, we'll take over next month, alright?"
"Give you a bit of a break, since you look like you could use a decent sleep sometime in November," added Harry.
"I'm touched by your mercy," said Hermione scathingly.
"Good luck with training!" she added in a nicer tone and flitted out the door.
Ron turned to Harry. "Girl's gone insane since we've broken up," he said, paling.
"Maybe she's Bipolar," offered Harry helpfully and Ron slapped him with his Keeper's gloves.
Three hours later, Hermione crept out of the common room, fully dressed in the form of Abraxas Malfoy. When she got out of the portrait hole, Hermione began to jog quietly to the second floor, marveling at Malfoy's fit physique as she did so.
"Where the bleeding heck are they?" she wondered, looking into every room along her way. "This doesn't seem right…"
Hermione walked into the bathroom and spotted Myrtle by the sinks
"Oi, you," the ghost snapped, glaring at Hermione. "This is a girl's bathroom, get out of here!"
"You haven't seen any Slytherins, have you?" she asked quickly. "They were meant to have some sort of meeting…"
"Yes," said Myrtle with a devilish grin. "I thought I saw them up on the North Tower…"
"But that's ages away from here!" she gasped, but Myrtle merely shrugged. "That's what I heard."
Hermione glanced at her watch and started; she had already lost ten precious minutes. "I knew I should've brought some more along," she muttered to herself.
Hitching up Malfoy's robes, she made a dash to the Tower, cursing when she met Peeves who started throwing stink pellets at her head.
"Aha!" he laughed, swooping down at her, Hermione drew out her wand and shot hex after hex; unfortunately, Peeves (now in his younger days and in his prime) was much more agile than he was in her own time.
"Blast you, Peeves!" she cried, aiming a perfect Jaw Clamping Curse at him. Peeves toppled in the air and swooped off, making obscene hand gestures at her as he left.
Panicking and glancing at her watch, Hermione saw that she was nearly half-way through her one hour limit. Getting desperate, she sprinted to Professor Plight's floor and checked ever room on the level.
"Rats!" she cried, wringing her pale hands. Myrtle had sent her on a wild goose chase for nothing. "Moaning Myrtle—I am going to kill you…" Looking back at her watch, she found that she had ten minutes left.
"May as well go back and get some more potion," she thought dryly and walked back downstairs.
On the Fifth landing, Hermione heard a voice call out to her.
"Malfoy! There you are, I've been looking all over for you."
She spun around found herself face to face with one of Riddle's pimply friends.
She hastily took a step back.
"Mulciber," she nodded coldly, trying to imitate Malfoy.
Mulciber ran his hand through his straggly brown hair impatiently. "Listen, it's going to start in a few minutes and if you don't hurry, we'll both miss out!"
She stared. "What do you mean 'going to start in a few minutes' I thought the meeting was at—"
"Shh!" he hissed, putting a finger to his pale lips, full of whiteheads. "Didn't you hear? Riddle changed the time and place—he said he needed more time to sneak off from that nosy Mudblood girl Granger."
"He called me—her— that?" she said, outraged.
Mulciber shrugged. "Well, not his exact words, but that's what she is—wait a minute," he looked suspicious, 'I'm not about find out that you've harnessed some feelings towards Mudblood Jane Granger, am I?"
Hermione seriously considered agreeing in the affirmative, then declaring Malfoy's hidden homosexuality as well, but thought better of it—for now…
"That filthy little Mudblood?" she scoffed, using Draco's words. "She's better off as a rodent, than a human being," she repressed a shudder at her own words.
But the Death Eater looked satisfied. "Better get there before we're late," he said and motioned to a painting of three wizards playing chess by the wall.
"Hard Cheese," he said to it and the painting swung forwards to reveal a passageway.
"Well, get in," he said looking at Hermione.
"Actually, I think I need to use the bathroom," she stammered, fully aware that she had less than seven minutes.
"Don't be wimpy," he sneered. "Come on, the others are waiting for us." He took her by the upper arms and steered her through.
The next moment, they were in the dungeons which was dimly lit with a few blazing torches.
Mulciber led Hermione into a spare classroom—the same one she had hidden the real Malfoy in!
"Hey, there, Abraxas!" said Nott, giving her a wicked look. "How about that last adventure me and Lestrange had together?"
Hermione found that she was in front of about fifteen boys, not including herself. Wondering what the rest of their names were apart from Riddle's close friends, she shrugged Malfoy's shoulders and put on a Draco-worthy sneer,
"You mean the annual Death Eater orgy or something?" she joked.
Lestrange's eyes glittered. "Yeah, with tha' Ravenclaw oo was s'pposed to be Head Girl this year…"
Hermione gasped. "You—we…raped her?" she croaked.
"Course not!" said Lestrange indignantly. "But we was found out, remember? Good thing Riddle erased tha witness, tha' Seventh year's memory before 'e blabbed."
Hermione felt sick; she had a feeling that Laura Bettington hadn't fully consented to the—event.
"And the girl ended up leaving this year, so we all got away, remember?"
She started to look around for an escape route. She felt inside her pockets in desperation.
"Wos the matter with oo, Malfoy, you're awfully quiet, today…"
Bingo. Hermione felt the Flash Powder in Malfoy's pocket. Now to think of a Death Eater intelligent-worthy diversion…
"Our, Lord arrives!" she cried vehemently, pointing wildly at the doorway. Fifteen heads swiveled around. Side-stepping them, Hermione threw the packet on the ground with all her might and felt a whoosh of air before everything plunged into whiteness. She then whipped out her wand and muttered a Flea-biting Curse.
"Gaaah! " she heard Nott yell. "That was my face!"
"Wos goin' on 'ere?" cried Lestrange. "Me daks are feelin' the itchies!"
"Ah, my bad," said Hermione blithely. "I'm going to find Our Lord. I'll be back in a jiffy!"
She felt her way to the door and escaped; thank goodness those idiots didn't try to follow her. Hermione ran flat out and felt that bushy, brown hair was growing on her head and her body shrinking back to her normal height. "Damn" she muttered, hitching up Malfoy's robes to her knees as she ran along the dungeons.
There was a loud yelp coming back from Snape's old office and the sound of footsteps. Hermione gasped and ducked into the nearest unlocked room, hoping that no one saw her transform.
Looking around, Hermione found that the small chamber was in semi-darkness; the only light provided was from a few hovering candles floating above her, giving the room a soft golden-amber glow. There were a few chairs here and there leaning against empty bookshelves along the stone walls. Hermione rather thought that this chamber resembled someone's neglected study, with a large, solid dark pine desk sitting five paces in front of the window with a few more flickering candles hovering against the glass. Hermione walked slowly over to it and ran a hand over the green velvet lining of the desk and her eyes fell on the candles lighting the windows, showing her scared and flushed face in its reflection.
"You idiot, Hermione!" she gasped suddenly, looking at the flames. "If the room's lit, then it's about to be used!"
.
The sound of footsteps approached the other side of the door. Looking around wildly, Hermione ran to the desk and dove beneath it, holding her breath as she heard the door bang open and the unmistakable sound of many voices speaking.
"—found him in that broom closet with nothing but his underwear—"
"—'e said he couldn't remember a thing, thinks someone put a Memory Charm on 'im"
"But that was after we got rid of all them horrible fleas—"
Then came a voice that Hermione expected to hear…
"Alright, take him up to the Hospital Wing, and for Slytherin's sake, put a cloak or something over him," snapped Riddle. "His skid marks are starting to make people sick."
A set of footsteps followed by a painful moan—obviously Malfoy being helped out of the room by someone—and the sound of the door snapping closed.
The room was left in a ringing silence, broken by a scared voice.
"My Lord," stammered Mulciber. "Will there still be a meeting, even if there are so few of us?"
Hermione who was still hiding behind the desk could almost feel Riddle turn his icy stare at the poor idiot.
"I would hardly consider this a meeting when we have barely a dozen Death Eaters in my wake, Adrias," he said coldly.
"Oh, apologies, My Lord," said Mulciber quickly. "But I hope we'll still find tonight useful?" he finished hopefully.
"We shall see," was Riddle's terse reply.
There was a deathly silence. Hermione gripped her knees with unnecessary force; how on earth was she going to get out of this?
"My Lord," said a voice quickly. "Lestrange and I just want to share our gratitude again for saving us from that incident with the Ravenclaw girl—"
"Saving your necks," said Riddle icily, "was not an act of generosity on my behalf; it was preventing what would happen if Marvin Prewett told the staff—"
There were some uncomfortable shuffling noises made from feet. Hermione clamped her hands to her crouching ankles to stop them from shaking.
She thought at that moment that she would give up all that she owned for another pack of Alphard Black's Flash Powder.
"—he would've enabled Dumbledore to expose you lot, and a fat lot of good that would do for my future career once he'd realized that I was your leader…"
There was the sound of feet pacing—it had to be Riddle's steps.
"My Lord…" said a timid voice. "Even if you hadn't meant to modify Prewett's memory, we offer you our gratitude—"
"You needn't offer me anything" said Riddle in a hard voice. "But never ravish somebody and expect to get away with it again."
There was a deathly silence broken by a nervous voice.
"My Lord, what was supposed to be on tonight's agenda?"
There was another cold pause. Hermione expected that Riddle was staring down whoever asked, she started to wonder if he actually liked any of his friends.
But when he spoke, his voice was so coldly soft that she had to crane he ears to listen.
"The Chamber of Secrets," Riddle said softly. There was another tense silence.
"You will have all known that ever since I pinned the blame on that oaf, it would be unwise to open the Chamber again while we are at Hogwarts…" he continued in a low voice.
There was a groan from everyone and Hermione imagined a cold, frown on Riddle's face because the noise quelled at the same time. He held such cold, threatening charisma that he scared every one within the vicinity.
"You should all realize that even though everyone—including the Ministry of Magic has bought my tale of Hagrid being the culprit, one remains skeptical—Dumbledore."
There was a general hiss coming from the Death Eaters as though it was a sacrilegious epithet.
Riddle ignored them and continued as though there had not been any interruption.
"He alone, suspects that I have had something to do with opening it and all of you are linked as a result…"
He stopped pacing and Hermione stopped breathing.
"…This is why we, as the Death Eaters, must continue in school without regular assemblies as such, for the time being." There were many protests following after Riddles proclamation but he silenced them.
"It is for our benefit, seeing as though Dumbledore's opinion matter greatly to even his authorities, I do not wish to impel our société to exposure."
Despite, hiding under a pine desk and quaking in fright, Hermione couldn't quite suppress a derisive snort. 'What a kind, thoughtful Dark Lord.'
"My Lord," asked an excited voice. "You never spoke of the last Chamber attack to us before. Did you really set that Basilisk on the Mudblood in the bathroom as a sacrificial statement to the world that all blood filths should be thrown out of this school?" Whoever spoke said this very quickly.
Riddle didn't reply, instead, he quietly walked towards the window, looking at the flames of the flickering candles. He stood there for a long time, staring at a particular candle.
"No," he said finally, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Hermione felt the blood leave her face. As noble as she would have liked to feel at being surprised at Riddle's words, it wasn't because of the shock of his unintentional murder…
…It was because the window was facing directly at her!
What if Riddle turned before he walked back? Hermione begged the stars that Riddle would make a clockwise arc and head back to his Death Eaters without turning…
...
...
"…This is why we, as the Death Eaters, must continue in school without regular assemblies as such, for the time being," said Tom calmly, and his Death Eaters protested all at once.
Good Merlin, this is getting boring, he thought crossly. Thank goodness he was blessed with patience, otherwise he thought he would've blasted them all through the door already. Tom Riddle was having one of the most annoyingly tedious days in his life.
The classes he had to endure were excruciatingly boring as were the people who taught them. Did the professors not realize that he was already well ahead of the classes, already? Why must they impale stupid first-year revision on him—the great Tom Riddle. And who would dare make him embarrass himself by being forced to charm a toothpick into a needle? Professor Dumbledore, that's who. He even awarded Tom ten points to Slytherin. The nerve of that old geezer.
It was bad enough that all of his stupid Death Eaters forgot where to meet him in the first place. Tom had to actually go off to hunt for them for at least half an hour before giving up and returning to the dungeons, only to find that they were all assembled together in a different chamber with Malfoy who was found stripped of his clothing and hidden in a broom closet, unconscious.
'Serves him right,' he thought maliciously. 'Probably tried to seduce some poor girl and got what was coming to him.' He seriously considered thanking whoever cursed that idiot. But all this was nothing.
For he could simply not stop thinking about Jane Granger.
Sure, she was the Head Girl and it would've been perfectly reasonable to spare a moment of thought about a colleague, but…
He sighed inwardly out of irritation. He had been impeding his thoughts since yesterday morning. And that wasn't only because of her proclamation that she knew about The Chamber of Secrets and how Moaning Myrtle died. He shuddered.
He had felt an odd sort of connection towards her ever since their very first encounter, but couldn't quite put his finger on why…
But what he did know was that she was a formidable opponent. Yes, he knew very well that he sounded hackneyed, but for someone who didn't like him—loathed him, were her actual words, to be exact…it rather impressive that Granger could be so persistent in pursuing his friendship.
When she wasn't arguing or ill-wishing him, Jane Granger could be a fine ally. Even though she wasn't a startling beauty, she was attractive in her own way. Regally lovely. Tom's stomach churned as he remembered that dream he had about her last night. He couldn't quite remember it was well as one tended to, but all he did remember was that she was wearing her white dress, the silken material clinging decadently to her lush waist and gently curved hips, with her hair falling down in soft strands from her loose knot in clouds and the beguiling scent of roses and honeysuckle smell wafting around him…
'Well, it could've been much worse,' he thought decidedly, thinking about the time when Malfoy had woken up in the middle of the night in their dormitory, with his sheets all spattered and smelling strongly of sprouts. Malfoy apparently panicked and began to hop around frantically, trying to clear up the sheets before anyone could see.
Unfortunately, since he was a light sleeper and Malfoy refused to don bed clothing, Tom's first view when he'd rolled over and woken was Malfoy's four-inch fully aroused, barely three feet from his face. Tom still winced at the memory, so he did what any sane person would do in his current obligation.
He repressed that memory.
In fact, that's what he should be doing with the memory of his dream. So he shoved Jane Granger from his mind…
Voices snapped him out of his reverie. Bloody Baron, were they still pretending to act sorry? Tom put up a hand for silence and the noise ceased at once.
"It's for our benefit, seeing as though Dumbledore's opinion matters greatly to even his authorities, I do not wish to impel our société to exposure," he said coldly, fully aware that his temples were starting to throb. He looked frostily at the Death Eaters, daring them to argue.
"My Lord," asked Nott in a pathetically eager voice. "You never spoke of the last Chamber attack to us before. Did you really set that Basilisk on the Mudblood in the bathroom as a sacrificial statement to the world that all blood filths should be thrown out of this school?" He said all this very quickly.
Tom felt his face shut down and his insides turning into ice. Avoiding the watchful eyes upon him, he glided slowly toward the single window over the wall, ignoring the elegant solid pine desk and stared into the flickering flames of a singular candle floating on the window sill.
He knew he must tell them, although the thought did not settle well with him. He focused his vision onto the solitary candle, slightly entranced by its dying light.
"No," he said in a low voice empty of emotion. "It was unintentional. Had I realized that she was present…" He stopped, moving his hand over the flickering flames, trying to find the right words.
"I commanded the Basilisk to paralyze any muggleborn it saw and the nearest one was her." He paused before continuing. "Of course, the beast was not to face me, as I would be killed instantly were we to have eye contact."
"The Basilisk was looking in the direction of the lavatory where there were no reflective surfaces, when Myrtle emerged from one of them, clearly intending to ward me off, and then…" He stopped, placing both his hands on either side of the window frame.
Tom felt dense; it had been a bluff—the whole thing. Salazar Slytherin's aim was to be rid of any students without magical parenting and Tom found that it was his own destiny as The Heir of Slytherin to continue in his noble ancestor's work. He was only supposed to scare them— the Muggleborns, but never to kill.
The threat from the school governors to close the school had opened his eyes to the conclusion that it wasn't worth it. Leading in Salazar's footsteps was not worth losing his home. So he decided to abandon the Chamber and forget Slytherin's monster. But the thing about a chosen destiny was that they always came around to meet you, whether you liked it or not. There was no way of escaping it.
He would have to purge the school of these muggleborns, whether it was in five or fifty years' time. Tom's insides went rigid as he recalled that Jane Granger was one. He wondered vaguely if she would be subject to the Basilisk's predatory.
He took in a deep breath, trying to ready himself. Perhaps it was his imagination, but Tom thought he could smell that odd combination of roses and honeysuckle.
Shaking his head, he cursed inwardly. It was bad enough that she was cropping up in his dreams, but now he could smell her too?
"My Lord," said Rosier fearfully. "Are you alright?"
Tom nodded; his back was still to them. He started to move from the window, but stopped in his tracks. That smell again! That same beguiling scent of roses with the hint of honeysuckle. So powerful was the aroma, it overwhelmed him. For a wild moment Tom thought he was growing insane. But his rational senses finally coincided.
This couldn't be a hallucination. The scent was all too real.
His eyes moved around, trying to find the source of the fragrance, around the room, past the chairs, past the faces of his loyal followers, to the pine desk, beneath the pine…
Tom gaped when he saw who was crouched like a frog beneath the table.
Jane Granger, the pesky, dignified, scathing Gryffindor Head Girl was squatting underneath the desk with her hands around her ankles, paled and terrified as she gaped back at him!
For a few moments, they just stared at each other in shock and utter disbelief.
Surely this was some sort of a sick hallucination—she would disappear the moment he closed his eyes and opened them again. He blinked.
Damn, she was still there.
"My Lord?" said Mulciber in a strangled sort of voice.
Tom's attention snapped back to his Death Eater, he successfully rearranged his face to make it look cold and condescending.
"Tonight's meeting is adjourned," he said silkily, calmly walking forward and deliberately treading on Jane's fingers which she had just placed unwittingly on the ground. He heard a small squeak and felt coolly satisfied. He looked coolly at his subjects.
"You may all—oof."
He felt an excruciating pain on his left shin and looked down. To his horror, she was biting his leg in retaliation.
"My Lord, did you just grunt?" asked Mulciber, alarmed. The Death Eaters made a concerned movement towards him.
"I'm not!" gritted Tom, trying to shake off his leg.
"Is there an animal under that desk?" asked Nott curiously, putting his hands on his knees and peering at the desk.
Tom let out a bark of laughter which then turned quickly to a choked sound of pain.
"In a manner of speaking, yes," he growled wickedly, eyes beginning to water. He felt her fingernails ebbing into his leg.
"Is it a dog?"
Tom seriously considered agreeing in the affirmative but refrained from doing so; even he wasn't that evil. Fortunately, Jane noticed his abstinence and let go of his leg.
Tom quickly took the advantage of her release and hastily side-stepped from the table.
"I believe I have told you that this meeting is over?" he said coldly, staring down at the terrified Slytherins. They quickly shuffled to the door, scrambling over one another to reach it first, mumbling hasty farewells.
"Goodnight My Lord."
"Excellent meeting!"
Tom thought he heard someone say 'Sweet dreams, My Lord", but ignored it.
In three long strides, he snapped the door close after them and magically locked it. Turning his head around furiously, Tom Riddle marched back over to the desk and popped his head over it to look at Hermione upside-down.
"So," he said, trying to contain his cold fury.
Hermione instinctively jabbed her wand in his eye and ran for the door.
Grunting and holding his right hand over his eye, Tom flicked his wand casually, so the desk lifted itself up and slammed against the door, blocking her escape.
"Oh!" she cried, putting her hands on her hips, glaring at him.
With grim satisfaction, Tom slowly prowled towards her, keeping his steps even and menacing, like a predator. He stopped when they were a mere feet from her, pleased that he was able to tower over the small, obstinate Gryffindor very easily.
"What were you doing in here?" he hissed icily, his eyes boring into her wide brown ones. Jane glared back defiantly, unfazed at his size.
"Well," she said at last, using her hands to assist explanation. "I was patrolling tonight since it's the Head Girl's duty to do so—"
"It's the Ravenclaws turn tonight," he reminded her coldly, looming over her.
Tom smirked when she took an involuntary half-step back.
Jane didn't say anything and he took the advantage of her silence. "You were following us were you not?" he said swiftly.
She rolled her eyes. "Don't give yourself such airs," she snorted. "If you must know—"
She paused, looking hopefully at the window behind her.
"Don't even think about it," Tom warned her, waving his wand threateningly. She breathed heavily through her nose in frustration.
"Fine!" she snapped. "I was on my way to see Barry and Sev, when I had my courses, alright?! Then I had to use this place as an emergency when you lot burst in…"
"I beg your pardon?" he interrupted coldly. "What on earth are courses?"
"What are—"She repeated and paused, Tom saw her eyes widen as she blushed furiously. "Um…hmm hmms?" she said, her voice cracking with effort.
"Er, moon cycles?"
"For what? Werewolves…?" he asked impatiently, annoyed that she knew something he didn't.
"Noo…" hedged Hermione empathically, waving her hands and blushing a beet red. "For ladies, women in general…"
Oh, Lord, she had to explain menstruation cycles to Lord Voldemort.
Riddle's face flickered as understanding began to dawn.
"For ladies…ah." He finally understood.
Tom took an involuntary full step back from her.
Apparently, this offended her.
"It's not contagious, you know," she snapped. He glanced uncomfortably away and then back at her. Wait a minute—was that a smirk on her face?
"You're lying," he said bluntly. Jane tried and failed miserably to hide her guilty expression.
Tom took two steps towards her, making her edge back into the desk and glowered at her. "Do you realize what my friends would have done to you if they found that you were in this room?" he hissed.
"I suppose they would've ravished me?" she demanded, standing her ground.
"Exactly," he snapped back, narrowing his dark eyes. "What's more they would've attempted to erase your memory, which would've probably been poorly done so you'll wind up losing your mind in the end."
She blinked hard.
"So what are you going to do to me?" Jane whispered, looking at him with her bright brown eyes.
"I'm—"
He was about to say that he was going to erase her memory of tonight but stopped.
"Er, I didn't quite catch that," she said with a frown. Tom glared at her, frustrated that he found himself thinking that she looked very lovely in the dim candlelight. But he managed to pull himself together.
"I'm going to erase your memory so you don't remember what was said in tonight's meeting," he said evenly.
To his surprise, Jane gave a small laugh.
"What," he said, moving close to her in an intimidating manner. "Is so funny?"
To his annoyance, she just shrugged. "I knew you opened the Chamber of Secrets, killed Myrtle and framed Hagrid ages ago," she said airily. "I didn't hear anything that surprised me—except that you didn't kill Myrtle on purpose."
Tom was kicked in the teeth.
"How?" he demanded, unable to breathe.
She smiled wickedly. "Magic," she replied
"I know more about you than you know yourself," she added in a mystical sort of voice.
He stood motionless for a very long time, gazing at her until her smile was wiped off from her face and she showed signs of discomfort beneath his close scrutiny.
"You know," he said quietly. "I have half a mind now to remove your memory. What you could tell people may result to my friends' disclosure—not to mention my own. And we couldn't have that now, could we?"
Jane's eyes went wide then narrowed but didn't say anything.
"However," he continued, looking down at her through his thick dark lashes. "I'm going to let you go, given that you won't tell anyone, understand?"
She nodded her little bushy brown head. "But why are you…?" she trailed off.
Tom considered this for a moment himself before replying. "Because I respect the courage you've shown tonight," he said shortly. "Also because I don't quite think you're worth murdering…" he added as an afterthought.
Hermione ignored his last comment.
"And you're not going to blast me into smithereens because of that," she said dubiously. "Even when I've told you that I know your secrets?" This was strange, she thought, furrowing her brow. Hadn't he murdered people for less?
"I'm not even going to ask you how you know so much about me," Riddle said evenly
"Good, because I'm not going to satisfy you by answering," she fired at once. "But don't worry" she added quickly. "I promise I won't tell anyone what you did."
"Well I certainly trust that you won't," he bit off, his cold gaze unwavering.
Hermione looked pensive. "Well, I don't really think anyone would believe me for starters," she said slowly. "But, I think it's all for the best, so we'll just leave this conversation as it is then, won't we?"
Voldemort gave an unconvinced look and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You do realize that I could murder you, right now, don't you?" he said pleasantly.
"I'm sure you feel like it at the moment," she said in disdain. "But trust me when I say that it's for the best that people don't know—the shock would ruin Hogwarts!" she patted him kindly on the arm.
He glared at her and Hermione desisted with a bit of a grin.
"Very well," he ground out. "I'll let you go for tonight, but if a single word gets out, then I'm going to have to murder you in your bed."
Hermione gasped. "Are you seducing me?" she asked incredulously
Riddle gave her a look that could freeze a salamander.
He flicked his wand and the desk; it flew over their head and banged on the opposite side of the room whence it came from.
"Let's go before Pringle threatens to skin us alive," he said curtly, reaching over and opening the door for her to leave first.
"How genteel of you," she drawled sarcastically, not moving. "But how do I know that you'll turn your wand on me the moment my back is turned?"
She saw his face go rigid.
"I gave you my word" he said through gritted teeth. "But if you insist on me taking it back—"
"No, no," she said quickly, walking through the door. "I wouldn't want you to break the gentleman's conduct now…"
Hermione didn't hear Riddle's muttered reply but smirked.
.
.
"Warm night, isn't it?" asked Hermione as she stopped to wait for Riddle to catch up. He ignored her in disdain and sauntered past her haughtily.
"Yes, Miss Jane, it's a wonderful night," she continued under her breath. "My night would have been dreadfully dreary without your splendid presence!"
He spun around. "Who on earth are you talking to?" he demanded, looking at her as though she'd lost her mind. Truly, she felt that she had since coming to this school.
She shrugged. "I was pretending to answer for you." He rolled his eyes and continued to climb up the stairs in silence.
"Grouchy git," she muttered and followed him to a shortcut on the second floor corridor.
He was at least six paces in front of her and when they rounded a corner.
Hermione heard a sickening smack and the next thing she saw was Riddle on the ground in front of a small house-elf, blinking hard.
"What the-?" she heard him grunt lifting himself into a sitting position and staring into the house elf's pair of huge blinking eyes.
"Oh, sir, so sorry sir!" squeaked a house-elf. "I is only running to the kitchens and didn't see—"
"That's alright, Tappy," he muttered, running a hand through his thick dark hair. "Here, stand up…"
Hermione gaped in shock. Tom Riddle was kind to house-elves! He wasn't even nice to her…
"So sorry, sir," chirped Tappy, waggling his bat-like ears. "Twinkie is always telling me's sir—"
"Tappy!" squeaked a horrified voice, there was another house-elf hurrying towards them. "How many times do I have to tell you's that you should not run off like that!"
"Sorry, Twinkie," mumbled Tappy, his ears drooping.
"And running into a sir, no less," she scolded then curtseyed at Tom and Hermione.
"There's no need for that," said Riddle quickly at the gesture. Hermione stared at him, speechless.
"You look a little banged up," he said, surveying Tappy's arm. "Why don't you allow me…"
But the elf shook his head. "I is fine, good sir," he squeaked. "Must be getting to the kitchens with Twinky, now!"
"Where were you before now?" asked Hermione kindly. Twinkie cast a disapproving look at a guilty-faced Tappy. "We was up in the Head Dormitories for cleaning," she replied politely to Hermione. "But then Tappy accidentally set fire to the curtains."
"Oh dear," said Hermione with a smile.
"But it's just a small fire!" protested Tappy indignantly. "Not big enough to ruin anything."
Hermione nodded. "I'm sure none of our possessions are irreplaceable so no harm done." Tappy and Twinkie looked at her in shock and she suddenly got the feeling that she had said something wrong.
"You and sir are the Heads?" said Twinkie timidly. Hermione nodded deftly and was horrified when the house-elves began to bow and curtsey fervently.
Before she could say a word, Twinkie grabbed Tappy by his tea towel and marched off. "We must get going to cook breakfast!" she squeaked and together, the elves Disapparated with a crack.
"That was interesting," said Hermione confusedly, looking up at Riddle. "You'd think that being Head Girl and Boy would terrify them…"she added sarcastically.
"Don't think you should've mentioned that to them," he said with a small grimace. "Never could stand it when they start to curtsey like that."
"Oh," she said vaguely frowning; from what she'd heard from Harry, Lord Voldemort hadn't a problem with his servants kneeling on floors and kissing his robes.
She wondered what made him change his stand of elf rights. But a thought suddenly occurred to her.
"Say Riddle…" she said slowly, looking at the spot where the elves had been standing. "How is it that no-one can Apparate or Disapparate within the school grounds, but house-elves can?"
Riddle eyes her appraisingly for a moment.
"The school's security system is magically lowered especially for the house-elves currently employed at the school" he finally murmured in a low voice.
"And it's never been tampered with or anything?" she said incredulously. If Fred and George had known this then they'd be Apparating all over the place!
"None but a staff member would know how to," he said grimly, turning away and began walking.
When they reached their dormitory, Hermione paused and looked at him
"Erm," she said, unable to vocalize anything articulate. "Well, thanks for not Obliviating me…"
Riddle didn't say anything; he merely nodded and gazed at her in a scrutinizing manner for perhaps a second longer than he should have.
She stared unblinkingly at him, waiting…
"Goodnight, Miss Granger," he replied in his cool velvet voice and left for his dorm.
"Sweet dreams, My Lord," she said jokingly, before she could stop herself.
.
...
I hoped you liked this chappie. The next one's a bit of a shout, where we get to see a lot broken bones.
I'd love to hear your comments, please leave one at the end!
W.R