Hermione watched a wizard known for his lack of empathy frown at her in sympathy, his lip tucked out in a pout and his eyes glistening with pity. There was really no way of knowing, just from looking at him, that Tom Riddle was acting. Every expression and action rang genuine to her – and she did consider herself a good judge of such things.
It was with other-worldly knowledge that she was able to accuse, "You don't really care at all, do you?"
"What? Why would you say that?" He blinked at her, radiating hurt and confusion.
Every nerve in her body told her that Tom was sincere, but she narrowed her eyes, hardened her heart, and answered, "I don't think you care at all. I don't think you even understand why I care."
To her fascination, his expression cleared right before her eyes. Hermione watched Tom return in an instant to the cold boy she spent her time with. The way he could transform himself into what he thought he needed to be was downright eerie... he was like a chameleon blending in.
Returned to himself, Tom studied her with an air of calculation.
Hermione did likewise, tilting her head to match his and smiling innocently.
"You know me too well. It's eerie," he whispered that last word with a childlike smile that sent shivers down her spine.