After a quick lunch of roast chicken and vegetables, Hermione moved onto the ninth chapter of the book. She had already filled up three rolls of parchment with notes and she had to ask Madam Fletcher for more, to the Matron's extreme displeasure.
Sure, it was mostly revision for what she already knew, but it was good to stay informed!
The afternoon passed her by quickly, and soon, she was spooning shepherd's pie into her mouth with her left hand, as she levitated the book in front of her with her right.
It was mostly an introduction book, if Hermione was being honest. She had covered this stuff when she read ahead into sixth and seventh year Arithmancy, all the way at the beginning of fifth year.
True to her prediction, she was finished with it by nine that evening. She settled into her bed with a cup of tea, staring at the empty bed across the room from her.
You've put this off for too long, she scolded herself. Rather stupidly, instead of planning what she was going to speak to Riddle about with the whole 'Heir of Slytherin' mess, she had lost herself in a book to put off having to deal with real life! And she was no closer to a plan now than this morning!
I'll just have to… ask him, Hermione thought, taking a sip.
Oh yes, that would work perfectly, Ron's voice said. "Please, Mr Voldemort, tell me your deepest, darkest desires!"
Oh, shut up, Hermione thought, annoyed.
"Is it truly death you fear, or the fear of being forgotten? Mediocre? Entirely average?" Ron's voice continued sarcastically.
Well, that's just- she scoffed, but then she stopped. That's… actually a rather astute observation.
He's a narcissist with antisocial personality disorder, Hermione, Ron replied with a roll of his eyes. Death to him means he can be snuffed out, it means he's not 'special'.
Could also be because he's a control freak, and he can't control what happens afterwards, Harry added, his tone speculative.
Hermione pondered the two different voices in her head, weighing both options up.
I won't know until I speak to him, Hermione thought, pursing her lips.
A loud creaking pulled Hermione from her musings, and she looked up to see a tall shadow of a man standing in the doorway. The light of the corridor behind him hid his face, and Hermione quickly gripped her wand as he made his way towards her. The door closed behind him, and the low light from the dim candles of the Infirmary put his face into sharp relief-
"Miss Graves," Riddle said, nodding politely. "I'm sorry to call on you so late, but I realised that I won't have time to visit you tomorrow morning, as promised."
"Oh," Hermione said simply, her mind spinning.
Did something change? Why can't he see me tomorrow? What happened?
"Have you already finished the book, or…?" He trailed off with a curious look on his face, watching her expectantly.
"Ah, yes!" Hermione said, placing her cooling mug on the bedside table. "Give me a mo'..." She reached over the side of the bed and grabbed his textbook. She pulled herself up from where she was leaning over the side of the bed, looking up to catch Riddle's eye. He had a curious flush on his neck, and he seemed to have his eyes fixed on hers resolutely. Odd, she thought. "Here you go," she said as she handed it to him, "And thank you for lending it to me! It kept me occupied during the day."
"I'm pleased to hear that," he responded, and his voice was curiously stiff. "Did you find it interesting?"
"Er… yes," Hermione replied, her smiling feeling decidedly less genuine.
Riddle just chuckled in response, and she felt the same, unsettled feeling she did when he laughed the last time. "You are a terrible liar, Miss Graves," he replied simply, and Hermione flushed. "It's a rather rudimentary book, if I may say so myself."
"Yes!" Hermione agreed immediately, sitting up straighter. "I felt like it just explained the same basics over and over again! I've known this stuff for ages, so I guess it was good revision," she shrugged, picking lint off the sheets.
"Interesting," he replied, and Hermione decided that she didn't like the interested glint in his eyes. "What did you think of Stepanovich's theorem in Chapter Twelve?"
"It's a crude imitation of the Cayley-Hamilton theorem," Hermione dismissed. "You're better off reading up on their treatise, or any other Muggles', really." She recalled her essay on the history of Arithmancy as clear as day, and her own research into the crossover with Muggle Mathematics. It was university-level stuff, but Hermione really did enjoy Arithmancy.
"Would you mind elaborating?" Riddle asked, and to all the world, he was just a curious student. But Hermione was looking for discrepancies, so she noticed the hard set of his jaw, the slight narrowing of his eyes, his scorn evident to her.
"Of course," Hermione conceded. "Modern Arithmancy is built on Muggle Mathematics," Hermione began, and at Riddle's smartly raised eyebrow, she rolled her eyes. "It doesn't take a genius, Riddle. If you follow the line of reasoning of most Arithmancers, they're usually using Mathematics to explore the magical connotations of applying Muggle theories and axioms. I'd be more than happy to point you towards a few books on the subject," she said politely. At his sharp nod, Hermione grabbed a piece of parchment, a quill and some ink from her earlier note-taking, and wrote down three books she knew were published before 1943. "For example," she continued, handing the note to him, "Lambert's recent investigation into probability spaces was completely based on Kolmogorov's book on axiomatization of probability! Does it not make more sense to read the primary source rather than a reinterpretation of it?" she demanded, her eyes lighting up. At this point, she would usually look up to see Harry and Ron looking back at her with blank faces and vacant eyes. Riddle, however, actually seemed interested! His eyes watched with an interested light, his mouth curling up in interest. After a short pause, he replied to her.
"I would definitely like to research more into these claims, Miss Graves," he said, his odd blue-grey eyes staring into hers intensely. Hermione felt like he was half doing it to humour her, and half to appease his own curiosity. He seemed just inquisitive enough to at least consider her point of view, despite his obvious disagreement.
"I would expect nothing less," she declared, shrugging her shoulders. "Thank you for listening, by the way," she added, a small smile on her face. "My friends are usually half asleep by this point."
"I find it fascinating, and I do think that we're going to have many more of these discussions in the future," Riddle replied simply, and Hermione got the feeling that he actually wasn't lying for once. His eyes were slightly wide and unguarded, his mouth twisting into an eager line. Then his face settled into a neutral look. "If you don't mind, however, I do need to get back to my Common Room. Prefect or not, I must be back before curfew ends, unfortunately." And with that last sentence, his mask was back on, and he was smiling charmingly at her.
Hermione couldn't help but feel like it made him a lot less attractive, with that specially curated smile, that perfectly timed crinkle in his eye.
"Of course," Hermione just nodded, smiling up at his standing form. "Please, don't let me keep you hostage. And I must say, Mr Riddle, speaking to you about Arithmancy is surprisingly easy- Not to mention, surprisingly pleasant."
"Surprising?" he asked, raising a brow.
Hermione was unapologetic as she shrugged back. "Most boys are rather dim, unfortunately," she said frankly, "and many fail to keep up with me."
Riddle snorted, and Hermione raised a brow.
That sounded almost human.
"That's… fair," he responded. "Good night, Miss Graves."
"Good night," she replied, and watched him leave the Infirmary for a second time that day.
That could have gone a lot worse, Ron stated. I'm glad you didn't freak out immediately when you realised he's a budding Dark Lord-
Oh my God, Hermione thought, and suddenly, the weight of the conversation she just had hit her.
That one's on me, he groused.
He's Lord Voldemort! Hermione cried out internally. He's Lord Voldemort and I lectured him on Mathematics! Muggle Mathematics! Oh, God, he's going to kill me in my sleep-
Relax, Ron's voice interrupted. What's done is done. Focus on figuring out who the hell sent you here.
Shouldn't I focus on stopping Riddle from becoming Voldemort? Hermione fretted, her mind whirling.
Remember the Hitler analogy? Harry's voice said. I think that Isaiah told you that for a reason. It might be best to not change the timeline that you remember too much, so you can still predict some events.
Better the devil I know, Hermione agreed reluctantly, sighing deeply. Maybe I can find a way to make him less of a megalomaniac? Or at least a little less insane? To limit the impact on the Wizarding world, to limit at least some of the unnecessary deaths from happening…
That sounds like a good start, Ron's voice encouraged. Now go to sleep.
But… Hermione protested, frowning.
No buts, Harry's voice said firmly. You're not helping anyone by staying up and worrying.
Hermione sighed, but decided it was probably for the best. She raised the wand that she was still clutching in her hand to press it against a small stone on the wall. Curtains immediately drew themselves around her. She took off the thin Hospital gown, frowning in disgust at the material. Maybe the war had affected the Wizarding world more than they let on…?
With a shrug, she pulled it off and put on a t-shirt that the Matron had provided her with. It was an old Hufflepuff Quidditch shirt that was three sizes too large for her, but it did the job of allowing her to sleep without that infernal rustling of the thin gown rubbing against the awful sheets.
She fell back on the pillows, willing herself to fall asleep. She eventually did, with dark blue-grey eyes slowly morphing into bright green eyes, then back again behind her closed eyes.
AN (from Ao3):
Hey there!
I'm kinda tipsy rn, so I hope this note makes sense 3
Kinda a short one today, but the next chapter will be almost double in length.
I am once again using Hermione's inner monologue to explore themes/characterisations in a quick way. No I will not be taking any invalid criticism - this is a purely self-indulgent fic.
The Cayley-Hamilton Theory is a real theory in Mathematics regarding matrices. I won't pretend to understand the details, but it's an actual thing! Stepanovich (an East Slavic surname) is someone I made up based on this :)
Simlarly, Kolmogorov axioms are real foundations of his theory concerning probability!
As you can see via the tags (ao3) and their discussion, I will include quite a bit of Magical Theory based off of real-life/my own creations. I won't go into much detail, but enough for everyone to follow along. I am no Maths/Latin/Magic genius! Just a simple gal with a Psychology degree and an unhealthy interest in Tomione!
Any theories on Tom's odd behaviour?
I love you all so much, and your support is so wonderful!1