authorsnote: yooo, we back!

I do hope you enjoy this update, this story is proving challenging to write, but I am enjoying that I'm finding my feet with it - I hope you enjoy too!

also I want to make one thing clear; this story is going to be angsty as hell! some fluff yes, but angst mostly, if you ain't prepared for that, this ain't for you.

anywho, do let me know your thoughts, follow/fav for updates and most importantly of all - enjoy!

songrecs: scared to live - the weeknd

They landed with a pop in the alleyway down the side of the village shop. It was cold, and the clouds on the horizon promised snow. She knew they'd need to stock up well, both in case they got snowed in (though magic could avoid that), but mainly so that she could keep an eye on Riddle, and so he couldn't go running off anywhere.

She glanced at him as he stepped back from her, his face stoic. Ugh, she hated that he was so impassive, so incredibly hard to read. She didn't like not understanding, not knowing, it put her on the back foot, and she hated being on the back foot.

With a small barely concealed sigh she began to walk to the main square (which was being a tad generous, said main square of town consisted of the local village shop, pub, farm store and small café), they needed supplies, and god she would love a drink, but as she glanced at Riddle (following behind her, not a word said, but eyes scanning, taking in all the information, just as she did … she shuddered at that, she didn't want to acknowledge similarities between her and the biggest evil the wizarding world had ever known), she knew that wouldn't be wise.

"We should stock up" She said, filling the silence, for though she didn't mind quiet, and had never been good at small talk, Tom, Riddle, did make her feel awkward and as though she needed to fill the space, which was odd, as it wasn't something she'd ever felt the need to do before.

"Yes" He responded, raising an eyebrow at her. She hated that, that smug, fake voice filled with disdain, it made her feel stupid, and she hated feeling stupid. It was just his tone, as though he was so much smarter, superior, better. She'd never suffered arrogance well, regardless of her own failings in that area, and she hated how it looked on him.

It was difficult, as she'd be a fool not to acknowledge that for once she was in the presence of someone smarter, but she hated admitting that to herself, it wasn't something she was used to, and as she glanced at Riddle (smirking at her now, as though she knew exactly what she was thinking), she glared at him, damn him for making her feel insecure.

And so, without another word she stomped through the square over to the village shop. She was sure she heard Riddle's faint laugh behind her, and then as she looked up, she saw the first flakes of snow.

Great, she had both the evil wizard of the century mocking her now, and a blizzard likely on the way. Was she not allowed any luck?

Once she arrived in the shop, she had to fight to keep her temper in check. She'd often lambasted Harry for his horrendous temper but she could sometimes be just as bad. The pang she felt at her best friend, her brother, gone, that did help cool her anger some as Riddle came to stand beside her, eyebrow raised, clearly waiting for her.

And so, she walked forward, she needed to focus.

She had the most dangerous wizard in history at her side, confused yes, but likely rallying and planning, and she needed to figure out what he was doing here, how he was here, and how to stop him simply repeating history.

No small task, and one that would be easier on a full stomach and in some comfort.

It had been a while since she'd known comfort, since she'd known warmth and a good dinner.

She began to fill the basket up with items, not really paying attention to what they were but making sure she grabbed plenty of food, fridge stuff, bread, tins, pasta, sauces, plenty of tea, some biscuits, snacks. Perhaps it was overkill but she could see the blizzard lasting a while, as they often did in this part of the country, and better to be overprepared than to starve.

Plus, she hoped the blizzard lasted a while, far easier to figure out the mystery of Tom Riddle if they were snowed in and couldn't leave.

She didn't want to debate the eventually that he would leave at some point and she likely couldn't stop him. She was on a ticking clock.

Not enough time.

She'd convinced him so far, with her blunt explanation of the future he had arrived in, and she knows she's managed to give him the idea that for the moment he's better off staying with her; hell it wasn't even a lie, he probably is better off with her. With Harry dead, and both sides decimated, she has no idea what the wizarding world will look like now, better they stay out of the way for the moment, and not waltz back into a worse situation.

With a small sigh she made her way to the till, payed without fuss, and then turned as Tom … Voldemort, followed her back outside. His expression was unreadable, completely neutral as he held out his arm for her again, to apparate back, as she shoved the bags into her small beaded bag.

He wore no emotions on his face as she scooped her arm through his, nothing at all to give away what he was thinking, it was infuriating! Had he been born with the ability to be so impassive? Or had he learned how to do so?

"A bit of both" He said, to seemingly no question and she glared at him, gritting her teeth. She'd never learnt occlumency, had never needed to as Harry had, she's regretting it now. She hates having someone in her head.

"I'm not even dipping in" He speaks again, his tone dripping with sarcasm, his aristocratic voice drawling on the condescending side, "Again you have the loudest thoughts I've ever heard" He rolls his eyes then, "It's deafening"

"Well don't listen then, keep your creepy mind reading to yourself" She hisses back before they reach the side alley, shopping tucked away, ready to head home.

"Creepy?" He says with a small smirk, "I think someone might be jealous"

She scoffs then, though she can feel her cheeks heat. Jealous? Of course she is! She despises anyone doing something she is unable to. She may be 17, but she can still be as petty to always want to be the best, possibly her worst character flaw.

"Whatever" She shoots back, a weak response which makes his smirk deepen, and so with a glare she clutches his arm tighter, and with a crack apparates them away.

It's easier than dealing with him.

Alas, apparition lasts only a few seconds, and then it's just the two of them again, back in her Grandmothers cottage, a distinct chill to the air, the slight musty smell diminished but it isn't homely.

She idly thinks that if they'll be staying here a while (as she intends), she should try to make it so. She hasn't had a home, or a bed in months, perhaps that can be one good thing about being here.

Quickly she drops her arm from Tom's, shoots him a glare for good measure and takes out the shopping, several bags of it; she might have gone overboard, but as the snow picks up outside and she grimaces, she thinks perhaps not; a blizzard could see them snowed in, and magic can only do so much.

She is just about to unpack the first round of groceries when Tom flicks his wand, the one he'd arrived with, and they fly into the cupboards. She whirls around to glare at him, but he rolls his eyes.

"Do you forget you're a witch?" He asks, "Or do you just like being a muggle?"

"Shut up" It's a weak response and he laughs, clearly her sass is not dialled up today, when she can't even put up a good argument!

"I don't think being a muggleborn is an excuse" He says with a shake of his head, flicking his wand idly to the fire to get it going again, the flames jumping high. She feels a twinge of jealousy then.

She is good at magic yes, very good, but has never seen anyone perform it so effortlessly. He just flicks his wand, no words needed, just idly performs advanced magic that had taken her months to master. He does it all without concentration or focus. Gifted. She thinks, like her.

But even better, and that is where her jealousy comes from.

"You've been a witch for what? Seven years now?" He said, "Or do muggle habits die hard?"

"I've always been a witch" She fires back, and he shrugs.

"Then why act like a muggle?" He asks, genuinely curious it seems, but there is a mocking edge to his tone, it seems he is incapable of being sincere, but that hardly surprises her.

She knows less about Tom Riddle than Voldemort, only what Harry had told her and Ron after his lessons with Dumbledore, but she knows he didn't just become evil, he has always been that. From being a child leading other orphans into dangerous situation, stealing the shiniest things, gathering his follower as soon as he could. He has always been evil, and the man stood in front of her now, probably the same age as her – just because he is younger, doesn't diminish that.

In fact, he might be worse now, without the insanity after tearing his soul apart seven times. Perhaps now he is evil as Voldemort had been, but more capable. That is a chilling thought, and she can't quite stop the shiver that chases her spine.

"You don't always have to use magic" She says, mainly so she doesn't reveal her earlier thoughts, she even drops her gaze, to stop him searching in.

He does scoff then, and rolls his eyes, "But why shouldn't you?" He shakes his head then, and with a flick of his wand (and again it seems almost idle), he has conjured what looks like … no, it can't be. And yet, as he manipulates it, it must be.

Fiendfye, held aloft, the flames crackling from his wand. They should race out of control, consume the room, but they don't, they obey his command and don't go further than the tip of his wand, they are almost docile, and she knows her expression is one of shock, she can't even school it.

"Magic is a gift" He almost sounds like he's lecturing her, perhaps he is, "One we should be thankful for, but also acknowledge is ours" He says, his face alight then, the flames still dancing at the tip of his wand, doing as their told, it is fascinating and should be impossible, "Ours to control, to use, to wield" She realises then, just how Tom Riddle had drawn people in. Hell, she'd feel it herself, if not so sensible. She does feel it a little, the draw to such power, to such accomplishment, though she doesn't admit that to herself.

"Why be a muggle?" He sneers then and she feels herself harden a little, his contempt for muggles is obvious, and that has that warm feeling of almost reverence at such skill doused in seconds. She's never one to admire bigots. "When you can be something much better?"

"Have you always hated muggles?" She fires back, and see's the momentary flicker of surprise cross his features. Clearly he'd expected her to be in awe, and she had been for a few seconds, thankfully he'd missed it, so absorbed in his own genius, a flaw she realises, one she can use.

"Yes" Is all he answers, "I pity them too, so limited, useless" He enunciates, and she feels her cheeks flushing, glares at him, she'd lift her wand if she knew it weren't pointless. She finds herself doing it anyway though, she can't help it.

Gryffindor for a reason.

"Muggles have plenty of ingenuity" She says, and she can see the mocking in his gaze, in the roll of his eyes, in his scoff, "You just don't appreciate it"

"Muggles are little better than animals" He sneers, and as he speaks, she can see that he seems angrier now, in such a flash. Mood swings … unpredictable, she should be careful. But when is she ever?

"They are better than you" She shoots back, she can't help it. She's never one to back down from a cause of justice, and in a way she's compensating, for those few seconds, those awful few seconds where she'd felt herself almost drawn to Tom Riddle, to his capability, his power. She lashes out, not just for the good reasons, but to make up for her own weakness.

"Is that so?" He says with that nasty sneer again, and then he cancels the Fiendfyre with a wave of his wand, before he holds it aloft, at her, she clutches hers too. She'll fight him if she has to, she is well aware she'll lose; she's reckless sometimes, not stupid. "How so?"

"They're not cruel for one" She sneers, and she thinks then she is acting a bit like him, with her nasty expression.

"See here's the thing Hermione" He drawls her name as he takes a step closer, she holds her wand up threateningly but it doesn't make a difference, they both know that, he doesn't even lift his, and instead just invades her space, ignoring the wand in her hand, even as the point presses to his chest, he doesn't even care.

She shivers with fear, she doesn't mean to, its involuntary. He could kill her where she stands, but instead he just looks down at her, and he doesn't need to threaten, his presence does that for him.

"You seem to know an awful lot about me" He says, cocking his head slightly to the side then, and she feels a bit of a pit in her stomach.

He scares her, she's brave and clever enough to admit that. He is Tom Riddle after all, she'd be stupid not to be terrified.

"But how?" He asks, eyebrow raising deftly, and she thinks again – he learned that. Everything about him is learnt, disposing of his upbringing, his childhood, all to craft a new persona. He's not quite Lord Voldemort yet, but he has the makings of it.

She gulps down but doesn't offer an answer and he just smirks, and then lifts his wand, hers still presses to his chest, and he lifts his then and scrapes it over her temple. She goes to step back but his other hand is suddenly at her back, his arm around her waist, trapping her, preventing her from moving back.

Trapped.

His wand dances over her temple, and she shivers again, in a mixture of fear and the natural reaction to something scraping over her skin. He is gentle with it, he doesn't press or prod, but treats it almost like a feather, tickling over her face. She feels like she might collapse from fear, and she finds herself thinking of Harry.

Will I be joining you sooner…

"How should I make you tell me?" He asks, his eyes alight, revelling in the power he holds over her. That somehow, is what snaps her out of her fear.

She slashes her wand across his chest, but he blocks it with a flick of his wand. In a way he reminds her of Harry; he moves so fast. Her eyes widen and she manages to wriggle from his grip, take a step back, and then her wand is aloft, as is his. She knows her expression is one of anger, his is one of mocking, he doesn't see her as a worthy opponent.

But as they stare one another down, wands held high, she grimaces and prepares herself.

She'll have to show him just how worthy a rival she is.

She casts first.

sooo thoughts?

I've already started writing the next chapter and it is all kicking off! so hype, I'll aim to get that one up sooner rather than later.

do let me know your thoughts - are you enjoying? can you guess our big twist? do let me know!

also, follow/fav for updates, and feel free to check out my other (slightly less doom and gloom, but only slightly!) tomione fic: paradox, which I will be updating soon!

speak soon