-XXX-
Beatrice doesn't come to Borgin and Burke's very often. Less than he would like, really. It's clear the shop makes her quite uncomfortable. She inches around every steap as though terrified to touch anything for feat that it might murder her then and there. While it is true there are a number of deadly artifacts about the showroom, Beatrice acts like a single speck of dust from within the store could easily kill her.
Nothing, however, bothers her as much as the Regency-era music box. It sits on a velvet cushion near the front of the shop, up by the register. It's rather unimposing, really. Just a silver box with a curious crest on the front. He's looked it up before for Borgin, but couldn't find any match or family name. But that's not what is striking about the little box. What strikes him is Beatrice's great fear of it. She never gets closer than a few suspicious feet.
But it's simply a music box. One of the few uncursed, relatively unmagical items in the shop. Harmless.
Not, apparently, to Beatrice.
They generally share a "don't-ask-don't-tell" arrangement. He breaks this unspoken agreement one afternoon as he catches her eyeing the silver box with crossed arms. He's gone to the back room to fetch cloak, returning to find her glaring and murmuring angrily at an inanimate object. Pausing at the counter, Tom watches.
"What is it?"
Beatrice jumps, nearly knocking into the stuffed alligator. Once she has righted herself, she turns to him.
"Nothing. I simply don't like the box, that's all."
His brows rise. "Why? It's merely a box. Far less dangerous than most items in here," he says, gesturing to the show room.
"I – I don't know." She falters. "I just don't. It feels dark, Tom." Shivering, the witch rubs her arms.
Tom joins her on the other side of the counter, wrapping his arms around his witch and kissing her brow. She stiffens, as she always does. He knows he is taking a great liberty, kissing her in any manner. Feeling Beatrice freeze up always gives him a strange little wave of pleasure. "Come on. There's a pair of stools waiting for us at the Leaky Cauldron."
Beatrice leans away him with a sigh and allows herself to lead from the shop.
-XXX-
Neither remembers exactly how it happened. Granted, their relationship has always been unorthodox – a strange combination of hostile with interest with annoyance with attraction. Not what a person would normally call a grounds for romance. And yet….
Perhaps they both simply woke up one day knowing their connection had made the shift. Or maybe Tom made the first move and Beatrice simply followed. In their minds, it is quite fuzzy. It may have happened over the course of a month, or even the course of a day. Sometime around September, Hermione feels no hesitation in kissing him freely. By then it feels natural. Just like breathing.
It terrifies her.
-XXX-
Over a year after her arrival, she finds it.
She arrived in mid-January, and in late February, uncovers a peculiar text in one hidden corner of the library. Dusty, the tome have clearly has not been touched in neigh five years, if not longer. This does not surprise her – while the London Library of Magic is quite popular among the academics and bookworms such as herself, it is a very expansive collection. Those more obscure titles are often go overlooked in such a vast compilation.
The Spiral of Era: A Study of Time proves to be a very theoretical read. At times, even Hermoine Granger struggles with the dense text. But eventually, her reading yields – after working through a great deal of work in arithmancy and a dash of runes – a formula for a spell that should, if it works properly, will work as a porkey when placed upon an inanimate object.
Which would suggest, if the music box works the same way that her spell should, that some unknown person cast the spell upon the damn box to send someone – possibly herself – to 1946.
This lead her to a question Hermione has been ignoring for quite some time – who arranged for the music box to be spell to send her back to 1946, a relatively insignificant year in wizarding history, and most importantly, why?
In the library, alone at her usual third floor window-side armchair, Hermione squints at her notebook, the feathery end of her quill pen tapping against her nose, wrist stained with smudges of black ink. She won't really know if the spell will work until she actually does it – a terrifying reality. But, what is even more terrifying to realize is that she's reluctant to use the spell – reluctant to go.
Hermione closes her eyes, breathing deeply, absorbing this revelation. When did she suddenly feel comfortable enough to stay in the 1940s? "What a ridiculous notion," she scolds. "You belong in your own time."
"But maybe you don't want to be in your own time," a sneaky little voice in the back of her mind suggests.
After nearly an hour of silent deliberation, she decides that she will wait for Tom's scheduled departure to Eastern Europe in the coming spring. He should, theoretically, leave London after stealing the locket from Ms. Smith. After that, he'll be gone and she'll be alone again, free to leave.
"Staying is easier," she tells herself. "If I leave now, who knows what kind of impact I'll have upon history. Better to stay and let things run their course."
Unless by staying she's altering things horrendously. Hermione doesn't wish to think about it too deeply, which is quite a rarity for her. 1947 has certainly changed many characteristics of the witch.
"I need to get out…."
-XXX-
In all honesty, he didn't intend on reading her correspondence. That was never part of any scheme of his. But the opportunity was there, plump and ripe. He could not resist. Especially consider as of late their relationship has felt far too…equal for his taste. Tom Riddle does not conduct relationships in such a manner. He is the only one on equal footing. For everyone else, it must be a balancing act.
And, to be fair, she did send her owl out just before the break of a massive rainstorm. The poor creature was found outside of her kitchen window, tapping on the glass with a talon, soaked. How fortunate that Tom should have apparated in during his lunch hour to surprise Beatrice. She'd been called to the shop, judging by the look of the abandoned flat. So, as any good beau would do, he let her owl in.
The bird dove into the warmth like a snake upon a mouse. It unfurled damp feathers, leaving the furniture sparkling with raindrops. Then, after righting itself, the barn owl offers forth its foot. With a sigh, Tom removed the letter. It is only a little damp, but damn enough that the ink should run slightly. He blots at it with a dish towel, reading the address while doing so.
Professor Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Eastern Tower, Scotland.
For a moment, Tom stares at Beatrice's neat, well-spaced script, attempting to process the implications of this letter. Beatrice, theoretically, should not know Albus Dumbledore – she did not attempt Hogwarts. Why ever would she be writing to that doddering old fool?
He considers her mysterious research. Perhaps that is why she wrote. Or maybe she is asking for a position – Hogwarts rarely hires assistant professors, but she could be asking for consideration. She is quite proficient at transfiguration. But no. None of those explanations seem to suit. Something niggles darkly in the back of his mind.
Given this, he is practically forced to read the letter.
With a few murmured words he seamlessly dries the parchment, opens the seal, unfolds it to begin reading. What he finds is altogether quite unexpected.
"Dear Dumbledore," it begins. "I hope this letter finds you well. Our lunch last week was delightful and informative as ever…."
He skims the useless small talk until finding something of interest.
"I believe I have made a true break though on my issue of time. A very obscure text found at the Library was quite helpful in letting me work out a formula for a new spell. It took quite a bit of rune-study and arithmancy, but I believe I have found the answers I've sought for so long. The only trouble now is testing it out. I dare not send anyone besides myself (or perhaps a small mammal) to any point in time for fear of injury. Perhaps you can help me figure out a way to safely test the effects of this spell. I greatly look forward to hearing from you.
Tom is doing well and appears to be unaware of my research's purpose. I know you do not trust him - and neither do I, honestly - but he's been rather helpful in suggesting books and brainstorming. I do not think I would have considered a few of the runes without his aid. Please do not think me too foolish for not seeking distance. I do not know how I might ever leave him now if I were to remain here.
- Hermione"
If the recipient of the note surprised him, then he is positively floored by the note's contents. A new spell? For what? Time travel, the subject she's been so preoccupied with for this last year? To when does she wish to travel? And why? And runes – Beatrice swore almost on the day they met that she was useless with runes. This letter implies the opposite!
As for the name with which the letter was signed off, well, that is quite troubling. Has she lied to him? Or is she deceiving that old codger Dumbledore?
If she has succeeded in finding a way to travel backward or forward in time, what would that imply? Tom is struck with the thought that Beatrice – or Hermione, whatever she is calling herself – may be intending to leave, leap forwards or backwards to some other place, to another life.
He refolds and seals the letter. All evidence of his invasion must disappear before Beatrice returns. The rain has stopped and the owl is dry enough to give the delivery another go. He must coax the creature with a few treats before it will allow him to tie the letter back on its foot. After the bird sets off again, Tom stays by the window to watch the cream-colored bird skirt over the rooftops and chimney pipes, off into the misty, miserably grey afternoon sky, until it's just a spot in the distance.
-XXX-
I know this is moving very fast, but that's the pace I was hoping to set. Please message me with any questions. Reviews would also be great too…..