CHAPTER 6- Over Butterbeer

{Thank you all for the great reviews!}

Hermione pushed her frizzy hair out of her face and ladled the violently boiling potion into a crystal vile. It had taken a week to get it perfect but she had done it. Now, the difficult part was somehow slipping the Hate Potion into Tom's drink. Fortunately, once dissolved in liquid the scarlet potion was colorless and tasteless, virtually undetectable. The past week had been tolerable at best. Most nights she and Tom studied silently at opposite ends of the common room, when she wasn't spending time with Ella and Jane. She would sometimes catch him stared at her, a confused expression on his face. At those times, she would think about the cauldron of potion simmering down in the potions classrooms and hope she was right about Tom. If she could just dissolve the Amortentia's influence on him, Tom could be a never turn into a monster. At least, that's what she keeps telling herself.

Hermione walked out of the dungeons contemplating possible methods of sneaking the potion into Tom when she heard an argument inside one of unused classrooms. She shuffled closer to the door.

"He missed the last two meetings! We have to do something!" a harsh voice snapped.

"No! We've gotten too far to change our leader, Dumbledore is suspicious already! It's all set into place! The Knights are ready to stand!"

"Well, he better shape up soon or he'll be see what happens when he disobeys his superiors. The mudblood!"

Hermione heard footsteps stalking towards the door and ducked into a niche in the wall. The pair walked down the hall in the opposite direction continuing their conversation in hushed tones.

Hermione's ears were still ringing with what she just heard. What was that all about? It sounded like they were talking about the Knights of Walpurgis, Tom's future Death Eaters, but it just doesn't make sense. Why would he miss a meeting of people he organized? And why are they calling their leader a mudblood? Hermione shook her head. The whole conversation seemed to contradict everything Hermione knew about the Knights.

Hermione made her way toward the Head Common room and found herself in front of the portrait guarding the entrance.

"Verona," she said to the ballerina.

Tom was sitting by the large bay windows, his handsome silhouetted against the by the orange and pink hues of the sunset, a pile of books stacked in front of him. "Oh, Merlin," she mentally sighed. Ever since Hogsmeade, something had changed, at least for Hermione. Something about Tom just made her weak at the knees every time she saw him. This infatuation (Hermione refused to call it anything else) made her frustrated to no end. Why did Lord Voldemort of all people have to get under her skin like he did? Hermione had never been one to swoon over guys. Her brief relationship with Viktor had been sweet but they never really clicked. It had been an awkward romance. But this was new territory and it frightened her.

She walked toward the stair leading to her dorm, battling with herself. Maybe, he won't notice me? We can only hope.

"Evans"

"Yes?" Hermione asked

"Where've you been?" He didn't look up and instead focused on his work.

"Ah, really nowhere. Just wandering around, needed to think. Stopped by the library," she said vaguely.

"Really?" he replied benignly, still focused on the parchment in front of him.

"Yes, really. Now, I really must go. It was a lovely chat." Hermione really wanted to get out of here.

She walked up the stairs but stopped at Tom's next sentence.

"You wouldn't fancy a butterbeer, would you?" Slowly she turned around, Tom's head still bent over the paper.

"Ah, sure" She was suspicious. Tom hardly ever initiated conversation, but she wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to slip the Hate Potion into his drink. She might never get a another change.

Hermione slowly descended the stairs and came to rest in front of Tom. She found herself staring at the back of his head while he finished his last sentence in his elegant script. He finished with a flourish and stood up to face her.

"Where would we find butterbeer in Hogwarts, may I ask?" Hermione raised one eyebrow. She really needed to stop obsessing over Tom , she was acting more like him by the day.

"All in good time, Evans" echoing her words when she brought him to Hogsmeade. Hermione could see the amusement twinkling in his eyes.

They walked down towards the Hufflepuff common room and stopped in front of a large painting of a bowl of fruit. Tom reached out and tickled the pear, turning it into a doorknob.

Upon entering the spacious room, hundreds of house elves scrambled up to them.

"What would you likes, Mr. Riddle?" A small button nosed elf squeaked.

"Two butterbeers, please," he said and the elf scurried off to fulfill their order. Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise. Voldemort is being polite to a house elf? 1943 was really throwing Hermione for a loop. Tom Riddle was nothing like she expected him to be. To be honest, she expected an maniacal seventeen year old who strutted around coating the school with evil.

Tom led her over to a small table in front of the fireplace and sat down. As Hermione settled into the worn wooden chair, Tom gazed at her with his familiar confused expression that sent shivers down her spine.

The tiny house elf returned and deposited their butterbeers.

"Thank you," Hermione said.

"Why are you so different?" Tom suddenly asked.

"Different?"

"Yes, different. You don't act like other girls." He fixed her with another intense stare. Hermione played for time and took a gulp of her butterbeer, contemplating her answer.

"Maybe, it because I've seen and experienced things they haven't," Hermione thought about her time hunting Horcruxes, the final battle, her friends dying. A crease formed between Tom's eyebrows.

"What do you mean?"

She sighed. "I've seen things that many of these girls never will, things that will be with me forever. I guess things like that change a person forever." She didn't really want to get into this; it was painful to think about, but Hermione didn't think Tom would let it go so easily.

"I've heard you at night. Are your dreams about those things?" He asked softly.

She cringed. Even thought she knew Tom was different, she didn't like the thought of him seeing her at her weakest.

"Yes," she replied trying not to cry. She clenched her jaw, and decided it was time to slip in the potion. Hermione didn't want to let this conversation go any further. She pulled her wand into her hand under the table and pointed it at a pot rack hanging from the ceiling. "Reducto" Hermione thought, calling on her non-verbal magic. The metal pots fell to the ground with a loud bang. In the few seconds when Tom turned his head to watch the disturbance, Hermione poured a few drops into his glass. When he turned back, Hermione was looking at the commotion where the house elves were rushing to clear up the mess, a concerned expression on her face.

She took a sip of her butterbeer. To her satisfaction, Tom did the same. Hermione inwardly celebrated, it only took one sip to take effect. In a few hours, the Hate Potion would be fighting off the effects of Amortentia. Tom would be well on his way to learning how to love. The only misgiving Hermione had about her plan was the fact that it would be painful. As time goes on the pain would build each time Tom had a emotion similar to love. A slight prick of guilt tinged in the back of her mind. It will all be worth it, she told herself.

Hermione rose to walk back toward the Head Common room.

"Well, I still have homework to do. It was nice. Thank you, Tom," Hermione said. When Hermione left, Tom was still sitting by the fire drinking the rest of his butterbeer. Please, let this work.

{Always open for feedback and reviews. I'll probably be updating every few days.}