A/N: WOW! It's been a while. February turned out to be even MORE hectic than first envisioned and I ended up on stage 3 times with my favourite singer. It's been a bit of a WTF time if I'm honest. I kind of lost my way with this a little bit, and didn't have much inclination to write it, but I might be getting back into it now...I don't really know. Studying writing means that writing becomes a bit more of a job, than a pleasure, which probably isn't a great thing, but there we are, I can't really complain. Hope you like this chapter!
Tempora Abducto.
by Flaignhan.
Hermione watched as Arcturus skulked around the library, narrowing his eyes at Tom as he passed his table.
Tom had his head bowed over a book, and didn't even notice the overt hostility. At least, he appeared not to. Hermione wouldn't have been surprised if he was completely aware of Arcturus' every movement, every facial expression and, possibly, every thought.
Hermione picked up her books and her homework, crossing the library rapidly, her bag banging against her thigh as she walked. She set her books down and sat in the seat opposite him. He looked up, mildly curious.
"Good evening," he said politely.
"Why doesn't Arcturus like you?"
Tom tutted in a patronising way. "You really should learn some manners, Hermione."
"I haven't got time for manners, particularly not when I'm talking to you, just tell me," Hermione said briskly.
Tom laughed. "On the contrary, Hermione, you've got all the time in the world. You may want to take a few lessons in persuasion. I could teach you many things, you only have to ask."
Hermione sighed. "What's the point in me dancing around the issue? If I was trying to be...persuasive, you'd see right through it anyway because you've learned all the tricks of the trade."
"Are you saying I'm persuasive?" Tom asked, his lips curving into a smirk.
"You've certainly got most of the school thinking you're a poor orphan boy who has made a name for himself by his intelligence and dedication to his studies. Does Arcturus know what you are?"
Tom frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Well," Hermione said, wondering whether she ought to say what was on her mind. She looked around and saw plenty of people. He wouldn't do anything in front of an audience, she knew him well enough to be sure of that. "There are two sides to who you are, one he might look down on, and one he might be jealous of."
Tom's face twitched, and Hermione knew he had realised immediately what she was getting at.
"I'm not going to tell anyone," she said, "it doesn't even matter to me. I just want to know why he hates you when all the other boys in your house worship you."
Tom's sour look dissolved into a smirk. "I like the word 'worship'," he told her. "Very nice..."
"Tom, you're getting off the point," Hermione told him, her brown eyes fixing his grey ones with a firm stare.
"Arcturus believes, as his elder brother Leopold did, and possibly still does, I wouldn't know, I haven't seen him for two years. Anyway, he believes that as a..." he trailed off, apparently not wanting to say the words 'half blood' where there was a risk of others hearing him. "Well, he thinks I'm not worthy enough to have the...position that I do, amongst our house mates, and indeed, most of the school."
"So he's jealous and prejudiced?" Hermione asked.
"Yes," Tom said. "He's most envious of my achievements. His father finds it utterly disgraceful that...someone like myself achieves higher grades than either of the boys from the noble and most ancient house of Black."
"And Malfoy, he's with you?"
"Yes, why?" Tom raised an eyebrow.
"Just curious. Does he know that you're...?" Hermione thought it best to follow his lead and not say it out loud.
"He does, but Malfoy is much less stubborn and much less intelligent than Arcturus, oh Arcturus is intelligent, I'll give him that," Tom cut Hermione off before she had the chance to speak. "Malfoy wants reflected glory, and he has no shame. He's willing to do many things in order to get it as well, which is most useful."
"Did Arcturus know that you were the one who..."
"Who what?"
"Did anyone know? Any of your...I would say friends but you don't really count them as such, do you?"
Tom's face was blank. "You'll have to be clearer."
Hermione sighed and picked up her quill, scrawling two words on one of the note pages at the back of her homework diary.
The Chamber.
She slid it across the desk to him and she saw his jaw set as soon as he read the words. He pointed his wand towards them and they vanished from the page.
"So you did know what I got up to in fifth year," he murmured. "Well well, aren't you a clever girl?"
"Do they know it was you?"
"No."
"So they don't know who you're descended from?" Hermione asked in a hushed voice.
"Of course not," he whispered sharply. "If I were to tell anybody I can guarantee that the news would reach Dippet's ears within the hour. And if you tell anybody," his expression said everything that needed to get his message across, though he finished his sentence anyway. "There will be consequences."
"I'm not going to tell anyone," Hermione told him. "I can't."
"Good," Tom said, closing his book. "Whilst the future is set in stone, yours is not."
"I thought you said you wouldn't hurt me," Hermione said, her voice empty of emotion as she stared at him, her brown eyes a little less bright than usual.
"I said I don't want to hurt you, and that still stands. Should you consider telling anybody anything that could jeopardise my plans...I'm a Slytherin, I put myself first."
"I would expect nothing else," Hermione said.
"Good," Tom replied, standing up. "That being said, I think we should attend the Slug Club Christmas party together."
Hermione was pulled from her apathetic state of mind with an uncomfortable yank. "What?"
"The Slug Club, I take it you received your invitation."
"Yes but I wasn't planning on going," Hermione said, obviously.
"I'd recommend it. There will be several of Slughorn's contacts there and –"
"I know how the Christmas party goes, thank you," she said pointedly. "And with that knowledge, I don't really want to go again." She grimaced as she thought of Cormac, and tried to put the image out of her head.
Tom laughed. "I think it would be in your interest, and we are expected to go in pairs. Unless you've got your eye on one of the brainless dolts in Gryffindor, of course..."
"I'll owl Slughorn on the night and send my apologies. Perhaps I'll have a cold..."
Tom shook his head and left her in the library, sitting alone.
"Tom! Hermione! Good to see you!" Slughorn was wearing a tight fitting black suit, complete with bow tie and cummerbund. Both of these accessories were so constricting that Hermione was concerned that Slughorn might turn into a string of sausages at any minute.
"And you, Professor," Tom said inclining his head. "I trust you are well?"
"Oh I'm just fine, m'boy, just fine. Are you two an item then? Two brightest students in the school, it's a smart match! Pardon the pun, of course."
Tom smiled, though the colour drained from Hermione's face.
"No sir, we're not an item. Just here as friends," Tom glanced over to Hermione, his teeth showing through his smile. "Though I daresay I could do a lot worse than Miss Mercer."
"That you could, Tom, that you could," Slughorn agreed. "Help yourselves to Butterbeers, I've got some people I'd like the two of you to meet. Barnabas Loxley, he's head of the Department for International Magical Co-operation, he'd be able to set you up with some good opportunities Tom, I've told him all about you, he seems very interested."
Tom smiled, feigning interest.
"Hermione, have you thought about a career path?"
"No sir, I'm afraid I haven't really given it much thought," Hermione said apologetically. She had considered it before, but all career choices had been put on hold by the war, and now she wasn't sure what she wanted to do. She still hadn't settled into her new life, so thinking about what job she'd like after she left school had barely crossed her mind.
"You ought to start giving it some thought, m'girl," Slughorn said imperiously. "I'll introduce you to everybody tonight and perhaps that will give you a helping hand. You're a very talented Potion maker, perhaps a career in Healing? Rufus Prewett, the tall red headed one, you see him?"
Hermione couldn't miss him – he was at least a foot taller than all the other guests at the party with bright ginger hair to top it off. She was painfully reminded of Ron. Of all the Weasleys, for that matter.
"He's an old student of mine, one of the top Healers at St Mungo's! Just been over to America to give a talk to the Grand Institute of Healers. Very high up."
"Oh right," Hermione said awkwardly, glancing at Tom pointedly.
She would never admit it aloud, but she could have kissed him when he smirked knowingly and sprung into action.
"Sir, is that Alexa Deetrix?" he asked, his voice bursting with false astonishment.
"Yes it is, Tom! Have you read her essay?" Slughorn dumped his empty brandy glass on a passing tray, his round cheeks slightly red from the heat and the alcohol.
"I have sir, I found it utterly fascinating."
Slughorn called over the woman in question, who, Tom muttered to Hermione out the side of his mouth, was the author of an in depth study about all twelve uses of dragon's blood. She approached, her face lighting up slightly when she noticed Tom.
"Alexa my dear, this is Tom Riddle, our Head Boy, brilliant student, he tells me he found your paper fascinating, and this is Hermione Mercer, joined the school this year, but absolutely brilliant! You're talking to the two star students!"
Alexa smiled, though mostly at Tom. She was tall, taller than Hermione at least, with dark hair pulled back into a high ponytail. It looked as though she had given herself a temporary face lift with the severe style, and her bright blue eyes held none of the mischievous twinkle that Dumbledore's did.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," she said. She had a hard voice, though she tried to cover it with a small amount of girlishness, and a flash of a smile.
"Likewise," Tom replied pleasantly. "You were one of the Professor's students?"
"Oh, a long time ago now," she said, offering up another smile. "I haven't set foot inside this castle for...fifteen years?"
"Fifteen years? Merlin's beard! How quickly the time flies!" Slughorn exclaimed, one hand resting on his belly while another reached out for a glass of brandy, offered silently by one of the many waiters.
"It does indeed," Alexa said. "It feels like it hasn't been any time at all since I was here myself, as a student. You must think me an old woman."
"Nonsense!" Tom said with a smile. "You don't look a day older than twenty five."
"You are a charmer, aren't you?" Alexa said, touching him on the arm gently.
"Oh Tom certainly knows what to say, and when," Slughorn chortled.
"Professor!" Tom said, pretending to be shocked. "You make it sound like I'm a liar!"
"Oh I never said that, m'boy. Don't take it like that. You just have a talent for winning people over, that's all I was saying," he winked at him, his moustache bristling.
"Of course, Professor," he smiled again, Alexa's eyes fixing on his handsome features. Tom slipped his arm around Hermione's waist, pulling her close to him. She would have fought it, though thought it unwise to make a scene in front of Slughorn, who raised one bushy eyebrow at the action. Furthermore, he had saved her from many awkward conversations by pretending to be interested in the sharp look woman in front of them, who was now eyeing him up like a piece of meat. Hermione supposed the least she could do was to accept his arm without complaint, letting him make his statement quite clearly.
Alexa spoke only to Tom after she noticed Hermione's closeness to him, and Hermione couldn't honestly bring herself to say that she was upset by the turnout.
"Merlin, I thought we'd never get out of there," Hermione sighed, pulling clips out of her hair as she walked, allowing it to fall down over her shoulders.
"It will be worthwhile in the end, especially if you need a temporary job while you decide what you really want to do. Are you going to take that job that Loxley offered?"
Hermione shrugged, shaking her hair out with her fingertips. "Maybe. There are all sorts of things in the Ministry, I'll probably find something suitable in the end."
"Yes, most likely. Are you keen on a life of dullardry and beaurocracy?"
"No, I'd much rather be fighting dragons and breaking into Gringotts every other week..."
Tom snorted. "As if you could ever break into Gringotts."
She almost smiled, then frowned when his hand came to rest on the small of her back. "What are you – "
Tom pushed her against the wall, his mouth covering her own as he kissed her. Both of her wrists were held tightly above her head, and it took a moment for Hermione to pull them out of his grip and push him away.
"Have you lost your mind?" she managed to shriek, yet remain quiet at the same time.
"No, actually," Tom replied casually.
"What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing?" she demanded in the same hysterical whisper. She was lit only by the moonlight, pouring in through the leaded windows, casting a blue glow over her skin.
"I would have thought it were rather obvious," he said.
Hermione was about to respond when he held a hand up, silencing her. There was an uneven set of footsteps resonating from the staircase leading to their corridor. If Pringle caught them out of bed, despite Tom's Head Boy status and their permission to be out late after Slughorn's party, he would cause a great deal of fuss before he allowed them to return to their houses. Hermione hadn't been in this time for very long, but she wouldn't put it past him to haul them all over the castle to speak with several sleepy, pyjama clad teachers before he was satisfied that there was no rule breaking in occurrence.
Tom pointed his wand at the nearest door, and there was a click as it unlocked. He pulled Hermione inside quickly, locking the door again with a complicated wand movement that Hermione knew could not be counteracted with a simple 'alohomora'.
"How dare – "
"Oh be quiet!" Tom hissed, bent low with his ear pressed against the door. After a minute or so he seemed satisfied, and straightened, turning to face Hermione.
"Why did you do that?"
"I wanted to."
"You don't even like me."
Tom raised an eyebrow. "What gave you that idea?"
"You don't like anybody."
Tom chuckled loudly, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "You've got me there, I'll admit."
"So why did you do it?"
"I told you, because I wanted to. I don't have to like you to want to kiss you. You intrigue me, that's all. I like a good puzzle. I like solving them even more."
"By which you mean you think I'm a foolish little girl who'll fall head over heels for you because you're handsome and intelligent and witty and then I'll tell you every detail about the future because you'll promise not to tell anybody?" Hermione's hand was on her hip, her eyebrows drawn together in a stubborn frown, lips pressed together.
"You think I'm handsome?" Tom smirked.
"We're getting off the issue," Hermione snapped.
"No, we're not really, because intelligent and witty, well, they're facts, solid and concrete, undeniable. Handsome...that's a bit more subjective."
"Actually," Hermione said, "I think you'll find that humans with symmetrical facial features are, on the whole, judged to be much better looking than those with asymmetrical features. It's just the way the brain works, so don't feel too special, will you?"
"It's how your brain works," Tom said, taking a step towards her. "And that's all that really matters, isn't it?"
"Not really," Hermione said with a shrug.
"Why?"
"You're not my type."
Tom snorted. "And what is your type?"
"Well I suppose I like men who are intelligent, and witty, and you know, have a pretty clean slate when it comes to murder."
Tom's jaw dropped slightly but he recovered quickly.
"Door?" Hermione's eyebrow was raised expectantly.
He waved his wand, there was a quiet click, and Hermione left.