Happy Thursday to you! I am so glad to see reviews and follows. It gets me editing faster. As I have said this is mostly written and I just have to clean up some things. I write these on my phone and I do not have a beta. Please forgive me little errors and help to point out some things that could be fixed. I would appreciate it. Thank you for the response. I will do my best to update soon. I do not own this world. Love, Lark

Chapter 2 Objects of Beauty

Tom Riddle hated everything about Wool's Orphanage. He hated the smell of unwashed bodies and wet wool that pervaded the building no matter the weather. He hated that it was an ice box in winter and a furnace in the summer. He loathed the teachers who both feared and, as of late, looked at him with twisted desire in their eyes. There was one of the male teacher in particular who had been trying to maneuver him into dark corners for several years now. When he was of age and able to leave, that loathsome muggle would be the first to go. Tom despised the head mistress Mrs. Cole who always stank of cheap alcohol. All of this would have been almost too much to bear. The worst of it was the indignity of having to surrender his magic each summer to be cared for by these subpar muggles was insufferable.

His thoughts turned to the Riddle Manor house that should have been his birthright. As luck would have it, he had inherited it last summer. A smirk graced his lips as he thought of the shock of his father's face as he had cast the killing curse while his grandparents had watched. It had been a victory a long time coming, by his way of thinking. The fact that he had successfully pinned the murder on his vile uncle had only sweetened the affair for him. He shuddered at the memory of Morphin Gaunt's filth and insanity. Strange that he had that blood to thank for his powerful magical skill but his almost other wordly beauty had come from a common muggle. He didn't need to wonder why his mother had been drawn in.

Tom, knowing that he would need the money after graduation, had imperioused the old coots into signing their not insignificant fortune over to him in a legally binding will before striking them down. This document would conveniently be discovered after his graduation, when the shock and rumors of the murders had died down.

He tripped over a loose tile in the dank hallway and cursed. Wool's had gotten even worse with the war on. He had been shocked at the number of new faces upon his return. Indeed he had to wait until the dead of night to get some peace and to check on his hidden stashes that he kept all over the building. The first stash was a box of gold and silver bits and bobs that were often worn by the new orphans. A silver ring here, a small gold cross necklace there, all of these trinkets made their way to Tom eventually. He had decided early on to rid the children of the unfortunate relics of their past. It was a service he was doing them really. No one wanted to hold on the the sad memories of days past.

Over the years he had amassed quite a collection. He had used them for his expenses not covered by Hogwart's. It had been bad enough being a Slytherin of unknown blood. Tom knew that the proper clothing was the easiest road to blending in with the right sort. And he very much wanted to blend in with the right sort. These also gave him the spending money needed to accompany the Purebloods on their jaunts to Hogsmeade and the like. It irked him that those brought up in great wealth rarely thought to pay for things. More often than not it was he who covered the tab at the Three Broomsticks.

He shrugged off his irritation. This was the long game he was playing. When Tom had first entered Hogwart's he had known immediately that he was smarter yet more impoverished than anyone else in Slytherin house. With intelligence he would easily be able to gain more wealth but wealth alone was too easy a goal. No, Tom wanted power. He desired to be the one that all of the young scions flocked to for leadership. He desired others to be at his fear and mercy. Never again would it be him depending on the charity and affection of others. The Slytherins had been cruel to him at first, dwarfing his not inconsiderable experience at the orphanage.

He smiled a secret smile. Over the years he had made himself indispensable to these families. Illicit potions made their way into greedy hands when needed. It was he who knew the darkest curses and possessed the strongest magic. Tom was the most lively and intriguing at parties, the best at keeping confidences and was able to charm even the most chaste Purebloods. Not that he would ever touch one of the pure ladies of Slytherin house. He did not want that kind of entanglement yet. None of the Pureblood princesses that he encountered were worthy to rule as his queen. Tom preferred his own company at any rate. His rare good looks gave him ample opportunity to satiate his baser instincts with the muggleborns and muggles who ran across his path. When Tom had revealed his bloodlines at last by opening the Chamber of Secrets to the awed group of Slytherins his status had elevated and they had fallen to his feet.

The death of Myrtle Warren had been unfortunate. It had turned out to be a golden opportunity. Pity that he had used a muggle diary to complete the spell. In the future he vowed to only use objects of great value, beauty and powerful magic to house the parts of his soul.

Tom turned down the hallway that he knew led to the library. He had one last place to check. There was not a doubt that all would be as he left it. He knew his wards to be strong and true. The only light in the library was a pale glimpse of the moon from the single window that spanned one wall. Silently, Tom glided to the back corner shelf that he had placed the book on under his wards. His footsteps slowed as he drew up and saw the gaping hole left by the tome. Fear gripped him. It was gone. Someone had broken through his wards and stolen two parts of his soul. Cursing his foolishness at hiding the items together he sought the parts of him that were separate yet still a part of his being.

Shoulders dropping in relief he felt them safe and whole. Unfortunately he was unable to know where they were located. He slumped into a chair. Anger took him then. He wanted to rage and tear the room apart. More than that he wanted to cast curse upon curse until Wool's was no more than a hole in the ground. He did neither of those things as he seethed in the dark. His mind whirred with possibilities.

As far as he knew he was the only wizard stuck in this Merlin forsaken pit. The witch or wizard who had broken his wards had to have a certain amount of skill so that canceled out any of the younger children. All of the staff had remained the same even as the numbers of orphans grew. Tom was certain that none of them had a magical bone in their bodies. There had been quite an influx of new faces since he had last been here. His long fingers clenched the worn arms of the chair. Tomorrow he would find the culprit and force them to return his things. And then he would make them pay.

He sat roiling with rage and imagined punishments until the sky was pink with the new day. If anyone had seen him they would have seen a boy as beautiful as any portrait in a gallery with a serene face and perfect posture. The soft light bathed his face in its glow. No one would have guessed the murderous thoughts running rampant through his head. Certainly, no one would have suspected that he was, in fact, already a murderer several times over.

...

Hermione woke the next day with a renewed sense of self. For the past six months she had been in a stupor. The shock of losing her parents had her sleepwalking though the days. After the restorative visit to the park she was ready to honor their memories by living a life that would make them proud of her.

Though breakfast was no more than a watery porridge she ate the lot of it. For the first time since arriving she felt her hunger keenly. Sadly, she thought of the Sunday roasts with her parents then shook herself. It wouldn't do to always be longing for a life that was no longer hers. As she stood and picked up the chipped ceramic bowl that had held her breakfast her gaze lighted on the older boy she had noticed the night before. Tom was his name, she recalled.

Stalking among the tables he glared intently at the groups of orphans. He swung his eyes left and right. Briefly they lit on Hermione and she felt an odd flutter in her stomach at being the object of his scrutiny. He seemed to deem her worthy of little note and his attention flicked away again. Shrugging she took her bowl to be cleaned and made her way out to the back gardens.

...

The June sun was beating down unbearably. Hermione and Lulu had been tasked with organizing the lumber pile. The job was much better suited to older boys, however, the boys had taken to leaving the orphanage early each morning . They would either look for work or roam the streets in rowdy gangs hoping to cause trouble. At any rate, Hermione and Lulu were some of the oldest children who had stayed behind.

Together they wrestled the smaller boards into neat piles. As the day grew warmer they shed their sweaters and continued to work. They had been backing up with an especially long board when the tip on Lulu's side had knocked a board off of the top of an especially haphazard pile. With a sickening thud it struck the back of her head.

Lulu fell to the ground at once, her body still. Hermione rushed to her side. Utilizing the healing training that her mother had gifted her with she carefully moved the board off the top of her friend. She knew how serious head wounds could be. A pool of blood was forming on the ground. Hermione's heart stopped. She felt her throat for a pulse and was relieved to feel its faint beating.

Tentatively she placed a hand on the other girl's head. Closing her eyes she quested with her magic to see what the issue was. With ease she found the fissure on Lulu's skull. Relief gusted from her lungs. This was something she could fix. She incanted the spell for bone mending under her breath. After a moment Lulu's eyes sparked open. "A board hit you." Hermione told her. We've got to get you to the nurse. She had been careful not to close the wound to explain the blood.

As it was a head wound, the blood was flowing freely. Placing pressure on it, Hermione looked about desperately for help. Unfortunately, the lumber pile was on the side of the orphanage and had been in such disarray that it was generally avoided. Startled her eyes landed on Tom who was leaning against the building and studying her. How long had he been there and why had he not offered to assist? Huffing Hermione spoke to him. "Please run and get help. I'm afraid she'll bleed out if I leave her.

Tom looked at her with a calculating expression for several moments. Finally, he nodded and withdrew. Soon enough the nurse accompanied by a few orphans came bustling around the corner. Shooing the children, who had only come for the chance to see the injury for themselves the nurse knelt by Lulu's side.

"What's your name then?" The nurse asked as she prodded and poked at the wound.

"Her...er...Mia, Ma'am." She said politely. No one at the orphanage could be fussed to remember her full name so she'd shortened it. She was fairly certain the Mrs. Cole hadn't even bothered with intake papers, overwhelmed as she was by the new orphans.

"You did the right thing girl. She'd have been lost for sure if not for your fast thinking." She looked about her. "You there! Riddle! Come help me move her."

Riddle who had reappeared without her notice, nodded and walked over. When he got to Hermione his eyes glared down at her and the darkness she saw there had her stepping back in fear. Seeing this he suddenly smiled, displaying even white teeth. "Lucky indeed that you were here to help."

Reluctantly, she smiled back up at the older boy. His smile dazzled her and she could almost convince herself that she had imagined the threat in his gaze.

...

A few days after the incident with Lulu, Hermione sat in the library during the free time. She'd found a book on Africa and was rapidly making her way through it. A shadow fell across her page, blocking the light. Annoyed, her head shot up and found Tom Riddle standing in front of her. "Oh! Hello." Her voice sounded small and girlish.

"Hi there Mia." He smiled down at her. "Just thought I seek out the heroin of the day." He flattered.

"Oh, it was nothing." She said, even as her cheeks flushed with pleasure.

"Was it nothing though?" And she imagined she heard a note of challenge in his voice before he moved smoothly on. "I see you like to read. Do you come into the library often?"

"Well, yes, I love to read and yes, it's one of the only quiet places." Her hands began to sweat but she could not locate the source of her discomfort.

"Ah, on that we can agree." Tom slid into a chair opposite her and regarded her with his dark blue eyes. Up close she could see the dark fringe of lashes that surrounded them. "You can't be more that nine or ten. How did you know what to do?"

"I'm eleven actually." A hint of indignation colored her voice. "And my parents are...were, pharmacists. My mum taught me a lot about healing."

"As old as all that? When's your birthday if I may ask?" He leaned in to hear her answer.

"September, I'm always the oldest and shortest in my class." She huffed.

Tom laughed and it was a deep, rich sound. "Poor Mia." He said sweetly. He looked into her face a moment more and then as if making a decision he stood up. "Come with me. I know a place with a book shop like you've never seen. Would you like that? I'll even buy you one."

"Why would you do that?" She asked suspiciously. None of the children had tuppence to spare. What was he on about?

Tom leaned in conspiratorially. "I get a stipend from my school and I didn't spend it all. I don't want to go to the shop alone. Is it such a sin to want to reward someone who saved their friend's life? There's a war on, let me do something to brighten your day. I dare say we all need a little more of that in our lives." His beautiful eyes pleaded with her and he seemed so sincere that she found herself capitulating.

"All right then." She stood up and followed him out the door. The lure of a new book too precious for her to pass up.

...

Tom set a brisk pace and her much shorter legs struggled to keep up. He led them through neighborhoods that had been reduced to smoking rubble and busy markets bursting with fruits and breads that her mouth watered for. When they reached Charing Cross Road Tom halted and turned to her.

"Tell me Mia, what do you see there?" He gestured to a run down pub in front of them.

"The Leaky Cauldron?" She read. "I thought we were going to a book shop?"

Tom eyes gleamed. "So, you can see it then. This is interesting. The book shop is through here. Come on then." He clapped a hand on her shoulder and steered her through the smokey bar. Hermione tried not to gape. They occupants of the room were dressed in flowing robes of every color. One man in the corner was so enormous that his head almost touched the ceiling. In one corner a man was smoking from a pipe. When he exhaled the smoke into the room the wisps showed in shades of orange and blue. Tom led them through the back door. It was a fairly shallow area that ended with a brick wall. When they reached the back he withdrew his wand and tapped a brick. The wall opened up to display a bustling street beyond.

Hermione had been absolutely shocked to see a wand in Tom's hand but, recalling her parent's constant warning she hid her feelings. As the wall opened she couldn't help but dropping her jaw as she surveyed the witches and wizards passing by.

"This is Diagon Alley. Have you never been?" Tom inquired.

"I never knew there were more of us." Her eyes were shining. Why had her parents kept her from this? She had always suspected that there was more but she'd no idea it was something on this scale.

"Then you do know magic?" Tom's voice was tight with anger but she didn't notice it.

"I know some." She admitted shyly.

Tom nodded and began to walk down the alley. The passed a storefront with windows piled high with books.

"Is that the place? Flourish and Blott's?" Hermione asked when Tom made to walk by.

"Oh no, they're good for some things but I know a much better place. The books where we are going are rare and not something you can find just anywhere." A group of teenaged wizards waved to him and called him by name but Tom glared and shook his head, they faded back into the crowd.

He turned down a street that proclaimed itself to be Knock Turn Alley. The light seemed to dim. The cobble stones which had seemed so tidy and well kept only a block earlier were caked in dirt. Vendors squatted at the curbs selling things that looked suspiciously like human body parts. Hermione shivered. "Tom? I don't like it here." He ignored here and kept walking. "Tom! I'm going back."

Swiftly her grabbed her around the waist and dragged her into a partially obscured alleyway. She kicked out and flailed her arms to no avail. Tom pointed his wand at her and yelled "Silencio! Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione went silent and still in his arms. "Right." He propped her up against the wall and stared into her terrified eyes. "And just in case you survive this, he muttered a spell that she could not hear. You won't be able to name me should anyone ask. And now, Legillimens." He incanted and dove into her mind only to find it perfectly smooth and occluded. Someone had taught the little witch well it seemed.

"Very impressive." He told her. "I know wizards twice your age who cannot occlude so well. I suppose I'll have to get the information I seek from you in other ways. He paced the alley way for a few moments. Spying a rat scurrying it's way to the rubbish bins he had a thought. Looking deep into her eyes he smirked and turned to the rat "Avada Kedevra!" He shouted and the rodent fell dead in a burst of green.

He looked back to the girl whose eyes showed horror and knowledge of what he had just done. "So, you know what that spell is. And now you see how little it bothers me to use it. Now, girl, I will ask you a series of questions and you will blink once for yes and twice for no. Do you understand?" Hermione blinked once.

Tom began pacing again. "Did you find a book in the library hidden under my protective wards?" One blink. "Was it you who broke through them?" Another blink. Tom swore under his breath. "How is it that an ugly, little slip of a girl not even school age managed to break through." He looked her up and down. "You look like a regular muggle." He sneered then shook himself. "Do you know where those items are now?" Another blink. "Will you take me to them if I release you?"

Hermione's heart was racing in her chest. A wild fluttering thing that feared this boy in front of her. She would give anything to be free of his monstrous grasp. Another more sensible part of her knew that the evil that had emanated from those objects were a part of this boy. To give him these things would be to let a destructive force loose. She would not do parents had always instilled in her that she must protect the innocent. Hermione blinked twice knowing what it could cost her. She reasoned that he was probably planning to kill her anyway. She wanted to go bravely and by doing the right thing.

"I was hoping to avoid this." Tom told her with mock sorrow. "You will be begging to give me what is rightfully mine by the end of this. Crucio!"

Hermione's body was still unable to move. Pain burst through her. Every fiber of her being was screaming silently. Her parents had been able to perform wandless and nonverbal spells. A skill she had not quite mastered. She tried it now with all her strength. "Finite Incantatem!" She cast silently, calling on the core of her magic. At length the body bind lessened and then she was screaming.

Tom stopped, surprised. Then he advanced on her. "Protego!" She yelled through her tears just as the second wave of curses raced her way.

"Stupefy!" A female voice boomed out. A red streak of light whizzed by Tom's shoulder, missing him by a hair's breadth. His eyes widened and Hermione saw fear in his eyes at being discovered. Without turning around to see who was there Tom whirled on the spot and disappeared with a pop.

Hermione scrambled back against the slimy brick wall, her breath coming out in shallow pants.

The witch who stood in front of her was far past plump and dressed in rich robes of dove grey. She wore a fussy hat with a fascinator on her tidy grey blue eyes were lined by a network of wrinkles. "My child! Are you alright?" She walked carefully up to Hermione who shrank away from her. She took in her ragged uniform from the orphanage. "Are you a muggle then? You can't be with that shield you put up?" She tutted as she looked Hermione up and down. "You're only a child. It's rare to have so much power with one so young. And wandless to boot."

Hermione continued to catch her breath as the woman studied her. Suddenly, she reached a manicured hand to her. "Listen here my girl, I've no idea how you came to be here but I wouldn't feel right leaving you like this. Come with me. I'll give you a potion for your pain and a meal to fill your belly if you'll tell me your story."

Hermione hesitated. It was her foolish trust in a stranger that had gotten her into this predicament. Seeming to understand this the witch leaned over to look in her eyes. "I swear on my magic that no harm will come to you."

Hermione knew that it was a serious vow for a witch to make. She took the proffered hand with shaking fingers. "Thank you." She said when she was standing at last. "For coming to my aid."

"What? Do you think I'd stand by and watch an innocent girl tortured? Not me!" She smiled again and held out her hand to shake. "I'm Hepzibah Smith. It's a pleasure to meet you.

"Hermione Granger." She told her and shook the older woman's hand firmly.

"Granger?" Well, well, it seems you do have a story to tell my girl. You do indeed."