A/N: Huge thank you to lanamarymack and Angela 007 for alpha/beta reading this chapter! Please let me know what you think of this one!
Tom had really high hopes that Abraxas would be able to deliver on his promise to find information out about the mysterious Ministry witch called Hermione Granger, but once again, his friend had disappointed him.
Though, he shouldn't really be surprised. It was clear from the outset that Abraxas (and Alfie for that matter) seemed disturbed by his level of interest in the witch. Salazar! Sometimes the Malfoy heir had such a singular focus towards his goals, but couldn't allow any deviation from Abraxas's plans.
Tom was not stupid by any stretch of the imagination. He knew that Abraxas had plans for him. It was flattering, really, that the other wizard thought so highly of him that he wanted nothing more than to put Tom into the highest position of power. Abraxas believed that Tom was the only person who could really bring about promoting his aims to the rest of the wizarding world. A less honest wizard with Abraxas's connections might try to take that role for himself. But not Abraxas. He knew how to play to his own strengths.
Tom happened to agree with Abraxas - that he truly was the only wizard who could seize control of Wizarding Britain and set things right. To return their society to one that respected magic and kept it safe from the unworthy. Only, Tom certainly had different ideas of how to get there. Abraxas was convinced that endless politicking was the smart move, while Tom favoured something a little more heavy handed. He didn't care to stand for elections and make concessions to political allies. He would do things his way and people would either agree or be made to agree.
He was sure that people would see things his way eventually. They always seemed to.
Case in point: Miss Hermione Granger.
The wizard was pleased that he didn't have to wait out of the very quaint Augurey Arms for too long before he saw his quarry walking up the cobblestone to meet him. She was wearing heels, but walked like a queen, without a single wobble. He did not detect the telltale shimmer of a stabilising charm, which suggested she either didn't need one or she was so proficient in her charms work that it was virtually unnoticeable.
Based on his interactions with her so far, he tended to believe it was the latter.
It was hard for him not to admire the delicate shape of her ankle, the taut muscle of her calves revealed by the knee-length hemline of her dress. She was really quite beautiful in an understated sort of way and he thought that he might be able to lose himself in an afternoon cataloging each pretty feature that she possessed. But, honestly, it wasn't her looks that drew her to him.
It was her sharp mind.
That was what he wished Abraxas had been able to see. Yes, he needed to learn every little detail about Hermione Granger, but it wasn't because he was bewitched by a bit of skirt. No, he sensed a kindred spirit in her and he thought that she just might make an excellent ally. And if their paths were not destined to parallel, then...they always said to keep your enemies closer.
"Mr Riddle," Hermione greeted him once she got to the door. She was neither overly friendly or suspicious. "Shall we go inside?"
Tom agreed, pressing a hand to the small of her back to guide her inside of the pub. He could feel her stiffening slightly, as though she wasn't used to the chivalry. He led her towards a table that was out of the way, far away from anyone who might be able to overhear them.
That did not seem to be enough for the enterprising Miss Granger, who discretely pulled out her wand and put up a variety of anti-eavesdropping spells up, giving them an additional level of protection.
He couldn't help but smirk. "Are you very concerned about security, Miss Granger?" he asked, teasing.
She scrunched her nose in a bit of amusement. "I was under the impression that this was a working lunch Mr Riddle," she retorted, leaning back in her chair. "That we were going to talk about the particulars of the investigation into your employer and what information you might be able to provide the Ministry. Was I mistaken in my assumptions with the location that you've selected?"
Tom's smile broadened - and not in a false way like he would use if he was trying to charm Hepzibah Smith into parting with her pretties. No, he was genuinely impressed with her.
"I've asked you to call me Tom," he said, not answering his original question.
"Yes, of course, Tom," she agreed. "I presume that someone like you would not want to be seen as a snitch, even though Borgin and Burke do not wield any real power among your circles."
"May I call you Hermione?" he asked, feeling bold. A part of him hated that she had not yet given him leave to use her given name, but he knew that she was desperate to keep some level of professionalism between them.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth — an action that he entirely doubted she knew made him want to catch that same lip between his lips — while she thought over his words. "You may," she agreed, finally.
Tom rewarded her with a winning smile, feeling rather pleased with himself. "Hermione," he repeated her name, enjoying the way that her cheeks began to flush pink with his attention. "I wonder what you mean by...my circles."
"Oh," she said, sitting up straighter. "I don't mean any offense, of course. But you know...well connected, pureblood, Slytherin, maybe more familiar with Dark Magic than most of the citizenry."
"You think I'm a Dark Wizard," he stated, keeping his voice even. Salazar, he loved to watch her squirm.
She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. "I'm not here to make a judgment on you one way or the other," she said, finally deciding on a tack. "But, you must not presume that I am stupid, Tom. I do know where you work and the sort of objects that you handle. Many of the things that you trade in are used for Dark Magic. It only makes sense that you would be...familiar with the Dark Arts."
"And that doesn't worry you?" he asked, waiting for her answer with baited breath.
She barely resisted rolling her eyes at him. "No, it does not worry me particularly," she answered, confidently. As though it were second nature...as though she didn't even really need to think about it. "I am more than capable of handling myself."
Her response only served to intrigue him more. Previously, he had wondered if she were only booksmart, but the way that she handled herself seemed to suggest that she had a certain prowess with a wand as well. Really, how was it that this witch had escaped his notice for so long?
"I noticed that you mentioned Slytherin," he said, eager to extract more information from her. "Were you in another house at Hogwarts? I confess that I don't remember you and I think that you would have only been a year or so behind me."
For some reason, her blush intensified. "I didn't attend Hogwarts," she said, matter-of-factly, as though it didn't bother her. But the blush gave her away — it did bother her for some reason.
"Oh?" Tom found himself asking out loud, although it really shouldn't have surprised him. There was no way that he would have forgotten a witch like Hermione if they'd crossed paths at school. But then, it only raised more questions. The only thing that Abraxas had been able to scrounge up were her NEWT scores, which were more than impressive. Surely, she must have been educated somewhere. "Did you attend school on the continent?"
"I was...privately educated," she said finally, as though it pained her.
"Where?" he demanded, more than curious at this point.
"It's a rather long and boring story," she said, clearly not wanting to linger on the topic longer than they already had.
"One that I am quite eager to hear," he countered.
"Well, I am a muggleborn," she began her story.
That surprised him more than anything and he felt his stomach twist in discomfort at the unexpected reveal of her partentage. Did her muggleborn blood make her less appealing to him? It should, but in some ways, he only found his curiosity deepening. How was it possible that such an accomplished and brilliant witch could come from non-magical parents? But then again, he supposed that he was half-muggle himself, so maybe it wasn't that fantastical at all. "I'm only a half-blood myself," he revealed, his voice low, hoping to set her mind at ease.
Her brown doe eyes snapped up to look at him, a fire blazing in them. "Only?" she asked sharply. "I'm not...I'm not ashamed of being a muggleborn, Tom."
He cleared his throat, finding himself unsure of how to smooth his misstep over. "Of course, you shouldn't be," he lied. "I just thought you might have...assumptions about me based on my...circles."
"Oh," she answered, some of her earlier fight leaving her, when she no longer thought she needed to defend herself. "Growing up, I'd always known there was something different about me. But during the war, my parents felt that it wasn't safe for me in London anymore and they sent me to live in the country."
"Probably a smart decision," Tom answered. While he hadn't been at the orphanage during the Blitz, he was still there in its aftermath. He couldn't imagine living through something so horrific, especially when he already despised the place.
"Anyway, one of the other girls there...she recognized that I was a witch. That I had magic," she explained slowly. "She was the one who taught me while I was growing up. She peeled back the curtain a bit. I read absolutely everything I could get my hands on."
"So you are mostly self-taught?" he heard himself asking, absolutely unable to believe his own words. He couldn't imagine what a force she might have been if she'd received formal education.
"Yes," she agreed. "But I promise that I am more than well-qualified for my post. I've — I've passed all the relevant exams."
"You don't need to convince me," he answered, with a grin. "What made you decide to remain in the wizarding world, then? I find that most of the muggleborns from school end up back in the muggle world after schooling. They find that...straddling the two worlds is too much to juggle."
Her eyes dropped to the table, as though she were embarrassed. Ashamed. "Yes, well, I'm no longer in contact with my parents," she revealed. "They tried to be understanding, but they just didn't get it. Magic...that I am a witch. They wanted me to give it up...to let it go and just live with them. It was too painful for them — for me. Eventually I..."
"Yes?" he asked, feeling on the edge of his seat.
"Eventually I...used a charm to make them forget that I'd ever existed," Hermione said, her voice shaking. "It was the best for everyone." It was as if she still needed to convince herself of that.
Hearing the lengths that Hermione would go to protect her magic made all of Tom's previous worries melt away. Yes, he'd known that Hermione was exceptional, but she was really more than she could have hoped for. She might not see it that way, but she had the makings of a Dark Witch if she was just guided down the right path.
Perhaps realizing what she revealed, she stood up from the table abruptly. "I thought this was going to be a working lunch...in an official capacity, not a..." she trailed off looking for the right words. "Not a date to get to know me better."
"I want to know you better, Hermione," he told her, earnestly. "Is that really so terrible?"
She shook her head, clearly annoyed. "You may want to know me better, but that doesn't change what I want," she countered. "I'm not going to let a handsome wizard get in the way of my job. I will not have my professionalism called into question just so you can take me to lunch. I don't want anyone to think that I might let your work off lightly just because I've been seen with you."
He stood and grabbed her wrist, not wanting her to leave yet. "I'd never want that to happen either, but surely you can sense some spark between us?" he asked.
Hermione shook herself free from him. "I don't appreciate being tricked," she said, before swirling out of the pub and leaving Tom alone with his thoughts.