A/N: Thank you all for the reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter! I'd love to hear what you think of this one. Huge thank you to lanamarymack and Angela 007 for alpha/beta reading this chapter!

Hermione Granger listened to the click-clack of her high heels against the marble floor of the Ministry of Magic as she made her way from the lift to the Improper Use of Magic Department, where she had worked for the past five odd years. Blending into the rush of workers in her unremarkable blue robes, Hermione was amazed that after all this time she still did not feel quite at home at the Ministry of Magic. She simply couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider.

She wondered if she would ever feel as though she truly belonged.

She greeted the secretary that was seated at the entrance of the department. This year's model was the very fashionable Miss Fawley, a recent graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hermione was friendly enough with the young witch, but she had learned not to put too much effort into building friendships with the secretaries. The position was a near yearly revolving door once the woman inevitably got engaged and left the workforce to focus on their family.

Hermione never felt jealous of the gaudy engagement rings, passed down for generations among the old families, even though she knew that people were beginning to whisper that she was an old maid now that she was nearing twenty-four. Ha! She wasn't entirely sure why, but she didn't have any desire to give up her work just to get married to some stuffy pureblood who thought she was little more than an attractive accessory.

Not that most would have her. She was a muggleborn, after all.

But, it certainly didn't bother her one way or another. She enjoyed her work, investigating the improper use of magic. Many of her cases did involve enchanted muggle objects and, being muggleborn, she brought a particular expertise to the department, one that her manager greatly appreciated. While some of her colleagues had been wary at first, Hermione quickly grew her reputation as a valuable resource in the Department. The aurors frequently coordinated with her as well, when needed.

She never turned down the extra work. If she was honest, Hermione wanted to do nothing more than work. It was better than returning to her spartan flat night after night to have the same meals again and again. She didn't go out with friends and she rarely went out on dates, unable to make connections with many of her peers. The witch wasn't entirely sure why, but she suspected that it was due to the fact that she didn't enjoy the camaraderie of having attended the premier educational institution of the British Isles, where everyone else seemed to have gone. She could not engage in discussions about the curriculum or what it was like to have allegiance to this house or that.

Truth be told, she had only been to the magical school once in her life. But that had been at the end of the War, when she was still living in the Muggle world. No one quite knew how she'd ended up there, but they had recognized that she was a witch and helped her land on her feet. Even though she wasn't a student, Headmaster Dippet had arranged for her to sit examinations for NEWT testing and allowed her to dip into a small fund for needy students to apply for a flat while she got on her feet.

She didn't think that anyone expected her to do quite as well as she had done on the exams, seeing as her education was quite cobbled together and unorthodox.

With the scores had come a plethora of job offers, but she ultimately landed in her current role and hadn't looked back. She was excelling professionally. Who cared if she wasn't excelling similarly in her personal life? Yes, it was a bit lonely, but she had her books, her research. She had a lifetime to catch up on all the knowledge of magic that she'd missed out on being raised by muggles.

Hermione breezed through the room towards her private office in the back, only to be stopped by her coworker. "Becker," she said, wondering what exactly he wanted with her. "Did you have a question about my report?"

Phillip Becker was well-regarded among the office, though he was a bit flighty for Hermione's tastes. She didn't want to be ungenerous, but she did not care to partner with him for projects, finding that she often had to redo most of his reports. This led to some...awkward conversations, to say the least.

The wizard went a bit pink in the cheeks, shaking his head. "No, the report is immaculate, as always," he said through gritted teeth. "But I just wanted to warn you...you have a visitor waiting in your office."

"A visitor?" Hermione asked, wondering just who it could be. She couldn't think of a single time that she'd had an unannounced visitor since she'd been at the Ministry.

"Yeah," Becker affirmed. "A particular kind of visitor. You might want to keep your guard up."

Her stomach roiled in an unnamed sort of fear. She wasn't sure what sort of warning Becker was trying to give her. Did he mean that she was about to be let go from the Ministry? Was she in trouble in some way? Her work was impeccable and she doubted that someone would be able to find a defect in it, but of course, she'd had to do some things that others might frown upon in the course of her duty.

Each step that brought her closer to her closed office door filled her with progressively more dread. She paused with her hand on the handle, taking a deep breath before finally twisting the knob, off to meet some unknown fate.

Her eyes settled on the lone occupant of the room, seated in one of the hard wooden chairs opposite the desk of her own. The wizard turned to face her when he heard her enter the room, his face instantly transformed by a charming, pleasant smile.

"Miss Granger," he greeted her with a polite nod of his head.

Hermione felt her fears leave her in an instant when she recognized him. It was just the shopkeeper from Borgin & Burke's.

"Mr. Riddle, I confess I did not expect to see you again," she said in response. She walked around the desk, pulling at the strings that held her robe together, before hanging it on its hook, leaving her in a seersucker dress. It was far too stuffy in the office to go with long sleeves. She looked at the wizard across from her in his pale grey wool suit and dusky red shirt, wondering why he had not bothered to remove his own coat. "Most people are too happy to hear that they have passed inspection, they don't wish to cross paths with me again."

Perhaps he did not remove his own coat because he had opted for a cooling charm instead. Most wizards and witches grabbed for their wands as if they were simply an extension of their own arms. But Hermione still found her instincts were to do things the muggle way.

He gave her the same smile as before — charming and pleasant — though she could see a different emotion in his dark eyes. He was calculating, sizing her up. "I… found myself wanting to see you again, I confess," he told her.

She pursed her lips, never breaking eye contact with him. His eyes were dark, but now that she was really looking at him, she could see that they were actually a deep blue. With his hair neatly parted and styled, there was no denying that he was an extremely attractive wizard.

And yet, there was something about him that gave her pause.

"Oh?" she said, hating the meek way that her voice sounded.

There was something about him that rattled around in her brain, as if she were forgetting something, like leaving the gas on the hob after you were done cooking. Something dangerous that she really ought to remember if she could just figure it out. Hermione felt as if she really ought to know who he was. Like recognizing a face but not the name. It was maddening.

"Yes," he affirmed. "Miss Granger—"

"Have we met before Mr Riddle?" she asked, cutting him off.

"Well, yes, you did see me at Borgin and Burke's, the curio shop where I am employed," he said, tentatively, delicately, as though he were suddenly worried about her intelligence.

Hermione blushed furiously. "I— yes, of course, I remember that," she said, embarrassed that he might think she would forget a meeting only a week prior. "I meant besides that. You seem familiar to me — like I know you."

He looked unsure of himself for a brief moment while he tried to think of what he wanted to say and Hermione could tell that it was genuine. "I don't believe we have," he said with finality. "I am certain I would remember a witch like you."

A thrill ran through her at his words, somehow secretly thrilled that he knew she was no ordinary witch. It was nice to be recognized, especially by an extraordinary wizard. And there was no mistaking it, even though he wore a simple shopkeeper's facade — Tom Riddle was an extraordinary wizard.

"Mr Riddle—"

"Please, call me Tom," he requested.

"Tom," she said, fighting a smile at being granted permission to use his given name, although she did not return the gesture. "It's not that I don't like talking to you, but surely there was a reason that brought you all the way to my office?"

"Well, yes. I know that you said we passed the inspection, but I know that there must have been a tip of some kind and I am not so naive to think that the Ministry would not be keeping an eye on the shop," he explained.

Hermione frowned, not entirely sure what he was getting at. "I'm afraid I can't reveal any details of who made the complaint," she answered.

"I was hoping that I might be able to shed a little more light on the investigation, if I knew the specifics," he said smoothly, leaning back into his chair casually. "I would love to discuss it more over dinner."

She caught her lower lip between her teeth as she considered the offer. Did she want to go to dinner with Tom? "I will have to decline your dinner offer…" she said, regretfully. "I am still investigating your employers, so I worry that it would be ethical really to be seen…fraternizing with you."

"But of course, I would hate for your reputation to be called into question," he said smoothly. "I only suggested dinner because I don't get much time off during the day. What about a working lunch instead?"

Hermione felt absolutely mortified that she had immediately jumped to the idea that it was a date rather than a perfectly innocent invitation. How full of herself must he find her? Merlin, perhaps her lack of a social life really was interfering at this point.

She could think of no alternative but to accept his invitation.

"Great," he said, offering her a winning smile. "Could you meet today? I should be able to find a bit of time at half past twelve."

With the time agreed upon, they quickly settled on a location — a small pub in Diagon Alley, well away from any prying ears in Knockturn Alley. Then, Tom rose from his seat and told her how he was looking forward to their talk, after which he left her to her own thoughts.

Hermione pulled the file on Borgin and Burke's hoping to memorize everything so that she wouldn't make a fool of herself again. She couldn't imagine why her brain immediately had jumped to the conclusion that it was a date other than the fact that he was quite good looking.

But no matter how attractive she found the wizard, she wouldn't let him come in the way of closing her investigation. Despite her intention to keep this as a very neutral, fact finding working lunch, she found herself looking forward to the lunch hour more than she had in years.