It wasn't until mid-November that Hermione realized she was actually settling in. While things hadn't gone the way that she'd wanted them to, she couldn't deny that they were getting better.
Her parents were still busy doing their work with Tom Riddle, but they made sure to carve out time for her. It seemed like they remembered that their daughter needed actual raising, even though she was nearly a legal adult.
Her father had started taking her for a weekly grocery shop to get everything that she might need for the week and Hermione could admit that it was nice to get an hour of time to themselves. They kept their conversations off of his work and off of Theo and kept to neutral subjects — mostly on anecdotes from his youth. He found her his grandmother's recipe book up in the attic and even though Hermione didn't consider herself to be a good cook, she had enjoyed trying out a couple of her father's well-loved favorites.
One night, they even stayed up trying to replicate her grandmother's pierogis, which Rabastan insisted turned out just as good as he remembered them.
Her mum had also decided to start cooking with Hermione at least once a week, even if they were usually simple meals. Hermione enjoyed talking to her mum about the gossip at school. Bellatrix Lestrange always had a snide thing to say about whoever it was that irritated Hermione and it was nice to have someone to commiserate with. She also took Hermione shopping one time, and though the two had clashed on style, Hermione liked stepping out of her comfort zone for a change.
Things were also progressing nicely with Theo. He'd taken her out on several dates — mostly just to different restaurants around their area, but once to a little used bookshop as well. Hermione had adored that and Theo didn't have any complaints for how long she spent paging through books she wasn't ever going to buy.
Inevitably, they would end up on their block, kissing on her front steps until Hermione finally worked up the courage to invite him to her room. Once there, they would spend hours nested in her bed snogging, her lips looking permanently plump from the treatment. Theo was bold, snaking a hand up inside of her oversized t-shirts and palming her breast or pinching her nipples affectionately, sending sparks of desire racing down her spine.
He whispered to her that she was gorgeous when he went as far as to take off her top, revealing lacy bras in varying shades of cream, peach and pink.
Over time, Hermione grew bolder as well. She wasn't afraid to pull Theo's shirt up over his head, revealing his chest to her. He was lithe and strong and she was endlessly fascinated by all the muscle in his chest, shoulders, arms and back. Her greedy fingers caressed every inch of warm skin that she could touch. But, she was a bit embarrassed to say that the small, green tattoo on his chest was what had truly captured her imagination.
She would trace the edges of the candy heart over and over again, feeling his real heart beating away underneath. Hermione had never been attracted to tattoos, but she loved Theo's, always taking time to kiss him over the words 'Be Mine'.
God, she had promised that she was going to take things slow, but she wasn't so sure that she wanted to anymore. She wanted to be Theo's and she wanted him to be her's, but always held herself back for fear of getting hurt again.
He never pushed her, content to move at the pace that she set. Only, sometimes, it drove Hermione mad, wishing that he would just press her back against her pillows and settle between her legs, his hand on her thigh holding her just how he wanted her. Or that he'd kiss down from her neck to her breasts to her navel to further...
But, she knew that he wasn't going to push her into anything she didn't ask for, no matter how mad with desire he drove her.
Later, when they were languid and their thirsts for one another sated, they would return to the land of the living hand in hand, walking down the stairs together. This had led to at least one awkward encounter with Hermione's Uncle Rabastan, who had promptly extracted the promise of a to be determined favor from her in exchange for his continued silence that she'd had a boy in her room.
After that, they would spend most of their time holed up in Theo's bedroom, where they were much less likely to encounter Alfie.
Theo was not the only bright spot in her life though.
Slowly, like a flower coming to bloom, Hermione had allowed her friendship with Daphne and Tracy to grow. Adrian and Marcus, too. It was nice to have new friends who didn't seem to care who her parents were or weren't and they didn't bat an eyelash if she did something Ron would consider non-Hermione-ish.
Her cousin Draco had become a good friend over time as well, though Hermione did find him somewhat meddlesome and prone to gossip. Not to mention his questionable taste in girls. Once he cut Pansy loose, he'd moved on to a pretty blonde girl called Luna. She was friendly enough, but odd. Whenever Hermione talked to her, she ended up feeling incredibly off-kilter.
Speaking of Pansy, things had even been smoothed over on that front. While it was no use pretending that they would ever be friends, Pansy seemed resigned to the fact that Hermione was there to stay and if she wanted to remain in her friend's good graces, she would have to shut up about Hermione. They had given each other half-hearted apologies for the fight that were mutually accepted and that was all that was said about that.
Now, though, Pansy loved to tease her for being a little slut, always sneaking off with Theo at parties.
At first, Hermione bristled at the term, feeling it was meant to hurt her, but she quickly realized that it was actually a term of endearment between the trio of girls who had inserted themselves in her life. While Hermione doubted she was going to call anyone else the nickname, she learned to let it go. She didn't want to seem uptight.
The only area of her life that still seemed to be in some turmoil was with Harry and Ron. True to his word, Harry had tried to treat her more normally after their talk and sometimes it almost even seemed like old times. He'd essentially been her brother in all but blood for so many years, so Hermione felt herself desperately clinging to the relationship, not wanting it to slip away if it didn't have to. At the same time, she wasn't going to compromise herself, just because they had shared history together.
Ron seemed to be the only one who didn't quite get the memo. He had a lot to say about the way she'd started to dress — trading in oversized flannels for fitted jumpers and cough syrup colored dresses — or the people the neighborhood that she hung out with or the way that she openly talked to Daphne Greengrass. Hermione wasn't stupid, though. She saw the way that Ron gaped at the pretty blonde. If she deigned to talk with him, Ron wouldn't have any problems with Daphne.
Hermione was done with putting up with Ron's criticism. She would give him a sharp rebuke whenever he tried to disparage her. If he didn't get the message and continued on (which happened more than she hoped) she would simply walk away, confident in the knowledge that she didn't need him.
That was when things got a bit awkward with Harry. He would half-heartedly try to tell off Ron, but the redhead always had an outsized personality compared to her friend and he usually won out in the end. Harry never walked away from Ron, even when he knew that he was being ridiculous. And that really told Hermione all that she needed to know.
She didn't see the point in torturing herself, trying to conform to some box that other people expected her to fit when she knew that even if she did everything right, they would still find something to condemn her for.
So that loose friendship remained, but Hermione did not have any hope for the long term, as much as it hurt to know. Was Ron really going to remain friends with her when she got into a great University and he didn't? Was she really going to hold herself back because of his jealousy towards her? No. She didn't see it lasting much more than the school year, so if it ended sooner, she wasn't going to worry about it.
Hermione was focused on the future. She'd already begun revising for exams at the end of the year and she kept on top of her homework, though she did a little bit less extra work now. She worked basically whenever she found the chance, wanting to save up as much money as she possibly could, grateful that Scabior didn't even grumble anymore when she opened another giant textbook on the counter.
That's how she found herself on a random Wednesday at the end of November — fully engrossed in a deep history lesson about the Magna Carta. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, stretched her arms up over her head and realized that she was starving.
"Hey, Scabior!" she called her boss from the back of the store where he did 'inventory'. "I'm going to take a break in ten minutes.
"Whatever you say, princess," he said, sticking his head out from the back.
Hermione tried to hide her smile at the term of endearment for her. While had his faults, Hermione had grown to enjoy working for the harmlessly flirtatious man. He loved to give her all sorts of life advice and she even took about fifteen percent of it. It was clear that deep down, he cared for her, even if their friendship was a bit unconventional. He wanted to protect her.
She called ahead to the Half Moon so that Fenrir would have a sandwich ready and waiting for her. The gruff man agreed after some whinging on her end, but reminded her that he didn't do take aways, so not to get any ideas about this becoming a regular occurrence.
After a few minutes, Hermione made the short walk down the block to the Half Moon, greeting Fenrir sweetly when she walked in. He sent her in the direction of the back booth, letting her know he'd left her sandwich and a half pint there for her.
"What, you don't want to have dinner with me?" she asked, scrunching her nose up in amusement.
Fenrir scowled at her suggestion.
Laughing to herself, Hermione made her way back to the booth where she and Theo had first eaten there all those weeks ago. She was pleased to see that Fen had made her sandwich just how she liked it — cut into two triangles. She slipped into the open seat, only to be stunned to come face to face with someone sitting on the other side.
"We meet again, Miss Lestrange," Tom Riddle said, a fake smile plastered across his face. He had a whiskey in front of him, and his fingers worked to slowly spin the glass around. "Or may I call you Hermione?"
Hermione sat there stunned, wondering what trickery this was. How had he known that she would be at the Half Moon? Was it Fenrir or Scabior that had alerted him? Or had he just come to take note of her daily habits enough to guess. She desperately tried to make eye contact with the man behind the bar, but he wouldn't meet her eye.
"Hermione is fine," she said, sitting up straighter in her seat. She wished there was some way that she could just get up and walk away from the table, but she wasn't naive enough to think that would work. If he wanted this conversation to happen, there wasn't anything that would stop him.
Tom pursed his lips together, looking at her quizzically, as though he was trying to figure her out. "Generally, people like to get a few niceties out of the way first — how you're doing, that sort of thing," he said, finally. "But I see that you are not predisposed to that. All the better for me. We can get straight to it."
"Straight to what?" Hermione asked, feeling her heart speed up in fear.
"I know that you've been a very busy girl," he continued, the word girl clearly meant to insult her. "So busy with school and a very active romantic life with one of my oldest friend's sons. And not only that, but you've managed to find a little job, too."
Hermione felt her mouth go dry. She didn't know what to say. "Yes, but I am very good at balancing many things, sir," she said, grasping her half pint and taking a sip.
"Exactly," he said with a smirk. "An excellent skill to have, especially for someone determined to head off to University. Tell me — is it still your intention to go into law?"
God, he gave her the heebie-jeebies. Everything about him made her feel on edge, all the way down to his bright blue eyes. How was it that he knew so very much about her? Had her parents gone blabbing everything to him?
"Yes, sir," she affirmed, not wanting to give him any more details than he already had.
"I wasn't sure. Since you had found a job," Tom said, sounding off hand. But Hermione knew that nothing was off hand when it came to Tom Riddle.
"I think it's important to understand hard work," Hermione said, still not touching the sandwich on her plate. Her appetite had completely left her.
"An admirable quality," Tom complimented her.
"And, I had been hoping to save a little money for school," she added.
Tom smirked, but was quiet for a few beats. "I have a proposal for you," he said, eventually, watching her face very carefully. "One that would be mutually beneficial to us."
Hermione stared back at him, wondering what he was going to suggest. She knew that she should just turn him down flat, but she found herself compelled to listen anyway. "Go on," she prompted.
His greedy eyes lit up when she said that, perhaps knowing that he had her hook, line and sinker. "Well, as you know, Slughorn has been my lawyer for many, many years. But the man is getting older now and he wants to retire to the Canary Islands," he said. "So, I find myself in need of a new lawyer. And, you find yourself in need of money for University."
"I don't need money," Hermione said feebly. "There will be scholarships, my parents—"
"No, you don't strictly need it, but my money would make things much easier for you," he agreed. "So, allow me to pay for your tuition. When you are done, you will be my lawyer and Slughorn can retire. That seems an easy enough trade off."
"I don't know if the kind of law I want to pursue would...match with the sort of lawyer you might need," she said, trying to think of the most diplomatic way to say that she didn't want to defend criminals.
"Oh, I wouldn't take up that much of your time," he assured her. "And, with me paying your generous wage, you could spend all your other time helping whatever little miserable pet project finds your fancy, pro bono. If it would help to assuage some of the guilt of taking my money."
Hermione flushed, realizing he knew exactly what she thought of him. "I don't—I didn't mean—"
"Save your platitudes. You won't offend me that easily," he said, with a smirk.
"That is a very generous offer," she said, hoping to find her footing in this treacherous conversation. She didn't know how to get herself out of the situation she found herself in. "But, I'm really happy with funding my own education. I have a job, and—"
"You had a job," Tom told her.
"I don't understand," she said, trying to piece together what he meant.
"Did you forget that everyone in this neighborhood answers to me?" he asked, laughing like she was a stupid little child. Only, perhaps she was. "If I tell Scabior that you don't work at his little fucking shop any more, you don't work at his little fucking shop any more. Do you understand now?"
Hermione swallowed, resisting the impulse to argue back with him immediately. She needed to tread very carefully with Tom Riddle, that much was clear. "I'll need to think about it, sir," she said, finally. Desperation clawed away in her belly, wanting to put some space between her and this dangerous man.
He gave her another smile, one that seemed to suggest that he already thought he'd won. "Of course you will," he agreed. "But don't make me wait forever, Hermione. Now, come on. I will give you a ride home."
"Oh, it's not too far of a walk," she said, not wanting to go anywhere so confined as a car with him, already too uncomfortable with the level of control that he'd gained over her life in just a few short moments.
"I insist," he said, firmly.
Hermione nodded numbly. She stood from the table, not bothering with her untouched sandwich, and followed Tom out of the bar and into the night.
His car was expensive — much more expensive than any of the other cars in the neighborhood — and smelled like warm leather. She sighed as she slipped into the passenger side, her hands tucked under her legs, trying to focus on anything other than the man who was driving.
The two block trip was over in less than a minute and Hermione practically jumped out of the car. Before she could shut the door, Tom gave her one more reminder to think about his offer. But then, she was free of his presence.
She went up the stairs to her little townhouse, slipping inside as quickly as she could. She stood there, with her back pressed to the door, counting down to thirty, until she could be certain that Tom was gone. Peeking out of the window, she was pleased to see no sign of his car.
Her parents were not home and Hermione knew that she couldn't just sit there, not with so many thoughts pinging around in her head. Exhaling sharply, she knew that there was only one person she could possibly talk to at that moment, only one person who might understand.
Theo.