A/N: I love this chapter. I truly love it. It was just so much fun. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did, and then maybe this'll get up to 150 reviews? But I must warn you; this chapter doesn't have a huge amount of action because the next one is FULL of action. Like you wouldn't believe! Think in terms of the Lightening Struck Tower chapter in HBP. Yes, that big. But this one rocks as well.

Disclaimer: Perry: I can't believe you're back!

Gabriel: Well, I am.

Perry: I know!

Tom: They've hijacked our disclaimer.

Kristyn: Oh shut up Riddle.

Tom: Back off Hansen, we were here first. And I am the main character, so I can say what I want to. Now leave!

Kristyn: Silencio!

Tom: -Glares-

So anyway, I don't own Harry Potter.

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Chapter 13: A Relapse

Sitting at the Slytherin table was uncomfortable for Hermione for many reasons. First off, she was a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors just don't sit there! Secondly, Rosier kept staring at her over his goblet. Luckily, Tom didn't notice, as he was ironically too busy trying to make his fiancé comfortable. And third, since he was no longer "available" he was suddenly very popular. Three Slytherin girls had seated themselves across from the young couple, and kept pestering them with questions.

"So Riddle, how did you propose?" asked Reina Barnswell, a pretty, wealthy, pureblooded, bitchy, African American girl asked him, choosing to ignore Hermione completely. He frowned.

"What's it to you, Barnswell?" he retorted, protectively placing his hand on Hermione's knee under the table.

"What? Can't a girl live vicariously for a minute?" the snooty girl drawled.

"Oh do tell!" exclaimed the girl next to Reina, named Kate Centofanti. The girl smiled widely, displaying heavy muggle orthodontia, even though she bragged of tracing her pureblood family tree back centuries. Rosier snorted into his food halfway down the table, causing Hermione to twitch uneasily, layering her hand above Tom's.

"So you are a pureblood, right?" asked the third girl in an airy voice. Leigh Wellington stared placidly at Hermione through her straight blond hair. Both Tom and his mate got very silent, as did the whole table, waiting for her answer.

"Are you?" Hermione countered, noticing by chance the very expensive however very muggle designer earrings neatly tucked beneath her hair. The girl blushed, and Hermione thanked any deities that were listening that her mother had been obsessed with all things fashion.

"Apparently you're not," growled Rosier, and Hermione snapped her head to the left to glare at him, when suddenly his mouth began to move with no sound coming out. Tom snickered as Rosier started to yell profanities silently, banging his fists on the table. The Slytherins joined in his snickering, Hermione included.

"Nice nonverbal magic," she whispered in his ear. He smirked and whispered back,

"Who says it was me?" Rosier stood up and pointed wildly at Tom before losing his balance and tripping backward over the bench. The whole hall joined in the snake house's laughter as the boy stood up and stormed off, only to reach the end of the tables as a girl at the Gryffindor table, who Hermione later identified as Kristyn, stuck out her leg, causing him to trip again. They now howled with laughter as Rosier yet again leapt back up and bolted out the door.

Tom turned back to the three girls across from him and asked, "Any more questions, girls?" They shook their heads frantically, not wanting the same fate as Rosier. He stood up and guided Hermione over the bench. "If you'll excuse us, we're off to bed," he announced quietly as the cacophony died down. Avery whistled, but the couple just turned and walked towards the doors. Hermione noticed Perry wasn't with Kristyn at the Gryffindor table, and that she was instead sitting with a boy with shaggy black hair and glasses with hazel eyes and kind features, who seemed to be about 15. She waved at them as she passed, and both Kristyn and Harry's grandfather waved back. She didn't notice Tom stiffen because of the innocent exchange and she only smiled when he pressed his hand on the small of her back, subtly getting her to quicken her pace.

When they were out in the hallway Tom's cocky demeanor faded like the last ray of sunlight before the sun set.

"Was it just me, or was I not the only one to notice Richard Potter's stunning resemblance to your friend Harry?" he spat, walking quickly ahead of her. She struggled to keep up with his long strides.

"He's his grandfather, I'm guessing." Tom snarled at nothing imparticular. "What is it Tom?" He whirled around, his school robe billowing about his knees, reminding her of the late professor Snape.

"You know how people say I'm the ultimate Slytherin? I'm sneaky, sly, power hungry, the works?" Well, Potter is like the ultimate Gryffindor!" There was ice in his tone, and she stepped back in shock. His eyes were an infuriated black, with just the smallest glint of red. Oh no, don't back out on me now, she gasped to herself, as a small snicker plagued the back of her mind. Damn it Malfoy, now is not the time! "He's brave, selfless, open minded and all that shit. People say he's the actual heir of Gryffindor! Needless to say, we don't exactly see eye to eye." Believing to have explained himself adequately, he turned back around and continued his fast pace. Having no other option, Hermione ran after him.

"What do you want me to say, Tom?"

"Say you'll stay away from him!" She let out a bitter laugh and he stiffened but didn't slow his strides.

"I haven't even been introduced to him! You need to stop worrying that you're going to lose me! You're not!" He finally stopped walking, as she realized that she had been yelling. "You're not," she repeated softly, finally catching up to him and laying her hand on his shoulder. Fearing what she might see, she pivoted him gently. The glint was gone. In its place was undeniable shame. She cupped his cheek with her palm and lightly slid her thumb over the soft skin under his eye. He leaned into her caress. "I love you, and I'm not going to leave you for some random guy I haven't met." He moved his mouth to speak, but she lowered her hand down to cover his lips. "Shh," she cooed. "If you're going to marry me you really have to trust me. Can you trust me?" He nodded slowly, disabled by her hand still covering her mouth. "Good." She removed her hand and rested it on the back of his neck. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. I'm so never telling him about what Rosier did, thought to herself as she exhaled slightly against her lips before gently kissing her. He would totally relapse. He slid his arm under her knees and carefully scooped her up into his arms, before turning around and walking back to their rooms. "What are you doing?" she asked, looking up at him curiously.

"I'm escorting the fair maiden to her castle," he said with a hint of slight sarcasm. "Your night in shining armor asked me to stand in for him while he is off slaying dragons."

"I don't see what you mean. He's right in front of me." Tom's lips curled up at the edges. He carried her up a flight of stairs as she marveled at how strong he was. She wasn't exactly feather light, and yet he wasn't even breaking a sweat. "You don't have to do this, you can put me down," she said as they reached the portrait of the vampire. Tom made no move to release her.

"Oh but I want to do this. Lethifold." The painting swung open and he somehow managed to slide in the hole without releasing her. However, the room was not empty. Perry lay across the red lined sofa with her head in the lap of a brown haired boy Hermione had never seen before. He stroked her hair while gazing down at her face adoringly. Judging by the long scar that ran down the side of his face, he was Gabriel le Soir. Upon noticing he was no longer alone in the room, he gave a slight wave of greeting and pressed his finger to his lips, motioning to the girl in his lap. Rom nodded and reluctantly lowered Hermione to the ground so she could tip toe into their bedroom.

She pulled off her shoes and pulled the curtains open, bathing the room in pale moonlight along with the faint glow from the few candles that were scattered around her. She sat down on the bed and ran her hand over the silk covers. Yes, green was growing on her, though she did miss her familiar red and gold. It would be nice to go back to her room and her own books. Tom would love the new and updated library at her Hogwarts. Absentmindedly, she fingered the gold chain around her neck. Hermione didn't like to take off her time turner. It was like an insurance policy. One wrong step, one dangerous situation, and poof! She would be back to her own time. Things would be so different at home…

And yet, would they be? A time turner didn't alter the past, it just repeated it! Technically things wouldn't be the same when she returned! When she had gone back in time in her third year, Harry's patronus had followed time, not changed it! Oh no, was she causing Tom to be Voldemort? But that couldn't be! Why had this only occurred to her now?

Tom entered the room, carrying two butter beers. Wordlessly he sat down next to her and handed her a bottle. She took it, popped off the cap with her wand, and guzzled the whole thing in 10 seconds. He watched her in shock and awe.

"Are you feeling ok, Hermione?" She nodded and magically refilled her bottle, dropping her wand onto the bed as she sucked it down like she had the other one. "Wait, slow down!" he said as he tried to pry the bottle out of her grasp. She clung to it but he was stronger and he yanked it from her. Then he placed it behind him, leaning against the footboard. Without warning, she burst into tears.

"I'm making you evil! I'm not changing history, I'm following it!" she wailed. Tom silenced the room before pulling the weeping girl into his lap.

"Sush, Mione, don't be silly," he whispered into her ear as she buried her head into his neck. Wow, was this her third or fourth crying jag in six days? "Dumbledore wouldn't have sent you back if you were making me into Voldemort."

"But then what am I doing? I know how-how time turners work!" He found the sensitive spot on the back of her neck and massaged it gently. She trembled uneasily.

"This is Dumbledore, he probably charmed it or something so it could change history, or maybe it's a special type of turner that can do that." She nodded feebly and stopped crying as suddenly as she had started. "There there, now why don't you go get in your pajamas and we can go to sleep early?" The girl eased herself off him and wiped away her tears on the sleeve of her uniform robe. Hermione hic-upped softly and he chuckled. Tom stood up and ventured over to his pristine dresser as she struggled with her unsteady breathing. Feeling satisfied, he turned back around and handed her a pair of navy boxers and a plain black cotton t-shirt, which looked way to big for her. Intrigued and yet confused, she looked up from the clothing at Tom, who had his arms folded and legs apart, looking once again like Snape. Upon seeing her puzzled expression he added, "You can sleep in those, I figure they'll be more comfortable." She nodded sheepishly and stood up, hugging the spare clothing to her chest as she hurried past him. He sighed and slid off his robe before hanging it in his closet.

Honestly, why does she get so jumpy at the oddest times? It's just a bloody pair of boxers! In reply, a snarky little voice from the back of his mind voiced,

It's not like she's seen the opposite sex's underwear other than that one time you slept on the couch. He growled at the voice as he slowly undressed to his underclothes and slid the silk covers. You're one to talk, Tom, it's not like you've got more experience, the voice added. Well, that was true. Hermione always slept in pajamas, and it's not like he'd ever even kissed another girl before her. It had just never been an interest. But it is now, the voice went on, and you're scared out of your mind about what to do next. To put it eloquently, it was true. With a gruff flick of his wand he snuffed the candles and waited for Hermione to return. He knew she wasn't more experienced than him, but he would bet anything that she knew more about it than he did. He would mess it up somehow if he… attempted anything. Maybe he should just ignore the idea. Then it was settled, he would let her initiate… it.

Hermione slid in beside him quietly. He turned on his side and her caramel eyes blinked back at him.

"Are they ok?" She nodded and he pulled her over so her back was to his front. She didn't protest as he draped his arm over her shoulder. "The question is, are you okay?" Hw couldn't see her expression as she took a deep breath.

"Yeah." But something didn't feel right. It wasn't that she was scared or that he was confused, there was just a note of uneasiness. They were both worried about the future, or Hermione's present. Most people wouldn't remember him as long as he continued to keep a low profile, but his professors would. What would they tell them? As much as it pained him to admit it, they would have to go to Dumbledore for help.

"Merry Christmas Tom," she whispered, and his hold on her tightened slightly.

"Merry Christmas Hermione."

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Gabriel was happy to be home. His girlfriend was in his arms, and his best friends were around him. The only thing weird was that he was confused. It was the little things that did it. Little snippets of gossip he had overheard in the infirmary, such as the fact that Riddle was engaged. That was shock enough. Riddle was gruff, moody, distant, and sneaky. What was he doing with a fiancé? Someone had said she was a Gryffindor as well. That just didn't add up. Well, all the more power to Riddle. She seemed nice.

Perry's kitten Yvonne leapt up onto the sofa beside him, butting his free hand with her pink nose. He stroked her soft back as he rearranged Perry in his laps so she would be more comfortable. She rested on softly. Yes, it was good to be home.

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Rosier was happy. His plan was working. The Granger girl was nervous and jumpy, and it was rubbing off on Riddle. Sure, the "Attack her and break her" idea hadn't ended well, but it seemed to have had the wanted effect. Now he just had to wait for the right moment. No matter how much Riddle had been trying to hide it lately, he knew more about the Dark Arts than anyone, and Rosier knew his weakness. One curse and Riddle would be his. He would have power soon.

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A/N: Ok, so that was short compared to some of my other chapters and I apologize for the wait. Don't worry, there's a MAJOR chapter next. –Evil Cackle- Anyway, I just want to thank you for 150 reviews! Okay, I'm at 149, but I know within the hour I'll have 150! Yay! This fan fic is almost finished; so I'm begging you, get me to 200! PLEASE! Teaser?

"Is Mrs. Riddle afraid of the dark?" He walked slowly towards her as she backed up into a tree.

MWAHA! EVIL TEASER! Well, we're almost to the end now, so I just couldn't resist. 3 MORE LEFT! AHHHHHHH! Anyway, laters!

Final Word Count: 2758