Disclaimer: You can sue me, if you want, but all you'd get would be a really slow, crappy computer, a postcard from Prague, and a pack of gum. Wait—the gum is wintermint. My favorite…:stuffs gum in mouth:…Nevermind!


Author's Note: Erm…kind of a disturbing disclaimer there…

Anyway. Here's the much anticipated update all of you have been waiting for. (Right?) I'm kind of improvising here, so there's no preview.

Anyway. On with the show!

Cheers : )

i wanna dance with you in the rain.


TO DECEIT AND LOVE THE ENEMY

Part ii. Trapped.


Hermione awoke to the sound of silent darkness. Groggily, she opened her eyes, feeling rather disoriented. Her head felt like a ton of lead, and it hurt just to focus her eyes. Since there was no one else around, and the shadow of the heavy, damask curtains seemed to be drawn over the windows, she figured it was nighttime.

It took her a moment to remember the recent happenings that had occurred to trap her in this position. The timeturner. Realizing she had gone a little more than fifty years back in time. Half a century. Tom Riddle.

Immediately, Hermione felt her breath constrict in her throat as she remembered her introduction to the dark, handsome Head Boy. And then the name that revealed itself. Tom Riddle. She could feel panic building inside her chest as her blurred vision scanned the vicinity of the hospital wing. She truly was alone. Thank Merlin. The breath she hadn't known she was holding slipped from between her lips.

And as Hermione's heart rate slowly returned to normal, she realized something vital. Something that had escaped her mind in her earlier panic. Tom Riddle didn't know who she was. He didn't even know who he would become. And if it was his intention to kill her, he would have done it already, by the lake, when no one would have suspected anything.

Immediately, Hermione's characteristic, accurate mind assessed the new information. No doubt, Riddle was capable of murder even at this age. (Bear in mind, Chamber of Secrets.) Which meant, that if Hermione posed as a threat, he obviously wouldn't hesitate in removing her.

She shuddered at the thought. But that really left only one sensible solution. She would have to pretend that her earlier story—coming from the future—was nonsense caused by her injury, and she didn't remember how she arrived at Hogwarts. She would have to pretend to fall happily into her new schedule here, while really scheming with Dumbledore on how to transport her back into her own time.

And most of all, she would have to keep Tom Riddle from suspecting anything at all. She could let nothing slip about her future, about Harry, or about the Lord Voldemort from her time. Otherwise, he would surely kill her.

Coming to this conclusion, Hermione decided to attempt to fall back asleep. But the adrenaline pumping through her blood because of her agitation had different ideas, and she spent the next few hours with her mind in turmoil, trying to find loopholes to an easier solution.

But nothing else came to her, and as the first rays of dawn began shining through the curtains, she finally managed to fall into a light, fitful slumber.


The two following days passed slowly. The nurse—whose name was Madam Hooke—insisted that she have no visitors, for which Hermione was rather grateful since she still needed to get accustomed to her current situation, concerning Riddle.

So, when she awoke on the third morning to see Tom lounging in a chair beside her bed, she somehow managed to contain her instinctive reaction to scream. He was looking away when she opened her eyes, and, against her better judgment, Hermione took advantage of the moment to look at him closely. It was like a horror she couldn't tear her gaze from—to be sitting at such close proximity to the most feared wizard in the world. Now, he looked almost innocent, the way his dark hair hung into his eyes, the way his expression seemed so unguarded.

But her examination of him lasted less than a few seconds, because suddenly, without turning towards her, he said, "Glad to see you're awake."

His voice was like ice, but laced with an almost sarcastic humor. Hermione averted her gaze, steeling herself to keep from shivering.

He shifted in his chair, finally staring straight at her. His eyes were mesmerizingly deep, and as Hermione met them, she thought she detected something other than cruelty. The smirk on his lips widened as they intently watched each other. Hermione willed herself not to look away.

"You're afraid of me," he stated, not breaking their contact.

Hermione swallowed, knowing what she had to say. "N-No."

She was surprised when he laughed. It sounded almost…pleasant. "Don't deny the obvious, Miss Granger."

At hearing her name from his lips, Hermione's head snapped away. She could feel a small bubble of courage forming itself in her chest. "Should I be afraid of you?" she asked.

There was a silence. "No," he replied.

Hermione looked back at him and offered a small smile. It took a lot of willpower. "Then I'm not," she said simply.

"I'm curious about you," he said, cocking his head. "We rarely have pretty girls simply appear around here."

"I'm just as curious as you are," Hermione answered quietly, hoping he would buy it.

"But didn't you tell Dippet you came from the future?" His eyes were boring into hers.

"I-I was babbling."

"Ah. Then how else would you have Hogwarts robes?" Shit. He didn't believe her.

At her silence, he smirked again. "I won't trouble you now, Miss Granger, since these are the Christmas holidays, but I believe we shall be having a little chat soon."


That chat came later the same evening. It had grown dark already, and Tom had pulled her away from the Slytherin common room (since that was where she was forced to stay with him) and taken her up to his private dormitory.

"So, what did you think?" he asked casually, draping his cloak on a leather armchair.

"Of what?" Hermione asked cautiously, stepping further into the room.

"Slytherin."

"You are quite an…intriguing…group of people," she finally replied.

Tom laughed, and it sent chills up Hermione's spine. "Indeed. Well, I need to write a letter before we go to bed, and while I do, please take advantage of my bathroom. I'm sure you've needed to wash for several days now."

Hermione gave him a slight nod, surprised with his civility towards her. But he doesn't know you're a mudblood, she reminded herself.

The bath was pleasant, nonetheless, and Hermione found her mind constantly reverting to thoughts of Tom. He was extremely popular, especially with the girls, and it reminded her a little of Draco Malfoy. On the other hand, it seemed as though he was slightly uncomfortable around them, which, of course, was the exact opposite of Ferret Boy. Against her will, Hermione felt herself slightly drawn to him, now that her fear had subsided. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something endlessly fascinating about Tom.

Maybe it was the fact that he behaved so strangely—as if he was a regular, teenage boy instead of a budding murderer. Or maybe it was how he treated her—on one side with complete nonchalance, on the other as though she was something in need of protecting. Hermione had noticed how he had followed her everywhere she had gone, whether it was across the common room or to the bathroom.

She was curious about his intentions. And no matter how much she hated Lord Voldemort, she couldn't make the connection between him and this boy.

After nearly three quarters of an hour in the bathtub, Hermione finally climbed out and wrapped a towel around herself. She realized that she had no extra clothes with her, and would have to ask Tom. The thought made her cringe.

Feeling rather self conscious, Hermione stepped out of the bathroom and into Tom's private quarters. His back was facing her, and he was hunched over the oak writing desk. The contour of his broad shoulders was visible beneath the silk, white dress shirt.

"Finished?" he asked, not turning.

"Yes. But, um…Riddle?"

"What is it?" he inquired impatiently, now spinning to look at her.

Hermione felt a nudge of panic at his abrupt movement. "I…uh, I need…"

But Tom had stopped, and was now staring at her openly. The way her wet hair curled down her shoulders, the way she held the towel as low as possible—which still wasn't very low—on her thigh.

Something, somewhere within him, stirred. It wasn't like this with all the other girls he had bedded. But he collected himself, and took a step towards her, pulling out his wand. She seemed to flinch.

"Is this what you need?" he asked, his voice slightly husky, as he flourished his wand.

Instantly, the towel around her was replaced with a black, lace nightie that was the same length as the towel had been.

He smirked as she gasped. "Tom!"

"Yes?" he asked, trying not to laugh at her scandalized discomfort. But then he saw fear flash through her eyes again as he moved closer. Suddenly, he realized what she was afraid of, and his irritation returned. "I'm not going to hurt you!" he said loudly, even more annoyed as she flinched. "Here." Tom handed her his cloak, and wordlessly returned to his desk.

Hermione took it, shaking, and wrapped herself in it. Subconsciously, she decided she liked its scent. But what had Riddle just been playing at? She walked to the other end of the room and nervously sat in a black armchair in front of the fire.

There was silence for several minutes as Tom's quill scratched feverishly on the parchment. Hermione allowed herself to fall into thought, wondering if Tom already knew anything about his future. Suddenly, something came to her.

"Riddle?"

He didn't answer, but his quill paused. She took it as encouragement.

"My old robes. You know I'm a Gryffindor."

"Your point?"

Hermione stared at his back incredulously. "And you're a Slytherin."

"Again, your point?"

"Well…" she struggled for the right words. "I don't understand why you're being so…so hospitable towards me. I mean, shouldn't you be—"

Tom stood up and walked over to the fireplace, sitting in the armchair across from Hermione's. "I don't know enough about you," he said, as if it was the obvious. "There are many reasons why you could have been chosen for a Gryffindor. And though I rather dislike most other members of your house, you seem…different. Intriguing." He smirked as he used the same word Hermione had used to describe Slytherins. "Besides," he added, "I need your help."

She was immediately on her guard as he said those last words. "My help? For what?"

"I believe you when you say you are from the future," he said simply, inspecting his fingernails.

"I'm not," Hermione protested, but knowing it was fruitless.

"You're lying," he said, smirking. "And even if you weren't, then there is still something you are not telling me. Obviously, you have some sort of special power if you managed to get to Hogwarts grounds illegally. I want to know how you did it. And if you help me, I'll help you."

It was then that Hermione finally understood what fate had done to her. Tom Riddle would be the only one to help her back into her own time. For some unknown reason, she even sensed that Dumbledore wouldn't be able to do it. But in exchange, she would have to help Tom become Lord Voldemort.

She almost laughed out loud at the irony. But there was no other solution. This time, it was tears that threatened to come.

Finally, she looked at Tom, who was watching her closely. Something about his gaze still unnerved her. There was something behind those eyes…

"Do you believe in fate, Riddle?" she asked bluntly.

He laughed softly, coldly. "No, not fate. There is only power."

Hermione nodded, still completely at loss at what she was supposed to do. Everything was changing so quickly. But as she rolled the choices over in her head, they all led to only one way out. It seemed impossible, but what else was she supposed to do?

"Alright," she said quietly. "I'll help you."

Almost tenderly, he reached out and stroked her jawbone with a finger. But Hermione could see something like...possessiveness...hidden in his features as he touched her. Tears welled in her eyes as she realized what the consequences of this decision would be. Or, more precisely, as she realized that she had no idea what the consequences would be.


Author's Note: Here's chappie number two! This one was slightly complicated to write, because I had no idea on how I wanted Tom's / Hermione's relationship to evolve. I hope everybody liked it!

Cheers : )

i wanna dance with you in the rain.