London, England
1936
Tom draws everything.
Hermione likes to watch him draw. It must be a special gift, she thinks, to be able to create something out of nothing. Tom's pictures never fail to amaze her – or anyone for that matter – and he knows it. He is arrogant. But he trusts her to sit beside him in the library, while he makes castles and wizards come to life in his notebook. He has about twenty of these notebooks in his room, hidden in his wardrobe under a flappy board. He won't tell her how he got the sketchbooks, but they're always brand-new in the beginning.
He lets her look through all of them. But only when he's finished.
That day, Mrs. Cole takes the children to the park for a healthy spot of fresh air. Tom draws the fountain and the trees and a sister and brother having a picnic and an old woman crying on the bench nearby. His pictures look like photographs. He makes a displeased face when he chews the end of his pencil.
Hermione trails her fingers through the fountain water from where they sit on the stone ledge. She's already finished her book, but Tom is still drawing.
The onyx bottom of the fountain is covered in a shiny, rippling sheet of pennies and fat goldfish that blink at her blearily. Billy, Eric, Sean, and Peter are scooping the dripping wishes into their pockets while Mrs. Cole's head is turned. Hermione shakes her head, turning away, and twists over to get a peek at Tom's newest sketch – but instead, she plops right into the fountain with a giant SPLASH!
Tom whips around, stunned to see her floundering and sputtering in the water, and Billy Stubbs and his cronies laugh themselves silly at the sight of Broomhead Hermione Granger bottom-down in the fountain. Shocked giggles from other spectators add to her humiliation when she stands up and the back of her soppy grey skirt is wet just so it looks like she's had an… an accident. Even Tom cracks a smile.
Fighting back tears, she grabs the stone boot of the heroic-looking gentleman centered in the fountain and uses it to haul herself out. She stubs her toe on the siding as she takes off running, leaving puddles and wet footprints in her tracks. Laughter follows her and Mrs. Cole gives a gasp of surprise when she sees Hermione rip past her, with such speed that the brim of the matron's sunhat flutters.
Finally, Hermione arrives in the safety of a meadow. She collapses against a weeping willow, hiding her face in her knees and sobbing. She hates the boys for laughing at her. And Tom! How could he think it was funny? She thought he was supposed to be her friend...
"Hermione?" A boy is shouting from somewhere far away. It's him. But she doesn't want Tom to find her. She hides her face in her uniform's grey sweater sleeves and huddles up at the base of the willow tree, sniffling.
The sound of footsteps fill her with dread all over again.
"Hermione," Tom stage-whispers, still chuckling. She hears him getting closer, the grass crunching under his boots.
"What's wrong?" Tom says, tugging one of her hands free from where they clench her elbows, and twisting it with his. He puts his chin on her knee when she doesn't say anything and she peeks a glance at him, but then regrets it immediately.
He has his angel eyes on.
"What is it?" he says, tracing the frown on her mouth with his eyes – as if he's trying to memorize the multiple contours on her lips for drawing later. "Tell me, Hermione." The command in his voice is so effective that she starts to answer him without meaning to.
"You all laughed at me," she mumbles, pulling her hand away from him and scowling. Tom immediately slips his nimble body through the two tree roots separating them, he slides down the tree trunk and puts his fingers back in hers. She's so mad his touch feels like boiling hot oil to her.
"Why didn't you help me get out of the fountain?" she says angrily. "Everyone was laughing. And would you quit doing that?" She snatches her hand back again.
"I didn't laugh at you," Tom says in his quiet, serious way. "And I'm mad too, you know. They shouldn't have laughed."
She tears up a handful of grass viciously in agreement.
"I promise I'll make them pay." His hand drops from her face to crumble up a dead leaf sitting by them, squashing it and opening his palm to reveal papery crumbs that he pours over her grassy shrine. "I can get back at Billy and Eric and the rest of those dolts. Would it make you happy if I did?"
Hermione bites the inside of her lip. She doesn't like the way Tom says I'll make them pay. But she does like that he wants her to feel good again.
"I don't want to get anyone in trouble," she says warily.
Tom shrugs. "I'm going to do it anyway."
A knot of squeamishness coils in Hermione's belly and she looks at Tom, worried. He's smiling. He's smiling a smile that reminds her immediately of Peter Pan from the J.M. Barrie book. He looks like a faery boy, who does nothing but make mischief for others, and plays with pirate swords that kill his friends when they aren't fast enough.
Although Tom is not as interested in heroics as Peter Pan was.
They are singing in chapel and wearing their Sunday-best when it happens.
Hermione is following Brother Flitwick's verses obediently. She sings along to the prayer songbook and nods when the preacher laments for the British men at war, the Jews and that horrible Hitler. Tom sits beside her pliantly as he always does, holding the Bible open between them in one hand so it hides his other hand on her leg. His eyes aren't on the verses today, where they usually go so he can pretend to read and whisper insults about the preacher's frumpy daughter under his breath to make Hermione laugh.
But Tom is strangely quiet today.
Suddenly, his hand tightens sharply on Hermione's leg, distracting her. She looks up at him in exasperation, about to ask what it is he wants, but she stops at the look on his face. He is watching someone. She looks over to see who.
At the sight of Billy Stubbs in the pews with his friends, a sick feeling bites her in the stomach. She bites her lip in worry, because she remembers Tom's promise to… make them pay. They watch Billy Stubbs, Eric Whalley, Sean O'Sullivan, and Peter Kowsakowski open their Bibles one by one. The boys look dizzy when they see what has been placed inside just for them, and Tom's face goes twisty with something Hermione can't find a word for, other than dark pleasure.
The boys have each been given their own circles of hell.
Eric Whalley, who unfolds a square piece of paper in his Bible, finds an intricately-drawn picture of himself in the third circle, dripping blood and being ripped limb from limb by Cerberus the three-headed dog. It is illustrated down to the very last minute detail. A string of Eric's goopy flesh dribbles from the beast's slobbering jaws like melted cheese. There is Sean O'Sullivan in the fifth circle, half-drowning in a lake of mud, choking on it. He's surrounded by rabid sinners, tearing at each other and naked. Peter Kowsakowski lies in a flaming tomb, while screeching Furies lash whips at his skin and have their serpentine hair sink fangs into him.
And finally, there is Billy Stubbs, the leader of the gang. He has been given demon wings, which catch and flex in a phantom wind, and his body is frozen in a vast lake of ice. He has three heads, swollen and grotesque, crying and contorted painfully. Each head has another head gripped in its mouth, squashed between long sharp teeth and screaming. They are the heads of Eric Whalley, Sean O'Sullivan, and Peter Kowsakowski.
Hermione feels bile in her mouth when she recognizes the details from Dante's Inferno. She has been reading it to Tom in an effort to make him interested in things other than drawing. But she hadn't thought he would use the book to do something like this.
They both watch Billy crumple up the drawing and shove it in his pocket. He sees them staring and looks away so quickly it looks like his neck will snap. Hermione feels horrible at the sick look on Billy's face. Next to her, Tom sits back and sings along loudly and cheerfully to the verses.
Hermione has never been so sick in all her life.
She closes her eyes, moaning softly when the doctor Mrs. Cole has called over replaces the thermometer he's put under her tongue with a cool washcloth on the forehead.
"She has a temperature of 105 degrees and a slight stomach bug," she hears him tell Mrs. Cole, who makes a noise of concern through the blurry fuzz in Hermione's ears. "Give her these antibiotics and wait on the fever. It should sweat itself out by tomorrow. If it doesn't, call me and I'll come back right away."
"Now you, young lady," the doctor says, tapping her nose and rousing her from the spell she's semi-drifted into. Hermione blinks at him groggily. "You rest and get better. I don't want any rough-housing or messing around or anything of that sort. You're on bed rest. Got it?"
She makes a vaguely humanoid sound, which seems to work, because he finally leaves her alone.
Then the doctor is gone and Mrs. Cole tells her to feel better and that she's going to make sure everyone stays out of her room for the entire day and that she'll bring her lunch up soon. Hermione nods. She is asleep before the door slips shut.
She dreams of Mum and Papa.
Some odd number of hours later, she opens her eyes to find a pair of hands changing the warm washcloth on her head for an ice-cold one. She sighs at the cool relief and Tom's face swims into focus, hovering over hers and creased with concern.
I thought no one was allowed in here, Hermione thinks distantly, but is too tired to ask Tom how he got in. Tom always finds ways to break the rules. To get to her.
"How're you feeling, Hermione?" her friend murmurs, tracing a finger down her too-warm cheek and frowning at her. She shrugs, stirring when he slips into the cot with her, under the sheet she lay sweating on top of and reaching over to fluff her pillows. She's been given extra since she's sick.
"Better?" he asks.
Hermione yawns. "Yeah."
"Good." He settles in, then turns alert and anxious again in a flash. "Wait. You hungry?"
"A little..."
He grins deviously. "Good. I brought you chicken-noodle soup. Mrs. Cole said that'd make you feel better."
"Mrs. Cole let you in?"
"'Course she did." And he bats his thick girl lashes at her, pulling his angel eyes – which are very impressive and never fail to sway Mrs. Cole, or any other female. Hermione smiles a bit.
"Here, have some," Tom says, spooning some of the soup out from the bowl steaming in his lap and blowing on the liquid before bringing it to her mouth. She blushes – which does nothing to help her condition – and mumbles thanks before taking a sip.
"I'm full," she complains when the soup bowl is half-empty. "And tired."
"I'll read you a book to help you sleep." Tom slurps the rest of the soup down and jumps up, grabbing a dog-eared paperback he must have brought off the bedside dresser. Hermione becomes a little more alert at the sight, trying to see the cover.
"Which one is that?" she queries, when she fails to find out for herself.
"Wuthering Heights." He pauses. "Girls like romances, right?"
"Well, yeah, but just 'cause I'm a girl don't mean I only read Emily Brontë and sappy stuff-"
"No, that's because you're you," he says in correction. He doesn't give her a chance to puzzle over this though and wriggles back in the cot, plopping his head down next to hers and holding up the book so they both can see. He flips open to the first page, starting up. "1801–I have just returned from a visit to my landlord–the solitary neighbor that I shall be troubled with…"
Hermione is fast asleep within two chapters.
Tom sees she's drifted, moves around so that her head rests on his shoulder, and keeps on reading.
It's the first field trip of the year.
Hermione is excited. The whole orphanage is excited. Tom says he knows a place they can swim in at the beach, a place the other kids don't know about that's all his. He'll let her go in it though, as long as she doesn't tell anyone else about it.
The bus ride to the beach is sweaty and tight, and the other children laugh and point out the windows, while Mrs. Cole fans herself at the front of the bus with a magazine and chats with the driver. They all wear rather saggy bathing suits under their grey tunics and have beach towels. It's hot in July.
Hermione sits with Tom. He holds her hand and tells her all about the seaside. She listens closely.
When they all get there, they squelch out of the bus's narrow doors like juice squeezed out of a ketchup bottle. Children go springing in all directions, tangling themselves in washed-up seaweed and tearing off through the sand before Mrs. Cole has a hope of rounding any of them up for safety instructions. The matron watches them all go, helplessly, and takes up her post near the surf with a resigned sigh.
The sun's balmy. The saltwater is so tangy-strong Hermione can taste it.
"So where's that special place?" Hermione whispers in Tom's ear, who grins and whispers back "Follow me. I'll show you."
He still has her hand, so when she nods all Tom has to do is pull her along the coastline.
They weave in and out, to dance around seashells and rocky ocean clutter, to laugh and skip away from the tide when it charges up like it means to get them. The farther away they get from the others, the tighter Tom's hand around hers becomes. He's real excited. The sound of laughter behind them is quieter now.
"Here it is," he finally announces, spectacularly, and slips them around the jutting crop of a cliff that soars high above them. On the other side is a small pool, not big enough to be a lake, but not small enough to be a pond either. It's perfect.
It's theirs.
"This is…so…so…" Hermione searches for a good adjective. Finally, she impressively settles with "Profound" and Tom is very smug. He takes off his uniform, until he's down to his swim trunks, and Hermione does the same. They go swimming.
They play games for what feels like hours, splashing and pretending and shouting out. Hermione doesn't go in very deep, because she can't swim, and Tom teases her for it. He shows off and goes to the very center of the pool, doing a backstroke and all sorts of flips, shaking his dark hair free of water when he comes back up. Hermione floats in the shallow end.
When Tom gets bored, he climbs out and dries off, grabbing the sketchbook he's brought and retreating far off to drier land in search of better scenery. Hermione blows bubbles into the water with her nose.
Loud laughter startles her.
"Looky here, Amy!" the voice of Billy Stubbs cries, and Hermione turns around to see the pimply-faced boy stumble in. She fills with dismay when she sees Amy Benson (who isn't half so bad, but has a big crush on Billy and always picks her nose like she's digging for treasure) follow him. Why are they here? This is supposed to be her and Tom's spot. Only theirs.
"Look what I-" Billy Stubbs stops yelling like a Neanderthal when he sees her, in the pool and staring at him. A big glare replaces his smile. "What are you doin' here, Broomhead?" he demands.
Hermione scowls. She hates that nickname. Broomhead. It's not even clever.
"Well, Broomhead?" Billy says again, taunting her now, and Amy has arrived and laughs at her. Hermione goes red.
"You shut your fat mouth, Billy, or I'll make you," she threatens, to which Billy scoffs and marches down the slope toward her. Hermione struggles out of the water, straggly hair dripping and looking much like a wet cat whose fur has been rubbed the wrong way. Amy scampers after Billy like the lovesick goon she is.
"Oh yeah? How you gonna do that, Broomhead?" the boy sneers. "You gonna poke me in the eye with that giant ugly hair? You gonna bite me with those beaver teeth?"
"They're not beaver teeth!" Hermione shouts, because they're really not. She knows her two front teeth are slightly-overly-large and everything, but they've been that way since she turned six and her Mum and Papa told her there wasn't any tooth fairy. They also explained that she'd be getting grown-up teeth to take the place of her baby ones, which would look too big until she grew into them.
She's still growing into them, obviously – but Billy Stubbs is too thick to get that.
"Whatcha gonna do, beaver?" Billy mocks, pulling back his top lip so his teeth seem larger and making a disgusting face at her. "You gonna munch on some wood and make a dam?"
"Don't say that word," she snaps, in a fashion that is decidedly Mrs. Cole reminiscent, and Amy giggles.
"She's such a wet blanket," Amy says and Billy sniggers, agreeing. Hermione blushes. "What d'you think you are, the Queen?"
"No, I-"
"Ooh, better be nice, Amy," Billy interrupts loudly, eyes going big. "We're in the presence of the Queen-"
"Quit that!"
"Oh yes, yes, your ladyship." Amy is laughing herself silly, while Billy makes lots of bows and a show of worshipping Hermione and her 'great ugly bush of hair.' "Does your ladyship have any requests? Shall we get you a new barber, or a big piece of wood you can snack on-? Aw, looky, Amy! She's cryin' like a wittle baby. Oh, your ladyship we are so, so sorry-"
"You'd better be."
They all look up, stunned, and Billy Stubbs goes pale as a Dracula victim at the sight of Tom Riddle. Hermione keeps crying.
Tom's eyes are hard. "What did you do to her?" he barks, coming over and pushing Hermione behind him. He's tall for a ten-year old and towers over the rest of them. Billy flinches. Hermione's sniveling is the only sound to be heard for a tense minute that seems to last forever.
Tom's eyes slowly narrow. "You going to answer me, Billy, or do I have to make you?"
Billy glares at him. "I ain't afraid of you, Riddle." He spits.
Tom gazes at the wad of saliva bubbling on the sand, then raises his quiet stare to Billy. Amy looks afraid. Billy is in way over his head.
"No?" he questions.
"No." Billy shakes his head firmly. He grins.
Because he thinks he's won.
"Then let's settle this like men." Tom holds Billy's eyes as a serpent does a rabbit. Billy's own pet rabbit, Babbedy, is safe in Amy Benson's arms and sleeping. He's an adorable white bundle with red beads for eyes. "See that cave over there? Mrs. Cole won't see us in it. We'll go there and fight it out."
Billy squares his shoulders. "Fine."
Tom smirks. "Fine."
So Billy leads the way, with Amy scampering after him looking worried and cradling Babbedy. Hermione has stopped crying and Tom takes her hand, tugging her up the hill after Billy and Amy. Taking them even farther away from the original beach they were all supposed to be playing on. He doesn't talk. He only has that Peter Pan smile and the look of someone who's got a big secret.
Hermione isn't sure she wants to know what that secret is.
"Are you really going to fight?" she asks, once they're real close to the cave Billy and Amy have already disappeared inside. Tom shakes his head. "Then what are you going to do?" Hermione says, relieved and confused at the same time.
"Something bad." Tom looks excited just saying the word. Hermione blinks.
"Bad?" she repeats. "You mean, even more bad than the time you gave Billy and the others those awful pictures?"
"Much more bad than that." Tom grins. The smile isn't Peter Pan like at all. It reminds her more of Captain Hook.
Or of some other villain entirely.
They go inside the cave and everything isn't so clear after that. Tom takes them in deep, until it's so dark they can't see a single thing. He's definitely been here before. Amy starts to cry, sure they'll never get out again and be stuck here forever. Billy tells her to grow up. She cries harder.
Tom pushes Hermione in a corner. "Close your eyes," he whispers softly, tucking a frizzy lock of hair behind her ear. The curl comes free as soon as he pulls away though.
Amy asks where Tom and Hermione went.
There's a shove, a shout, and lots of heavy breathing. Hermione's heart pounds hard in her ears when she hears a sickening crack that makes her flesh crawl all over. She bites her lip, keeping her eyes squeezed shut just like Tom told her. She listens to the sound of sobs and terror-filled shrieks, of pulling ropes. She sees nothing but the dark. She hopes this will end soon. She hears her blood roaring like a train's wheels over railway tracks…
She nearly jumps out of her skin when a hand wraps around hers.
"It's me," Tom whispers into her ear.
Hermione gasps and flies into him, holding him tight. "Can we go, Tom? Please?" she says desperately. "Can you get us out of here?"
"Well, maybe…"
"Tom!"
"Ok, ok." He snickers. "Come on, hold onto me." He adds, mischievously, "Or you might get stuck in here forever."
Hermione shudders.
When they all board the bus to go back to the orphanage, word has already spread that Amy and Billy are missing. Mrs. Cole starts a search party with the bus driver and other chaperones that have come on the outing. The adults find the two children after two hours of looking, lost in a cave with a dead bunny hanging from the rafters. They won't say what's happened no matter how hard Mrs. Cole pushes for answers.
But the other children know.
Yes, they know about Tom Riddle, and they know two things they'll never ever forget. One: something unspeakable happened in the cave that day. And two: unless they want the same thing to happen to them, they'll stay away from Hermione Granger.
At all costs.