When Hermione woke up the next morning, earlier than the rest of the girls, she had come up with a new plan that was much more concrete than the first. This would get Tom Riddle off her back and setthe task in motion. She hoped.
After a quick shower and getting dressed in her uniform she gave herself a mental pep talk before going downstairs to meet him. She couldn't let him get to her like that again, and while she didn't know what it was she did that angered him so in the first place she couldn't do it again. Not if she was going to get him to leave her alone, to forget she ever existed.
She cracked her knuckles and checked her watch. 7:58. Time to go.
She shrugged on her robes and grabbed her schoolbag, going downstairs to the common room which was very un-empty in the morning and filled with numerous Slytherins draped over the couches and conversing in secretive, hushed tones. She slipped past all of them, ignoring the evil glare Meredith sent her way when she passed her, and exited the dungeons.
Outside an impeccable Tom Riddle was waiting for her. He smiled at her arrival and she almost believed he was happy to see her for whatever reason, until she remembered who he was. What game he was playing at.
"Good morning, Hermione," he greeted, starting the walk to the Great Hall.
"Tom," she said tranquilly.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Yes." Well enough anyway, if she didn't count the nightmares. At least she wasn't sleeping in a tent anymore. "And you?" she forced herself to say.
"I slept well, thank you. " He smirked at that for some reason. "Are you looking forward to your classes?" he asked politely.
"Yes actually."
He was slightly surprised at that. Since when did girls (or anyone besides him for that matter) look forward to class? He shook it off as unimportant.
"Do you have your schedule with you?" he continued.
She looked at him warily. "Yes."
"Let me see it."
Again with the commands. Hermione sighed internally, but flicked her wand and her schedule came zooming out of her bag into her hands. She knew better than to anger him now. Silently, she handed the paper to him. They arrived at the Great Hall just then. He opened the door for her and she was surprised for a split second before remembering what century she was in. Chivalry and gallantry hadn't died just yet, had it?
She started to head to her seat, pretending to forget that Riddle had her schedule for the sake of a quick getaway, but was forced to stop when he cleared his throat. "Hermione, where are you going?" he asked and it was clear by his tone that he was amused.
"To eat breakfast, of course," she said, smiling at him tightly. What the hell did he want now? He was a Dark Lord in the making, didn't he have better things to do than coerce with 'weaklings'?
His brows rose and – damn him – she couldn't help but realize how completely irresistible he looked even this early in the morning. It wasn't fair. "Well, you will eat breakfast next to me. I'll even introduce you to my friends, if you'd like," he said, as if he were doing her a favor, and promptly led them to his side of the table.
Friends? Don't you mean your insane, mass murderer Death Eaters! Hermione thought furiously.
She sat beside him after he'd made an unwilling Abraxas scoot over for her. A seat down Elfaba – or Elfy as the others called her – was glaring daggers at her. Maybe, Hermione thought, he would just ignore her and talk to his little minions.
She was wrong.
Twenty minutes later, after he'd finished chatting to his minions, Riddle turned to her. "Hm… This is quite the schedule you have Hermione," he said thoughtfully as she ate an apple. "Advanced Potions and Ancient Runes are very difficult courses. Are you sure you can handle it?" He sounded kind on the outside, but she knew he was mocking her.
"I was top of my class at Beauxbatons so yes, I think I can handle it," she said tartly.
There was some nervous laughter at the table, for everyone had been watching her and the King of Snakes closely ever since she sat down, but it was quickly eclipsed when Riddle cast a sharp look about them.
"Perhaps we should leave early, Hermione," Riddle said softly. "I wouldn't want you to be late to class on your first day."
She froze, the apple in her mouth suddenly tasting like ash. She'd done it again, hadn't she? Pissed him off. She glanced at Dumbledore longingly, who was sitting at the staff table and talking to the Herbology professor. Save me, she thought, but alas, she did not have telepathy and was on her own. When she looked back at Riddle he was already standing up, staring at her with a cocked brow.
Was that pity in Regulus' eyes?
She picked up her bag and stood, chin held high, and followed Riddle out of the hall. She'd planned on telling him she would find her own way to class, that she was sorry for inconveniencing him and really would be fine by herself, but the words died on her lips as soon as they were alone.
He was walking fast. She had to struggle to keep up.
"Erm, Ri-" He gave her a look. "I mean, Tom," she said quickly. "Where are we going?"
"To your first class of course, Potions." He pulled back a blue-and-yellow tapestry hanging on the stone wall, revealing a secret pathway lit by torches that went Merlin knows where.
"I'm not going down there," Hermione said firmly.
He rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to kill you or anything. It's just a shortcut."
Oh, I doubt that.
But because she wasn't supposed to have a reason not to trust him, to hate him with every fiber of her being and doubt him even more, she stepped inside. Behind her the heavy swoosh of the tapestry falling back into place was followed by Riddle's breath on her neck. She stiffened. "I thought you said you weren't going to kill me," she said, attempting lightness but failing miserably.
He chuckled, his fingers playing at the side of her neck again. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth with a gasp. "Of course not, Hermione. I don't have any good reason to."
Fingers trembling, she reached up to cover her hand with his. She hated not being able to see him, not knowing what he might do next. "Don't…" she started, but didn't finish. Don't what? Don't choke me? Don't Crucio me? Don't look so good but be so evil?
His fingers flexed under hers and he laughed again, so softly and quietly it sounded more like the gentle rasp of rustling sheets. "Don't what? There's fifteen more minutes until class starts, Hermione."
Her insides turned to ice. She was done for.
"And…" His other hand came over her rib, clenching it for just a painful second, and her free hand flew over that one too. "You were very rude to me at breakfast."
She closed her eyes. She couldn't hear anything out there. Could they hear anything in here? "You made me angry," she whispered.
"Ditto."
She scratched at the hand on his neck desperately and he spun her around, shoving her into the wall behind her. "Ouch!" she wheezed when her spine smacked the stone and suddenly Riddle was wearing a look of apology so convincing and angelic she almost believed it. He even stroked her hair.
"My apologies, Hermione, but I don't usually let anyone push me around and I have been very…lenient…with you since you are new. However, I had to make sure you understood the way it works here." His eyes were endless, compelling her to bend to his twisted symmetry. She looked away and stared at a crack in the ground to keep herself from cracking. "Doyou understand?" he asked.
"Yes."
He pinched her again and she squirmed, head whipping back up to serve him a piercing glare. "Yes, I understand, Tom," she hissed.
That look, full of fury and righteousness, should have angered him further, but it did the exact opposite. He hadn't seen that side of her before and it piqued him. Why was she so different than the other girls? And what was it that made Dumbledore watch her through all of dinner and breakfast? What made him give a flying fuck about her at all? She was braver than his Death Eaters, that was for sure, and she had an air of secrecy that put all his senses on high alert. She defied him constantly and there was something about this girl that told him the face she was wearing wasn't a real one. Something a lot like…
Him.
But no, no one was like Tom Riddle.
"Can we go now?" she said impatiently, interrupting his thoughts. "I'd like to get to class on time and it will look suspicious if both of us don't show up."
At this he grinned at her and propped his elbow on the wall right beside her head, looking down at her with a cocked brow. "You say that like we have something to hide." His smile turned wicked. "Should we?"
"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer," Hermione replied, straightening and wiping off her pleated skirt.
"If you say so." Riddle shrugged and stood. "Follow me." And just like that, he was commanding her again like some king bossing around his subjects. His robes billowed around him with his sharp movements and once again Hermione was struggling to keep up with his long strides. She didn't understand him. One second he was issuing death threats, the next teasing her, and then he was suddenly cold and dominative again.
But, she supposed, no one ever did understand the Dark Lord.
Once they reached the end of the tunnel, which was relatively small, Riddle walked straight through what looked like another stone wall. Hesitantly, she followed suit and gasped when she popped out of the other side – right in front of the Potions room.
Now why hadn't she ever known about that?
"Wow, is this the Potions room?" she asked, not having to fake the surprise left over from walking right through the wall.
"Yes, our first class," Riddle confirmed, entering the room.
Oh.
Wait, what?
She scrambled in after him, hurrying past the warming cauldrons and already seated students. She grabbed his arm halfway down the aisle and he turned around, staring down at her with a raised brow. "What do you mean our class?" she demanded.
"I mean, yours and my Potions class." He smirked. "Your English isn't quite up to scratch, is it, ma chère?" He flicked her nose lightly. She was vividly aware of the curious stares trained on them.
"I speak English very well, thank you," she sniffed, stepping out of his reach and moving around him to sit at the only empty seat in class. Hopefully her partner was at least half-decent.
A moment later with the materials written on the board in hand, Riddle appeared beside her.
You've got to be kidding me.
At her despairing look, he smirked.
She wanted to smack his mouth off that sinfully good-looking face.
Hermione looked up as Slughorn stepped forward to start the class, missing the several glares directed at her by the girls who had been watching her exchange with Tom Riddle. "Happy Monday!" he boomed, rubbing his hands together and grinning. "Today, we will be preparing a hate potion." At this, Hermione straightened. Yes, this was exactly what Dumbledore had told her would happen! This was the first real step toward-
"Now, I know most of you are familiar with the brewing of a love potion, which cancels out the effects of a hate potion and vice versa, but can anyone tell me what the Despicable Concoction is?"
Hermione's hand shot into the air, a mere second before Tom's did. Slughorn looked surprised – as did Tom – but pleased, and called on her.
"The Despicable Concoction ostensibly causes the drinker to despise the person whose name is whispered to the potion. However, real hatred cannot be produced through artificial means, and thus the feelings that the Despicable Concoction create are more like extreme avoidance than real detestation. The effect any hate potion has will also wear off over time, and the Despicable Concoction is a potion that can be very easily turned into Amorentia by accident during brewing," she rattled off.
"Yes, yes wonderful, Miss Granger! Five points for Slytherin," Slughorn said thrillingly. "Now, onto the actual brewing…"
Ten minutes later everyone in class except for Riddle and Hermione had split up to gather their ingredients, which Riddle had already gotten and was preparing. Hermione adjusted the flame beneath the cauldron and flipped open to the right page in their book, reading it twice before joining Riddle, who had already started.
"Are you finished yet?" Riddle said in a slightly amused, slightly annoyed voice when she finally looked up.
"I guess," she said, pretending to peer at the book again, but Riddle speedily flicked his yew wand at it and it snapped shut inches away from her nose. She glared at him.
Ignoring her look, he said, "I just added the frog heart. Cut the Alithotsy leaves and Valerian roots into 1-inch pieces, I'll add them, and we will be finished."
"Finished?" she said, gaping at him. "But we just started!"
"You just started," he corrected, stirring the potion with his wand and watching the bubbling concoction turn soft magenta with attentive eyes. "I, in the meantime, was doing something productive."
She opened her mouth to protest, but shut it on second thought. What was the point of arguing with him? she thought exhaustedly. He was a narcissistic, crazy Muggle hater who would one day be the most feared Wizard in the world. There really was no talking sense into Riddle. Silently, she chopped the Althotsy and Valerian leaves, pushing them toward him when she was finished. Minutes later the potion was deep red, like blood. Like the color of Voldemort's eyes.
Hermione shivered, turning away when Slughorn awarded them each ten points for their outstanding work. What was she doing? She wasn't here to earn the best grades and make friends, to be another Hogwarts student. No, she was here to complete the task, to change the future forever… To do that she needed to focus. She needed the hate potion.
She didn't, however, need any help.
AN: Hmmm, what does Hermione need that hate potion for? Why does Slughorn like Wednesdays? Why is Tom Riddle SO SEXY? (The world will never know...) Anyway, thanks for your reviews and support, Tomione crackheads. Y'all are the best! *KISSES* BTW, chapters will be get lengthier soon, I pinky swear. I'm just building up to it!