After his fruitless search for that insipid girl in the library Tom Riddle stalked back to his room. 'HB' the initials on his door said. Halfblood, he thought darkly, and muttered his password before stepping inside.
He didn't know anything about Hermione, except that she was apparently from France and very intelligent. Of course, that wouldn't have been so bad if he weren't the only one who didn't know anything - but he wasn't. No one else knew a grain of information about the girl either. He needed a plan.
Luckily, Tom Riddle was an excellent planner.
He was sure she was the one in the library, sneaking around in the Restricted Section. But for what? An idea suddenly took form unbidden in his mind and it made him smile. Did Hermione have a secret passion for Dark Arts? She could be useful to him. He lay down on his bed, crossing his arms behind his head, and stared at the ceiling thoughtfully. He hadn't toyed with a girl in ages, having been too busy trying to track down his locket, and Elfy was too stupid and gullible to be any fun as of late. Hermione could be a challenge and seducing her would be a sure way to get her to spill her secrets. Girls were fools for romance and easy to manipulate if they thought you loved them.
Tom fingered the vial of Amortentia in his hand, smirking. He popped the cork and inhaled, relishing the scent of strawberries and faint smell of ink. It smelled like her. Hermione.
But this was for someone else.
"Tom Riddle," he whispered to the shining potion and the liquid inside swirled, turning a deeper shade of red. All he had to do now was wait.
The next morning Hermione had gotten ready and was prepping to meet Tom Riddle again. However, her inner monologue was interrupted by an unpleasant face. Meredith's unpleasant face, to be exact.
"Morning Mudlblood," the girl sneered, flipping her glossy black hair as she passed her. "Your hair is looking as filthy as ever." Behind Hermione several Slytherins were snickering. Ears hot, she stood up, grabbed her bag, and swept out of the dormitory ten minutes early. Prejudice idiots, she thought heatedly, shoving the hurt down deep inside. Why should what they thought matter to her? She had the task.
Nothing else mattered to her now.
She passed the students in the common room as she did every morning, but paused at the sight of one student she didn't usually see in the dungeons. He was lounging on the black leather couch, both arms draped over the back, and legs splayed so that there was no room for anyone else to sit down. Not that anyone would try. He was Tom Riddle after all.
As soon as she entered his dark eyes glanced up to meet hers and a smile graced his features. She would've believed it too had it reached his eyes, which were empty of emotion as pits. But today he wasn't going to push her around. Not this time, Riddle, she thought and stared into his eyes determinedly, all her thoughts locked firmly away. She even smiled back at him, and if he was surprised he didn't show it.
"Hello Hermione," he said, polite as ever, and stood up, oblivious to the ogling glances and longing sighs he induced from a group of fifth year Slytherin girls huddled by the stairs.
"Morning Tom," she greeted. "Your ego is pulsating."
His smile widened. "Are you ready to go?"
I'd rather wrestle a Blast-Ended Skewrt, she thought, but said, "Sure."
Riddle led them out of the common room. They left a little later that morning, so when they reached the Great Hall it was full and boisterous, filled with ringing laughter and shouts even at nine o' clock in the morning. He pulled her chair out for her and she was startled slightly by that, but wrote it off to the time period. Chivalry was in, of course he'd behave like a gentleman.
"Thanks…Tom," she muttered, sitting down. He took his place next to her and immediately the focus at the table shifted, intent on him…and her.
She grimaced behind her pudding.
Elfy, who was peering at her with slanted eyes, turned to Riddle and smiled, batting her long eyelashes flirtatiously. Her strawberry blonde hair was twisted into a stylish up-do and her pink nail polish glittered in the morning sunlight streaming in. She would have looked pretty, if not for that constipated look on her face. "Tom, you never talk to me anymore," she said with a sad sigh. "What has been keeping you away from me?"
"I apologize, Elfaba," he said softly and without looking at her, spreading marmalade on his toast. "I've been very busy helping Miss Granger adjust to Hogwarts and my Head Boy duties have kept my plate quite full." To cap the statement, he glanced at her swiftly – sorrily – and Elfy melted like an icicle under the blazing heat of the sun.
"Oh, I understand perfectly, Tom," she said sympathetically. She shot Hermione a meaningful look. "You're such a gentleman, helping others when you hardly have the time to."
Hermione bristled at this. She hadn't asked for his help! She'd rather navigate the perilous Triwizard Tournament maze by herself twice than have him escort her to another class. What was Elfy's problem?
Tom, watching Hermione's reactions closely out of the corner of his eye, simply smirked at Elfy's words. Her hand was inching up his right leg. He swatted it away like a fly. "Oh no, it's no trouble at all really," he said, so quietly no one but Elfy could hear, and looked right into her suddenly watering eyes expressionlessly –although there may have been some malice brewing deep in his black gaze. "I enjoy Miss Granger's company very much actually."
Elfy blinked, shocked, and looked back at her untouched plate of food, gulping back hot tears. What was he doing with that little French whore? Her hands shook with fury.
Unaware of what had just passed, Hermione stretched her arms above her head and yawned. "I'm finished. Can we go?" She hated that she had to ask for his permission, but until she got Riddle off her back she'd have to placate him. Otherwise the Dark Lord might Crucio me.
Riddle flashed a winning, close-lipped smile at her. "Of course, darling."
She started at that and his pet name for her drew shocked stares. However, she said nothing and headed out the hall, Riddle close behind her. Elphy shot a livid glare after the new girl and leaned forward to explain to Abraxas and Dolohov exactly where Riddle and Granger were going.
As they walked down the hall Hermione did her best to seem distracted, lest he try to question her about last night. Be tough, she coached herself, he can't boss you around unless you let him. He can't make you say a thing. They arrived at Potions quickly and took their seats. Riddle gathered the new items listed on the board. They were going to be making Befuddlement Draught today, a potion Hermione had already prepared in her time at Hogwarts and found quite simple. She looked forward to the lesson.
When the class was full and Slughorn was about to begin, his eyes surveyed the class and paused on Hermione. He grinned at her and clambered toward her and Riddle's table, drawing something out of his robes. "For you, Miss Granger," he said when he'd arrived and slipped her a pass for the Restricted Section. "Best of luck with that project!"
"Thank you, Professor," she said and put away the pass, trying to ignore Riddle's narrowed eyes.
"Project? On your second day here?" Riddle inquired softly when Slughorn had started to explain the steps necessary for brewing the potion. He didn't need to listen, having already prepared Befuddlement Draught before. "How forthcoming of you."
"My third technically," she said, still refusing to meet his gaze, and played with her quill. She unknowingly infuriated him. "And yes, it's for Arithmancy." He wasn't in her Arithmancy class, so he couldn't call her on her lie, she thought with satisfaction. Take that, Riddle!
Beside her Riddle nodded thoughtfully. "You do have an affinity for the library, don't you, Hermione?"
She froze – for just a fraction of a second – but he saw it. Hermione smoothed her expression, letting her eyes go blank. "What's wrong with a little love for knowledge?" she said coolly.
"Nothing," he replied, turning to the front when Slughorn faced the class. He started to prepare the ingredients and she followed suit after a second of deliberation. "Knowledge is power, after all, darling."
She looked at him, annoyed. "Do you have to call me that?" she said exasperatedly.
He glanced up at her, as if surprised, and frowned. "Call you what?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. As if you don't know, she thought accusingly. "You know what," she hissed.
He turned away from her and added puffer-fish eyes to their cauldron. When he looked back at her he looked so hurt and embarrassed she blinked in surprise. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to make you…uncomfortable. It's just," he fidgeted and stared into her eyes intensely, "...I like you very much."
She wanted to break eye contact, she should have, but she couldn't. Not when he was staring at her like that. Like a puppy who'd just been kicked in the stomach. "I…" she began, but trailed off helplessly. She didn't know what to say. Ugh, he was playing her! But why did he have to do it so damn well?
She wasn't going to say I like you, too. That was for damn sure.
"You're intelligent and unpredictable," he continued, leaning closer and burning her with those coal-black eyes. She held her breath. "Mysterious."
That woke her up. Blinking, she jerked her head back and spun away from him, not even bothering to try and be discreet about it. She laughed nervously. "Me, mysterious?" She thrusted her knife right through a block of ginger. "Not in a Sherlock Holmes novel." He, she knew, was one of the few wizards at this school who would know who Sherlock Holmes was.
"I beg to differ, Hermione," Riddle said and his voice had lost its gentle lacquer. It was now menacing. "I'm no fool. I know you're hiding something."
She looked around them desperately. Where was Slughorn when she needed him? Catching the look in her eyes, Riddle grabbed her wrist just before it could shoot into the air and squeezed it with such bruising force she gasped, earning glances from the students around them. Riddle sent her a warning look and came closer, putting his arms around hers and pretending to help her properly slice goose grass.
He put his mouth at her ear, as if he was going to give her a specific instruction, but instead murmured, "I know it was you in the library last night." His hand clenched around her wrist. She squirmed and he tsked, tightening his grip even more. "How did you get in without anyone seeing you? How did you get out without me seeing?"
"But you did, you shot a-" At the triumphant look on his face, she backtracked. Shit. "I-I mean, why do you have such a-" She yanked her hands against his iron hold angrily. "-a painful grip?"
He laughed.
When he saw Slughorn coming toward them he released her and sat down, waiting patiently as Slughorn stirred their potion experimentally and awarded them compliments and points. "Thank you, Professor," he said modestly, ever the model student, and not missing the way Hermione rubbed her sore wrists underneath the desk.
He resisted a smirk.
"And you too, Miss Granger," Slughorn added. "Excellent work! It's a good thing I put you two together, you make the perfect match." He winked.
I beg to differ, Hermione thought, glaring at the back of Slughorn's balding head as he waddled away.
"Wonderful job, everyone!" Slughorn boomed, clapping his hands for attention. "Clean up your stations and empty your cauldrons. I will see you all tomorrow." Hermione moved to clear their table but Tom beat her to it, waving his wand and murmuring a Cleaning charm. The supplies vanished except for the cauldron, which was sparkling clean again and gleamed shiny black.
She hated him for his perfection.
They strode down the halls side-by-side, a foot in between them that Hermione guarded fiercely. The Dark Lord was getting far too close for comfort. What ever happened to lying low, staying under the radar? Sticking to the plan? Oh that's right, she thought bitterly. Tom Riddle happened.
Outside of Herbology class, he did something very strange. He leaned forward, looked down at her with a soft smile, and tucked a stray curl behind her ear – as if he were saying goodbye to a dear girlfriend. But that wasn't right, because Voldemort didn't love, nor did he like her. Sure, he'd told her he did in Potions, but his words didn't mean anything. Every syllable that left his lips was a silky, well-versed lie.
Hermione looked past him, at a banner promoting the upcoming Quidditch match. She didn't see his jaw twitch. "I'll see you at the end of class, darling, and we'll finish our little talk." Not very gently, he took her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. "Understood?"
She smiled at him icily. "Perfectly."
He piqued a brow.
"Tom," she added grudgingly.
He winked at her. Actually winked at her. Voldemort!
"See you later," he said, brushing his lips over her forehead, before disappearing back down the corridor. She stared after him, gaping. What was that about?
She entered class, rubbing furiously at her forehead with the sleeve of her robe to try and dispel that stupid tingly feeling, and sat down beside Augusta. Regulus arrived not a minute after and through the entire class, Augusta kept up a steady stream of chatter about Quidditch and how pointless Herbology was while Hermione answered every question the professor had to offer. Regulus kept sending Hermione weird looks she tried to ignore. Sirius's grandfather really was strange.
By the end of class Hermione had earned fifteen points for Slytherin and was stripping off her dragonskin gloves while Augusta plucked twigs out of her hair. They went into the hall with the other students and Augusta suddenly froze like a statue, making Hermione trip over her shoe. She looked past the immobile girl to find a polished Tom Riddle leaning against the threshold looking for all the world like a dark prince in peasant clothes. Of course, Hermione thought, grimacing.
"Hello Hermione," he said smoothly and nodded at the Head Girl. "Augusta."
"Hi Tom," she said, grinning and blushing a little. Hermione was horrified. Oh no, it wasn't just the Slytherins. The other house girls had fallen for him too! "What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to take Miss Granger to class," Riddle said, shooting the girl herself a smile that would have been dazzling if not for the fact he'd murdered countless witches and wizards. Bastard. "Ready?" he asked.
"Actually Tom, I need to speak to Hermione privately," Augusta cut in, a look of apology on her face. "I'll get her to her next class on time though, I promise." She smiled.
If Tom was displeased he didn't show it, and on the surface he returned Augusta's smile and straightened to leave. "Of course, I wouldn't want to intrude on any girl talk." He winked at Augusta, who giggled and turned pinker. Hermione tried not to gag. "I'll see you later, Hermione," he added, hidden meaning coating his words.
She shivered.
As he strode away Augusta immediately grabbed her by the arm and hauled them in the opposite direction. Hurrying down the halls, she hissed, "I heard rumors about you two, but I didn't actually believe you were together! Why didn't you tell me?"
"Rumors?" Hermione repeated sharply. "What rumors?"
Augusta rolled her eyes to the ceiling, the picture of innocence. "Well, Scrimageour told me and Finsley told him and Rufus Parvati told Finsley and Parvati got it from Abraxas Malfoy, who got it straight from the source," she reported.
"Who's the source?" Hermione asked.
"Elfy Wictz," Minerva said and the girls turned around, surprised to find Minerva striding steadily behind them. She stepped up in between them, straightening her glasses. "She's been a real bitch ever since she started hanging around Meredith," she added matter-of-factly.
Hermione scowled. Elfy. She should've known. That girl did seem to hold an inexplicable grudge against her and she was glaring daggers at her all breakfast. But wait-
"Mmm, Tom Riddle," Augusta sighed with a little giggle. "You know, you're so lucky he's courting you Hermione. I've never seen him with anyone in all these years at Hogwarts, but every female in existence fantasizes about that hot hunk of testosterone." She winked. Hermione choked on her spit at this, but before she could say anything Augusta continued, "Is it true you two met in the caretaker's supplies closet to shag before first period yesterday?"
"WHAT? No!" Hermione screeched at the dirty grin on Augusta's face, which was quickly replaced by a look of disappointment. "We're not even together, Augusta. There's nothing between us. Nothing," she said with conviction.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Augusta said thriftily. "I mean, Tom does escort you to class and he looked quite unwilling to leave your side just a minute ago. Plus, I saw the way you were looking at him…"
Looking at him how? With bitter hatred coming from the very bottom of my soul? she thought furiously.
"That's because…because…" Hermione grappled for words, but what could she say? He's only pretending to be into me, but really he's just an evil mastermind who is fooling you all with his dastardly good looks so that he can take over the world later and kill every Muggles on the planet? Yeah, that would go over well – in St. Mungo's.
"Well," Augusta said slowly, seriously. "It seems to me that Tom likes you. I don't know how you feel about him, but I wouldn't blame you if-"
"Longbottom," Hermione said warningly.
"Granger," Augusta mocked. "I'm just saying, he's hot! And there's nothing wrong with a bit of healthy temptation."
But wasn't there?
Minerva almost cracked a smile at the green look on Hermione's face and Augusta took pity on her, clapping her back. "Don't worry about it, girl. Just stick to your guns."
"Just so you know," Minerva interrupted. "I think there's something up with Riddle. He may have a pretty face – well, that's an understatement – but there's something about him that's…not right. I find him suspicious."
Hermione stared at her, surprised. So Minerva saw it too?
Augusta laughed. "Oh, stop being silly Minerva!" She rolled her eyes at Hermione, who forced a tight-lipped smile on her face. "She thinks everyone is suspicious."
"I do not!" Minerva said, scowling.
"Sure you don't."
"Ugh, you're ridiculous. I'm going to the library!" She stormed away, the look on her face so frightful students scrambled out of her path as she stalked down the hall.
"I guess I better go, too," Augusta said with a sigh. "Go to class Hermione, I'll catch up with you later." And she turned on her heel and hurried down the hall to her own class, leaving Hermione right outside Arithmancy.
During class Hermione was so lost in her thoughts during class she only answered five questions the entire period. Was it really floating around that she and Tom were together? But no, why would Elfy tell people that? It wouldn't help her in any way. Then again, maybe she was just pathetic and thought Hermione was stealing Riddle from her or something. Either way, Hermione was sure to start getting worse looks than usual in the Slytherin common room.
But that was the least of Hermione's problems, seeing as Riddle was onto her.
Once class was finished she had come up with a plan for evading him, so as soon as the door opened and students rushed out in clumsy torrents she hid among them, slipping right past Riddle's studious eyes and stealing behind a knight, where a little hole in the wall widened into an opening to a corridor at a tap of her wand. See, Riddle? she thought triumphantly. I've got tricks, too.
Hermione walked into Transfiguration with a cheerful smile and spring in her step, waving at Dumbledore who greeted her kindly and taking a seat at the very front. Five minutes into the period Riddle arrived, his usually impeccable hair ruffled and a slight pinkness in his cheeks. His dark eyes scoured the classroom before landing on her, narrowing. There was accusation and fury in his gaze, and Hermione shrank underneath it.
"Mr. Riddle, may I ask why you are so late?" Dumbledore said, raising an auburn brow at Riddle's appearance. The rest of the class was looking quite shocked, too. Tom Riddle was never late. He was the epitome of perfection, or so they'd thought.
"I apologize, Professor," Riddle said quietly, his eyes still on Hermione, who was staring intently at her quill. "I was…delayed."
"Be sure it doesn't happen again, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said sternly, watching Tom and Hermione with sharp eyes and a frown. "Please take your seat."
Riddle headed toward the empty seat beside Hermione, but stopped mid-stride when Dumbledore said, "No, not there, Mr. Riddle. Please switch seats with Ms. Abott. She recently lost her glasses and has trouble reading incantations on the board."
Riddle paused and Hermione swore – for just a second – that his eyes flashed red, but it happened too quickly for her to be sure. He smiled tightly at Dumbledore. "Of course, Professor."
Hermione stifled a grin. There were a dozen other students who had front seats and Dumbledore could have easily switched Hayley Abott with anyone of them, but instead he'd made Riddle move. Hermione had never been so grateful that the Dumbledore of the 1940s was one of the few people who saw through Riddle's charade.
The rest of class passed without event – save for the two eyes burning into the side of her head from the back of the classroom. Hermione's skin prickled with nervousness. She did not want to be alone with Riddle anytime soon. Obviously, she'd pushed him too far, and she definitely did not want to see what he was like when he cracked and let that infamous temper reign.
The bell rang and everyone hurried out, but Hermione was the fastest of all of them. Riddle was ready though, bag packed and slung over his shoulder, and as he moved toward her Dumbledore, with a soft "oops!," stuck out his foot and tripped Ms. Abbott, who was right in front of Tom and fell to the floor, making him tumble right on top of her. Sputtering, Riddle quickly got to his feet and righted himself, spinning around to glare at Dumbledore.
"Did you just trip a student?" he demanded.
"My apologies, Ms. Abbott, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said innocently, but his blue eyes stared meaningfully at Tom. "It seems I need to clean my glasses. I really am terribly sorry…"
Outside, Hermione rushed past the Great Hall and stole to the library, thanking her lucky stars for Dumbledore. Riddle would expect to see her at lunch, but she'd be damned if she was going to eat right next to the Dark Lord when he probably wanted to tear her throat out. And even if he did come looking for her she would stay in the open. He wouldn't dare do anything to her in front of any witnesses.
Would he?
AN: Thanks for reading! Please review, because reviews are love and love equals chocolate and...everyone needs a little chocolate in their life. (Mmmmh, choc-o-laaate.) Ok guys, question: How do you feel about Victorian-era Tomione fics? I read Lacrimosa by uchiha.s and totally loved it! It's not really Victorian, but everyone speaks Old English and wears gowns and all that get-up. Personally, I think there should totally be more Tomione fics like this. Tom Riddle was just born to ride horses into the night and wear a tuxedo. Vrai?