AN: A quick update, as promised (and it's pretty long too). Enjoy!

Once Hermione was back in her dormitory she realized she had not seen Riddle once all day. She smiled to herself, ignoring the dirty looks from the Slytherin girls getting ready for bed around her. Maybe he was finally giving up on her.

However, even with that one highlight of the day one glaring problem remained: the black smoke. She'd been thinking about it all through dinner. What had gone wrong during the ritual? She had executed every step perfectly, right at sunset, and all of her supplies were fresh. So what had gone wrong? What happened?

She had to go back to find out.

When all of the Slytherins were fast asleep Hermione got up and took the beaded bag out from under her bed, retrieving Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Harry. She paused, rubbing the cloak between her fingers gently. She missed him. She missed his temper tantrums and sweetness, his big glasses and impossible hair. And Ron of course. He was an oaf, but he was her oaf, even if they weren't really compatible. The kiss with him that she'd dreamed of for so long just hadn't been as magical as the real thing, and - well - the sex had been awful. She and Ron were really just friends.

Were. Because he was dead too.

For now.

With that thought in mind, she snuck down the stairs to the common room and slipped out, pulling on the Invisibility Cloak as she went. She tiptoed down the halls, eyes alert for any prefects or Gregovitch, her wand held at the ready. Soon, she arrived at an exit that would take her to a path across the grounds and lead directly to the Forbidden Forest. The doors, she knew, were locked, so she tried "Alohomora" but it didn't work. She sighed. For all she knew Dumbledore secured these doors!

Tom watched, amused, as Hermione tried again and again, firing spell after spell at the unyielding doors. He couldn't see her – her Disillusionment Charm was holding up well – but judging by the red jets of light flying through the air he knew she was there. He'd seen her last night creeping through the halls and he knew she would be back to sneak out again. So he'd waited for her and surely enough, she had come around midnight. Now he would finally find out what she was up to.

Ten minutes later he heard a frustrated panting and grinned. He lifted his wand to help her out – she'd never get those doors unlocked by herself – but a second before he could one more spell impacted them and they swung open with a loud groan. The soft sound of footsteps followed and he hurried after them before she could get away. He was grudgingly impressed, it had taken two professors an entire hour to secure those doors.

Swiftly, Hermione took the trail to the Forbidden Forest. Magic crackled in the air, thick and heavy, and the forest seemed to have been completely vacated on this side. There wasn't a single sign of life here, not a leaf, a bird, or even a blade of grass. The thousand-year old trees were wilted; everything was dying.

She'd done this.

Hermione made her way to the clearing where she'd performed the ritual. She shouldn't have been able to find it so easily – the forest was huge – but she arrived within minutes. The black smoke was thickest here, so dense she could hardly see, and she took off the Cloak. "Lumos," Hermione said, lighting her wand and holding it ahead of her. She tried to ignore the feeling that she was being watched and strode forward.

Looking around, she found the cauldron she'd used was still here, although it'd been tipped over and was empty now. But where was that book? That was what she came for, what would bring her a step closer to fixing this.

"Accio 'Destruction of Dark Texts,'" she cast, waving her wand. The branches of a dead bush on the perimeter of the clearing shuddered – something was wedged inside them – and a second later a book came flying out. It crashed into her and she grabbed it, gasping. Oh thank Merlin! She'd been worried she wouldn't be able to find it. Now she could get out of here.

Tucking it away, she started to head out the way she'd come, but the smoke hovering in the air like black mist thickened into an opaque fog, making it harder to see. Hermione swallowed. She wasn't afraid, she wouldn't be. Straightening, she pushed ahead, and a few minutes later she could make out the towering spires of Hogwarts and ran ahead, unable to contain herself any longer. She had to get out of there.

At once – as if the smoke had sensed her fear and immediately reacted – the smoke turned into coils and lashed at her, nearly knocking her off her feet. She shrieked and sprinted faster, heart pounding. Only a little farther.

A foot away from safety the smoke lashed out and wrapped around her ankle, yanking her down so hard she landed flat on her face. She spat dirt out of her mouth and tried to get up, but the more she resisted the harder the smoke pressed down on her, like it was trying to invade her. No, she wouldn't – couldn't let that happen again! She remembered all too well the sensation of the smoky tendrils slithering down her throat and into her nostrils, almost turning her inside out.

"Stop it!" she screamed, clawing at the ground, trying to drag her body forward. She grabbed her wand, shooting a spell at the smoke, but it simply made a hole that reformed almost instantly. "Stop!"

And then – she couldn't believe it – Tom Riddle was there, in the smoke with her and moving freely. He bent down and grabbed her by the arms, wrenching her out of the smoke's grasp, and dragged her at least twenty feet away from the forest. Panting, he threw Hermione on the ground and pointed his wand at her. She tried to get up and he shot an Immobilus charm inches from her face. She froze.

"What - the fuck – was - that?" he demanded, chest heaving.

"H-how did you know I was out here?" She gaped at him. "Did you actually follow me?"

His eyes narrowed at her. "I'm asking the questions, Hermione," he replied coolly. "Now tell me, what was that?"

"I…don't know."

He flicked his wand at her and the sensation of needles puncturing her skin, sliding in slowly and painfully over every inch of her, overtook her body. She shrieked. "Lie to me again and I won't be so easy on you, darling," he hissed, lifting the curse.

"No, I-I mean it! I don't know what that- AGH!" She broke off in a scream when he hit her with a different curse, one that hit her stomach like a whip and left an angry red welt behind, and his hand came down on her mouth next. With his other hand, he took hold of her hair and yanked her head back, crouching down to her level so he could stare directly into her tearing eyes.

"I did warn you, you know."

She couldn't believe it. Of all things, he sounded amused.

"I was telling the truth, you bastard!" she snarled and his face darkened. He yanked on her hair again and she yelped.

"Want to run that by me again?" he asked lightly.

"Listen, I don't know anything about the smoke, except that it showed up after I tried to burn some books." There, that won't give too much away, she thought.

"You burned some books," he repeated incredulously. "Why on earth would you do that?"

She stared at him. His look of incredulity faded and was replaced by a devilish smirk. "See? You do know something." He forced her head further back and she gasped, her throat tickling when it was exposed to the chilly fall air. She couldn't see him anymore, just the star-filled night sky, and that scared her even more. "Tell me what you're up to, Hermione."

"Why should I?" she gasped.

"Because if you don't life will become very – let's say...painful – for you very fast."

"I thought you said you'd 'never hurt me,'" she sneered.

"You lied to me first," he said, chuckling. "So why not repay the favor?"

"You lie all the time," she countered and gasped when he tugged her head even further back. It was getting hard to breathe. "Everyone thinks you're just some schoolboy with perfect manners and even better grades, but you're not like that at all."

Tom was surprised, but didn't show it. How could she know that? "So what am I then?"

"Evil," she spat.

He laughed and the sound was so soft and whispery it seemed to be part of the night. She jumped when she felt his nose glide over her throat, but couldn't move away with the death grip he had on her. "I think that's a matter of opinion," he breathed.

Well, I think you're a loathsome evil git, she thought and bit her lip when he chuckled against her jugular, whispering, "I'm impressed, Hermione. You do a very good job of hiding your fear. However, your racing pulse tells another story."

He laughed when she shivered and his hand snaked inside her robes. She froze. What was he doing? Panic rang inside her and goosebumps erupted over her skin when his hand brushed against her stomach fleetingly – but then he was sitting up, releasing her. She sat up quickly, rubbing her sore head, and glared at him. "What the hell was that?" she demanded.

He flicked a fistful of her curly strands to the ground and leaned back, surveying her with gleaming black eyes. "Sorry about your hair," he said in faux apology. "I really do like it, but it's just so fun to grab." He winked.

I can think of a few precious body parts of yours to GRAB, Hermione thought darkly. Out loud, she said, "Can I leave now?"

"Hm, 'Destruction of Dark Texts,'" he said, lifting the book she hadn't seen him knick and holding it just out of her reach. He smirked when she narrowed her eyes at him. "That sounds intriguing. What 'dark texts' have you been burning?"

Shitshitshit! Dumbledore would have her head if he knew how quickly she was sinking the task. She had to think of something, fast. A lie or a distraction or…something!

Seeing the frantic look in her eyes, Riddle slanted his eyes at her and started twirling his yew wand again. "You should know better than to try and lie, Hermione," he said softly, persuasively. "Things would be so much easier if you just told me."

"Things would be so much easier if you left me alone," she shot back.

"Ah, but this is so much more fun."

She huffed.

"I'm a very patient man, Hermione, I can wait," Riddle said and when she looked back at him he was staring at her through his long lashes. She looked away quickly, gulping. "I will wait and I'll find out what you're hiding, Hermione, eventually."

No, never. She'd go to her grave before she told him a damn thing.

"Maybe I can help you."

No no no – wait, what? Hermione stared at him, shocked. "What did you just say?"

"I said I'd help you. If you help me, that is."

Ah, that made more sense. "What could you possibly help me with?" she asked suspiciously.

"I saw the way that smoke grabbed you. Whatever you did has obviously put you in serious danger," he said. "Besides, you'll never figure out what that smoke is on your own. I could help. Protect you."

She had to laugh at that and she did, long and hard. "W-what? You'll protect me, after just threatening my life?" she gasped, clutching her sides. "You must think I'm really stupid."

"No, not at all," he said quietly.

That shut her up. Swallowing, she looked away. "What would I have to do? What do you need my help for?"

"I'm sure I can think of something."

"I don't agree to things blindly."

"The Forbidden Forest has been positively radiating Dark magic since you went in there yesterday," he said, leaning closer to her. His eyes glinted in the moonlight like onyx gems. "But you, Hermione, are positively reeking it. I can smell it on you."

He could smell it? Smell what? "Dark magic?" she asked, bewildered.

"Power."

After a minute she replied, "You still didn't answer my question."

"You are powerful, Hermione, but you don't know it," he said, gazing so intensely into her eyes she couldn't break away for the life of her. "So am I. I would help you-"

"Help me?"

"Yes, help you develop your magic," he elaborated. "You could be much more, Hermione, you just need to be pushed in the right direction."

"There's one problem with that."

He looked bewildered. "What?"

"I don't practice Dark magic."

Riddle's face went blank as a slate, completely void of emotion except for the disdainful quirk of his brow. "I never said you did." He stood up, extending his hand to her, but she ignored it and got to her feet, wiping the dirt off her stockings when she was standing. "Listen, there's a Quidditch Match at 12:00 on Saturday. Meet me under the bleachers and we'll talk."

"But I thought no one was allowed outside," Hermione said, confused.

"I was with Dippet and the other professors all day. Dippet decided that as long as the smoke isn't going anywhere it's safe enough to go outside, so tomorrow he's going to make an announcement at breakfast and unlock the castle."

"Oh." She nodded and surveyed him carefully. "And…what if I don't come?"

At this, he grinned at her – showing teeth for the first time - and his smile gleamed like the Cheshire cat's grin in Wonderland. She couldn't help but stare. "You will."

He walked to the castle without looking back.

"Route for me, ok, guys?" Augusta said. "You two can be my good luck charms."

"I don't know how lucky I am," Minerva grumbled, adjusting her sharp glasses. "I haven't even had my first kiss yet."

"There's nothing wrong with that, it just means you're not a whore like Meredith and those other Slytherin girls," Augusta soothed. She looked at Hermione and added hastily, "Except you, obviously. You're a catch. That's totally different."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Nice save."

Augusta rolled her shoulders and punched the air a few times, like a boxer winding up. "Alright, girls. Do it!"

Minerva and Hermione looked at each other helplessly – Minerva had been giving Hermione fewer suspicious looks and more friendly nods as of late – and together they leaned forward to blow on Augusta's lucky coin. When they pulled back the eager Keeper did an enthusiastic fist pump. "Awesome, I am officially lucky-fied. See you after the game!"

She waltzed off into the Gryffindor locker room. Hermione shook her head. "She really is superstitious, isn't she?"

"She sows a four-leaf clover into her bra before every game," Minerva said gravely, then looked at her quickly. "Don't tell her I told you that though."

Hermione laughed. "I won't," she assured.

When they arrived at the Quidditch Pitch it was overflowing with thousands of cheering students, mostly in gold-and-red and yellow-and-black. It was drizzling lightly and people had rain jackets on under their House-themed scarves. Minerva pulled up her hood and stepped out from underneath their umbrella, starting to scale the bleachers for seats, but Hermione stopped her. "Minerva, I – um – just realized I forgot my necklace back at the castle. I'm gonna go get it, but you can go ahead and grab us seats."

"Necklace?" Minerva said, surprised, and then her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I've never seen you wearing any necklace."

"I carry it around in my pocket," Hermione explained. "I'll be right back, alright?"

Minerva looked flustered, probably trying to decide whether to act suspicious like her gut was telling her to or be polite. "Oh, well…do you want me to help you look?" she asked, politeness winning out.

"No, that's alright," Hermione said, already walking away. "I don't want to get bad seats!" She took off before Minerva could reply, weaving in and out of the clusters of students streaming in. She glanced over her shoulder to see if Minerva was still watching her – she wasn't, fortunately.

Something darted by her feet, startling her, and Hermione looked down to see a black cat scampering away. She frowned. What was a cat doing out in the rain? Shaking it off, she stole down the side of the pitch until she was underneath the bleachers, which trembled above her from the force of thousands of stomping feet welcoming teams as they flew onto the field. She hid behind a thick wooden beam that was twice as wide as she was tall and looked for Riddle. He said to be down here when the game started. Well, she was here. So where was he?

A few minutes later, Riddle entered from the opposite side. He wasn't wet at all, despite the rain, and had probably cast a repellant charm or something. His hair looked darker today though, as did his eyes. Black like that cat she saw. Softer than velvet.

She shook her head. She had to focus, to be on guard. The only reason she had come here at all was to get that book back and set things straight between them. Be tough, Hermione coached herself, stepping out.

Without looking at her, Riddle said, "I was wondering how long you planned on hiding back there."

Hermione bit back something sassy and approached him. "You're late, you know."

"And here I thought you might not show." A mocking smile graced his lips. "Did you miss me?"

Not in a million years. "You wish," she said coolly. "I'm just here to get my book back."

"Ah, that's unfortunate."

"Why?"

"Because I forgot it in my room," he said airily, leaning back against a column and crossing his arms. "It was quite an entertaining read though, I admire your taste."

She gaped at him, anger bubbling up inside her. "Listen, Riddle. I really need it-"

"Why?" he asked, finally looking at her, and when he did she wished he hadn't. She felt his Leglimency probing at the edges of her consciousness and averted her eyes, staring at the criss-crossing beams above them. He sighed in frustration. "It seems to me you already performed the ritual, judging by that cauldron you left in the Forbidden Forest. What books did you destroy?"

"It doesn't matter," she said firmly. "I just need the book back."

He was quiet for a minute and while she wanted to look at him her brain wouldn't let her. She couldn't chance it.

"Look at me, Hermione," he commanded quietly and when she didn't comply he said it again, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice, "I said look at me, you insolent girl," he hissed and grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her head up. She clenched her eyes shut and he chuckled. "You think that will stop me from getting in your head, do you?"

She swallowed. Things were getting way too far way too fast. She had to stop this now.

"Look, Tom," she said, opening her eyes and staring directly into his burning black ones. "You've been very…accommodating…but I just don't think we should associate with each other anymore. We're very different. You're Head Boy and everyone in Slytherin seems to-" worship the ground you walk on. "-like you a lot. But I'm...eh..."

"Hermione."

She nodded. Yes, exactly! He couldn't counter that logic.

"You're an idiot."

"EXCUSE ME?"

He grinned. "Haven't you ever heard that opposites attract?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Resorting to bad pickup lines now, are you?" she replied tartly.

"Resorting to pathetic excuses to get away from me?" he countered.

She stayed silent.

"Now, I believe I mentioned a proposal last night…"

"No. The answer is no," Hermione interrupted.

"Tsk tsk, little witch, you haven't even given me a chance to propose my terms," Riddle said disapprovingly, tapping her nose. "I'm offering to give you your book back, help improve your magic…and find out what that smoke you're so obsessed with is."

"I'm not obsessed! I… It's my fault," she confessed, eyeing him. Was she wrong to tell him this?

But he wasn't immediately using the information against her; instead he seemed to be in deep thought, considering what she had said. Finally, he replied, "I figured as much. Did you read that book thoroughly?"

She blushed. "I – uh – was pressed for time."

"Well, you're obviously lacking in experience with Dark Arts, for if you'd practiced them before you would know a Dark ritual can be very easily – let's say – persuaded," he snorted. "And it seems you fucked up yours royally."

She glared at him. "I don't need you to tell me that, Riddle. Is this your definition of 'helping'? Because I must say your pep talk is pathetic."

He shrugged. "Just stating the facts."

"Well, what do I have to do in return for…your help?" Hermione asked, more than a little intrigued by now.

"I need to leave Hogwarts during Christmas break. However, I don't have anywhere to go." His eyes, which had been gazing at the Forbidden Forest in the distance, snapped back to hers. "You will invite me to your home for the holidays so I can leave."

"You can't be serious," she said, baffled. He wanted her to give him an alibi?

Riddle cocked a brow. "I am very serious, Miss Granger."

"Why can't you ask one of your friends?" And by friends, she meant totally nutters Death Eaters.

"Oh, you wound me," he said sarcastically, touching his heart, "and here I thought we were getting along so well."

"You still didn't answer my question."

His lip curled in what might qualify as a smile in Slytherin land. "Good girl," he approved, laughing softly. "I would stay with my…friends…but Dumbledore would never allow that." His eyes narrowed, darkening. "He thinks I'll start trouble."

"He's right!" Hermione said before she could stop herself.

"He's a stupid old coot," Riddle snarled, but then recomposed himself. He smiled, an attractive twinge of his lips, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "That's why I need you."

"But…I can't help."

"And why not?" he said, annoyed. What was wrong with her?

"Because – because I'm stuck here too," Hermione muttered. "I have no family anymore." You killed them all.

He was quiet for a minute. Surprised maybe? Calculating? She couldn't tell, not with him. Not ever.

"I'm sorry." His eyes flicked down to hers, soft and gentle, but they told lies. "What happened to them?"

"They were killed," she said flatly.

"By who?" This was a turn he had not anticipated. Perhaps Hermione Granger was more complex than she seemed…

"A Dark wizard."

"Grindelwald?"

Hermione started to shake her head, but stopped herself just in time and looked away from him. She couldn't believe herself! She'd almost done it, almost told him, almost ruined everything – all because he tilted his head the right way and softened his voice. He may have looked like he cared, but he didn't. She had to remember that.

"This is kind of personal, ok?" Hermione said. Sadness and fury welled up in her barely contained, threatening to spill over. She took a deep breath, forcing it all under another mask. "Would you mind-"

"Of course," Riddle murmured, all understanding on the outside, but inside his mind was racing. He was ecstatic – and fascinated. He hadn't counting on learning that much about the girl today, but it turned out Hermione's secrets could be unlocked with just the right look. He just needed to work harder. In fact, he wanted to. Wanted to know all her secrets, what was going on inside her head, what made her so…different.

He could put those sort of things to his advantage.

"I'm sorry I can't help you," Hermione said, averting her eyes again, "but there's nothing I can do."

He stared down at her and the sliver of light hiding in his eyes gave way to darkness. His mouth curved into a slight sneer. "I think we both know you're a terrible liar, Hermione."

"What happened to darling?"

"Ah, another good question," he said, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her so close their robes touched. She tensed. "But I believe pet names are null and void until you agree to my proposal."

"Until?" she repeated, slanting her eyes at him. "You sound a little overconfident."

"I'm not overconfident," he disagreed, pushing away the hands she'd put on his chest to keep them from getting too close, and tilting his head down to catch her eyes. "I'm right." When her eyes fluttered he smirked. She was such a fun toy, not like Elphy at all or any of those other nitwit girls. She was a challenge.

"Well...I could get you out of the castle," Hermione said slowly, chewing her lip in thought. "But where are you going?"

"Out of the country."

How vague of you, Voldemort, Hermione thought sarcastically. "And all I have to do is get you out the castle?" she verified.

He leaned further forward, his forehead touching hers, and she gasped. Her eyes darted between his, which were utterly impossible to look away from at this proximity, and she stiffened when she felt one of his hands let go of her to caress her cheek. Stiffened because she didn't see a monster with red eyes and paper-white skin before her, but handsome Tom Riddle who made her throat go dry and lips ache. Stop…stop…pull away now, Granger! her brain urged, but her body wasn't having any of it.

"Yes," he murmured, watching with a dark satisfaction as she tensed up. It wasn't, however, the sort of satisfaction he usually felt when he knew he was close to getting what he wanted, but something more primal. Something that thrived off having Hermione so close, so cornered – so completely focused on him.

Only him.

Hermione sucked in a breath, trying to clear her head, but that turned out to be a mistake when her senses were completely attacked by him. It was like being on the Astronomy Tower again, a breeze had rolled by and she'd smelled the most delicious scent, like cedar and rich earth – and that scent was here, all around her and coming from Riddle. She couldn't help but sway closer to him to get more of it. He held her tighter in response.

"Ok ok!" Hermione huffed. "I'll do it." She knew better than to ask herself what harm getting him out of the castle for the holidays would do, because she knew just how much Lord Voldemort could accomplish in a week away from any prying eyes. Still though, the pros outweighed the cons…didn't they?

"Excellent choice, darling," Riddle said, smirking in such a way the devil would tremble with unease. "I'll wait for you outside the dungeons at midnight and we'll go to the library to peruse the Restricted Section."

Hermione nodded, forcing herself to pull away, to step out of the loosened ring of his arms. Her body hated her for it, her mind let out a sigh of relief. "Will you bring the book?"

"I already have it." He waved his wand and 'Destruction of Dark Texts' flew out of his robe pocket, landing in her hands lightly. She gaped at him.

"Why, you lying son of a-"

"Save your smart tongue for later," he interrupted with a wicked grin. "You'll have all night to insult me amongst other things. However, the match ended five minutes ago, so I suggest you get back to your friends before they start to worry."

"F-five minutes ago!" she gasped, checking her watch. Damn it all, he was right!

Immediately Hermione took off toward the pitch, sprinting into the rain and not bothering with an umbrella. A few feet away from the stands however, where Minerva was probably wondering where the hell she was, a slim figure stepped into her path and she skittered to a stop. Dread filled her as she recognized the stranger.

"Hello Mudblood," Meredith said, smiling sweetly. "Up for a little chat?"

AN: Oy vey, Meredith never gives up. Feelings on Hermione and Tom's agreement? Minerva's judginess? Complaints? *gasp* TYPOS? Tell me in a review! Thanks for reading, muah muah sloppy kisses...all that jazz.