Hermione had just come back from her almost weekly talk with Dumbledore. He, unfortunately, has not found anything of note. Though, he did mention a retired professor from Durmstrang and his experimental work on ancient runes. It sparked some unfounded hope in Hermione but she knew deep down that it probably would not yield anything. She has come to the rather despondent epiphany that the ritual and the runes used in them have not been discovered in this time. Her hope was dwindling exponentially and the thought that she would be stuck here forever made her want to curl up in a ball and cry. Never seeing Ron or Harry again, never seeing Ginny, Neville or Luna. It was such a miserable thought.
Cynthia caught her on the way back from Dumbledore's office. "Hey, I want to show you what I got from Hogsmeade yesterday." Cynthia all but dragged her to their dormitory. She shoved Hermione on her bed and pulled out a few bags from her trunk. Cynthia showed her a couple of pretty dress robes and Hermione laughed as she twirled around the room. "You look absolutely beautiful"
"Yes well, I have good genes" Cynthia giggled. "Oh and I got something for you" she chuckled mischievously. Hermione protested immediately, Cynthia was too good a friend. Caring in her actions rather than words. "Merlin, would you just shut up, I wanted to get you something, besides my family's vault is overflowing with gold."
Cynthia brought forward one box and one bag, both very expensive looking. From the first bag, she pulled out a gorgeous dark green velvet dress. It had intricate designs that swirled around the bodice and was quite tight-fitting. Hermione loved it. Having Ron and Harry as best friends meant that she was too accustomed to the friendship of boys and not as much with girls. Of course there was Ginny and Luna who she adored but they did not become friends until much later in her Hogwarts years and they were both very different from Hermione. So Cynthia's friendship meant a lot to her. "This is too much, it's a gorgeous dress but i can't accept it" She protested once again at Cynthia's generosity. Cynthia went on a long rant about how ugly Hermione's clothes were and how she needed to do this more for her benefit than Hermione's because 'i can't bear to look at your poor clothing'. When Hermione tried the dress on, Cynthia squealed and raved on and on about her beauty. It warmed Hermione's heart.
The box seemed to have Cynthia even more excited as she pushed it toward Hermione gleefully. She opened the box and warmth flushed her cheeks. It was lingerie, two pairs. One was dark green, similar to the dress, and quite revealing. The other was lacy and black. Hermione spluttered when Cynthia said, "This is for you and Tom"
"What?! Me and - and Tom, there's no me and Tom" Hermione's eyes were wide and her jaw slack when Cynthia replied. "Merlin, it's quite obvious he's mooning over you. I've never seen the bloke even hang out with a girl. His good looks have very much gone to waste, haven't they?" Cynthia giggled. "Anyway, the way he looks at you makes it obvious he fancies you."
Cynthia thought that Tom Riddle fancied her.
Hermione herself had suspected that Riddle liked her, especially when he had seemed jealous of her and Abraxas, but that suspicion was quickly wiped away when she realised yesterday that he viewed her as no more than a riddle to solve. But he had also kissed her and before that he had confided in her and the thought that Riddle might fancy her made her cheeks flush and her heart skip a beat.
Later that day, Hermione searched the castle for Riddle. She wanted to speak to him. After they had kissed each other so fervently in the common room, he stalked to the boys dormitory and she hadn't seen him since. Today was a Sunday and still a Hogsmeade weekend so not many students were in the castle. And yet, he was nowhere to be found. She asked Abraxas if Riddle was in the boys dormitory and he wasn't. Nor was he in the common room, library, great hall or the room of requirement, The last place she could think to check was the roof. And sure enough he was there.
Hermione wobbled slightly on the rickety tiles of the tower. She approached Riddle cautiously, he was sitting there reading and didn't look up from his book. It was so agitating when he did that, she wanted to rip the book from his hands and force him to look her in the eyes. Instead, Hermione carefully sat by his side.
Neither of them spoke. The quiet made her already loud thoughts louder. She had many things to consider, most important of which was her supposed mission. For what reason was she sent here? Everything that's happened seemed so calculated, the mysterious ritual that sent her decades into the past. That sent her to 1944 specifically. That sent her to the precise time in which she has the perfect opportunity to influence the war. She wasn't foolish enough to think it was all coincidental. Those unspeakables wanted her here.
But why?
Hermione knew she had to change something. The problem is that she doesn't know what to change or how to change it or if she even can. There were so many unanswered questions surrounding this situation and it made her head throb painfully. But the question that swirled around her mind most often was; how can she get home?
Ron and Harry are everything to Hermione. They're her best friends and the people that she had given the past seven years of her life to. And yet, they were so far away, so unreachable. Hermione missed them so much that her heart ached and, to her horror, her eyes watered.
"Why are you up here?" Riddle asked quietly.
"To think"
Tom shifted positions, untucking his legs, stretching them out in front of him and leaning back on his arms. "Last time we were here, you revealed that you are muggleborn." Tom stated coldly. "That means you were lying about being homeschooled. Where did you get your education then?"
Hermione visibly bristled at his questioning. When she revealed that about herself, she didn't think clearly of the implications. What a foolish witch she's becoming. Hermione admonished herself internally, how could she keep forgetting who she was talking to.
"Enough with the questions Tom. You are only wasting your time, and I'd think that a boy as intelligent as you would know a losing battle when he's in one." Hermione remarked sharply. She was getting quite frustrated at his questioning. And the way he asked them. It was like she was being interrogated and accused of some horrendous crime.
"Perhaps that book you gave me didn't teach me to recognize a losing battle" Tom drawled, his lips quirking up slightly. He was referring to the Art of War, Hermione thought amused. She chuckled at his comment in a huff of exhalation.
A bird squawked as it flew from one tree to another as Hermione admired the scenery. The sun was setting slowly below the horizon colouring the sky in oranges and pinks. Hermione leaned back onto her forearms and took a deep breath of fresh air. She wanted to enjoy this time, despite the enigmatic company. "What's your favourite book?" Hermione blurted out the question before her brain could filter it out. Tom huffed in mild laughter and gave her a strange look, a cross between amused and bewildered. "Oh wait, let me guess 'Magick Moste Evile'?"
Riddle snorted in laughter. And a reluctant smile made his face look even more handsome than it usually did. "Is that what you think all Slytherin's read or just me?" Tom gave her a smirk which made his dimples crease. "Just you" Hermione hummed.
"Well, since you asked, I don't have a favourite book. Almost all books provide some sort of information, and are beneficial in a way. As I'm sure you know, knowledge is power. And so, before those two muggle books you gave me, I didn't read for fun." Riddle tilted his head up and Hermione watched his eyes reflect the pinkish orange of the sky.
"So you've never read any non-muggle fiction either?" Hermione shook her head and thinned her lips in mock disappointment. "Actually you're not missing much, non-muggle fiction is rubbish. But you are missing out on muggle literature, it really is fantastic once you give it a chance"
Tom rolled his eyes at her. And at Hermione's indignant "what", he said, "It's just, I don't understand why you enjoy fictional stories so much. While I do admit the two muggle books you forced me to read were insightful, they do not provide any knowledge and consequently, any power. So what is the point besides entertainment?"
Hermione laid down on her back and watched the sky darken as the sun gradually lowered. "It provides wisdom. Fictional books always centre around emotions rather than facts. They focus on emotions like love or anger or fear and tell stories about them. They're wonderfully profound more often than not. And honestly they're a good escape." Hermione sighed wistfully, deep in thought. "Isn't it sad that we only get to live one life, that we only get to experience a few of the many things life has to offer. I will never get to know what life would be like if I were anyone else. If I lived somewhere else or were raised differently or if I were a blissfully ignorant muggle. I hate that we only get to be one person living one life. And books… they let me live thousands of lives instead of just one." Hermione smiled slightly, watching as the sun completely disappeared and the sky turned a dark blue. Tom shifted next to her, lying down on the tiles of the roof, his shoulders pressed against hers. His abrupt body warmth made her realise just how cold the chilly winter air made her and she quickly cast a non-verbal warming charm.
"I can see why you like them so much. And yes I think it is quite sad to have only one life. I am often struck by how little time we have to do everything we need or want to." Tom spoke quietly in a thoughtful tone.
"Is that your biggest fear? Not having enough time…are you afraid of death, of dying?" Hermione knew that Voldemort was so afraid of death that had chosen to make seven horcruxes instead of just one or two. But she still asked, still wanted to hear him say it. Hermione wanted Tom Riddle to be vulnerable with her, just as she was being with him.
Riddle's body stiffened against her. His muscles tensed and his breathing got mildly heavier. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. Tom didn't answer for a long time, the silence stretched uncomfortably and she thought about changing the subject and filling the silence with a different, lighter topic of conversation. But she didn't…she just waited. And eventually he whispered "Yes, I am afraid of death"
"Most people are. But it's inevitable, people aren't meant to live forever." Hermione whispered back. "The story has to end eventually."
"Why should it? We have magic. I am an exceptionally powerful wizard, Hermione. So, why should I die like an ordinary person? People like me deserve to be immortal" Tom professed fervently, voice rising from a whisper to an exclamation.
Hermione didn't reply for a moment, instead she turned her head towards him. Her cheek pressed against the grimy roof tile but she didn't care much at the moment. She traced Tom's side profile with her eyes, assessing his perfectly straight nose, full lips, the length of his throat and his prominent adam's apple.
"So you fear death because it means that you aren't superior, because it means that at the end of the day you are just as weak as everyone else and therefore will die like everyone else. Is that correct?" Tom stilled again and his eyes opened wide at her words. He seemed so immensely uncomfortable just then that Hermione almost pitied the dark lord.
Riddle cleared his throat and deflected, just as she knew he would. "What's your biggest fear then?"
"When I was young I faced a boggart and it laughably transformed into a teacher admonishing me for a failed test. I used to be so terrified of failure, on both a small and large scale. But now…i think i am even more afraid of being alone. Truly alone." After months of lying to everyone, it felt so relieving to be honest. Despite being the one person in which her lies mattered the most, she was more honest with Riddle than anyone else.
Tom didn't answer. And Hermione was glad. Any more vulnerability and she was sure that they would both throw up everything they had consumed that day. Their conversation elapsed into a relaxing silence.
Riddle thumbed the tip of his wand in contemplation and then waved it slightly in the air. Hermione watched in wistful awe as green, blue and red glittering shapes appeared in the air. They twisted and turned and formed sparkling images of tiny dragons flying around them. The magically induced dragons looked so breathtakingly beautiful as they flew excitedly, spinning and twirling against the night sky.
Authors note: I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts on this chapter so please leave a comment, if you can!