Chapter 7: Hermione is Morally Ambiguous

Sooner then Hermione was really ready for, the requisite two weeks had passed and Tom made an effort to meet with Hermione privately. For the purpose of painful interrogation, she was sure, but let it not be said that Hermione is not a woman of her word.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, his attempts were for naught. Primarily due to the interference of a certain previously dead professor.

Hermione knew that Professor Dumbledore was a man that possessed an almost inexplicable ability to be omniscient of his charges. He had a tendency to know where students had been over the holidays, sometimes congratulated high-achieving seemingly invisible children out of the blue, and could pinpoint trouble with uncanny ease. She had always suspected this was a result of his post; as Headmaster, Hermione could only imagine the kind of access to information the man had.

She was soon to find out that it had nothing to do with being Headmaster, and had everything to do with being Albus Percival something something something Dumbledore.

It should have been heartening to see a professor take such an active interest in his students. To show that, even if you weren't loud and obvious and attention-grabbing, you were still noticed, and your good behavior and scholastic achievement was appreciated. Except for the fact that Hermione was apparently on his shit list, and the professor watched Tom's every move more closely than a hawk.

It therefore shouldn't have surprised either adolescent that their every attempt so far to meet privately in order to 'discuss' certain matters was impeded by a certain auburn-haired Transfiguration Professor.

The first time could have been written off as a coincidence. They met in an unused classroom on the fifth floor, and had diplomatically put their wands down on a desk as a gesture of good faith (although a certain glint in Tom's eyes reminiscent of his smirk made Hermione think that Tom's ability to cast without a wand at this point was fairly far along). Hermione had been more than a little nervous, but wore her new devil-may-care attitude on her person like a shroud. They had looked at each other for a few moments, carefully assessing the other, and Tom had opened his mouth to begin what would no doubt be a line of questioning he had carefully put together to seem unobtrusive and outwardly harmless.

He had not managed a single syllable before Professor Dumbledore sauntered into the room, his wand held high.

The bespectacled man raised an eyebrow at them both, and stated nonchalantly. "Mr. Riddle. Miss Granger. I must say that, given your interaction so far this semester, I would not have expected the two of you to meet up for a rendezvous."

Tom met the man's gaze with a raised eyebrow of his own. "A rendezvous?" He paused long enough to look down at his perfectly pressed robes and coiffed hair, and then glanced purposely at Hermione's untousled state. "It hardly looks like we were engaged in an act of passion."

"Oh? So what could you possibly be doing here?" The man gave meaningful looks to them both.

Of course, Tom had an excuse ready and in hand. "There is a project we are working on in Arithmancy. We wanted a quiet place to discuss the direction of our study."

And of course, Hermione thought to herself, they actually did have a group assignment in Arithmancy. One she had fully intended to do with Iris, a nice, harmless girl from Hufflepuff who had been one of the few to not denigrate her based on her blood status. Now, though- Hermione had little doubt Tom would follow through on their charade and actually force her to finish the project with him, if only for appearances. And she would be forced to agree, if only to prevent Dumbledore from thinking they had any questionable reasons to meet. Fucking bullshit…

"And the parameters of this assignment requires you to meet after curfew has ended?" The professor's sarcasm was as thick as his tone was airy.

Tom attempted to smile genially, although he must have known that both Hermione and Professor Dumbledore could see through his façade. "Our schedules are quite busy, Professor. We are both taking a great deal more classes than the typical student. It made coordinating a time to meet somewhat difficult."

The professor hummed, and then commented, "I understand your difficulties, but you should be more aware of your position and the responsibility inherent within it. As Head Boy, participating in this kind of behavior sends the wrong kind of message, wouldn't you agree?"

Tom's eyes flashed and his mouth twitched downwards, but those were the only signs of dissention. "Of course, Professor. My mistake."

"Yes, well… run along then. Back to your common rooms, the both of you."

Hermione justified his intervention by assuming that the professor had been making rounds that night, and had stumbled across them on accident. Later, she seriously doubted the meeting was quite that serendipitous.

Tom planned the next meeting during school hours, and in a place that was readily justifiable. The library, and the two of them were closeted away in the rarely visited stacks of magical law references. They set their book bags down, and leaned against the solid wood of the shelving unit. Tom crossed his arms, sent her a penetrating look, and began to speak.

"I am sure you are aware why I felt it necessary to meet you in private."

Hermione had an idea. If she truly knew the details of his future or past, that was precious information he wouldn't want any of his goons overhearing. Goons from a House that made acquiring and leveraging information into an art form. And Tom Riddle was not to be leveraged.

She had a smart-ass comment all lined up for him, when their Transfiguration Professor once again stole the spotlight.

"I admit to being rather curious of that myself." The auburn-haired man strode forward, and then paused with an inquiring expression as he spotted a particular book on the shelf. "I had no idea our library carried a book entirely about flobberworm litigation. Fascinating."

Watching his micro-expressions, Hermione could tell that Tom was very frustrated. And when confronted by authority figures he couldn't outright insult, and who he had no intention of flattering, Tom turned to sarcasm. The old standard. Hermione tried not to think about how similar her own patterns of behavior were in this instance.

"Yes, fascinating. I am sure you are already aware that Hermione and I are working on an Arithmancy project together. Is our meeting, then, so surprising?"

"No, I suppose not," Professor Dumbledore paused to give the two of them a condescending smile. "And yet this is the second time I have spotted the two of you in particularly dubious locations within the last three days. Surely such absolute privacy is not necessary for an assignment."

Tom matched his smile. "Not usually, Professor. However, some of our classmates are looking to steal our topic of study. And it would be… troublesome to have to begin researching a new topic."

"Ah, academic rivalry… well, be that as it may, you can simply whisper to each other at one of the study tables. Just ensure you are within the sight of our dear librarian. Otherwise people may begin to wonder whether or not the two of you are engaged in some kind of… unwholesome act, and I'm sure such high achieving children would not want that kind of stain on their permanent record."

More passive aggressive threats Hermione could easily read into. In a nut shell, I have spoken to the librarian and if she cannot see you, I will condemn the two of you for being engaged in promiscuous dalliances. And how unfortunate is it that individuals with your blood status and orphan status would not be able to make it in the professional world with that kind of a reputation. Hermione supposed she shouldn't be surprised that such conservative values could carry such a distance in the 40's.

Tom, Hermione observed with interest, did not respond well to threats. His eyes gleamed and his mouth straightened, but the teenager was one of applaudable self-control. "Of course, Professor."

And so they were herded out of the isle, reluctantly forced to relocate, and both noted when they arrived at the study tables that they would have little to no privacy. The tables were packed like a sardine can, and Hermione remembered that midterms were just around the corner. This must be that last rush of assignments and projects before a week of study leading up to the exam.

They both sat down extremely unhappy. Tom, she guessed, because his attempts to interrogate her had once again been thwarted by a man so blatantly attempting to manipulate him. She was upset and increasingly uneasy at the nonchalance her Head of House displayed threatening them into submission, which spoke ill of future interactions. They shared a disgruntled look, and got out their textbooks. And Hermione reluctantly asked a question that had been bothering her. "Are there actually students in our class attempting to steal our research?"

The look Tom sent her was both condescending and amused. "Collins and Johnson. Did you really have no idea?"

Hermione ignored his disdain in favor of retrieving her wand. "Hand me your notes."

He did so with obvious curiosity.

She muttered a quick incantation, flicked her wand about a few times, and the pages of paper shimmered gold for a moment. She paused for a second, and then added another flick. The pages were illuminated in purple for a brief second, the color indicative of a fairly strong hex. Hermione saw Tom raise an eyebrow from the corner of her eye. Then she handed the bits of paper back.

There was a pause, and then, "And that bit of spellwork accomplished…"

"A concealing charm locked onto our magical signatures. Anyone else who looks at it will see notes from the Seventh Year Herbology textbook. And a stinging hex for anyone that attempts to uncover the notes using a counter-spell."

"That looked like a fairly strong stinging hex."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders in a noncommitting fashion, absentmindedly fingering her own notes in front of her.

Tom laughed. "And I suppose you justify using this hex by convincing yourself that only people who should know better will be affected?"

Hermione peered over at Tom for a few silent moments. That would have been her, to a T, a few years ago. The ends justified the means kind of reasoning was at the center of her decision-making. And she always had so little patience for traitors and thieves. Now, though?

She was tired of caring. Of pretending to care. Especially now that she was deft enough at recognizing how morally grey the world really was.

"I'm protecting what is mine."

Tom gave her another one of his evaluating looks, an expression that always made her slightly nervous. As if he was busy reassessing who she was as a person inside of his head. And then he nodded at her, as if he could readily agree with that kind of reasoning, and it almost made Hermione feel worse.

Almost.

Which should have been a concern in and of itself.

Their next run-in with Dumbledore was planned and anticipated. They both met in the Astronomy Tower in the middle of the afternoon, which was not strictly off-limits because it was still within curfew. They both sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, a respectable distance away from each other, leaning up against their stuffed book bags.

They waited in silence for ten entire minutes. Waiting to see if they would get interrupted. If Dumbledore's entrances were timed. He didn't come.

Tom opened his mouth. And then began asking questions related to their Arithmancy project. They spoke in hushed tones and chattered about projecting successful alternatives to potion ingredients half-heartedly, while keeping an ear open to footsteps leading up the stairs.

Another ten minutes' passed.

A pause, and then Tom looked at Hermione and gave her a slight nod.

"So, I have been hearing some rather interesting rumors about you, Hermione."

Hermione looked over at him with over-exaggerated casualness. "Oh?"

The tips of Tom's lips quirked up at her theatrical behavior. "Apparently you have a tendency to get hysterical."

"Oh, dear Merlin, do I really?"

"Apparently."

"My goodness. Whatever will I do?"

"No need to panic. We can figure this out. What happens when you get hysterical, do you know?"

"Well I wouldn't really know…"

"Are you sure? I heard something about you coming to Hogwarts from the future?"

Footsteps thudded on the stairs leading to the room, and in seconds a bespectacled auburn-haired head poked into the room. "Ah, Mr. Riddle! Just the student I was hoping to see. I'm afraid you have been called into a staff meeting to give a report about the Rosier incident?"

Tom's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he nodded. "Understood, Professor." Then the teen got up, grabbed his book bag, and followed the professor out of the room. Hermione was left in silence, second-guessing herself, wondering at the chances that Professor Dumbledore would just so happen to intervene at just the right time. She seriously considered whether or not she was being spied on.

Feeling paranoid and vaguely upset, Hermione made her way to the kitchens, and was not at all surprised to see Elijah. He looked happy to see her. "Hermione! Good to see you. Here, sit down, I just finished a berry tart that tastes so fucking fantastic, you'll think you just had an orgasm."

Hermione, after a couple weeks of knowing him, had accepted his crude behavior and was somewhat amused by it. He was the kind of friend that was entertaining to be around in small doses, and who she could appreciate for being different than herself. But she was fairly sure if they were around each other on a more permanent basis, he would annoy the fucking bejeezus out of her.

"Hello Elijah." Hermione went to sit down.

"My lady."

Hermione looked up, thinking she was being addressed, when she realized the House Elf Matron had just entered the kitchen. And that was how Elijah had addressed the elf. Who gave him a stare in return that looked like she thought he was the dirtiest, most disgusting thing to ever enter her kitchen.

"Boy." It was barely an utterance, muttered as she swept from the kitchen, but Elijah turned to Hermione with a grin so big, it took up just about all of his face.

"Did you hear that? She actually addressed me! How fan-fucking-tastic is that!"

"Incredible. Really."

Hermione couldn't help but sound a little sarcastic, clueless about why that was such a big deal, but Elijah didn't even notice. Although, by the time he had finished dishing out a piece of fruit tart and had taken a seat next to her, he had calmed down a bit.

"So what seems to be the problem?"

Hermione looked up at him from around her filled spoon. "Pardon?"

"You only seem to visit the kitchen when you're upset. What happened?"

Hermione put down her spoon, frowning. She wasn't sure she liked the idea that she was so easy to read. And it's not as if she only ate chocolate cake when she was troubled- in her mind, any time was a great time to set aside for one of Hogwart's little cakes.

She debated for a few seconds about whether or not to tell him about her worries, and then decided, what the hell. It wasn't as if she had a waiting list of people she could somewhat trust, eager to be her confidante.

"I think Professor Dumbledore is spying on me."

Elijah's brow furrowed as he stared at her. "Spying? Like subterfuge? Or infiltration? Oh… oh god, I just pictured the man in one of the school skirts. Good lord."

Hermione made a face. "No… like the following me around and listening to my conversations kind of spy."

Elijah made a crazy face back at her for a second, and Hermione had to give a reluctant smile. Then his expression sobered. "Do you have a reason why he might want to follow you around?"

"I think he is trying to prevent me and Tom from meeting-"

"Oh, well that makes sense."

Hermione shot Elijah a sharp look. "What? Why?"

Elijah raised a brow at her salty demonstration. "Well, whenever you two meet- which I've seen four times now, let me remind you- you guys look like two predators, slowly circling each other looking for the best place to devour each other raw… or fuck each other senseless. But it's equates to about the same thing, doesn't it?"

Hermione's face scrunched up unpleasantly.

Elijah saw it and snorted. "What? I'm just calling it as I see it."

"You should know that we have a temporary truce-"

"Which should have already ended."

Hermione paused. "Wait, how do you know that?"

Another snort. Elijah smiled. "Love, this isn't the first time you've told me. Are you alright?"

Hermione let out a long sigh, trying to evaluate her mental state. "I think so."

"Right… well, the professor is probably just concerned because he can see what the rest of us can. In any case, the important question isn't why. It's what you are going to do about it."

Hermione stopped to look at Elijah, surprised. "What?" And then she began mentally berating herself. This is something she should have already considered. Maybe there was something wrong with her…

"So I suppose the next logical conclusion would be to find a way to keep track of Dumbledore? Which would make it easier to avoid him."

Hermione was caught on an idea. "Like an enchanted map…"

Elijah nodded with a considering look on his face. "Well, yes, something like that should work…"

But Hermione barely heard him. She was already going through all of the spells she could remember uncovering while she was investigating the Marauder's Map. Surely she would be able to reproduce something like it… "Thanks Elijah," she stated absentmindedly, scooting off the stool and swinging her book bag around her shoulder.

"Um, sure. Where are you going? You barely had one spoonful of my fruit tart!"

"Next time, I promise." And then Hermione was rushing out of the kitchen on her way to the library. She tried to reassure herself on the way there. It shouldn't be too hard to recreate, right? After all, while Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were rather sharp, they were hardly geniuses…

She would come to eat her words. Five hours later found her in a state of near panic. She was sitting at one of the study tables, two dozen textbooks laid out in front of her, taking up the space of an entire table. The librarian kept shooting her icy looks of disdain, but Hermione barely noticed at this point. She had over a dozen pieces of parchment filled with notes, and the ink stains on her fingers had traveled to form smudges on her forearms where she kept shrugging the sleeves of her robe up, and on her face, where she kept tugging her irritating curls out of the way. Even worse, her mounting anxiety was sending pulses of magic into the tendrils of her curls, and she just knew she was sparking…

"What's going on here?" Her frenetic research was interrupted by a very amused sounding Head Boy.

Hermione ignored him, too caught up on a certain passage. Her frustration grew because it didn't make any fucking sense. She knew she had to somehow capture the magical signature of individuals within a certain geographical space, centered on the place rather than the people so she could pick up new signatures… but how does one capture the signatures of a place?

Tom, apparently, was not one to be ignored. His tone was a tad chilly to express his displeasure. "Hermione? You look like you're a few seconds away from a panic attack. Which would no doubt cause some kind of explosion, based on how much you are sparking. I'm sure that's the only reason why our dear Ms. Jackson hasn't come over to investigate your newly acquired hoarding habit…"

After Hermione once again failed to say anything, Tom let out an overly aggravated sigh and snatched the book out from in front of her. Hermione swung around to glare at him, ignoring as a spark traveled from her cascade of curls down to her stained fingers.

"Do I have your attention?"

"Give it back." She held out her hand and glared as if that alone would be enough to make him combust. Harry and Ron had learned to be wary of this look, which often times occurred while she was studying for exams.

Tom wasn't so easily cowed. "No. Now tell me, what are you working on?"

Hermione waited, still holding her hand out, glaring. But Tom was exceedingly perseverant, and as anxious as she was, she didn't have the patience to challenge his obstinacy. She let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm trying to create an enchanted map. One that will tell us where Dumbledore is at all times. So we can keep track of his spying habits."

Tom's eyes sparkled with interest. "Fascinating." She could tell he meant it. "What have you got down so far?"

The next hour was spent detailing all of the aspects of the map she had been able to reproduce. The illustration of Hogwarts, it's grounds, and Hogsmeade. Security measures that assured it was password protected. How to ensure only true names were reproduced. And then she demonstrated what she had yet to figure out.

She could practically see the cogs in his brain turning. "Hm. Well I might have an idea for that. Just let me fetch a text…"

By curfew they had a working outline for the spells they would need to put together. But it appeared that Tom was too impatient to wait in order to continue their private meeting. He walked her to the seventh floor where he knew Gryffindor common room was, and then grabbed her forearm before she could walk in.

"Wait."

A sigh. "What is it?"

"I want to try one more place."

"Tom. I'm tired. Let's do this tomorrow."

"Our truce has ended, you realize."

Hermione just sighed again, feeling exhausted. "Mmhm."

Tom narrowed his eyes at her. "Just because we have managed some level of cordiality recently doesn't mean I won't do whatever I have to in order to make you talk."

"Mmhm."

"I'm serious."

Hermione snorted, too tired to give a fuck.

Tom heard, and whirled on her, his eyes fierce and his wand raised. Hermione stared at him with a pitying smile. "Tom. I've starved. Been petrified. Magically drugged and dragged to the bottom of lake. Almost burnt to death by Fiendfyre. Tortured with knifes and curses. I've ridden a mother fucking dragon while it was trying to set me on fire and eat me alive. If you think you can still manage to intimidate me, best of luck."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "That's quite a list."

"Mmhm."

He let out a frustrated breath of air. "Do you think you could articulate? Manage actual words?"

"Sure."

Tom sneered at her.

Hermione smirked.

To be honest, these failed attempts to have their 'conference' had entirely changed Hermione's perspective about meeting with Tom. At first she had been slightly apprehensive, sure that her future spoke of inevitable torture and significantly less painful verbal sparring. But with each meeting that Dumbledore interrupted, Hermione witnessed these attempts became more about Tom and his feud with Dumbledore, and less about retrieving every scrap of information from her brain as quickly as possible. And with each meeting Hermione's exasperation at his almost childish willingness to demand what he wanted grew.

"I want to sleep, Tom."

He tugged on her arm again. "One more place. Where it would be impossible for Dumbledore to interrupt us."

It only took Hermione a few seconds to realized where they were, and what he was referring to. "The Room of Requirement…"

Tom's surprise was easily written on his face. "You know of it?"

Hermione stared at the unfortunately striking boy next to her, and seriously considered whether she should go along with his suggestion. It hadn't opened for her yet, and she had paced these hallways for hours in the last month and a half that she had been here. But she couldn't deny she was extremely curious to see if it would open when she was with someone else… "Alright. Let's try it." It came out of her mouth before she remembered the purpose of their meeting.

Tom smirked triumphantly and began dragging her down the hallway. Hermione frowned and stopped to jerk her arm loose. Then she began pacing by his side. She looked over at him with a raised brow. "Do you enjoy being dragged?"

He ignored her with pursed lips, correctly assuming the question was rhetorical, and they continued up and down the halls. Up and down, three times. And a door appeared. Hermione was more than a little anxious to open it, because she didn't know what Tom had been thinking about, but she had wanted a way home.

It was not to be.

"Tsk, tsk. Such naughty children wandering around the corridor past curfew."

Miss Meadows flung herself dramatically around the corner of the corridor, and Hermione realized with a kind of muted horror that the older woman was wearing a bright pink cape, shimmering with sequins and lined with ribbons and lace. It was honestly one of the most tacky, grotesque things Hermione had never seen.

"What is she wearing?" Tom face was scrunched in disgust, and his whispered tone seemed to indicate that he felt the same way that she did.

Hermione whispered back. "Fulfilling her long begotten desire to become a pink mermaid in whatever desperate way she can?"

Tom's lips quirked up.

Miss Meadows was not pleased her dramatic entrance wasn't met with fear, or at least a little bit of apprehension. "What are you whispering about over there? Colluding, no doubt."

Hermione smiled. It was a rather nasty smile. "Oh, of course not, Miss Meadows! We were just remarking on what a fantastic cape you are wearing."

Miss Meadows fluttered her pudgy hands about herself as if flustered with the praise. "Well, it is one of my favorites. But my classroom is usually so warm, I can't justify wearing it while I'm teaching…"

Tom's smirk looked like half a sneer. "Such a shame."

Miss Meadows sniffed to herself. "Yes, well… I'm afraid you are both going to have to serve detention with me next Monday. Wandering about the halls together after curfew, without a chaperone… most unseemly. Not surprising, given what I know of your backgrounds, but still not something to be encouraged."

Tom's lip slowly curled back, showing a hint of displeasure. "Pardon me for asking, but I thought Professor Merrythought was supposed to have recovered by today? And that you would return to your… important work at the Ministry?"

Miss Meadows smiled unpleasantly. "Yes, well… the professor is getting on in her years, which seems to have delayed her recovery. I will be here for at least another two weeks."

"How fortunate, that the Ministry can afford to allow your absence for another couple of weeks."

The older woman's smile sharpened. "They understand how important the role of an educator is in our society, and have made certain allowances as a result. Now scurry along. To your common rooms. Shoo."

She fairly marched Hermione to the door of the Gryffindor Common Room, and that was it. Although Hermione was slightly amused to see Tom was fairly snarling as he was manhandled away.

The next time Hermione saw Tom, which was the next morning, she did a double take in the Great Hall. His Slytherin tie was askew. His hair was, dare she say, gently tussled instead of in its usual perfectly coiled state. His sleeves were rolled up, and there were smudges of ink that flashed from the pads of his fingers as he ran his fingers through his hair. There were even bags under his eyes…

A random Gryffindor girl she was passing by grabbed her shoulders and fairly shook her. The pretty blonde looked slightly devastated. "What did you do to Tom?!"

Hermione frowned. "Pardon?"

"You did something to him! I've seen you guys sitting together in the library, and now look! He's starting to look like you!" Her voice got slightly hysterical as she finished.

"But he just looks… tired?"

"EXACTLY!"

Hermione tried not to be offended as she carefully extricated herself from the obviously deranged female, and sat down next to Charles. Elijah came up on her other side and threw himself down into the seat next to her.

"Did you see the state of his hair? Hermione. Love. What did you do to our dear Head Boy last night?"

"How did you know we were together last night?"

Elijah gave her a look.

Charles looked between the two of them with interest. And then towards Hermione. "I thought you hated the guy?"

"I do."

"And yet it has been at least… two weeks? Since I've seen you give the man a death glare during meals?"

"We had a truce."

Charles snorted. "A truce? How old are you?"

Hermione pursed her lips and glared at the Potter.

Charles kept talking. "It's just… aren't you kind of old to turn your feelings off and on at the drop at a hat, just because you called a truce?"

"You are mistaking emotional maturity for flippancy…"

Elijah snorted. "He's just suggesting that maybe you don't hate the guy as much as you think you do. And I am rather curious why you "hate" him, by the way. What has he done to you?"

Hermione grimaced, thinking about… everything. "Something unspeakable."

Elijah frowned at her expression. Then put his hands behind his head, casually leaned back, and smirked at her. "Well then. If you really hate him… Bag him. Whip him. And make him fucking serve you for the rest of your life."

Charles gave him a disgusted look. "I'm not sure she's into that."

Elijah reached behind Hermione to swat playfully at Charles' head. "I meant marriage, stupid."

Charles turned to face the blonde, glaring.

"Marriage?" Hermione felt a bit… flabbergasted at the idea. She couldn't even imagine…

Charles sighed, and then turned to Hermione with an exasperated expression. "I've seen more surprising couples."

Hermione decided that now would be a great time to leave. She stood up and grabbed her book bag. "That's an… interesting approach. But I really need to go to the library…"

Elijah smirked. "And the fact that Riddle is leaving at the exact same time is just a coincidence?"

Hermione looked across the Great Hall and saw that Tom had gotten up, finally aware of all of the scrutiny, and was striding towards the door with a scowl on his face. She sighed. "I don't care. I have to write a paper. See you later Charles. Elijah."

It was a quiet walk to the library, and Hermione was unhappy to realize Tom was sitting at one of the study tables. He looked up when she came in and gestured for her to approach. Hermione did so, feeling wary and tired. He looked… frazzled.

"Where have you been? Sit down. I'm almost finished."

Hermione cautiously sat down. If she didn't know any better, she would say Tom was acting rather… wired. "You wouldn't happen to have had any coffee recently?"

Tom just let out a disgusted sigh. "That's not important. Look, the map is almost finished. Meet me outside the Prefect's Bath at 4?"

"Sure. Can I ask what brought this on? We were planning to finish it this morning anyways. It looks like you have been working on it all night."

"That… woman and I ran into Dumbledore on our way to my common room last night. She was her delightful self, of course, but Dumbledore… more vicious than usual. I realized we needed to move our timeline up if we were going to meet. Expect a conference from him soon, by the way."

Hermione sighed. "Fantastic."

"Isn't it? And there is something else you should know. Apparently our behavior together is now to be monitored by the rest of the faculty at all times."

"Seriously? What in the world do they think we will do?"

Tom snorted. "Something diabolical. Apparently. What else could two teenagers be up to in the middle of the night?"

Hermione made a face. "That sounds kind of… dirty."

Tom raised an eyebrow, before slowly smirking.

Hermione sighed. And changed the subject. "You should at least look in the mirror. I've been accused of rubbing off on you."

His smirk widened.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin…"

To be continued...