Chapter 8
The first thing that Hermione notices when she approaches the Restricted Section is that the blue rope looks perfectly untouched. Tom has got past her wards without disturbing them, which is rather impressive.
Having achieved this feat of advanced magic, he must have thought he had free rein over her library. He neglected the additional wards inside the Restricted Section. Unless he's managed to overcome those too, she should find him trapped like a fly in amber.
Hermione does not have to look long. Turning a corner, she spies a very peeved-looking student immobilized between two shelves, caught inside her spellwork. His disheveled hair and crooked robes tell her he has been trying to release himself.
Hermione lifts her wand and casts a blinding ray in Tom's eyes.
"Care to explain your presence at this time of night in the Restricted Section, Mr. Riddle?" she drawls angrily.
"Merely browsing, Madam Granger," he replies through clenched teeth.
"Well, I hope this midnight adventure was worth it, because when Headmaster Dippet finds out what you've been up to you'll be in a world of trouble."
Tom glares at her beneath his fringe. "Somehow, I doubt you'll be telling Headmaster Dippet about it."
"What makes you say that?"
"Oh, nothing. Only, I've read Hogwarts: A History front to back."
"And?" she demands. "So have I."
"Then you know it's not possible to override the school's magic. You can't just install your personal wards over it. Unless… you use some very special spells." He stares at her intently. "These aren't normal wards, are they? They didn't just alert you to my presence. They're supposed to entrap me… and slowly kill me. I've been struggling for breath since I arrived."
Hermione grips her wand hard. She had not expected him or anyone else to figure it out. She can feel a prickling of warmth at the back of her neck, a dangerous mixture of fear and anger.
"You would have been fine had you not decided to break into the library," she tells him, taking a step forward.
Tom's eyes widen a fraction. She can't decide if he looks scandalized or impressed. "How many such wards have you installed across the school?"
Hermione keeps her wand level with his face. "Perhaps you will find out."
His lips curl into a devious smile. "Oh, you've been rather bad."
"You're one to talk," she retorts.
"I wonder what Headmaster Dippet will say when he finds out the innocent-looking librarian is casting dark spells all over his schools."
"I don't think you'll tell him."
Tom lifts an eyebrow. "Will you Obliviate me, then?"
"Perhaps," she replies without missing a beat. "You must admit your position is rather weak at the moment."
He gives a short laugh. "No, you wouldn't attack me when I'm defenseless. Your conscience wouldn't let you."
"You don't know anything about my conscience, Riddle."
"I know you wouldn't let me suffocate," he says, his voice thin and quiet. "You have to release me eventually."
Hermione lowers her wand an inch. "That doesn't mean I have to let you go."
"Perhaps we can reach an agreement," he offers innocently. "Neither of us wants to get caught red-handed."
Hermione considers him. "I will release you from the wards, but I want to know what you were doing in the Restricted Section."
"And I want to know why you are using dark magic so liberally," he replies, tugging at his restraints.
Hermione inhales sharply. Perhaps their mutual curiosity will be enough for now. She knows that she is taking a risk, but she undoes the spellwork silently.
A moment later, a hex grazes the side of her ear.
Hermione ducks behind a shelf.
"Bastard," she mutters, as another jet hits the side of the wood. How did he do that so fast?
She grits her teeth. If it's a fight he wants, it's a fight he'll get.
Hermione casts a Silencing Charm that reaches as far as the library doors. She doesn't want any disturbance.
She ducks low and aims her wand between a few dog-eared volumes, throwing a multi-shot jinx, doubled by a knee-reversal hex. She hears Riddle give out a curse as he collapses against the opposite shelf. Hermione darts out and aims a Petrification spell, which he blocks in the last moment. She levies another petrification but she isn't fast enough to divert the Levitation Hex that hits her in the chest and lifts her from the ground. Suspended in the air, Hermione has a hard time landing a spell, which Tom quickly takes advantage of by casting a Confusion Hex. Hermione feels a terrible fog descending on her senses and her Oppugno jinx is so shaky that the sharp-edged tomes she was aiming at Riddle's head create a strange vortex around him, rendering him impregnable to her. Riddle tries to launch the books back at her, but they bounce off her own unstable Protego shield, as her feet finally hit the ground. She doubles her Oppugno with an Expelliarmus.
Tom's wand flies into her open hand.
Her wand flies into Tom's. His Expelliarmus collided with hers.
The two stare at each other across the aisles.
They have each other's wands. This should be the end of it. But Riddle is clearly not finished with her. And she would be lying if she said she has not missed dueling. It has been so long since she was allowed to test her strength.
It is a challenge, wielding someone else's wand, but both of them seem apt for it. Their hexes make the air smoke and sizzle as they dive between the shelves, exchanging angry salvos. His wand gives her a twinge every time she casts a new spell, but she knows she's not having too much difficulty with it. It should give her pause, this relative ease, but she's too caught up in the fight to consider it.
Riddle's spells become more aggressive as he draws nearer. Hermione returns his shots with equal fervor, but she is holding slightly back. He is still a student, after all. He must know this, because he places himself in the wand's path, just to see what she will do. Hermione's spells tend to immobilize, while his tend to injure. Riddle calls out to his own wand, and Hermione calls out to hers. Their jinxes collide, throwing them both quite painfully against the shelves.
Groaning from the crash, Hermione casts a non-verbal Expelliarmus and snatches her wand from his fingers, but Riddle is hardly discomfited. Despite now holding two wands, Hermione is rendered breathless by an invisible chokehold. She had not expected wandless magic.
Riddle takes a step forward, holding out his hand.
"Give me back what's mine," he utters, putting pressure on her windpipe.
Hermione throws a Revulsion Jinx at him, but it bounces off whatever shield he has locked in place. Unable to stop him, she watches as his wand flies from her hand into his. Yet she is no stranger to wandless magic. The moment Riddle touches the wood it bursts into flames, singeing his hand.
Tom lets out a shocked hiss. He was not expecting something so elemental. Hermione releases herself from his chokehold and blasts him into the glass casing behind him.
His wand still smoking, Riddle casts a Bombarda at one of the tables. Instead of ducking, Hermione doubles the curse, exploding the table into splinters which fly everywhere. The damage makes them both cower.
It also puts a stop to their duel.
Hermione leans against a nearby shelf, panting. Her face is grazed with tiny cuts. Tom's perfect profile is also scratched by wood shavings and glass shards.
They stare at each other for a long time, breathing hard.
"I was right about you. You're quite savage in your attacks," he pants, licking his lips.
"Me? You nearly choked me."
"You nearly burned me."
"You shouldn't have got here in the first place," she reproaches darkly.
Tom gives her a weary grin. "But I did anyway."
"How - how did you get past the dividing rope without breaking it?"
He cocks his head to the side. "The Muggle newspaper."
Hermione blinks. "What?"
"The one you lent me, remember? When I brought it back to you, I left a magical trace on it… Your mistake was leaving it under your desk."
Hermione stares at him. "That was – that was quite clever."
"I know. Where did you learn dark magic? The teachers here hardly ever show us anything worth knowing."
She looks down at her wand. "I'm self-taught."
"How?"
She shrugs. "Books. Most of them from the Restricted Section."
The irony is not lost on him. He exhales with a chuckle. "Merlin, you really are perfect."
Something about the low timber of his voice makes her feel horribly warm, despite her state of undress. She can't ignore the way his eyes rake over her tumbling curls - now slightly charged with static - and her full figure underneath the rather flimsy nightgown. Caught up in the skirmish, her dressing robe has been ripped to shreds.
She is, she realizes, quite exposed to his gaze.
Her first instinct is to cover up and turn away in shame.
But her second instinct – her second instinct has no shame.
His mind, at the moment, is as open as it will ever be. And more than anything, Hermione Granger wants to know.
Giving into her shamelessness, she comes closer to him and grabs the front of his shirt. Tom's eyes are already locked onto her lips and it only takes her initiative for his mouth to come crashing down on hers.
Hermione is surprised by the force of the kiss, the warmth and hunger of his mouth, the deep, boyish groan he lets out when her hand slides down the side of his throat and catches his erratic pulse. His hand comes up to the back of her waist, clenching the satin of her nightgown violently. Her own heart skips a beat. He presses her against the shelves, his other hand knocking against the books above her head. She opens her mouth against his, casting Legilimens while the boy is lost in the sensation of her lips.
Hermione is thrown into a whirlwind of confusing images, all having to do with her and his body pressed against hers and his hunger for things which go beyond the body, but she manages to fish out the dangling piece of information before he has a chance to rein in his lust.
What were you doing here tonight, Tom Riddle?
And the word is whispered softly in her ear. Horcrux.
Being inside his head feels like a second, stolen kiss, something more intimate and invasive.
Tom freezes under her touch.
He pulls away in momentary confusion, but his turmoil is quickly replaced by anger.
"You – you little bitch."
Hermione stares him down. She wipes her lips. "You didn't play fair, either."
Tom lifts his wand, but Hermione already has hers under his chin.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Neither of us can tell anyone else about what happened here tonight, so we are quite even in that regard," she informs him coolly. "Now...why don't you go back to your dormitory before I make you forget your own name?"
Hermione knows there is only bluster behind her threat, but she does not weaken her grip, because she knows something else too: even if Tom Riddle doesn't believe her, he wants to. His eyes are dark, pupils blown with a secret yearning for self-destruction. Despite his best judgement, he'd like to forget his own name. Men, even very talented ones, are all susceptible to a certain kind of compulsion.
And he looks like he wants to kiss her again.
Finally, he takes a step back.
"This isn't over," he says, glaring at her.
Hermione nods. She's not foolish enough to consider such things can be.
She keeps her wand raised until he straggles out of the Restricted Section, looking for all intents and purposes as if he's been through a war.
When she is sure he is no longer in the library, she leans back against the shelf with a haggard breath.
What have I done?