A/N: I couldn't decide who to gift a fic to for my 31 Days of Writing Challenge... so I put a call out on my Facebook page and got 14 prompts. This was a ton of fun and I think I might have to do it again sometime! I wrote 14 drabbles, over 6,000 words in one day!

No beta, just Grammarly, all mistakes are mine. If you loved this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff or Facebook at Shan Crochetaway. Thanks for reading! Enjoy!

This one is for MrsRen.

Summary: Hermione barely finds Tom tolerable.

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle

Rating: M

Warnings: N/A

Almost Tolerable

She had vowed to ignore him. She could do that. It was one patrol a week. That's it. Two hours, stalking through the castle corridors with him at her side. She could definitely keep her mouth shut for two hours. She knew she could. She had done it loads of times with other prefects.

"Why aren't you talking to me?" he asked. She could just feel the tips of his fingers as he slid his hand along her back. She was determined not to show how she felt. She wasn't going to make this a shouting fest like last week.

"I have nothing to say to you," she replied primly and increased her pace.

His rich laugh trickled down her spine and she fought off a shiver.

"Oh, but I have so much to say to you, Hermione." The way he said her name should be illegal, she thought. It dripped like warm honey and she wanted to hear it again and again and again.

She gritted her teeth. She was a stone. A stone in the middle of a pond. She was calmness itself. Calm personified. She was—

"See, I think it's not that you don't have anything to say to me… I think it's that you have too much to say to me," he told her. He sounded proud of himself for having worked it out.

"Your ego needs deflating, Tom," she said calmly, quietly, with not even a hint of irritation or anger. Because he couldn't ruffle her. She wouldn't allow him to ruffle her feathers.

Tom was a predator and he lived off of ruffled feathers. And angst, and anger, and irritation, and every other terrible, negative emotion he made her have. They were his life's blood and she was determined not to give in to him. He didn't deserve her notice.

"I think my ego is perfectly fine, Hermione," he bit out, finally grasping her wrist hard enough to make her wince. She ignored him—or tried to—as she tugged at it, but he held her fast and then planted his feet. A yank on her arm and she was suddenly facing him and stumbling to keep from falling. She put her other hand out to steady herself against his chest just as he began moving again and backing her into the wall.

"What is wrong with you?" he asked her, staring down at her face as if he couldn't comprehend the fact that she didn't want to play with him anymore.

"Nothing," she replied, looking away from him.

He snatched her jaw with his free hand, hard enough to bruise, directing her face to his. Then he kissed her.

Tom had never kissed her before. Had never even hinted that he might like to kiss her. Hermione was not prepared for what it felt like to be kissing Tom Riddle. His lips were soft. How could such a hard cruel mouth have such soft, gentle lips? His tongue begged entrance against her own closed lips and she was curious, so she opened her mouth, tilting her head just slightly, letting him explore her.

She found that she liked Tom much better when he wasn't talking. When his lips were on hers, his hands on her hips, his body pressed to hers. He was almost tolerable.

~Fin~