A/N: This chapter was a doozy to write, but I hope you all enjoy it! I would like to thank Pride and Prejudice gifs on Tumblr for the inspiration.
Content Warning: Immense staring ahead.
December brought blustery days and soft flurries of snow. Hermione had not seen Riddle for some time after their meeting. Even during her potions class, Riddle sat far enough out of her way that she rarely caught his eye. Potions class had been cancelled sporadically in the following weeks to allow procrastinating pairs to rush their methods of completing their experimental compatibility potions. She had a feeling that Professor Horace Slughorn was getting into the Yuletide mood a little early, and perhaps the firewhiskey as well.
In the weeks that followed, she received no communications from the Knights or Riddle himself. Hermione would have deemed him missing if their potions project hadn't been immaculately cared for when she checked in, as evident by the detailed notes Riddle had left behind. She read the log carefully, looking for any hidden messages she might've missed somewhere between the lines. She found none.
With winter holidays soon upon them and final exams in the upcoming week, she knew Riddle would have to show himself eventually. Recalling the way he had dismissed her during their last encounter, she wondered if he would look at her again at all.
"Hermione! Are you even listening?" Aviela's voice cleaved through her thoughts.
"Yes, of course," Hermione lied.
Aviela looked at her knowingly from across the table they shared in the library. They had been there for hours, exchanging notes they had compiled together and quizzing each other on arithmancy, potions, charms, transfiguration, ancient runes, and—in addition for Aviela's extracurriculars—astronomy. On several occasions that evening Aviela had politely grounded Hermione's thoughts. She couldn't blame the petite blond for the resigned sigh that escaped her lips as she closed the astronomy textbook on the table before her.
"Are we still not going to talk about what happened that night between you and Riddle? You've been acting off ever since." Aviela cross her arms.
"No, Aviela. I told you already that there is nothing to discuss." Hermione did not meet her eyes as she busied herself by neatly separating their notes according to date and subject matter.
Aviela tilted her head, eyebrows raising. "We both know that isn't the full truth, Hermione."
"There's nothing I wish to discuss."
Aviela grabbed her arm to stop her sorting. Hermione reached her other arm overtop Aviela's and grabbed one of the textbooks to put away.
"And why not? It has been days and you still haven't spoken about that evening. I'm worried for you. Did he hurt you?" Aviela's brows furrowed.
Hermione shook her head, gently removing Aviela's grip on her arm. "No, Aviela, it's nothing like that."
Aviela cleared her throat."Then did you all… well… What I mean to say is, did you… did it go poorly?"
"What on earth are you talking about?" Hermione quirked a brow at her.
"Did you all, you know… do it?" Aviela's face was scrunched up.
The book Hermione was holding slid out of her hand and thudded heavily to the floor. Her face grew hot.
"Dear gods, Aviela, is that what you thought?" Hermione's fingers massaged her temples.
"Well, you're both rather nice looking and he seems to have a keen interest in you." Aviela was scrambling. "According to his letter it was obviously a date!"
"While I am glad to have a friend who is so concerned that it might be… unenjoyable for me, I assure you that nothing even remotely of the sort occurred." Hermione retrieved the book from the floor and placed it in her bag. "We argued. Pretty heavily, in fact. Truthfully, he hasn't spoken to me in days."
"And that is what's bothering you so?" Aviela began putting her own books away, trying to hide her mortification.
Was that what was truly bothering her? Him not speaking to her? Months ago she would have found respite in the notion that he had chosen to let her be for any length of time.
"I suppose so. He's… Tom Riddle is like a house spider. You know the spider is there because you have allowed it to be. It spins its web in the corner and takes care of all the other bugs that would cause you annoyance or frustration. But eventually that spider grows and it disappears from where you would typically find it," Hermione shoved the last book in her bag, "and you're not sure if its just hiding out in another corner or waiting to drop down on your face in the middle of a good dream."
Aviela crossed her arms. "If Riddle gets to be a spider then I want to be a butterfly."
"Done." Hermione gave a half-smile to her friend.
"He does seem like the sort to spin a web and plan ahead—so sure that whatever he wants will just come to him on instinct."
"Now you see why he has taken such issue with me. I knew he was a spider from the very beginning—others are still figuring that out."
"And did you know that I was a butterfly?" Aviela batted her eyelashes at Hermione.
"No. In fact, I thought you were just a worm wearing a fuzzy coat."
"A very nice coat," Aviela corrected her.
"The nicest woolen coat for a worm," Hermione laughed.
They both finished gathering their things and stood from their chairs, being sure to push them in gently. Aviela tilted her head, studying Hermione through squinted eyes and down her upturned, freckled nose.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"I am trying to discern which type of bug you would be."
Hermione readjusted the bag on her shoulder. "What's the verdict?"
"Also a spider. What else can effectively take on a spider but another spider?"
"A centipede," Hermione reasoned.
"Yeah, but those are foul and they have way more legs than anything should." Aviela shuddered.
Hermione nodded. "Spider it is, then."
The pair left the library laughing, linked arm and arm. She hoped with all hopes that Aviela would not get caught in Riddle's web—or hers.
The following week drew to a close and most students were either celebrating the end of exams, excitedly chatting about the upcoming winter break, or loathing those that were. Hermione was among the latter. Though she had studied adequately enough to prepare for her exams and felt confident in her passing of them, she still had the matter of her final project presentation for potions class to tend to. And alongside Riddle, no less. She had still yet to interact with him despite his burning stare falling upon her at dinner in the Great Hall earlier that week. She had chosen not to give in to the feeling of being watched.
Aside from her remaining final, Hermione wasn't looking forward to the upcoming break. The Hogwarts staff had magically erected evergreens in the Great Hall, libraries, and court yards. They donned the firs with colorful glass bulbs and strings of light that shined like unraveled constellations. It made Hermione all the more homesick.
She pulled her hair back in a low ponytail, a good protocol when preparing to handle volatile potions, and entered the empty classroom where Riddle and her had kept their shared project. When she rounded the desks to reach the cabinet where the potion had been safely locked away, she found the cauldron to be absent and a note in its place.
I took the potion to Slughorn's room this morning.
- TR
She placed the the folded note into the pocket of her robes. Part of her was glad she had not ran into him before she had to. Part of her was screaming that he was taking the potion to turn it into a poison of some sort to dispose of her. She pushed that feeling down. Riddle would never be so brash to kill her publicly. At least part of her didn't think so.
Hermione made her way out of the empty classroom and headed to the dungeons for potions class. Upon entering, she noticed that many students were withdrawing their cauldrons from locked cabinets and placing them on their desks they shared with their assigned partners.
"Ah, Miss Sivad. It is a joy to see you," Slughorn exclaimed as he waddled his way to her. "Tom brought your shared potion earlier this morning. He said he felt unwell and requested someone volunteer in his absence, the poor lad."
Hermione released a breath of relief she didn't know she was holding. "That is quite the shame. Who will I be partnered with in his place?"
"Oh, Tom will still be your partner. I encouraged him to go to the Infirmary for his ailments. This presentation is too important to miss! You see, we have a guest from Potions Today with us to document our findings with the compatibility potion. I know, very exciting! I told Tom he could not afford miss out on such an occasion. To have one's name in Potions Today could very well secure them an apprenticeship under a master potioneer if they so desired it!" Slughorn was nearly clapping in glee as he gestured to the reporter sitting in the back of the room. A young, dark-haired woman fiddled with her lap desk, adjusting her quill and ink pot in their respective slots.
Riddle had tried to get out of their presentation. Had she really struck such a nerve with him? For months she tried to escape him and now he was trying to escape her. She felt a little joyous at Riddle having a taste of his own medicine.
"That is very exciting, Professor Slughorn. I hope your guest enjoys her time here." Hermione doubted it. The salaciousness of watching teenagers test what would mostly be failed experiments was anything but.
"Of course, of course. Ah, if you will, go ahead and have a seat. Tom is a gentlemen. He will retrieve your project momentarily." Slughorn walked to the reporter and began talking animatedly. Hermione wagered it was probably something far too detailed—or inappropriate—to be discussing with a reporter in a classroom full of students. She made her way to an available desk near the front of the classroom, removed her robe, and took a seat.
She didn't bother withdrawing materials from her bag as Slughorn had taken their record of procedures upon submission of their cauldrons. She wagered that the evaluations and note-taking would occur after winter holidays when Slughorn had analyzed where the students went wrong. Instead, Hermione allowed herself to get lost in her thoughts, daydreaming about holidays back home and what she might be doing with her family instead.
Her mind's wanderings swiftly returned to the present with the gentle thud and shaking of the desk underneath her perched elbow as Riddle placed the cauldron on the table took a seat by her side.
She slid her eyes over to him, examining his face in her peripheral vision. His straight nose, high cheekbones, and strong jaw was framed in a nice enough face that it would earn the envy of men and the infatuation of women in his adulthood. Unless he made horcruxes. She wondered at what point he lost his beauty in his hunger for power. She wondered if his future self resented beautiful things for it.
"Are you finished?" Riddle voiced, still looking ahead.
"It has just been a while since…" Embarrassment flooded her cheeks as she looked down at the desk. "I hope you are well. Slughorn said you were ill."
Riddle shrugged out of his black robe and placed it on the back of his chair. "I am fine enough."
"Oh, well that's good." Hermione brushed a stray curl behind her ear.
They sat for some time, not speaking, as the class readied their potions and submitted their notes. She could feel the tension roiling between them. She felt as though she had everything to say to him and nothing at all. She wanted him to just look at her—just to clear whatever floated in the air between them.
He didn't.
"All right, students, let's have a seat and prepare our presentations." Slughorn strode to the front of the room, his roundness careful not to bump the desks and disturb the cauldrons upon them. "As some of you may know, we have a guest from Potions Today: Ms. Velma Delford." Slughorn made a grand gesture down the aisle to the woman dressed in a vibrant purple suit. The reporter waved to the class on cue. "She will be documenting our findings and, if deemed significant, will report it to the master potioneers with the publication for further study on the compatibility potion we have been working on!"
When no students responded to his announcement, Slughorn ushered them into clapping by nodding his head and clapping his own hands together vigorously. Hermione grinned and offered a few pity claps. Riddle didn't clap at all.
"Right then! Let's get the show on the road. Kinglsey, Leah—if you would start us off." Slughorn gestured to the long table in the front of the room.
Half an hour later, most of the class had presented their potions. A few students were partially missing eyebrows or strands of hair as their respective potions puffed out significant amounts of heat along with a haze of soft pink to show either compatibility or light blue to show incompatibility. The compatible couples had blushed awkwardly as they cleaned up their work, while those who were incompatible looked relieved. One pair had to dive under the table to avoid the bubbling over of thick, purple foam from their cauldron, which Slughorn quickly contained and disposed of immediately.
When Hadrian and his partner, Ida Poler—a Ravenclaw student, dropped their hairs into their potion, a dark blue gunk blasted from the cauldron into the air violently. The spatters landed on Hadrian's sleeve and immediately burned through the cloth as he attempted to shake it off to no avail. Ida frustratedly exclaimed that she didn't even like boys and threw Slughorn a seething glare as she took her seat. Hadrian was urged by a red-faced Slughorn to go to the Infirmary so the mediwtich could see to his burn.
Hermione grinned at Ida as Hadrian rushed from the room before the potion burned through to the bone. Ida, though red in the face, gave her a small smile back.
"Ah, it has been an… eventful presentation day! We have one more pair to round out the afternoon, then we may all be off to begin our winter holiday!" The students seemed to let out a collective sigh of relief as Slughorn waved his wand and vanished the dark blue ink from the table. He motioned for Hermione and Riddle to come up as he levitated their cauldron to the front of the room.
They both stood and walked on opposite sides of the room until they finally met, facing each other, beside the cauldron. He raised his eyes to look into her own. His dark gaze did not waver from hers as he reached up and plucked a hair from his own head. Hermione unfurled a curl from behind her ear and did the same. They held their strands over top the cauldron.
"On three," Riddle said to her. She nodded. Procedure was everything. "One."
"Two," she responded.
"Three," they spoke together and dropped their strands into the silver liquid resting in the cauldron below.
The liquid began to bubble and they both took a cautious step back.
A pink haze began to form until the vapor started to climb out of the cauldron and over the sides. Almost immediately, the pink vapor grew heavy, transforming into a deep shade of red. The smoke roiled from the cauldron and poured upon the table, red as blood, before hitting the floor and vanishing. The gas it expelled smelled of old books, pumpkin bread, and a warm hearth; like a rainy October afternoon with all the things one would need to make it all the more enjoyable.
Hermione's heart leapt into her throat as she eyed the cauldron. She looked to the reporter in the back of the room for any confirmation that this was an error, but the reporter's quill worked rapidly, excitement and intrigue flashing in her wide eyes. Slughorn's mouth was agape and the rest of the students looked on with confusion.
She turned to Riddle who stared at the cauldron intently. A muscle in his jaw twitched.
He turned to her and quirked a a rueful smirk with an edge of bitterness. "Of course."
Soon the cauldron, having quickly cooled, ceased puffing smoke and sat nearly empty upon the desk.
Slughorn's thunderous clapping echoed in the room. "Utterly splendid! Absolutely marvelous work!" He made his way toward the pair. "I expected nothing less from two of my brightest students. Splendid work. Everything worked according to the anticipated outcome of a positive compatibility potion."
Soon the reporter was at Slughorn's side, quill and notebook in hand. "A job well done…? Names?"
"Tom Riddle."
"Um… Hermione Sivad."
"Tom and Hermione, splendid work. You will have to tell me all about your methodologies utilized. I have only seen few potions go so well in my field work. How many in-service days—"
"Now, now, Ms. Delford, I think these two would like a reprieve to reminisce on such a spectacular event." Slughorn looked wistful before turning to Riddle and winking. "I will provide you with a copy of the detailed log they kept so you may take it with you for your report."
Ms. Delford, flushed with excitement, nodded eagerly and began following Slughorn down the aisle.
"Class is dismissed! Your logs will be evaluated and your final grade will be determined and shared with you upon your return from winter holiday!" Before Slughorn could even finish, several students bolted from the classroom.
Hermione and Riddle stood stock-still as the students filed out in droves. Before long, only the two of them remained.
"What did you mean when you said 'of course?'" Hermione asked, her eyes still on the cauldron before them.
Riddle was silent for some time, but Hermione didn't move. She refused to leave without an answer.
Eventually, he turned from her and placed his hands on the wooden table in front of him. His eyes bore into the open door across the room.
"All wizards who show greatness in their lives have a vice. Cowardice, pride, envy—all who are destined for greatness have a weakness that has the potential to be ruinous. It is the correction on unchecked power—a curse for those without focus. This potion only confirmed it."
"What are you talking about?" Hermione studied the hard line of his mouth and his furrowed brow.
His fingers pressed hard into the wooden tabletop. "You, Hermione Sivad. You make me weak." The words escaped his lips harshly, like his admission pained him—burned him.
She was at a loss for words. He turned and looked at her with what she could only describe as contempt.
"How could I possibly make you weak?" Hermione crossed her arms and stared defiantly up at him, trying to quiet the thudding of her heart in her chest.
Riddle pushed off the table and rounded her, stalking her like a predator eyeing its prey, his eyes never leaving her.
"I would have killed you for ruining my plans had you been just anybody in that lavatory. I would have killed you and felt nothing."
Anger flushed Hermione's face.
"Then why didn't you?"
He took a step closer to her, eyes narrowed. "I have spent my days loathing you so fiercely that it would be unsurprising if the gods struck you with lightening before my very eyes."
"If you despise me so much, then why didn't you?" Hermione was nearly seething.
Riddle stared down at her as though he were reconsidering the act he forwent on Halloween night. She swallowed the lump of fear in her throat. He pulled back.
"I think the answer is obvious." Riddle's eyes searched hers before darting to her lips momentarily. A shiver crept down her spine.
She found her Gryffindor courage and looked at him with defiance burning bright in her eyes. "No, I don't think it is. Why spare my life?"
Riddle's gaze fell heavy upon her. "Because the thought of your troublesome curiosity, loud-mouthed opinions, and righteous anger ceasing to plague me would be another kind of torture."
He turned away and walked to their shared desk. He grabbed his black robe from the back of the chair. Her mouth was agape at his admission. Through all of the disparaging words he said, Tom Riddle had just admitted to enjoying her company. He liked her.
Hermione gnawed the inside of her lip. "If you killed me, I would haunt you for the rest of your life." She meant it to be a threat. It didn't sound like one.
Riddle huffed a laugh. "I would expect nothing less."
She walked over to the desk and collected her things as well. She put her cloak back on and adjusted her bag on her shoulder before turning to him. They stood there, staring one another down for several moments. It was clear that they both refused to back down. Competitive spirits.
She conceited, trying to ease the tension.
"Are you staying over winter break?" Her hands fiddled at the strap of her bag, picking at the loose threading.
Riddle frowned. "I have nowhere else to be."
She winced slightly. "Ah." Orphan.
"I take it you have extended family that will be visiting."
"I—no. Nowhere else to be either." The truth stung.
They had more in common than she cared to admit and it hung heavy in the air.
"Everyone will be heading home over the next few days." Riddle's eyes didn't leave her.
Hermione tugged at a loosened curl that threatened to fall in her eyes. "Aviela and Minerva can't stop going on about their excitement to return home."
"Headmaster Dippet is allowing the remaining students to got to Hogsmeade next weekend."
"I had heard as much." She had nearly forgotten about the scheduled outing.
"I will be outside of the Great Hall doors at noon." Riddle said matter-of-factly.
"And you wish for me to be there?" Hermione blinked with unmasked surprise.
"You seem to get into trouble on these outings with alarming frequency. I would ensure safe passage for you and make sure the citizens of Hogsmeade do not feel your wrath. I won't even expect payment unless you feel so inclined." The corner of his mouth quirked upward.
Was Tom Riddle openly flirting with her?
"How generous of you to offer your services for someone in such desperate need as myself. With such kindness, how can I refuse?"
And was she flirting back?
"I will be waiting." His terse frustration from earlier had melted. He now looked positively smug. He stepped away from her and walked down the aisle toward the door.
Her face reddened at his change in demeanor. "I still loathe you."
Riddle half-turned to her, a grin playing at the edge of his lips. "I would desire for nothing more."
He left and took her exasperated sigh with him.
A/N: Yowza. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Next time, a trip (date?) to Hogsmeade and Christmas at Hogwarts!
Please feel free to leave a review, follow, or favorite. I am always happy to hear from y'all! Best wishes!
Constant Vigilance!
-VS