those who escape hell, however,
never talk about it
& nothing much bothers them after that
- Charles Bukowski
"I don't particularly want to go, Albus. I would much rather have a lesson. I don't think the people in that club or the ideals behind it are suited to me. It's blatant and unfair favouritism."
"Hermione, while I understand your concerns I think it is important that you go. I would be... curious to hear about such an evening, so if you will not go yourself I ask that you would go on my behalf. Horace is an excellent teacher but he can be a little susceptible to flattery if it is convincingly applied."
A dilemma then. She knew far more exactly than Professor Dumbledore what there was to fear, but she could hardly report that particular incident.
"Alright, I will go but I am not your spy. If there is anything concerning I would bring it to your attention anyway," she said defiantly.
He smiled. "That is fair enough. Now, you ought to go and get ready. We will meet tomorrow afternoon instead, at five o'clock."
.
Hermione could hardly believe she had been so easily talked into attending what she suspected was essentially a little Death Eater get together. She couldn't begin to imagine what she would have to chat to them about over dinner. Still, she had managed to make conversation with Blaise Zabini in her own time and he had some pretty ghastly opinions so she would have to cope. As it was a school night she would be wearing school robes so there was no need to change, but she decided that she might as well be well armoured against any snake attacks and went to fix her hair.
Her room was in a turret at the very top of Ravenclaw tower. It was probably the best room in the castle in her rather well informed opinion. It wasn't huge, but airy and light, the curved walls painted the same gorgeous pale blue as the rest of the tower with windows looking out in every direction hung with silk of the palest bronze and cream stripes. There was a lovely desk fitted into the wall and a sofa and comfortable chair. It had once been the room set aside for a long ago wife or daughter of the head of Ravenclaw, and was exquisitely appointed, as through she had stepped into a favourite childhood dream. To reach the room you had to climb a little curving staircase through a small door off the main stair. Her door was made of silvery wood and carved with tiny stars. It was rather too fanciful for Hermione's practical mind, but nevertheless it was lovely. A sanctuary.
As Hermione tamed her hair she repeated to herself, You are not a Muggleborn Gryffindor. You are not Harry Potter's best friend. You do not know to hate Slytherin. You do not hate Tom Riddle. You are Hermione Dearborn. You are homeschooled. You will smile and be polite to these vile people. You will not draw unnecessary attention to yourself. You will be polite. You will smile. You will be polite. You will smile. You will not drop your guard for one single second. You are Hermione Dearborn.
She had slipped down the stairs and into the common room, hoping to escape without notice but was stopped by a voice calling her name.
"Hermione?" It was Sophia, looking friendlier than usual, accompanied by a handsome dark haired boy whose name escaped Hermione. "I heard you were asked to one of Professor Slughorn's dinners. It's a great honour you know - nearly everyone there is a Slytherin."
"Are they? Gosh. I think he just asked me because he liked my father, actually. I don't really want to go but it would be rude not to."
"I can't come this week as I have to Floo call home. But this is Marcus, he is going too and wondered if you would like an escort."
Marcus. That was it. Marcus Blishwick. She remembered now, because his surname had appeared on the Black family tree. A very pure-blooded pureblood then. Still, he had a kind enough face and aside from the Black connection she couldn't recall the family being associated with anything dark. She had payed so little attention in class in the past few weeks, and had been so quiet at meals that she suddenly realised she still hadn't met all her year in her house. There were more than in her time, of course, but still. She ought to have made more of an effort.
"That's very kind, thank you. It's nice to meet you."
Hermione and Marcus shook hands and Hermione suddenly realised that she was being set up, romantically. He was very handsome in an unassuming way, with warm dark eyes.
"It is my pleasure," he replied and smiled down at her. "I asked Sophia to introduce us. You are quite the mysterious figure."
No no no, that was not what she wanted to hear.
"I'm just a little unused to people," she said, attempting to sound shy, and dropped her eyes to the floor. Pathetic. That wouldn't fool a first year.
He didn't seem to find it strange, however, and they set off for Slughorn's office.
"Are you enjoying Hogwarts so far?" he asked, politely.
"Yes I am, thank you. It's been a bit overwhelming but I'm getting used to it." And that was the truth. She was. She was getting used to this strange dream version of her life, if not used to the great absence that had once been filled with those she loved.
"I think you're very brave to start as a Seventh Year. I don't really enjoy these dinners, by the way. It's all a bit Slytherin heavy and awkward but it's a really useful way to make contacts so just try and put up with it. Don't get me wrong, everyone's polite enough and obviously Riddle is really nice for a Slytherin so I think he's a good influence on the others."
"Yes he seems very -" what? "responsible."
"That's not how the girls usually describe him."
"Well I have only spoken to him a couple of times. Who else will be there?"
"Avery and Lestrange. They are Riddle's closest friends I think. Then there's Perdita Fancourt, she's a Ravenclaw fifth year. And Anthony Steele, he's a Ravenclaw too. Lorcan McLaid," future Minister of Magic, Hermione thought - "and a couple of Gryffindors, Charlus Potter and Jasper Brown. Then Orion and Alphard Black, they're cousins, both in Slytherin, and Septimus Weasley he's a Gryffindor as well. That's everyone I know. Oh - no, Aldfrith Diggory. He's the Hufflepuff prefect."
One other girl then. Typical. They arrived at the entrance to Slughorn's office and Hermione suddenly realised that she was extremely nervous.
You are Hermione Dearborn. You will be polite and you will smile.
.
.
"Mr Blishwick, good evening. And Miss Dearborn, it is a great honour to have you join our little company," the fat professor smiled mistily at her, as though she were some prize. "Now, come and meet our little gathering." As Slughorn introduced her to the assorted students, and handed her a glass of wine Hermione smiled and nodded and murmured greetings.
"And of course, you know Tom. How is your potion coming along, you two?"
"Very well, thank you Professor. Dearborn seems to be rather an expert in the subject." Tom smiled his charming smile, the one that didn't even begin to reach his eyes and she mirrored it in turn.
"Now, Hermione, how is your father? It has been some years since I heard from him but I keep up with his work, of course. A very great man indeed."
"He is very well, Professor. Thank you for asking. I will pass on your regards."
"I had heard a rumour that he had made some great progress with certain alchemical matters..." Slughorn winked at her.
The Philosopher's Stone. That was not something Tom should even hear about now. Hermione paused, thinking rapidly. She could see the flicker of interest in Riddle's face. Turning on another smile she said, "Now now Professor don't tease me. He is a very private man, but I'm sure anything of interest is in his papers. He is currently working on a very interesting theory regarding the Seven Metals."
"Well well, is that so. I shall write to him I think, it would be a great honour and very interesting if he would come and give a little talk on Alchemy."
"If you can persuade him to come this far..." she smiled again. She did not want Tom Riddle to take an interest in alchemy. There was definitely no need to prompt him further on the subject. Fortunately at that moment the door opened and Slughorn went to greet the late arrival.
"Alchemy? How simply fascinating. There is so little modern writing on the matter. I had not realised it was such an interesting topic." Clearly something had caught Tom's interest.
"Well, it is very inexact because no two people can use the same recipe. Most attempts to create anything fail even through a lifetime of work. My father has been fortunate enough to have a little success, but don't let Slughorn exaggerate. He largely spends his time getting very dirty and trying to turn charcoal into gold. It all sounds very glamorous and medieval but actually it's quite messy and extremely time consuming."
That was a barefaced lie, and Cerdic had found his formula for charcoal into gold some years ago but there was no need for Tom to suspect that he was anywhere closer to creating a stone. She wasn't sure if he'd heard of such a thing - if he had, surely he would have hunted down Flamel years before he did - but even if this was the only reason she was here she would do her best to keep him away from such a thing.
"I shall have to look into his work," Tom said politely and Hermione smiled, relived. No successful alchemist was stupid enough to publicise what they could do. That was just asking for trouble. She decided to bore him with the details of a less interesting paper and was pleased to see his eyes glaze over and the slight indication of relief as Marcus came to join them.
"Hermione, this is Aldfrith Diggory. Aldfrith, this is Hermione Dearborn."
He looked a little like Cedric, she though. The same calm grey eyes but was darker haired. Handsome, if rather arrogant looking.
Still, she'd take these two over Riddle any day.
The meal itself was uneventful, and she was surprised to find herself enjoying it a little. The conversation varied between topical (Grindlewald, recent politics) and intellectual and altogether it passed very smoothly. Riddle did not linger afterwards and she was relieved not to witness or suspect the day he discovered Horcruxes. Perhaps he already had, perhaps not. Either way, it was not that day.
As she fell asleep, slightly tipsy, in her tower bedroom later that evening she forgot to think about Ron and Harry and her parents.
.
Firstly, I sincerely apologise for the delay. Finals happened and I rather lost my interest in this story. Partly because I was finding it impossible to really understand how I could get Hermione and Tom to an even vaguely romantic situation, and partly because it's so hard for me to understand why Tom went about everything in such a stupid way. Also because the more I think about the HP world of magic and the society the less sense it makes practically.
However, I am reading Crime and Punishment (it's great, read it) and suddenly I had my answer for Tom. So. Motivation/inspiration struck and here you are.
Please let me know if you spot any mistakes or inconsistencies & thank you for still being here.
