Tom was waiting for her just outside the entrance to the girls dorm at seven sharp, looking most handsome indeed in a sharp black tuxedo consisting of a white starched dress shirt, double breasted black dinner jacket with matching trousers and a white bow tie. Anyone who didn't know he was a half-blood would surely never guess, for he looked like the epitome of a proper pureblood gentleman.

"Hermione, you look beautiful…"

His eyes followed her as she stepped through the passage into the common room. With a bit of guidance from Druella and Rosaline, she had chosen a relatively modest, yet still pretty, rose colored dress that fell slightly past the knees with short puffed sleeves and a cinched waist, paired with seamed stockings, white wrist-length gloves and a pair of pink peep toe heels.

"Thank you, Tom." she remarked, unable to contain the smirk that tugged her lips. "I must say, you do look quite dapper in a suit."

Dapper… It was one of those words that she would have never even dreamed of using before, but now found came quite naturally to her. She supposed that it came with her surroundings.

He returned her smirk with one of his own. "In that case, I'll have to wear them more often."

Walking up to him, she reached up and straightened his tie for him, noticing that it was slightly off. She had always liked men in suits. Though, not all men could pull it off. For starters, it had to actually fit the man wearing it, and not be covered in frills. Tom was definitely one of the men who pulled it off nicely, not only in fit, as it had been custom tailored specifically for him, but it fit his whole aesthetic as well. The black suit only added to the dark and mysterious aura.

"Are we ready to go?" she asked, glancing around. "Where's Abraxas?"

"He went on ahead with his date," Tom informed her

Abraxas had a date as well? This was news to her. Not that she was upset about it at all. On the contrary, she was happy for him. She only hoped that he wasn't as hopelessly clumsy around this girl as he had been around her.

"Do I know her?"

"I don't believe so." he shook his head. "He went with a fourth year in our house by the name of Hera Carrow."

She didn't know this Hera Carrow, but she had known of a pair of twin girls named Flora and Hestia Carrow back in her original time. Perhaps they were related to Hera somehow? Either way, it didn't matter. She was sure to meet the girl at the Slug Club.

"Shall we go then?" Tom offered his arm to her.

With a nod, she took hold of his arm and together they started out of the common room and down the dimly lit corridor.

It amazed her just how comfortable she felt with Tom. Unlike her two previous dates, if they could even be considered as such, she didn't feel the slightest bit nervous. What was there to be nervous about? It was just Tom. She felt like she had known him her whole life, even if she knew that wasn't quite true. They were friends… equals… and now, perhaps they could become more…

Initially she had felt anger towards Dumbledore for sending her into the past and away from everything she had known, and though she would probably never trust him entirely again for all that he had done, she had made peace with the fact. She felt as though she belonged here… as if she had always belonged here.

The party had already started by the time they arrived, despite the fact that they hadn't arrived that late. Most of the guests were already seated at the table, though a few were standing over in the far corner with Slughorn and a group of men whom she could only assume were some of his famous friends. Most of them were standing with their backs to her, preventing her from determining if she recognized any of them.

However, she was surprised by just how many of the other guests she actually knew. Along with Abraxas and his date, who was a very pretty and petite girl who seemed quite taken by Abraxas, there was also Pollux Parkinson, Pansy's grandfather and a sixth year from their house, Betty Bones of Hufflepuff, Eugene Crouch of Ravenclaw, and finally Minerva McGonagall and Fleamont Potter of Gryffindor.

How Fleamont had managed to get an invite was beyond her, and from the looks of it, he seemed just as shocked to see her and Tom.

"Mr. Riddle and Miss Granger!" Spotting them from across the room, Slughorn motioned them over to him. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

"Thank you for having us, Professor," Tom greeted their plump potions master with a charming smile. "It looks like you have a grand evening in store for us."

Tom could be one of the most polite and charming young men she had ever known when he wanted to be. The fact that he was putting so much effort into being this nice to Slughorn indicated that there was a reason behind it. He wanted something from him. The only question was what?

"Do I ever, m'boy," Slughorn grinned from ear to ear. Turning back to his group, me waved a hand to the two teens in introduction. "Everyone, this is Miss Hermione Granger and Mr. Tom Riddle, our two best students here at Hogwarts."

One by one the gentlemen turned to face them. Most of them immediately turned their full attention towards Tom, making Hermione feel rather left out and frankly a bit annoyed as well. She wasn't ignorant to what was going on, for it was one of the things that unfortunately never seemed to change no matter what time she was in. These men were ignoring her and her potential for greatness just because she was a woman.

With a huff, she took a step back. A part of her was tempted to show them then and there just how powerful a woman could be, when she heard a frail voice address her.

Breaking away from the rest of the group, an old man with long white hair, sparkly blue eyes and dressed in a neat be it outdated robe. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Granger," he greeted her, holding out a wrinkled grey hand for her to shake. "Forgive me, I'm sure you must be wondering who I am. My name is-"

"Nicholas Flamel!" Hermione exclaimed.

She couldn't believe her eyes. Nicholas Flamel was standing right in front of her… as in the Nicholas Flamel who created the Philosopher's Stone and with it the Elixir of Life! Was she dreaming? Surely she had to be, because this seemed much too good to be true.

"You know who I am?" Flamel seemed quite surprised by the fact that she knew who he was.

"Of course I know who you are. You're only the greatest alchemist and potioneer in the world." she told him. "I read all about you and your accomplishments in first year. To think that I'm actually meeting you in person… It's an honor!"

He gave her a kind smile. "Oh, I don't know about all that, but it pleases me to know that I am not entirely forgotten by the youth of this age.

"Horace tells me that you are unusually proficient in potions and are interested in pursuing a career in such. Tell me, child, what are your hopes for the future."

And so, it was with great pleasure that she began to tell him all about her hopes and dreams for the world, and all the ways she hoped to improve it. Flamel just nodded his head and let her speak for the most part, but there were a couple of times in which he spoke up to agree with something she had said.

There was so much more that she wanted to tell him. She longed to tell him about how her and her old friends had risked their lives to protect the Philosopher's Stone from the clutches of a dark wizard, or how she had managed to successfully, at least for the most part, brew a Polyjuice Potion in her second year. Alas, she knew that she couldn't tell him those things. Besides, this was hardly the time or the place.

"You have some very promising ideas, Miss Granger," he complimented. "I look forward to seeing where you go with them, and I only hope that I can bear witness to their results."

Everyone was called to the dinner table shortly after, bringing an end to their captivating discussion.

Returning to her side, Tom courteously pulled the chair out for her, waiting for her to take her seat before taking his own to her left. She smiled over at him appreciatively. Her previous annoyance with all the men flocking to him had been completely forgotten about.

Unfortunately, a new annoyance arose as she found Fleamont sitting to her right. The two boys on either side of her glared at each other. It was undeniable that there was bad blood between the two of them, ever since their first year when Fleamont had tripped her in the hall and Tom had set his pet snake on him as revenge. Of course, Fleamont didn't remember this. As far as he knew, it had been nothing more than a prank.

"Dinner is served!"

With the clap of Slughorn's hands, a delicious array of foods appeared on the table before them. It wasn't quite as spectacular or large scale as the Hogwarts Feasts, but it was still impressive nonetheless.

The table roared to life as the guests once more broke off into conversation, somehow still finding time to eat as well. Hermione spent the first portion of the meal in silence, not the slightest bit interested in the discussion about the latest victories in the world of Professional Quidditch. Tom didn't seem too into it either, but still answered with his own honest opinion when asked about his views on the sport.

One by one, Slughorn addressed each and every one of his young guests, asking them about their lives and any remotely important relations they might have.

Apparently Fleamont's father had once been a part of the Wizengamot, but had left after much backlash from the purebloods for his decision to support the muggles back in World War I. As much as she thought that Fleamont was a right git, it was still fascinating to hear more about Harry's family.

Of course, everyone there knew Abraxas' family. Mr. Darius Malfoy was one of the most prominent wizards in Wizarding Britain. He had great influence within the ministry as well as within the school, being a close friend of Headmaster Armando Dippet.

"What about your family, Miss Granger?" Slughorn asked. "I've heard rumors that our very own Professor Renshaw is your uncle. How is he? We don't see much of him outside of his classroom."

That much was true. He very rarely joined the rest of the staff in the Great Hall, as he preferred to dine alone for obvious reasons.

"My uncle is just fine sir. I only found out that he was my uncle a couple of years ago, as my mother never told me about him, but I've been enjoying getting to know him as well as more about myself."

The rest of the mean went more or less the same, as Slughorn sought to question the students gathered, silently picking out which ones he wished to make permanent members of his Slug Club, and which didn't meet his criteria.

After dinner was finished, followed by a desert course, as usual, the table was banished, the lights lowered, and music began to play. Everyone who had come with a date or could find an eligible partner, stepped up to dance, while the older men went over to the bar for drinks.

"May I have this dance?" Tom asked.

She smiled and nodded, taking his hand in hers. "You may."

Placing one hand in hers, the other gently on her back, he began to lead her around the dance floor in a series of graceful flowing movements. Hermione had never been a terrible dancer, as she had managed to get through the Yule Ball in her original fourth year without embarrassing herself, but she had greatly improved since then, all thanks to the ballroom dance lessons that Mrs. Malfoy had insisted she and Tom take.

The only bad part of the dance was when Slughorn decided to spice things up a bit and announced a partner change. Each boy had to change partners with the boy to his left. Tom ended up switching with Abraxas, dancing with Hera Carrow, while Fleamont took his place with her.

Neither of them were too happy with the arrangement. In fact, Tom didn't seem to be paying any attention to Hera at all, as he kept glancing back at her and Fleamont. Honestly, he looked as though he was ready to march over and strangle the messy-haired boy where he stood.

"You look… nice," Fleamont said.

"Er, thanks."

She couldn't tell if he was actually genuinely complimenting her, or if he was just saying that because he felt obligated to. Had it been Harry, she would have known that it was genuine, but not Fleamont. She couldn't make heads or tails out of what went on in his brain. If he even had one, that was...

"I've seen you with Charlus from time to time," he commented. "How is he doing?"

What? Was he actually asking how his little brother was doing, after the way he had treated him? If it wasn't for the fact that they were in a crowded room, with a teacher keeping an eye on them, she wouldn't have hesitated to punch him straight in the nose. However, as it were, she didn't want to cause a scene, so she forced her anger back.

"Charlus is doing fine. He's managed to make a good group of friends who don't treat him like he's carrying some sort of horrible plague."

He narrowed his eyes at her only before softening. "Look, I know I haven't been the greatest to you, and you probably think I'm a horrible person, but I have no choice but to keep up appearances," he defended himself. "Gryffindors and Slytherins are enemies. It's always been that way, and I don't know about your house, but in Gryffindor, anyone who tries to make friends with a Slytherin is practically an outcast."

She knew that he was probably referring to Hagrid, who had made no attempt to hide the fact that he was friends with her. He even considered Tom a friend, even though she was pretty sure Tom didn't consider him as such.

"You don't know what it's like to feel like an outcast. To have everyone making fun of you simply because of your name… It's better to just go along with the rest of the crowd."

Hermione didn't know what to say. It was clear that he had been referring to himself and not Hagrid, at least not entirely anyway. The Gryffindor boys had bullied him about his name? She would admit that Fleamont wasn't the most pleasant name to have, but she didn't think it was that bad.

"You're wrong. I do know how it feels to be an outcast," she corrected him. "I spent the first ten or so years of my life thinking that I was a freak because I could do things that no one else could."

His eyes widened slightly. He surely hadn't expected that.

"Going along with the rest of the crowd does not make it go away. It just makes you exactly like those who bullied you. Who matters more to you? A group of boys who claim to be your friends, or your own flesh and blood brother? If you're not careful, you might lose your brother completely one day."

The dance ended soon after, much to her relief, and Fleamont managed to scrape together a bow before turning and leaving in a hurry.

Tom ditched his partner just as quickly to return to her.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Potter didn't try anything on you, did he?"

She shook her head. Surprisingly enough, he hadn't tried anything funny with her, as he had been known to do in the past. In fact, it sounded as though he just wanted to know how his brother was doing. If anything had been hurt, it was his pride, as she called him out for being a right git.

A few of the guests started to leave after that, but Slughorn called those who were still remaining over to the fireplace for a photo, a tradition of his that he did with all of his favorite students. With Slughorn in the middle, he assembled the group of six around him, with Tom, Eugene and herself on one side, and Abraxas, Minerva and Fleamont on the other.

Tom stood next to Hermione, noticeably closer than everyone else, and discreetly wrapped his arm around her waist while no one else was looking, as if silently claiming her as his own for the photo. She had gotten used to it over time, but she still didn't particularly like the fact that public displays of affection were frowned upon.

With a wave of Slughorn's wand, the camera flash went off and the picture was taken, capturing the official Slug Club members of 1942. This photo would be the first piece of physical proof that she was actually there in that time.

She smiled at the thought. There was nowhere else she would rather be.