Hello everyone!
I'm sorry it took a while for this chapter to post, but the summer holidays have left me little time to write!
I read your reviews and ... WOW! I'm glad the story is getting all this feedback!
Tom's character is still in the making, it is building up to the Tom I 'need', I think next chapter, number 4, will be essential for his development in a sense…
Before we start with the chapter, I believe thanks to OnceUponABlueMoonDream are in order! Thanks for saving Rookwood from becoming Rockwood and for the tip about Seamus' parents!
CoffeeStirredBlack is Hermione going to be dark? Mh ... I don't know about dark ... but she will definitely change... No spoilers!
Thanks to everyone for the reviews, I hope you will continue to enjoy the story and to share your thoughts about it!
If you have any questions, shoot! I will answer in private, if the answer does not risk ruining future surprises and developments.
I hope to be able to publish a chapter every 10 days now that I'm back, hopefully one every week, but I don't want to make too many promises! Shall I turn out to be a little slow, don't despair, I'll continue until the story is over!
Thank you all for your support,
Enjoy!
Chapther 3: Errare humanum est...
"Our king… our… Q…u…een…"
"Yes?" Hermione pressed on.
"Is he ever gettin' tae th' end ay 'at first line? Ah want tae see th' picture!" Whined Olivia, trying to peek at the newspaper over Eric's shoulder.
"Shuddup! I'm almost there!" hissed Eric glaring at the older girl.
"Come on... you two." Hermione yawned in between her warning, then patted Eric on the shoulder for him to resume his reading, she glared at Olivia when the girl rolled her eyes at the ceiling snorting loudly.
"Our Crown." Eric concluded, "Our King, Our Queen, Our Crown."
"Very good, Eric. Now let Olivia look at the photo! I swear her eyes will pop right out 'f she keeps rolling them so much..." Eric giggled then he reluctantly obeyed, moving the newspaper so that Olivia could finally admire the photo of the Royals and the beautiful crown.
"What else does it say?" Snapped Amy, from her spot on the carpet.
"Throughout the world, men and women of every race and creed, members of the greatest Empire in history, rejoice to-day, in the coronation of George VI, King-Emperor, and his gracious consort, Queen Elizabeth, Long may they reign ..." Hermione read out loud, pointing to the small paragraph at the bottom of the page, under the cover photo of the Daily Mirror.
"Ah still don't gie wa Edward chose tae abdicate ..." Olivia murmured looking to Hermione for an answer.
"That Simpson lady must have a golden cunt or something..." said Billy from the chair in the corner he was perched on.
"Language ..." Hermione warned, immediately piercing the boy with a glare. Billy made an annoyed grimace and went back to reading an issue of Ace Comics.
"Well, King Edward was very much in love, Olivia ... love makes people do crazy things sometimes." Hermione said, diluting Billy's version of the facts and smiling at the dreamy eyes on Amy's face.
"Still ... he coold've bin th 'Kin'! Ah woods hae gladly given up on th girl for th money..." Olivia decided solemnly.
"What a surprise... You would give up your right hand for a pound..." Charles commented sarcastically, extracting a laugh from Billy, who was obviously still listening from behind his comic book. Both boys fell silent as they met Hermione's murderous gaze.
"Well, money isn't everything now, is it?" Said Hermione leaning forward to snatch the newspaper back, "There are more important things in life!"
"It might not be everything… but it sure as hell is something…" Commented Charles bitterly, staring at the hole in his sock he was failing to mend. Hermione just shrugged and folded the paper. The coronation of King George VI had been a great event and the children had eagerly followed the vicissitudes of Edward III's abdication, just like the rest of the country.
They had been thrilled when Hermione, on the way back from church, along with the usual bowl of double cream, had bought them a copy of the Daily Mirror that covered the subject in depth, so that they could all read it together that night after dinner.
Father Jones had stopped coming to the orphanage since Hermione had taken over the place. The man didn't seem to Hermione particularly well versed in the subjects she wanted the children to study, plus he gave everyone the chills with both his slimy appearance and his pestilent breath.
So now Hermione would take the children to church every night for the last mass before dinner, not that she cared particularly about their spiritual life, but that at least had put an end to Mrs. Cole's rants about what awaited them in hell if they hadn't had one.
Double cream was the little gimmick Hermione had found to make both the children and Mrs. Cole happy. After mass, on the way back to the orphanage, each of the children could have their own bowl of double cream, to eat quickly and with the unofficial promise not to mention it to Mrs. Cole.
"Mrs. Hermione, can we at least read the first part of the main article?"
Amy asked, sensing that Hermione was about to end the little evening meeting. "Oh boy, Amy, I promised we would read it but it's really late..." Hermione said, stroking Eric's little head as he rubbed his sleep-swollen eyes muttering he wasn't tired at all in between yawns.
"I think it's time for us all to go to bed."
But as she started to get up, the chorus of dissent exploded filling the room whit groans and whines. Eric, who was the closest, clung to Hermione like a koala trying to prevent her from moving any further.
"Come on, we're leaving tomorrow, we must rest for the trip!" Insisted Hermione, standing up despite Eric still clinging to her torso trying to weight her back down on the bed. Damn he had gotten heavy. The sudden realization that soon she would no longer be able to pick him up stung her somewhere in the chest.
"Do we even have to go?" Billy asked as he unfolded from the chair and stretched his long limbs.
"It's nat e'en fun anymair ... plus Richard an' Donald willnae be thaur!" Olivia added poking out her bottom lip into a little pout.
Donald and Richard had left the Orphanage early that year. The two boys had grown too old to continue sharing a room with the younger children. Hermione had hoped that the two would stay a little bit longer, or at least until summer, but the boys had only stayed a couple of months longer than the orphanage officially allowed; they had rented a room not too far away from Bakers and had flown out of the nest once and for all.
Olivia had been the one who had suffered the most from it.
Amy, with whom she had had a special connection in her early years, had become more distant once she had hit puberty and found her own crew in a group of girls her age at church, a group that had no room for tom-boyish girls like Olivia, who was still far from being concerned about boys and looks.
Eric was obviously too young for Olivia to play with; Billy, Dennis and Charles were not that interested in playing with a girl and would mostly sneak out whenever they could, smoking cigarettes and looking at girls. Tom… well, he was Tom.
Olivia had developed a special relationship with the older boys, especially with Donald, whom she shadowed to the point of even looking a bit like him. The boys had treated her a bit like their protégé, taking her with them to work whenever Hermione would allow, and sneaking her out with them to hit the pub whenever their finances allowed them.
When the two had left, it had taken Hermione two full days to get Olivia out of bed and three to get her to stop crying for more than two minutes straight.
"Oh, nonsense! We'll have a lot of fun at the beach..." Said Hermione with a reassuring smile.
Both Charles, Amy and Billy snorted at the blatant lie.
Truth was, no one hated those summer outings more than Hermione, but they all came very close.
Hermione would have loved to cancel those awful trips altogether but, in order to create a healthy and less conflictual environment, she had learned, as with the church matter, to compromise with Mrs. Cole on such issues.
Mrs. Cole hadn't been left with much power over the management of the orphanage since Hermione had taken over, however the woman could not be completely cut off either. Hermione had already changed the course of events a lot by getting rid of the bulky presence of Mr. Wool, or so she believed. Cutting off Mrs. Cole could have had unpredictable consequences, besides, Hermione could definitely use some help with the children and the house to take care of.
So while Hermione focused on the more serious matters, such as splitting the budget, educating and feeding the children, Mrs. Cole would take care of the house and Mr. Wool, but among her duties she had explicitly asked to be allowed to keep on arranging the annual summer trip.
Hermione had sought the opportunity to get Mrs. Cole to give up the bottle. They had talked a lot about it and decided that the woman could keep her summer trips in exchange for her sobriety. Perhaps part of Hermione did not believe that the woman would ever be able to stop drinking, but surprisingly enough, Mr. Cole hadn't touched a bottle of booze in four years and a half, except for the occasional glass of sherry, and Hermione had never regretted anything more in her life… well… as of yet.
For once, a sober Mrs. Cole wasn't as pleasant as Hermione had hoped, just more pushy, bigoted and judgmental about whatever others did, thought or said, and much more vocal about it.
Secondly, Mrs. Cole's idea of a perfect summer trip consisted in forcing everyone on a three and a half hour bus ride to Dorset, where she had grown up, to spend two days and one night in a remote coastal spot near a rocky beach that Voldemort himself wouldn't have wished on Harry Potter, let alone Hermione on a bunch of emotionally scarred children who couldn't go without at least scraping a knee on their best days.
Incidentally, Voldemort himself, or rather Tom Riddle, was among the staunchest opponents of those trips after Hermione.
Every year Hermione had to spend at least two days pleading with Tom to behave and cooperate. After that, they all had to pack their bags, and since no one was particularly enthusiastic about these trips, packing involved a great deal of persuasion, constant arguments, seizures of useless objects that were slipped into bags secretly and a general hubbub that left Hermione strained of every bit of energy before the trip would even begin.
The actual journey, consisted mostly in handing out paper bags to contain the damages of motion sickness, which usually knocked out 90% of the children before reaching destination.
That was always followed by two days of pure horror during which Hermione, Richard and Donald would stand like mongooses on the highest rocks, ready to spring to the aid of this or that child.
The usual holiday pack included at least one of the children getting badly injured on the rocks, at least two major fights (usually between Tom and Dennis), and everyone going home swearing this would be the last time.
And it would have been the last time each time, had it not been that all their sufferings at least helped making Mrs. Cole meek and tolerable for the next six to eight months, which wasn't bad at all.
"Come on… it's only going to be a couple of days, we can have fun, can't we? And since Donald and Richard are not coming, we might have some spare pound to spend in sweets!" Hermione said, looking at Billy for support.
This year he was the one who was supposed to step up and help her in Richard and Donald's place, as he was now officially the older boy, or as Mrs. Cole called him 'the man of the house'.
Billy had changed a lot over the years and some of the sharpest angles of his character had slightly softened but Hermione wasn't too sure she could count on him as much as she wished.
Sure, it had become much rarer for Billy to engage in futile fights with Hermione or the other children, and over time, probably thanks to the healthier environment Hermione had created, he had become less violent and much more pleasant, but he was still a very introverted teenager who didn't let anyone get too close.
As far as Hermione's influence on him was visible, it was less evident than in the other children, who had developed very modern mindsets for that time. Billy had come as close as his own mentality allowed him, but he was much more of a 30s child than the others, and this perhaps penalized him in some respects, especially emotionally.
He respected Hermione in a way but he never really took a stand on her one way or the other. Sometimes he would joke with her, he would teach her some new insult that she would forget seconds later, other times he would ignore her completely, just so she wouldn't get too comfortable around him. She was a woman and according to Billy, her place was well defined by the etiquette of that time and clearly below him.
Hermione, for her part, had no claim of pleasing everyone unconditionally, she wasn't there for that reason and she wasn't going to waste too much time thinking about it. Most of the time, Billy was fairly neutral towards her, just like Amy, and, most of the time, that was fine with Hermione, it only felt a little precarious now that, out of necessity, Billy had to become a little bit more reliable, which didn't seem to interest him much.
Billy gave her a non-committal grin, as if he had read her thoughts, and said nothing to confirm her claim.
"Can I sleep here?" Eric asked, taking advantage of the tense silence to strike.
"Me too! Me too!" Olivia immediately joined in, clinging to Hermione's arm as she tried to unhook Eric from her chest.
"Oh no, you know the rules!" Said Hermione, "Eric, honey, you're heavy!" Eric scowled but let go.
"But how come cannae WE eva' kip wi' you?!" Olivia's grip tightened around Hermione's arm.
"Because…" said Hermione, dragging the world while she slowly pulled Olivia's fingers from her arm, "You all have your own bed!"
"But!" cried Eric, trying to go past Hermione and back on her bed, "But yours is much bigger!"
"Och aye, 'at! An' ye do lit HIM sleep wi' you! It's nae fair!"
Hermione sighed.
No, it wasn't fair and she knew it but it wasn't like she had ever exactly invited Tom to sleep in her room. She had simply learned that if she didn't make too much of a fuss about it, she could get a few hours of sleep. Sending Tom back to his room had proven over the years, a foolproof way to spend a sleepless night.
As soon as she would turn the key in the lock Tom would somehow get a nosebleed, get a fever, get colitis, break one or more fingers or toes, get some terrible virus that would keep him doubled up gagging for hours and hours. Hermione couldn't even accuse him of throwing tantrums because each one of those ailments always proved genuine and not simply acted out. Was it emotional blackmail? No doubt. Was it entirely his fault? It was hard to tell.
Most of the children had learned how it worked by now, not that they were interested in sleeping with her, except for Eric and Olivia occasionally.
"Hey, come on you two, stop with the whining and let's go." Scolded Amy opening the door and ignoring the glares burning her face from where Eric and Oliva stood, "Can I keep the newspaper, Mrs. Hermione?"
"Of course, here, but do try to get some sleep, we'll need to be fully rested tomorrow, Amy." Amy nodded and then motioned for Olivia to get going.
Olivia took one last hopeful look at Hermione, who shook her head no, before muttering goodnight and following Amy out, dragging her feet.
"Pleaseee!" Eric wouldn't be as easy to dissuade, and if Hermione had to be fair, it really felt like a capital sin to have to say no to that little bundle of very blond hair and very blue eyes.
Hermione sighed and looked at Billy for help. Billy snorted lightly and tucked his comic into a pocket of his pants, making a great show of how much it was costing him to help her. Boys…
"Come on, Eric, you know what happens if you fall asleep in Mrs. Hermione's room, don't you?" He said, suddenly lifting Eric in his arms.
"No! It's not fair! I want to sleep with her too! I don't care about him!" Eric wriggled like an eel, and Hermione opened her mouth to intervene but Billy turned his back on her so that Eric could focus on him rather than her.
"Oh you don't want to anger the Demon, do you?! He'd skin you alive if he knew you tried to steal his missus!"
"Don't put strange ideas in his head!" Hermione snapped, finally understanding where the conversation was going, "There's no Demon in this house, and stop making up stories about…"
"Whatever." Billy turned to look at her with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, "The Demon is here, together with those who do not want to see it. Love, Mrs. Hermione, makes people do crazy things sometimes, right?"
Hermione's glare burned through him and Billy sighed, slowly lowering Eric back down on the ground.
"Real men sleep in their beds, Eric, are yer a sissy or a man?" He asked then, lifting Eric's chin to meet his gaze.
"Oh, why is it either the 'Demon' or what does a real man do? Can't he sleep in his bed just because that's how it works?" Hermione murmured, but none of the three boys turned to acknowledge her words and she sneered.
"I'm a man!" Eric said squaring his shoulders to emphasize the concept.
"Then let's go, yer wee man. Say good night!" Billy smiled, nudging Eric and pushing him in the direction of Hermione, who looked at them resigned but smiling at the evidence that Billy knew how to help when he wanted to. That was reassuring.
"Come here, my love." she said kneeling and holding out her arms to Eric, who immediately ran to her, "And now to bed! We have a long journey ahead." Hermione said cheerfully, thanking Billy for the help with a smile that he ignored blatantly.
Eric kissed her good night, and let himself be led out by Billy.
"Mrs. Hermione?" Charles asked before crossing the threshold last, "About Dennis…? Is he still serving time?" Serving time… that's what they called detention… Hermione sighed before answering.
"If he's done washing the dishes, he can go to bed, but I'm still expecting an apology in the morning... oh, who am I kidding…" she scoffed, "Just tell Frank he can let him go to bed."
Charles nodded with a sad smile and then disappeared closing the door behind him and leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts.
Dennis had become Hermione's real gripe.
When she had arrived at the orphanage five years ago, she had thought that her biggest problem would be Tom Riddle, but only because she had never met Dennis Bishop before.
Dennis was out of Hermione's control and out of God's grace, to be fair.
He too, like Billy, had just turned sixteen, but by then he had already been in prison twice, for theft and assault. Twice Hermione had had to drain the orphanage funds to pay his bail, and neither time had he thanked her, nor the others, for their sacrifice.
He was rude, violent, and abusive to anyone who couldn't physically overcome him and he hated Hermione passionately, for reasons that completely escaped her.
Hermione didn't take it too personally, after all Dennis had done a great job of antagonizing more or less everyone in the house, even Billy, who was once closest to him.
In fact, if that had been all, Hermione might have learned to live with the thought that Dennis would never be more than a petty criminal, her mission was definitely not to save Dennis Bishop from his poor choices. The real problem was another one.
What scared Hermione the most, worried her the most, was Dennis' constant bickering with Tom.
Tom and Dennis were like cats and dogs.
Neither of them liked the other children particularly, but the hatred that flowed between the two of them, it was like a raging river and there had never been any way to stem it.
While the other children had slowly learned not to bother Tom, if only so as not to draw the ire of Hermione upon themselves (although they kept referring to him as 'the Demon', which Hermione found ridiculous given he barely interacted with them anyway), Dennis, who seemed to derive sadistic pleasure from upsetting her and hurting Tom, had always done the opposite.
Dennis had used Tom as his own personal punching bag for years, unknowingly building an enemy as lethal as himself, if not more.
Their fights and beatings had never been too bloody nor worth worrying about, at least as long as Tom had been frail and unable to defend himself.
In the last year, however, Tom had had his first real growth spurt and this had put an end to Dennis' undisputed advantage and Hermione's relative peace of mind.
In fact, the situation had quickly escalated when Tom had found out that whenever Dennis punched his face he could simply punch back and inflict almost equal damages. Their fights had gotten more violent and harder to break over time.
That evening at dinner, had been yet another proof that the situation was getting out of Hermione's control.
It had taken too little for Dennis to get Tom to explode and for the first time, Tom hadn't even tried to verbally respond to the taunts. He had thrown himself into the physical confrontation, quite literally really. One moment Tom was sitting at his usual spot next to Hermione and the next he had catapulted himself over the dining table and into Dennis, without a second thought.
By the time Hermione had managed to separate them in the general chaos, she had broken three nails, Tom sported a beautiful black eye and Dennis had lost a tooth.
Hermione shivered at the very idea that soon Tom might start having episodes of involuntary magic and that things could go terribly wrong for Dennis, way worse than losing a tooth or two.
She was just sighing at the thought, when the door to the room creaked open and she stiffened.
Hermione met the familiar haunted gaze in the mirror and held it sternly.
"I'm sorry...?" He said fidgeting under the threshold.
"You'd better be. And I'm disappointed." Hermione said returning to her evening beauty routine as Tom closed the door and went to sit on her bed.
"He started it..."
"Tom Riddle, I don't care who started it! I asked you to behave, for one night! You promised!"
"But he called you a whor..."
"I know what he called me, Tom, and I know very well how to stand up for myself. Your behavior was unacceptable."
Tom dropped his eyes to the ground, and his jaw twitched angrily. Then he looked up again, bit the inside of his lower lip, like every time he was inhibiting himself from really saying what he thought, and held Hermione's gaze.
"I pulled all the weeds from the flower beds, I scrubbed the bathroom clean, my eye hurts like a bitch, I apologized, what else do you want me to do?" he asked in the tone of an exasperated husband. Hermione struggled to keep a straight face at that but hopefully he didn't notice.
Why couldn't she ever stay mad at that boy?!
"First of all, cut the swearwords, secondly I want you to behave in Dorset, Tom. I don't want to hear you fighting with Dennis, I don't want to have to stitch up either of you. I want you to help me keep an on Eric and avoid driving me crazy with constant bickering." Hermione made the list crossly as she dabbed some toner on her face.
"Why, If I had known you had such a long list I would have taken notes." Tom spat sarcastically.
"Tom!" Hermione turned to look at him "I'm not joking!".
"I know, I am! I'll be good!" he scoffed.
"Promise?" Hermione asked hopefully, but Tom looked away, "You're right, I shouldn't have to ask YOU to promise anything, Tom." she said sternly, "I have an old promise between us and it should be enough. Am I right?"
"I don't know, why don't you ask Billy, as he is now 'the man of the house'" Tom snapped, blushing slightly in anger and using his fingers to 'quote' the words, which was something Hermione usually did, and it was just ridiculous to see Tom do.
"I think you want to drop the attitude, Tom." Hermione suggested, "Before it occurs to me that the attic windows haven't been washed in months."
Tom exhaled through his nose and dropped back on his elbows, relaxing his shoulders, like every times he edged too close to the tantrum zone.
"It's… Dennis who ... I don't know ... I can't stand him and that stupid face of his, and Billy does nothing to shut him up, why should he be the one in charge?"
"First of all, Billy is not in charge of anything, I am. He's just the older boy, it does not mean that everyone else is exempt from helping." Said Hermione, "Secondly Billy probably likes it better not to have his nose broken every other day!" she finished rolling her eyes and sliding a small lotion jar back into the dressing table drawer, where her wand was.
"Well, I don't care about my nose. Nobody can call you that, even if I have to clean the windows of the whole house afterwards." Tom said simply, trying to ignore Hermione's glare.
"Oh, very chivalrous of you, but I'm asking you to cut the hostilities, Tom. Stop before it's too late to fix it."
"What's all that stuff you put on your face lately?" He asked suddenly changing the subject and jutting his chin at the drawer she had just closed. Hermione gave him one last glare before letting go of the lecture.
"Beauty creams and lotions... should fight wrinkles according to Mrs. Cole." she replied finishing dabbing the cream under her neck.
"You have no wrinkles."
Hermione took one last look in the mirror behind her. In all honesty, she didn't see herself much different than five years ago, aside from the way she dressed and wore her hair, she hadn't noticed any major changes. She raised her eyebrows and then shrugged at her own reflection, which returned the grimace with a tired face from the mirror.
"Well, I guess it works then." She shrugged.
Tom bit the inside of his lower lip before looking away.
"Did you read the paper without me?"
"No..." Hermione said leaving the dressing table and going to sit beside him on the bed, "We were all too tired." she added.
They sat like that for a while, in silence, Hermione too tired and angry to address Dennis' issue anymore, Tom too proud to do the same.
He was growing so fast, Hermione thought glimpsing at his serious face. The porcelain child was turning into a little man.
He would have turned ten in December, but it seemed to her only yesterday that he was the angry soot-soiled five-year-old boy yelling in the hall of the big house.
He was taller now, healthier and soon he would have started losing his delicate and rounded childish features, just like it had happened with Billy and Dennis before, with the obvious difference that Billy and Dennis lacked the sickly perfection of Tom's features.
Not that the two older guys were ugly (Dennis according to Hermione, suffered from what she called 'The Malfoy syndrome', being as handsome as utterly insufferable as he was), it was more that no one could really compare with that kind of beauty. Even Hermione compared to Tom, felt like a potato on which someone had carelessly carved a nose and a mouth.
Tom seemed to have been assembled with the sole intent of holding hostage the attention of anyone who laid eyes on him. Luckily he still didn't seem fully aware of that power of his, or at least he wasn't exploiting it as much as he could have.
Every detail of him was shamefully flawless and beautifully designed, from his dark hair, framing his face in neat waves, to his delicate, pale features, sprinkled with just the right number of freckles. From his lips, perpetually curled in a spontaneous pout, to his long fingers, which would have been the envy of any aspiring pianist.
But the real masterpiece was Tom's eyes. Big and intense eyes, grey like the stormy sky and stained with specks of the deepest blue, framed by long black lashes, which Hermione envied very much.
For five years Hermione had searched those eyes for the shadow of the monster, for a glimpse of the dark soul she knew should have been there, but time had gone by and she had yet to find that red glimmer of warning in there.
Sometimes she feared it was her to have forgotten what the monster looked like, she feared she might have missed it even if faced with it by now. Those times she would stare at him like a mad woman, trying to peel the mask from his face with the power of her mind.
But as much as Hermione looked, Tom seemed to have nothing in common with Voldemort. As much as she poked at the surface, the monster would not poke back.
Instead, it had become harder and harder to feel nothing but love and pride for that boy.
No one outside the orphanage would have thought badly of him.
In fact, Tom was always praised and admired by everyone. Older girls in church peered in his direction more and more often, kids playing soccer in the parish yard on Sundays always wanted him to play on their team, passersby stopped Hermione to compliment her on how she had raised him.
Tom had a very good reputation in the neighborhood to be honest, it was only when he returned to the orphanage that the problems would start.
Hermione just didn't understand why Tom was so frowned upon by the other orphans. At first she thought it a matter of jealousy, then she had wondered whether Mr. Wool's influence had somehow affected the balance among the children.
After five years of doubts, of searching for 'the demon' the children saw in Tom, without finding it, she had come to the conclusion that they just didn't like him, and that she couldn't do much to change that.
Besides, Tom didn't spend that much time with the other orphans, preferring the company of other children or that of Hermione, limiting any unwanted interactions to the bare minimum.
Since the night Hermione had sided with Tom against Mr. Wool, he had become Hermione's shadow. Wherever she went, Tom followed.
Tom had quickly proven himself to be a bright, witty, crafty child. Moody yes, possessive and sometimes a bit temperamental, but nothing too out of the ordinary, if one didn't consider Dennis' issue.
Entertaining Tom was a true pleasure for someone like Hermione.
He was ambitious and always wanted to be top of the class. In a couple of years he had caught up with the study plan Hermione had drawn up for the older children. By the time he had turned 8 it had been obvious that Tom needed a customized study program, which Hermione had been happy to provide.
Now that he was 9, he was asking questions that even Hermione had a hard time answering, questions that often required them to research and make multiple trips to the library (since Hermione was certainly not the type to dodge a hard question and never would be).
Oh, the library!
If anyone loved the library more than Hermione, that was Tom.
He was an avid reader, to Hermione's great pride, and he could spend days with his nose buried in the pages of whatever book Hermione would slip in his little hands.
From Virginia Woolf to Defoe, from Dickens to Blake, from Hardy to Poe… if it had pages and words and it came from Hermione, Tom loved it.
That year Hermione intended to get him a copy of The Hobbit, which had first been published in September. She had been saving up money for months already, and if everything went smoothly, that is, if Dennis didn't get arrested again, she'd be able to buy a copy in time for Tom's next birthday.
By now the money Hermione was able to save was mostly going into books for Tom, into clothes for the children, and into better quality food.
From time to time Hermione wondered if she should have focused more on getting back to her time and invest that money in finding a solution for that problem. She would wonder if things were different enough already, if her job there was done, if it was time to let Tom live his life.
But then, daily life would distract and absorb her completely and she would forget all about those doubts and barely even look at her wand, let alone the Time Turner.
"So… can we read something before we sleep?" Hermione shook out of her thoughts, Tom was gazing up at her while kicking off his shoes.
"I'm too tired to read anyt… Who said you could sleep here?" Asked Hermione frowning at him. Tom grinned as he stood up and struggled to get rid of his shirt.
"Oh well, I could just leave and come back later, but it would save us both a lot of troubles if we skipped that part. We do have a long journey ahead." He said winking at her slily with the good eye.
Hermione burst out laughing, that child's smug, really ...
"See? You're happier already now that I'm here! And now, scooch over!" kicking off his trousers, Tom jumped back onto the bed, hastening Hermione to crawl under the covers and reaching to turn off the light.
"Just because Dennis is sleeping in your room tonight, Tom, and don't tell Eric." She warned.
"Did he want to sleep here again?" Hermione heard a dark note in Tom's voice.
"Sleep, Tom." She said firmly.
She felt him hesitate beside her, but after a moment Tom seemed to understand that he was in no condition to protest tonight. Hermione was too tired, he had already had a fight with Dennis... there was no need to push his luck.
Silently he slipped under the sheet, then kicked it off.
"Blimey, it's hot." he sighed.
"Then go to your bed ..." Hermione whispered.
"Not a chance." he laughed, snuggling closer.
As usual, the bus driver had crossed himself when he had seen the small horde waiting at the bus stop.
As usual, the children had loaded their bags and boarded the bus with gloomy faces.
The first to explode had been Charles. He must have broken some kind of record, because he had started throwing up before the next stop.
For three and a half hours Hermione held the children's foreheads in turns as they emptied their stomachs into the paper bags she had diligently provided. By the stop before the last, Hermione was just as miserable as everyone else, and they all just exchanged exhausted glances from their seats, feeling sorry for each other.
By the time they arrived, staggering, pale, and moaning in pain, Mrs. Cole had grown annoyingly cheerful instead, like a phoenix reborn from its own ashes.
The woman disappeared into the lobby of the inn, chirping something about the healthy fresh air and dragging Mr. Wool along (or whatever was left of him after the stroke had hit him two years earlier, leaving him a drooling mess).
"That crazy old bat ..." Charles snarled, suggesting a list of interesting places Mrs. Cole could shove her fresh air into and drawing the first smiles on everyone's faces.
"Come on..." Hermione pleaded as she led the rickety line of children and luggage to the inn.
"I want to sleep in my own bed this year!" Yelled Dennis from somewhere at the back of the line.
"You can sleep with the fishes for all I care…" muttered Tom.
"Zip it." Warned Hermione.
Olivia giggled. Tom growled.
The inn was small and cheap, average clean by the standard of the time, which meant average filthy for Hermione's standards, and not far from the most deadly beach God had ever designed.
The inn's food was a health hazard, which Hermione had learned the hard way one of the first years there, in what had been the worst trips in history as far as she was concerned ...
Anyway if you listened to Mrs. Cole, that place could hold its own against the Ritz.
After bargaining for the price of the rooms with the landlord, a man almost as amiable as Mr. Wool, Hermione handed out the keys and the usual recommendations on good behavior, avoiding focusing too much on Dennis in the hope he wouldn't take that as a list of rules awaiting to be broken; then, everyone retreated to the their own room to rest a little before lunch.
Hermione shared a room with Tom and Eric, Mrs. Cole slept in a room with Mr. Wool, who could not be left alone at night, the other children were split up between boys and girls, just like at the orphanage.
"Don't even think about it." Hermione watched the scene, too tired to react, as Tom removed Eric from her bed and dragged him to the cot under the window.
"Why can I never sleep with her?" Eric complained, following Tom reluctantly.
"Because that's the way things are." Tom said annoyed, helping Eric to climb onto his cot.
"At least read me a story." Said Eric crossing his arms on his chest and looking up at the older boy with a stubborn frown. Tom looked to Hermione for help, but she shrugged, "I'm not squeezing in between you two on that cot! It's either the big bed or you read for him…" She said pulling out a copy of The Midnight Folk, Eric's favorite, and tossing it to Tom.
For a good half hour they relaxed like that, Hermione almost dozed off listening to the sound of Tom's voice, coming from the small cot where he laid next to Eric. When the time to go and meet the others came, Hermione gathered the lunch bags and led the way downstairs.
Given the scarce trust in the inn's food, lunch was brought from home since the dramatic summer of food poisoning, and it was eaten outdoors.
The small bleak clearing behind the inn that Mrs. Cole ambitiously referred to as 'the backyard', had a few ancient picnic tables and some chairs where guests could relax and enjoy the view. From the promontory one could see the whole bay, and even part of the beach, with its sharp and death-promising rocks. The landscape was not too bad… from the distance at least.
It was about 2 in the afternoon when Hermione handed out fruit, bread and cheese to the children and engaged in a conversation with Mrs. Cole about the renovations to be carried out in the orphanage that winter, in the hope that the time to go to the beach would come as late as possible.
"As for the paint job, I think the boys and I should be able to do it ourselves." she said glimpsing at Billy and Charles, sitting a couple of tables away.
"Well, it sure would save us a few bucks!" agreed Mrs. Cole pushing some more cream cheese in Mr. Wool's mouth.
Tom, who was sitting between Hermione and Eric, couldn't tear his eyes off the scene. There was something close to wicked satisfaction painted on his face, an expression that Hermione should have probably chastised but didn't. Mr. Wool, as far as she was concerned, had made his own bed and was welcome to sleep in it. He deserved every bit of hurt that came to him.
"Of course if Richard and Donald were still here... it would take maybe half the time!" Hermione sighed.
"Well they could come by and help out, after all, if it hadn't been for us, they would never have gotten the job in the tailor's shop!"
Well, actually it was Hermione who had gotten the boys that job, but Mrs. Cole had a funny habit of taking all or part of the credit for things like that, and Hermione never found it in her heart to correct her.
"There seems to be a shortage of men on your property." interrupted a deep voice from behind Hermione, Tom whirled around as if someone had stepped on his tail and then scooped closer to her.
"I'm sorry I didn't mean to eavesdrop, it's just that this place is so quiet ..." the owner of the deep voice turned out to be a man in his thirties sitting in a shabby rocking chair not too far.
The man had bright eyes and thick red hair that sent a shiver down Hermione's spine, like every time she caught sight of someone who reminded her of a Weasley. He looked nothing like her Ronald, but still, it had been so long since the last time Hermione had seen Ron, and she missed him so desperately, that any mop of red hair would stir something in the pit of her stomach.
"Oh, we don't mind, do we? Please, do join us if you please." Mrs. Cole cheerfully invited, ignoring Hermione's venomous gaze, "There's a sad lack of men in our house indeed, a little company wouldn't hurt!"
"I wouldn't want to intrude..." the man hesitated, catching Hermione's tense gaze and smiling shily.
Hermione had become particularly wary of strangers. Walking around with 9 children, whose life depended on her, had made her, well… not very trusting. If there were people like Mr. Wool around, she told herself, not letting her guard down was quite essential, especially on occasions like this when she didn't have her wand with her.
However, she felt that sometimes her distrust could get to be a little extreme. Nothing about that man screamed child rapist, plus they were in a public spot and both Dennis and Billy were big enough to stand up to a full grown man by now, should the situation request it.
Throwing one last instinctive glance at the children scattered around in the clearing and mentally counting them, Hermione sighed in surrender and pulled a genuine smile on her face.
"Oh please, just sit with us if you please sir, our Mrs. Cole is rarely in such a good mood, everyone should enjoy the joyful event!" She said pointing at an empty seat at their table. Mrs. Cole frowned and Hermione grinned at her.
"There is plenty men in our house..." Tom murmured, his jaw set in the angry expression. Eric looked tense beside him and kept looking from Tom to Hermione trying to read the room.
The red-haired man smiled condescendingly as he stepped closer and took a seat. Tom stabbed him with his sharp clear gaze every step of the way.
"Obviously, I didn't mean to offend you, Mr.?"
"Tom." Hermione replied when Tom didn't seem about to do so, "And I'm Mrs. Granger." She introduced herself.
"Joseph Southwick." The man said taking off his hat and placing it on the table.
"Eric." Eric said leaning over Tom to take the hand Mr. Southwick held out to him.
"Well now that we've all introduced ourselves, Mr. Southwick..." Tom said looking at Hermione with a tense expression, "I believe it's time to get going".
"Tom, be good." Admonished Hermione. He growled a little.
"Don't mind Tom, Mr. Southwick," Mrs. Cole said stiffly, "He's just a little jealous of our Mrs. Granger lately. Boys will be boys, you know how it is!"
"Of course, anyone would be jealous of such a young and pretty Mom." Joseph smiled tentatively at Hermione.
Hermione didn't remember ever being easily sensitive to compliments, however, she couldn't help but blush at those words, and quite conspicuously too. Not that she was particularly impressed with Mr. Southwish, rather it might have been that compliments from a young man were now a rare occurrence, or that she hardly spoke to men, other than the fishmonger or the butcher.
"Why are you blushing?" Tom growled beside her bristling at the sight of her cheeks.
"I'm not blushing, don't be ridiculous." Hermione said quickly, "I'm not!" She then repeated to Mrs. Cole, who was looking at her with an eyebrow raised in an amused expression.
Hermione scoffed, annoyed with her own treacherous cheeks, and turned her gaze on the table. So what if she didn't mind a silly compliment every now and then?
All this fuss for such a trivial interaction. Ridiculous indeed. Plus, had Draco Malfoy gotten a glimpse of her right now, he would have had material to insult her for centuries to come. Pretty my arse. She could hear his voice ring in her ears, taunting her.
Somewhere in her mind she wondered why Draco Malfoy was still her yardstick in these situations but she soon dismissed the thought.
"Your mom must be very shy, I apologize, I didn't mean to embarrass her." Mr. Southwick said cheerfully.
"She's not my mother." Hissed Tom, visibly seething at the man sitting in front of him.
"Oh, my bad, I assumed he was yours!" The man apologized quickly locking eyes with Hermione this once.
Hermione shook her head no but before she could say anything else someone else spoke in her place.
"Yer got that backwards." Said Dennis joining them at the table and grinning at Tom, "It is she 'oo belongs ter him. Ain't that right, Tom?" Both Joseph and Mrs. Cole laughed at those words.
Hermione sobered up instead, more concerned about the rage whirling visibly behind Tom's murderous gaze now. Oh, no, not another fight, she thought.
"Boys!" Hermione scolded stiffening, "You're making fools of yourselves! What will Mr. Southwick think of us?"
"You're damn right she's mine." Tom snarled but then his lips tightened into a thin line under Hermione's stern gaze and he looked away. You promised, she tried to yell with the power of her eyes.
"They're all orphans." Hermione provided, "So we're all each other's in a sense…" she added shrugging under Mr. Southwick kind gaze.
"Except 'and meant wot' e said!" Dennis added, still grinning.
"Dennis!"
"I like your accent, boy! Where are you all from?" Mr. Southwick tried to change the topic.
"London." Said Mrs. Cole.
"None of your business." Said Tom at the same time.
"Tom!" scolded Mrs. Cole in her best outraged tone.
"Tom…" Hermione spat through gritted teeth. Tom shot her a dirty look, "If you can't behave politely then maybe you want to excuse yourself and take a stroll, it'll clear your mind."
"Fine." Said Tom, "You come with me." He ordered.
Hermione held his gaze angrily without moving.
There was a moment of silence around the table, during which Mr. Southwick seemed about to apologize and leave, but then Tom got up silently and walked away from the table. Eric started to follow after him but Hermione held him back.
"Stay with us Eric, you know it's best to leave him alone."
Dennis snorted out loud and walked away from the table too, quickly losing interest in the group now that he couldn't torment Tom anymore.
"I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have accepted your kind invitation, I seem to have annoyed the children..."
"Oh don't worry Mr. Southwick, Tom is like that with everyone, he seems to like Mrs. Granger and no one els..."
"Forgive them, they are all very tired, we've come a long way." Hermione said cutting off the older woman. If there was one thing she hated it was hearing others speak ill of Tom. Hermione turned to take one last worried look at the children. Tom was savagely tearing up the few leaves that were left on a sad piece of hedge along the perimeter of the clearing. Billy was sitting on one of the picnic tables and he nodded when Hermione gestured for him to keep an eye on the situation.
"So, what brings you here?"
The three adults and Eric spent a good twenty minutes chatting about this and that while the other children roamed around the clearing eating their lunch. It turned out that Mr. Southwick was headed to London where he would start working as a bricklayer for his cousin's company.
He was a genuine and kind man and it was easy to talk to him. When the time to part ways came, he even offered to help at the orphanage that winter and Mrs. Cole felt thrilled enough to give the man their address, despite Hermione kicking her savagely under the table.
"What is it? Wasn't he a kind man?" the woman hissed, rubbing her shins when Mr. Southwick was far enough away not to hear.
"Sure he was. Still, you can't go around giving our address to every kind stranger we meet!" Hermione snapped, casting a worried glance at the beach, knowing it was about time to go.
"Oh, nonsense! You're too suspicious! What is the worst that could happen? He'll steal our precious collection of china? Did you leave any gold bars in plain sight?"
"Well there are seven children to keep safe for one thing..." Hermione snorted. Mrs. Cole rolled her eyes and stood up helping Mr. Wool do the same.
"Who would harm those children!" she asked in annoyance, and Hermione raised an eyebrow as she looked from Mrs. Cole to Mr. Wool with obvious sarcasm.
"Four children." Billy said looking at Hermione with an expression she had never seen on him. Concern? Worry? Panic.
"What does it mean?" She asked, immediately looking around and instinctively pulling Eric closer to her.
"Not seven… we're missing three of them already." Billy said as he moved into the clearing to look around with an increasingly alarmed expression that froze the blood in Hermione's veins.
Hermione's eyes bounced around the clearing along with Mrs. Cole's surprised gaze.
"Where… what? How?!" Hermione stammered.
"Well, I told them to behave, went to take a leak and…" Billy spun around once more, as if hoping he could make at least one of the three missing puzzle pieces reappear.
Olivia was sitting with Charles at the next table but there was no sign of Tom, Amy or Dennis.
Both Tom and Dennis were missing.
Hermione's throat went dry instantly and her head went light as it filled with hideous possibilities.
"Charles!" called Billy, "Where are Amy, the Demon and the bloody idiot?"
Charles shrugged and looked around frowning in confusion.
"They were here moments ago ... Dennis said something to Tom and they were arguing, talking about a cave or something. Amy was trying to calm Dennis."
"A cave?" Mrs. Cole asked, "Maybe they went to the beach then ... Mrs. Hermione? Can you hear me? Are you okay? Mrs. Hermione!?"
The voices around her became distant echoes. Hermione felt the nausea come back in waves and the life drain out of her face.
A cave.
How could she have forgotten such a thing? Her hands trembled and her heart slammed into her chest stealing oxygen from her brain.
A cave. The cave. She had been so convinced to have changed the course of events that she had no longer bothered to trace the events of history as she knew it. What a fucking idiot.
The image of Tom, lying next to Eric, reading fairy tales to the younger child, flashed in her mind as she tried to tell herself that this might have been just a coincidence. There was no way that boy, that sweet, smart boy could have…
But as much as she sought alternative explanations, there was a face that was slowly taking shape in her memory. A pale face, with eyes as red as blood, with sharp yellowed teeth and two reptilian slits for a nose.
Nothing had changed. Nothing had changed.
The realization hit her like a kick in the stomach and Hermione fell to her knees under the frightened gaze of the children and Mrs. Cole.
"NO!" She yelled, barely hearing her own voice beyond the clamor in her head.
"Mrs. Hermione!" Billy's slap was far more violent than necessary but brought Hermione back to reality sure enough. She looked up into Billy Stubbs' frightened eyes, but she saw Harry standing there in his place.
Harry. She couldn't have forgotten about him. How could she have been so stupid?
"So why the cave? For the locket I mean…" Said Ron frowning in the dancing light of the campfire.
"It wasn't just any cave, apparently." Explained Harry skewering a marshmallow and looking at it as if he could somehow turn it into a sausage with the sheer power of his mind, "He had been there before. Dumbledore said something about it… he used to go there over summer when he was a child, once he dragged two fellow orphans in there, magicked them to madness… they have never been the same after. I guess it meant something to him."
"How could he have performed such magic if he was just a child?" Asked Hermione while her marshmallow melted through her stick and fell into the fire, "Shit…"
"Well, he is a mad man, but he has always been too powerful for his own good, I have seen it myself."
No. It was impossible. Hermione felt cold sweat running down her neck.
"We have to go, now." Hermione said coming to her senses and rising from the ground as if she had bounced off some springs.
"Mrs. Cole, you stay here with the children and Mr. Wool." Hermione said as she, Billy and Charles exchanged a look of agreement.
The three immediately launched towards the road that descended towards the beach cove, running at breakneck speed, leaving behind a frightened Mrs. Cole standing with Eric, Olivia and Mr. Wool.
"Here!" Billy yelled as he pulled Hermione down a side path that cut straight to the beach. There was no reason why Billy should have been as scared as Hermione was, he knew nothing about the cave or Voldemort, yet the fact that he instinctively was, terrified Hermione even more.
It couldn't be, Hermione tried to tell herself, Tom had never yet given signs of involuntary magic. It was impossible for this to be the same timeline.
He had not yet manifested any power, it was unthinkable, he couldn't have learned how to control his magic right under her nose. Or could he?
No.
Hermione had been careful, she had kept an eye on him, she had shadowed him consistently, she had been observant. Or had she?
Please, please. Hermione begged while her legs carried her down to the cove.
They all lost speed as their feet sank into the thin sand, and they started looking around frantically.
The beach was deserted, the sound of the waves infiltrating the coves in the rocks and sucking the air, was deafening. The seagulls cawed flying in circles over them like vultures. The whole place screamed danger, just like she remembered, and the children were nowhere to be seen.
"TOM?!" Hermione screamed at the top of her lungs.
"DENNIS? AMY?"
She, Billy and Charles looked everywhere, climbed every rock, kept screaming until their voices became hoarse and too low for them to hear.
Hermione stared with wide eyes at the mountainside hanging over the rough sea, every hole in the wall could have been the cave, and if she hadn't been a complete idiot, she could have spotted the right one with a flick of her wand.
The wand she hadn't brought because she had relaxed, had let her guard down. It was her fault. Her fault.
As the sun kissed the horizon, Mrs. Cole found Hermione sitting in the sand beside Billy and Charles, her eyes still glued to the mountain wall and her face streaked with tears.
It took the combined efforts of Billy, Charles and Mrs. Cole to drag Hermione back to the inn when it got too dark and the sea started to eat off the beach with the arrival of high tide.
The one that followed was the longest night after the Battle of Hogwarts Hermione had ever lived through.
After putting Mr. Wool to bed, everyone else gathered in Hermione's room. Nobody felt like eating, they were all just scared and worried to death.
"They will come back, I'm sure they got lost while quarreling... tomorrow the police will be here, we'll find them… give them a piece of our mind… Oh, my Amy…" Mrs. Cole sobbed absently, sipping yet another cup of tea struggling against the tremor in her hands.
Hermione sat next to the bed where the remaining four children slept together, she caressed Eric's blonde curls with one hand, while holding one of Tom's shirt tight in the other.
It was the first time in five years that Hermione had lost sight of Tom.
The first time she spent a night without him pestering her with all kind of questions, poking her in the ribs for a bed time story, or simply snoring softly beside her. The first time he disappeared since he had slipped through her fingers that first morning five years earlier, only to reappear covered in soot late in the evening.
Hermione knew she should have felt disappointed, angry; she knew she should have been worried about Amy and Dennis, because as things had turned out in the story she knew, they would be the ones to suffer the consequences of that night.
Despite knowing all of this, Hermione could not prevent very different feelings from stabbing her chest in small waves.
It was that same sense of emptiness, of bitterness, of loneliness that she had felt when she had had to say goodbye to her parents a life time ago.
An almost physical sense of loss, as if someone had severed her arm or leg. And it was all undeniably due to Tom's absence.
She was afraid that Tom might have hurt himself, that she would never see him again and she hated herself for it. She hated herself because she couldn't help but be worried about Tom, rather than his real victims. What did it say about her?
She loved that child as if he were a part of herself and she wasn't even sure since when.
When had she become so attached to him? When had it become so essential that he be safe? Why repeating to herself that that child had just taken the first step towards Lord Voldemort was no longer a deterrent to worrying about him?
Mrs. Cole talked to her all night, Hermione never really knew what the woman said though, lost as she was in her own thoughts.
When the sun hit the window sills, Hermione jumped to her feet with a feeling in her guts telling her that now was the right time.
"Mrs. Cole." She whispered, the woman met her eyes immediately, "Mrs. Cole stay with the children and if you don't see me coming back within an hour, call the police, tell them the children are missing."
Mrs. Cole nodded, her face as pale as that of a ghost.
Hermione didn't run this time, she walked down the road leading to the beach with measured steps. The sun was barely starting to warm the air and the fog still covered most of the landscape. It felt like walking through a dream.
When she got to the beach, she didn't have to look around, somehow, she knew exactly where to look to find them.
And there she saw him first, standing in the mist, pale, with wide frightened eyes.
Dennis was sitting in the sand, his blank gaze was aimed at the horizon and his mouth was slightly ajar, in what would have been an everlasting look of awe on his face.
Amy sat next to him, she was crying hysterically and shaking Dennis, unable to really bring him back to her.
"What happened? What happened to us?" her shrill shrieks echoed across the cove but Tom was ignoring her altogether, he kept his eyes on the figure walking towards him, his head held high.
Hermione stopped in front of him and gave a quick glance at the two children in the sand. She knew there was nothing to be done for Dennis right now, not without a wand anyway.
Tom stared up at her, so many different emotions flashing on his face that Hermione had troubles figuring out what he was thinking.
"Where were you?" She asked trying to control the tremble in her voice.
His lips remained sealed but anger clearly took over his features.
"You promised…" Hermione said, in what little voice she had left.
"You didn't hear me arguing with him, you don't have to stitch up either of us, and there was no bickering. In fact, I doubt there will be bickering from now on." He said calmly.
The slap that landed on Tom's cheek rang so loud that even Amy's crying stopped for a moment.
"I went for a walk and cleared my mind, just like you said. Maybe you should have come with me... you left me with him." Tom hissed.
Then, thank God, Hermione saw it. A little twitch in his eyes when he saw the tears streaming down her face.
"Do not… hate me… please." Tom whispered, suddenly loosing every trace of anger and giving in to fear instead, as if he had just woken up now from a terrible nightmare.
As if he had just realized who he had been talking to.
His eyes slipped away from hers and stopped on his shirt, which Hermione still held in her fist.
Tears begun streaming down Tom's cheeks too and he started shaking and stammering nonsense. Hermione wouldn't have known for years, but that had been the exact moment Tom Riddle had realized he was indeed loved.
"What have you done, Tom?"
"I ... don't ... I don't know. I didn't mean… we…" He stammered, "I was just so angry… he wouldn't stop…"
Hermione sobbed louder and his eyes darted into hers again, a raging storm in his clear irises, "I didn't do anything! We were just… we went exploring and… I didn't touch him…"
"You wouldn't need to, would you? What have you done, Tom? Why haven't you told me?" Hermione dropped on her knees and Tom threw himself in her arms, sobbing, his chest heaving fast, she could feel his heart slamming against hers.
"I didn't do it on purpose! I didn't!"
"No, no, let go, Tom, don't touch me." Hermione tried to extricate herself from the hug but the more she pushed him away, the more stubbornly Tom threw himself at her, trying to cling as close as possible.
"Please, please, Mrs. Hermione, no! Don't hate me, don't hate me! Don't leave me alone! Don't go away. Don't leave me alone. I'm not a demon, I'm not! I swear!"
A demon. Hermione's heart broke in a thousand pieces.
"I'm not a demon… don't leave me alone."
No, Tom wasn't a demon, and she was more guilty than anyone if he'd felt like one.
Hermione's goal should have been to lead Tom, to make him more comfortable with his true nature, but she had been so caught up with everything else that she had denied her own true nature instead, acting like a muggle, leaving him alone with his diversity, giving for grated that he would be comfortable enough to show her his magic when the time would come.
What witch would have traveled without her wand? Hermione would never even have considered it possible five years ago. She barely left one room for the next without her wand up her sleeve... and now? The only spells she used were to fold clothes when she was too tired ... what had become of her?
Of course he was not a demon, but what would he know? How would he have known she wouldn't be scared of his power? How would he have known she was the one he could tell?
"Please, please, don't hate me."
That was when it hit her. There was still hope. She might have made a mistake but there was hope.
Perhaps Hermione's intervention hadn't been entirely in vain. Yes, she had taken a slip but there was still hope. As long as Tom was able to cry tears of true guilt, as long as he felt the pain and feared the loss of her love, it must have meant that Voldemort was not yet the only outcome.
As painful as admitting her mistakes was, it still meant that this little accident wasn't completely Tom's fault.
He was not yet a monster, his eyes were still clear as the sky, blue like the ocean, and frightened to death, there was no horcrux in that cave. There was no horcrux.
Tom was capable of jealousy, fear, sadness, happiness, tenderness, joy… love.
Maybe he wasn't able to show his love the conventional way, not the way Eric or Olivia would, but the heart rampaging in his chest as Hermione tried to pull away from his hug, had to account for something. It was proof he felt something.
It couldn't be just her mind playing tricks on her. Tom was capable of love, he was just hurt and confused.
He was still worth saving, wasn't he?
"Love is a power you can't understand Riddle, and I believe I proved that to you tonight. You've never been loved and you don't get it, you…"
"You think you know everything." Hissed Voldemort, "What do you know about who loved me and who didn't? What do you know about me?"
"You are not a demon, of course you're not, my love… I don't hate you, Tom… just, just tell me what happened? I won't be angry, I swear, just tell me, just… Tom…" But no matter how many times Hermione asked, Tom always replied that he didn't know or that he hadn't done anything, and deep down Hermione thought it was true.
Clearly Tom had known about his powers for a while now, and perhaps marginally, he had also learned how to control them, but there was no way in hell he would know what he had done to those children.
They cried for a long time, hugging each other in the sand, both faced with their own mistakes, both realizing what was really at stake here.
When Hermione, Tom, Amy and Dennis arrived at the inn, Mrs. Cole was just about to call the police . When the woman tried to ask what had happened, neither Amy nor Dennis seemed to be able to put it into words and all Tom would say was that they had gotten lost while exploring one of the caves.
The way Mrs. Cole and the other children looked at Tom spoke volumes. It was as if they didn't even need proof to know that he had done something, that it was his fault.
Hermione was ashamed of never having taken into account the opinion of those children, of having always underestimated their instincts, which in the long run had certainly proven more accurate than hers.
'Love makes people do crazy things, doesn't it?' The memory of the night before slapped her as she met Billy's sharp, betrayed gaze.
On the other hand, Hermione also felt particularly protective of Tom, responsible for his mistakes. Such a traumatized little child, finding out such extraordinary powers... how must that have felt? How long had he felt different, lonely, so far apart from the others?
Suddenly Hermione felt just as different.
Light years away from those Muggles, who just couldn't understand them.
She felt the need to get Tom to the safety of their own kind, where he could understand that he was more than normal. It was just another kind of normal from what he might have thought. God, knew, living in the Wizarding Community, might have also helped downsize his feeling of superiority now that he knew how to use power to solve his problems.
The children quickly gathered their belongings and the group left Dorset on the first bus to London that morning, all of them refused to sit next to Tom on the bus. Even Eric, who would usually share his sit with Tom to be able to sit closer to Hermione, went to sit with Mrs. Cole and Mr. Wool in the far back of the bus.
It was as if everyone had felt the barrier between the two different species rising. The mere fact that Hermione hadn't spoken a word since she had returned with the three children, the mere fact that she had stood there in silence, holding Tom's hand the whole time, had been essential proof for them of where she stood, and it wasn't with them. It couldn't have been, as much as she loved them dearly, Tom needed her the most.
"We're going to have to talk about this." Was all Mrs. Cole said to Hermione while they boarded the bus. Hermione just nodded. Of course they were going to have to talk, she just wasn't sure what she was going to say yet.
Tom slept for the whole trip pressed against Hermione's chest, his hands clawing at her shirt, terrified that if he'd let go of her for even just a second, she'd disappear, which was good, because it meant he hadn't yet realized the hold he had on her heart.
During that trip Hermione had time to rearrange her thoughts, to find within her, the list of her goals that she had drawn up five years earlier and laugh bitterly at the naivety she had written it with. Simplistic, stupid.
Clearly she had begun that adventure with the best of intentions but underestimating most factors. Her list required major changes.
"I'll make it right to you, I won't let you slip through my fingers. I'll protect you from him..." She whispered against Tom's forehead, "I'm sorry."
"Can I talk to you, in private?" Mrs. Cole asked, peeking in the direction of Tom, who was lying quietly in Hermione's bed, buried under several layers of blankets, while she sat at her desk.
It was only when the woman asked, that Hermione realized no one had spoken much since they had returned to the orphanage. In fact, the house had never been that quiet before.
Mrs. Cole had taken Dennis and Amy to the doctor as soon as the bus had dropped them off at their stop.
Hermione had unpacked and cooked dinner moving around by inertia, buried in her thoughts. The children had disappeared into their rooms, except for Tom, who had silently followed her through her chores, and then into her room, where Hermione had spent a good half hour staring at the Time Turner pendant.
Hermione nodded, stood up and followed Mrs. Cole out into the hall.
"How are they?" she asked, her voice still hoarse from all the screaming and crying.
Mrs. Cole sighed deeply.
"Amy is sleeping in the girl's room, the doctor held Dennis for the night, he's acting... oddly ... as if he's no longer aware of his surroundings." Hermione sniffed and looked at the tips of her shoes, unable to hold the woman's gaze.
"The doctor says he is physically fine but it is too early to know if he will come to his senses. God knows what happened to him…" Hermione nodded and bit her lip, aware that Mrs. Cole was about to address the other topic.
"As for Tom, Mrs. Hermione ..."
"Tom is fine." Hermione said.
"Mrs. Hermione, the boy has to go."
"What?!" Hermione snapped but was interrupted by Mrs. Cole.
"Listen to me! It's obvious! He's not… he's not normal! How come he was the only one to come back from that cave in his right mind?!"
"Well thank God he did! You can't just arbitrarily decide that…"
"HE IS… he's different, Mrs. Hermione! I've known it for years and you must know too! I mean ... have you seen Amy? The girl shakes like a leaf just hearing his name! None of the children likes him, in fact, most of them are terrified by him... he's... I don't know..." Mrs. Cole sighed struggling to put her feeling into words.
"He is different." Hermione confirmed, "But you don't have any proof that he did something wr..."
"No, Mrs. Hermione. I don't need proof. Anyone in this house can feel that something is wrong with him!" Mrs. Cole whispered nervously.
"This is madness! He's not even 10! Tom is certainly different from the others but...!
"I have no room for buts anymore, Mrs. Hermione. That boy has to go. We can't go on pretending not to see what is so obvious! You can't keep your eyes shut!"
Hermione held Mrs. Cole's serious and stern gaze for a long minute of silence.
"All right." she then said, "He has to go. I just need some time to make some arrangements."
"What arrangements?" Mrs. Cole asked, lowering her voice.
"I have to reach out to a person ... a ... a doctor of sorts. He will come to evaluate ... to visit Tom. After that I'm sure I'll be able to work something out."
Mrs. Cole hesitated for a moment, undecided whether to trust her, but how much choice did she have? It wasn't like she had a real plan to get rid of the boy herself. Finally, the woman reached that same conclusion and nodded quickly.
"Until they evaluate him then." Mrs. Cole agreed. Hermione nodded in turn.
"You can also start looking for someone to take my place. You can use my money to publish something on the paper if you please." she added as low as she could, knowing there was probably no ear in the whole house that wasn't trying to hear that conversation.
Mrs. Cole almost choked on her tongue and her jaw dropped, but before the woman could say more, Hermione turned and walked back into the room.
Tom was sitting in the middle of her bed, his eyes large with fear and red-rimmed, his lips red and chapped.
"You will send me away, right?" he asked, his voice broken by a sob.
Hermione didn't answer, she went back to sit at the desk where a piece of white parchment was waiting for her.
"I'm not ... I'm not a demon. You said you didn't hate me…"
"No Tom, you are not and I don't." Hermione confirmed, still not looking at him.
"I'm not crazy."
"I know."
"Then why do you want to have a doctor come and see me?" he asked as he slid off the bed and clenched his fists along his hips.
"It's not what you think, Tom, you'll understand everything soon."
"No! You are a liar! You are just like them!" Hermione looked up from her parchment and met Tom's gaze. It was easy to see it now, his magic crept and crackled around him, too powerful for the little container he was. How could she have missed it?
"Tom." Hermione's voice went low, Tom's gaze deepened, he looked confused as he searched for traces of the truth on Hermione's face, "Have I ever lied to you? "
Tom shook his head no.
"Do you remember what a leap of faith is, Tom?"
He nodded slowly.
"Well, now go to bed and sleep then."
"You won't leave me alone, you ... you can't let them take me away… I… you… you can't be like them. I would never hurt… you." he stammered, refusing to obey until she answered. Hermione stood up again and went to kneel in front of him until their gaze was leveled.
"Look at me, Tom." she ordered, he obeyed and reached his hand into her curls, seeking for a physical contact that would reassure him, "I will never leave you alone, ever. You are not alone, Tom. You are not crazy. You are very much loved. Can you understand that?"
Tom held her gaze, his eyes widened but he didn't say anything.
"It will be just you and me, Tom, it will be us, but you have to promise me there will be no more secrets, Tom."
"Just you and me?" Tom repeated the words, visibly bewitched by their sound.
"Just you and me, wherever you go, whatever happens, ok?"
"I promise." his voice sounded far too solemn for a nine-year-old.
"Now go to bed, I have to write a letter."
"To the doctor?" he asked removing his hand from her hair.
"You'll understand soon, I want you to talk to Dumbledore before you talk to me. He's certainly more experienced than I am, and maybe it's time for someone experienced to deal with this situation. I've made too many mistakes already." She said, wiping away a tear.
"You don't make mistakes, you're... good."
"Good people can still make mistakes, Tom. You made one too, yet, you're a good boy, aren't you? Thankfully, mistakes can still come in handy."
"How so?"
"Well if you're smart, you can learn something from your mistakes and avoid repeating them." Said Hermione sniffling softly and standing back up.
"Who is Dumbledore?" Tom asked taking a step back.
"Tom, bed, now." Hermione said in a tone that left no room for further questions.
For too long Hermione had put off contacting Dumbledore, convinced that the man would show up as soon as Tom's powers would catch the attention of the Ministry of Magic. However, if Tom had gotten to the point where he could control his own magic, Hermione wasn't sure she could just wait for them anymore, she wasn't even sure it worked that way.
Maybe someone had contacted the ministry in the past? Someone who with Hermione's presence in this timeline, no longer existed? She wasn't sure of anything anymore, and at a time like this, contacting Dumbledore was the only sensible thing to do.
Solving the mystery of L.M. and fixing the time-turner were next on her list.