Hello everyone!
First of all, let me tell you, just how much I love and appreciate your reviews!
I'm having a blast reading all of your theories about what will happen in the future and your reactions are just priceless!
Thank you all so much for your support! I'm so glad to have shared this story with you all!
Here is chapter six with its first glimpse of Hogwarts.
I opted for a rather light ending, because I think next chapter might be more eventful and give us less room for humor.
As always, hope you'll enjoy this!
Love,
M.
P.S.
FelineNinjaGrace thank you so much for your kind words and for your offer! I'm sure I'll need some Beta help, especially with some of the more intense chapters later on! Hope you'll still be up to it! :) In the mean time, feel free to PM me whenever!
Chapter 6: Your wand, dear.
The air smelled of loose earth and dust.
It was a familiar an terrifying scent, the scent of destruction, of landslide, musk and broken stones, mixed with the hot and mockingly sweet smell of summer.
Muggle bombs had whistled across the sky of Scotland that July morning, landing with huge roars and digging deep furrows in the green Highlands. It had been the first Luftwaffe attack in that area, but not the first attack on England.
Hermione had cried quietly beside Aberforth in the back garden, while the boys had silently stared up at the sky from the upstairs windows. Not even Tom's friends, heirs of the most supremacist pureblood families had had words to comment on Muggle madness on that occasion, for they perhaps knew, deep in their hearts, that soon the wizarding world would prove just as much wickedness.
Hermione felt disconsolate and helpless.
Once again in her life, she knew exactly what was going to happen, and had no power to change it.
The world would have cracked for the follies of a single man and the interests of many others. Knowledge alone though, changed nothing at all, it didn't save lives, it didn't deflect bombs.
Hermione took in a deep breath, letting the humid and warm night breeze slide down her throat.
The whistles of the bombs had awakened memories of a past life, memories that had faded over the years and that she had been able to see vividly again.
The Battle of Hogwarts had flashed before her eyes as if it had happened just the day before.
She had been able to remember the chaos, the clangor. She had been reminded of each dead and empty gaze she had crossed while running through the castle that night.
And the blood… all that blood. Would history have repeated itself?
Today it seemed more likely than ever. After all, history had its own way of repeating itself. Then as now, it had been little more than the madness of a single madman that had brought the whole world to its knees.
That very madman was just a boy now, a stubborn, hardheaded boy, standing in the back garden of a small inn.
Ionically enough, that boy, was the only one Hermione wished she could hug today. Oh... how she wanted to hold him tight... Hold the living proof that the deaths of her future were still a long way off, avoidable as long as he staied a rosy-cheeked boy who smelled of soap and minty chocolate...
Hermione's gaze found him on the porch, right under her window. He was giving her his back, his face was turned upwards and lit by the moonlight.
With big snow-clear eyes and pouty lips, he counted the stars over Scotland as Scotland mourned its dead.
Hermione sat on the window sill of her room, she stared at the boy's silhouette.
Just a few weeks ago, she wouldn't have thought twice about going downstaris and sink her face into his warm embrace... but now...
Hermione wrapped herself in her wool shawl and sniffed... it was just so odd now.
She let her mind run free and wondered why she was even there... What was the point of it?
What could L.M. have thought? Why send her to love that boy to the point of insanity, if that never seemed to be enough? If history kept stubbornly repeating itself regardless of her attempts at changing it?
She twisted the bracelet around her wrist and ran her thumb over the small gold pendant absentmindedly.
The Greatest Victory over Death will be Life. Forever Yours. L.M.
She grimaced as she felt the words engraving themselves in the metal right under her fingers, but her gaze lingered on Tom's back.
Her stomach tightened at the memory of how much she had been afraid of his gaze that day a few weeks ago. Where did all that anger come from? It had been just like in the past ... it had been an aspect of Tom that she hadn't expected to see again and it had hurt her.
The world had not welcomed him lovingly, in fact, it was probably fair to say that Tom's introduction to life had been quite brutal. Abandoned, manhandled, beaten, stabbed, burned, molested, raped, humiliated, hated, feared. The world had had no mercy for him at all.
His birth itself had been an abuse, a violence in a sense. Forced to come into the world against all common sense, against his own will and that of his father. The very result of a rape. The accidental cause of his mother's death.
Yet, at least in this timeline, Hermione had tried to compensate in every way for the wrongs he had received, none of which was her fault anyway...
She had tried to give him all the love he had always deserved. The love any child deserved.
So why did it seem like it was never enough? What was she doing wrong?
How was it that Tom's anger always manage to rule over the rest of his emotions? That was the true mystery to Hermione, especially considering he could be the sweetest of boys when he wanted to.
The brightest, the funniest, the smartest ... just so, so angry all the time.
Why did it take so little to drive him over the edge? She wished she had a better smattering of psychology... maybe she would've been able to help him overcome past traumas, relieve his pains and anxieties, figure out how come he was so insecure and fragile while he also happened to be self-confidence in the flesh on other occasions.
Hermione looked up at the starry night. She scowled at the Universe informing it that she wasn't about to give up on that boy.
She was mad at him, yes, angry still, yes, but she wouldn't have thrown the towel so easily.
Maybe she hadn't been the best choice, maybe L.M could have done better, but she was here now and, damn, she'd get herself hanged before giving up without at least trying everything she could.
No sir. If the world was so determined to bring out the Voldemort inside Tom, she would have fought with just as much determination to save him from that monster's ashen arms.
Hermione nodded to herself with resolve and wiped a tear sniffling softly.
"Don't cry, if you're not going to let me in." came his snalr.
Hermione shook herself slightly and looked down again, Tom was kicking some weeds that had climbed the wooden stairs of the porch; he had both hands shoved in his pockets in the most boyish pose he could strike.
"Who said I'm crying? And why would I do it for you? Go to sleep, Tom." She said wearily.
She wouldn't have given up... of course, she might have had to find a way to mend their relationship first, since after their recent 'accident' things hadn't exactly been great between them.
"You know I won't sleep and neither will you." He mumbled looking up and piercing her with his most intense gaze, "Let me in."
Hermione stared at him for a moment and then shook her head no, "It's not my fault we're in this situation, Tom, now go to bed, your friends are leaving tomorrow, it'll be a long day."
"I said I'm sorry ..." He scoffed incredulously, "I apologized ... like every day! It's not like... like I fucking hit you or something!"
"Language."
"I didn't… It was just a kiss… Aw, come on! I said I'm sorry over and over!" He added when Hermione shook her head in disbelief at the 'just a kiss' bit.
"I've accepted your apology, Tom."
"Then let me in!" he whined.
"Good night, Tom." Hermione started to get up from the windowsill and his voice grew more anxious.
"But the Muggles ... their bombs ... what happens if they hit the village?" He asked, again.
"They won't hit the village, Tom, the wards are up." she explained, again.
"I want to sleep in our room." He groaned.
Hermione pursed her lips. To be completely honest, it was kind of funny to see how he was trying every trick in his book.
"You've had Mrs. Nott rent the room for the whole summer, you might as well put it to use, Tom."
"But I'll have night terrors!"
"You won't, Tom."
"Then you will!"
He pouted when he met her dead-pan expression, "'Nott snores and Lestrange talks in his sleep!" he threw in the mix, hoping it would help.
"Well, tough luck, Tom, next time pick less bothersome friends. Good night." Hermione sighed and proceeded to close one of the window sashes. She stopped mid-action though, as she caught sight of Tom suddenly leaning forward, one hand cupped under his chin.
"Fuck… shit! Hermione! No wait, I'm serious... it happened again." He sniffled.
Hermione took a deep breath and summoned all of her patience.
"Oh for God's sake, Tom?!"
"What?! I told you to open up like a hundred times!" He snapped tilting his head backwards trying to stop the nosebleed.
"Unbelievable ... the same trick since you were five ... shame on you." hissed Hermione, fishing her wand from the nightstand and rushing to the door.
She walked briskly but lightly down the stairs, trying not to make the wood creak with each step. She would have preferred to stomp down, to storm out and yell, to let out all of her frustration, but there really was no reason to wake up Aberforth too.
The poor thing could use a few hours of sleep, he'd already been heartbroken enough about the strange atmosphere between her and Tom in the last few weeks ... also, she knew if she had felt the sudden need to slap the smug off Tom's face, Aberforth would have been too quick to intervene…
When Hermione finally broke into the backyard Tom was still awkwardly standing there, with his nose up in the air and one wrist pressed against it in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
"Look at you! Ridiculous! Thirteen, Tomforgodsake, and you still up to these charades!"
"Almost fourteen and why should I change a winning strategy?" Tom grumbled, blindly feeling the space around him looking for her, "Are you going to help me, any time soon?"
"You know what? You can bleed out as far as I'm concerned... It'll teach you something!"
Tom jerked his head down to give her a dirty look but with the movement a new gush of blood came down spraying his white shirt and dripping down his chin and neck.
"Shit!" He hissed spraying more blood all around in little droplets.
"What comes next today? The fever? Or the vomiting? Maybe both?" snorted Hermione.
She felt quite itchy to intervene by now, but was still clinging to the foolish illusion that this time, she would not fall for his emotional blackmail.
Tom coughed to avoid choking on the blood that had trickled down his throat and his gaze went from angry and offended to dramatically frightened. Hermione lifted an eyebrow.
There.
That was how much of a drama queen the 'Dark Lord' could be.
How could he be the same mean monster from her memories? Maybe he wasn't, whispered the weak part of her, because, yes, these were the silly little moments when she became convinced that she must have made some sort of difference in the story.
If only Harry and the others could've witnessed these types of situation. What would they have thought of a Voldemort capable of causing himself half a stroke just because he couldn't have what he wanted right then and there? He couldn't possibly be the same guy… could he?
"Oh, damn it, Tom!" Hermione groaned when he started gagging on the blood and retching altogether, "Senantur".
The blood stopped dripping at once and Hermione walked over, waving the white flag for good. Tom took the chance to grab her hand as soon as she was within reach and she stopped dead in her track.
He held her hand in silence for a while and Hermione didn't say anything.
He just stood there, like a bloody idiot… pun intended.
After their back row over the summer holidays, they had spent a few days of normalcy. Hermione had spent time with him and his friends, helped them with their homework and took them on trips to the woods.
Then one evening during dinner, she had 'dared' to refer to them as 'children' and BUM, Tom's hormones had exploded again and he had thrown an endless tantrum.
He had acted all smug in front of his friends and moved back into their room, because he was 'a man and not a boy', he didn't 'need her', she would have 'begged for him to come back' and all that crap.
And here he was now, crawling back already. Knocking on her door late into the night, praying for her to let him in, for he was tired and couldn't sleep without her.
What a bloody… bloody idiot… he probably deserved to be given the cold shoulder. Yeah. Perhaps, he really deserved to experience firsthand how it sucked to be a 'man and not a boy'. She shouldn't have let him always decide when they could make up...
But when Hermione looked at him standing there, more like the child he was than the man he wished he could be, it was just impossible to deny him exactly what he was asking for. The world had already denied Tom Riddle too much. It was clearly engraved in his skin in thick white scars, it was written in his lips, perpetually sulky by nature for a reason.
He looked like a doll in the moonlight, and it was just that easy to forget how vicious his grip had been that day in his room. It was just so easy to justify his temper… she always needed to somehow over-compensate for the hurt he had received from life.
Tom was Hermione's weakness and she knew… the worse part was that he knew too apparently.
He was possibly the biggest bloody idiot the world would have met, but to Hermione, he was still the scared boy, trembling as she dragged him in a dark kitchen with the man who had abused him for years. He was her smart boy reading all sorts of books to her till late into the night. Her cute boy, sleeping nestled against her chest every night. He was… hers. Her heart would always be weak when it came to him.
Damn it. Damn him.
"Why are you so cold? Don't you love me anymore?" he asked, "You know I'm sorry, I truly am. Please, love me, please."
"Don't you dare try to turn this on me! You wanted to be seen as a man…" She said, stabbing him with a glare, "Well, suit yourself! Be a man, sleep in your own home, do your own things. Besides, wasn't it you who wanted be with your friends and all that?"
"Well, maybe being a man is overrated after all… maybe I can wait a bit longer before sweeping you off your feet… and 'friends' is such a strong word…" Hermione had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing at his expression. She looked away.
His hand was staining hers with blood.
It was so dark in the moonlight that it looked like ink. Hermione felt like crying at the sight.
His hand was slippery and warm and she could smell the irony scent of the blood mixing with the earthy smell of the garden.
It didn't disgust her.
She wondered if Tom knew what that implied.
She wondered if he knew what it meant not to move away in disgust when someone else's blood splashed on you. What a great deal of love that took.
Not something just anyone would do for you.
He probably didn't know, since he'd nearly messed up their entire relationship just out of his silly groundless anger and jealousy.
Fucking teens and their hormones… hissed an angry voice in Hermione's brain. Could she just get over it? Was it fair to? She surely wanted to. God, how she needed a hug right now.
She lifted her gaze back up to catch his but Tom was looking at their hands as well.
He looked mesmerized by the bloody sight, so entranced in fact, that he almost flinched when she yanked her hand away muttering a cleaning spell.
"I'm sorry." He said again, "I'm sorry, I won't… can we go back to normal? I was… stupid and…"
"Tom… I'm not even mad at that anymore… is just that…"
"Then just stop treating me as if expecting me to jump you all the time! Please, I just want to sleep, please! Let me in. I won't be a jerk ever again, never to you." He must have sensed his words were taking effect this time, "I… miss you so much."
Hermione clenched her fist but her resolve was already fading...
"If I refuse, will you bleed again?"
"Definitely," he replied quickly, staring straight into her eyes.
Hermione almost burst out laughing. Fuck.
He noticed and his pouty lips curled into the ghost of the victorious smirk that would soon spread across his face.
"I'll tell your friends you're a crybaby ..." she murmured relaxing her shoulders and letting him pull her closer.
"Nobody will believe you." He had 'checkmate' written all over that smirk.
"I'll say you're a bedwetter." Hermione pouted, as Tom slid down on his knees before her and hugged her torso, staining her nightgown in the process.
"Bollocks…"
"You'll see…"
"And how will you prove it?"
"I'll think of something, I'm quite the crafty witch." She snorted.
He looked up amused, his chin pressed against her stomach. Hermione let one of her hands roam in his curls, he closed his eyes and moaned a little.
"I'll tell them I slept with a teacher." He laughed. She slapped his head.
"Ouch! You Hag!"
"Don't you dare, Tom..."
"Fine! Though it's technically true! OUCH, woman!"
"Tom! I'm not joking!"
"I know, I'll be good!" He leaned back and crossed his heart, "I'll tell them you're mmmiiin… my guardian." sly wink.
"You look like a bloody vampire." Said Hermione, smearing the blood on his chin. Tom pushed against her hand like a puppy and her heart melted for good. The little shit.
"So… a teacher, uh?" he asked as he pressed his face back against her nightgown.
"An assistant, really." Hermione looked at the stars above them, "But still… I get to be called professor! Do you think I'll be any good?"
"You'll be the best ever, everyone will love you in no time… about that…"
"You say one jealous or seemingly-jealous word, Tom Riddle, and you'll be sleeping outside the village wards tonight." He snorted against her belly, but from the silence that followed, Hermione figured she had guessed exactly where he had planned to go with that.
"You'll be a brilliant teacher… you managed to get Lestrange to actually sit down and write an essay on his own, you deserve a medal already."
"Oh dear, Lestrange, not the sharpest tool in the shed, huh? I don't understand some of your choices when it comes to friends." Tom's silky curls slipped through her fingers and she lightly scratched his scalp. His face pressed harder against her belly, trying to guide her hand to a specific spot at the base of his neck.
"He's not the brightest but still ... he's a Slytherins and he comes from an important family… do that thing with your nails again… mh.. yes…"
"And since when do you care where people come from? We lived on Dorset Street until a few years ago..." Hermione pressed her nails into his skin involuntarily harder but he didn't pull away, instead he quickly pulled at the back of his shirt to bare a larger portion of his neck to her.
"I don't care where they come from but what I may use them for ... maybe school wasn't like that in your days, but I assure you it's always good to know exactly who you're dealing with nowadays."
Hermione had a flashback of Draco Malfoy refusing to shake her hand in first year and grimaced in disgust. No, some things just never changed at Hogwarts, no matter how much progress the world made. Hermione wouldn't have killed herself trying to change that too, she knew it would do nothing but drive her crazy.
"It sucked just the same when I went to school." She said sadly, "Purebloods, half-bloods, Muggle-borns... the nonsense that proves wizards are no more evolved than Muggles, as much as they like to think otherwise. Hate and racism all the same..."
"What are you?" Tom asked, "I don't think I've ever asked…"
"Would it change anything? My blood… would my blood change me in your eyes?" she asked with sudden urgency, pulling his hair to tilt his head up.
"No." He replied immediately, looking up at her. His eyes were clear and his expression honest.
Hermione smiled.
"Shall we go to bed, Tom? It's getting cool out here." He continued to stare at her for a while.
"Do you think my father was someone powerful? His name isn't worth a penny in the wizarding community, so maybe he was a half-blood or something, but powerful all the same…" Hermione's heart sank into her chest.
Tom had never asked about his biological parents. He had heard Mrs. Cole's stories many times, but he had never shown interest in his own roots. Was this where it all began? His obsession? No… Hermione swallowed hard.
"Again, would that change anything? Most Purebloods you spend your time with are half as good as you are. They look up to you anyway."
"Yeah... I just thought, he must have been powerful... either that or I got it all from you." He added lost in his thoughts.
"Smooth…" she laughed, "What about your mother? Maybe she was the powerful witch in the couple." Hermione suggested trying to feign ignorance. Powerful enough to drug your father with the most powerful and complex love potion for months, didn't seem like a topic to face right now.
"If she had been, she wouldn't have died like a fucking dog ..."
"TOM!"
"But it's true!"
"Don't say that. Death comes to all just the same. Witches and wizards can die all the same, their power has nothing to do with it. Now stop thinking about nonsense such as blood status. Maybe we can still save your shirt from permanently staining…" And with those words she pulled back from his embrace, gesturing to the blood that covered them both.
"If someone gives you trouble at school, you tell me, my love." He blurted out with the most serious of faces.
"Why would anyone give me troubles?" She asked tilting her head on the side.
"For nonsense… such as blood status." Tom said as he stood up and became a black silhouette against the moonlight, of course he had already figured it out, smart boy "It's tough in there, Hermione." He murmured, rubbing the dried blood from his hands.
For a moment he really looked older than he actually was, older and more tired.
"I mean... I've learned from a young age how to deal with this shit... but it's dog eat dog as much as it was back at the orphanage. If someone gives you shit ... you tell me… especially those Gryffindors… bunch of idiots let me tell you…"
"Language…" She warned, he rolled his eyes, "I can stand up for myself, Tom, especially when it comes to Gryffindors… believe me, I know how to deal with them. But thanks, it's nice to know we can always count on each other." Said Hermione.
"It will always be us, together… right, my love?"
"Together." Confirmed Hermione offering her hand.
Tom took it easily and gave her a little smirk.
"What?" She asked rolling her eyes.
"Will you say it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." She said looking away.
"Just say it."
Hermione scoffed. He squeezed her hand slightly harder and held his gaze in hers.
Demanding, little manipulative arse...
"You're being ridiculous and corny, Tom Riddle!"
"I think I feel slightly faint," He said suddenly lifting his free hand to his forehead, "I might pass out! Quick, quick! Before I die!" Hermione chuckled as Tom pretended to slowly fall back to the ground.
"Fine! FINE! You win! My love! My love!" Hermione blushed a little and thanked the darkness for concealing it. When she looked back up venturing a glance at Tom, he was smiling broadly.
"You're such a wanker..." she scoffed.
"Language!" He laughed pulling her towards the inn.
The train ride had been ... fun. Despite what she'd expected, getting on the Hogwarts Express without Harry and Ron hadn't been so bad.
Sitting among Tom and his housemates had been like sitting with the cool kids for the first time. That feeling, however childish and a little ridiculous, had made the journey more enjoyable and less of a rollercoaster of memories. That and the scent of Marseille soap and chocolate that occasionally blew in her direction when Tom would move beside her.
Sure, sitting with Gryffindors had always been fun and natural, but Hermione had to admit there was something secretly satisfying about sitting among Slytherins.
They interacted differently from Gryffindors, at least from those of Hermione's time.
More than chatter they talked in puns, tugging at each other's nerves incessantly, their squabbles were witty and amusingly pungent, a blast to watch, and as poisonous as they might get, there was a subtle sense of unity between the lines of their relationships, something that Hermione sensed being far more solid than a simple friendship.
Those little boys and girls already knew that the people they were sitting with would be their safety net, the base of their future social network.
Many of them would be betrothed by graduation or joined in business, some were related anyway, others, like Tom, had their own mysterious worth and talent. Their odd and cynical way of interacting showed that Slytherins didn't necessarily need to prove how important they were to each other all the time, they just were.
Hermione tried not to think too much about it, but suddenly the Death Eaters' blind loyalty to Voldemort, at least the ones from his inner circle, the first generation Death Eaters to be clear, made so much more sense.
It had been fascinating watching Tom relate to the other students, to marvel at how perfectly he fit in that elaborate social structure despite his origins were not remotely as royal as those of the others.
Sure, it was fair to think Tom had been purposefully more charming knowing that Hermione was watching, but she had somehow appreciated that too. Who doesn't appreciate a smart young boy? Plus, Hermione had not too secretly gloated at how much of that was due to her teachings.
Another interesting aspect of the trip, had been coming face to face with some characters Hermione had only heard of in her future life and learning that they were nowhere near what she had imagined them to be.
Abraxas Malfoy, for example, Draco Malfoy's infamously famous grandfather, the one who had given life to slimy Lucius Malfoy in the flash, was actually a rather feminine and delicate-looking boy, had gallant manners and blushed when Hermione spoke to him. A blushing Malfoy was something Hermione had never seen before in her life. He was just as blonde as Draco would have been later on, but lacked the rude snobby attitude on his grandson.
Walburga Black was not remotely reminiscent of the screaming old bat in Grimmauld Place's painting. She was rather a young English rose, a couple of years older than Tom. She had a wild temper and a sharp tongue. She was bold and bossy and way out of Orion Black's league, who was a rather quiet boy instead.
Nott, whom Hermione had got to know a little better over the summer, confirmed himself to be the most balanced of Tom's friends, just as Lestrange confirmed himself as the most deranged of all.
Mulciber reminded Hermione of a young Gregory Goyle and there was no way she would ever think otherwise of him.
He was a big boy with the same physical and verbal grace of a bull in a china shop. Unsurprisingly, he was the keeper on Slytherin's Quidditch team, which by the way didn't seem to be a great deal, as most of the boys in Slytherin were much more interested in their studies than in sports. They seemed surprised to even have a team.
Hermione had a feeling she had definitely been ill sorted…
Druella Rosier was a tall and slender girl, with sharp but somehow charming facial features and full lips with a deep cupid bow, that made you want to poke her lips every time she spoke.
She seemed to be a clever girl. It had been quite surprising to notice the confidence with which she would interact with Tom, whom she clearly fancied to some extent. It had been even more surprising to notice the casual way in which Tom would indulge her.
The two exchanged jokes easily and teased each other, similar to how Hermione had once done with Harry or Ron, but way more courtly. It was curious to watch them, especially since Tom didn't seem to give the same freedom to many other girls.
In fact, he did not seem very interested in girls' attentions, which, for the record, were plentiful.
In fact, the amount of girls peeping into the Slytherin compartment to take a quick peek at the 'Slytherin princes', namely Tom, Eurus Nott and the young Abraxas Malfoy was just ludicrous. From what Hermione gathered, the three boys were venerated by girls all over the school, even way older girls.
They were pretty much treated like royalty and obviously teased for it by the boys of their house, much to Hermione's amusement and Tom's annoyance.
While the journey had been surprisingly fun, the arrival at the castle turned out just as surprising in the negative.
Hermione had expected Dumbledore not to let her get away with the threats she had included in her letter months ago, especially since he had bluntly ignored the topic ever since.
All he had done had been sending her the Assistant contract she had requested, and Hermione had always assumed he would have confronted her once she would have gotten to Hogwarts coming September.
She had prepared for any kind of confrontation, from an angry outburst to a calm conversation, perhaps she had even practiced a little in front of the mirror ... However what she found in front of her entering the Great Hall went beyond anything she could have imagined.
The usual four long wooden tables, which typically housed students from the four houses of Hogwarts, had been lined up along the walls and in their place, in the center of the room, stood a familiar narrow stage.
Dumbledore was standing on it already, while the students were gathering around it, looking quite confused themselves.
The youngest ones, those still to be sorted, were being lined up by a white-haired, jovial-looking teacher, whom Hermione would later discover to be the DADA teacher.
Hermione's eyes quickly scanned the faces of more unknown professors, all sitting behind a long table at the far back of the room. The only familiar face, although much younger than what Hermione remembered, was Slughorn, who was sipping wine from a golden goblet and chatting rather excitedly with a dark-haired wizard sitting next to him.
"Come on in, come on in!" urged Dumbledore, gesturing to the hesitant students to come closer, "Welcome back to school and welcome, to all of you who are here for the first time." Dumbledore's voice rang amplified in the hall. The little crowd fell silent and Hermione knew what was about to happen long before it was announced.
Her heart started racing in her chest and she squeezed Tom's hand lightly. He gave her a quick, worried glance before landing his snowy gaze on Dumbledore's figure.
"You must be wondering what happened to our feast, well, worry not, because soon we will all be sitting in front of our steaming plates, I promise." Some students laughed awkwardly, some Gryffindors clapped and whistled smugly.
"However, before we begin with our usual traditions, may your rumbling bellies forgive us, I would like to have the pleasure of introducing a new member of our staff, a rather revolutionary figure in our faculty!" The Slytherins around Hermione started huddling around her, as if feeling the instinctive need to protect her.
"So, please may I have a warm and welcoming applause for Mrs. Hermione Granger, my personal Transfiguration assistant."
Hermione's throat went dry. She felt Tom tighten his grip around her hand, but Dumbledore's cerulean gaze found her in the crowd and Hermione was forced to let go and move forward.
"It's ok, love." She whispered. Although, the moment their fingers untangled, panic enveloped her completely.
Was Dumbledore about to do what she thought he was?
"Now, many of you, especially those who have recently started their studies, fail to realize how useful transfiguration can be. You'd think that my subject to be more useful for mending torn garments than for dueling..." He paused as a round of applause and enthusiastic cries rose from the area where most of the Gryffindors were gathered. Many Slytherins started whispering nervously among themselves, staring icily from the wizard on stage to Tom Riddle.
Dumbledore held out his hand to help Hermione on stage, she took it smiling shily at the crowd and throwing a puzzled glance at the wizard, who was wearing quite a scary and unreadable expression right now.
What was he trying to prove? Would he try and hurt her? In front of everyone? He couldn't do that… could he?
"So, Headmaster Dippet and I thought it might be a good idea, to demonstrate how fundamental and helpful transfiguration can actually be, if properly studied." Dumbledore said, winking at a Hufflepuff boy standing in the front row. The boy blushed violently at those words, as he was probably not particularly well versed in the subject, a couple of Gryffindors boys made mean comments and Hermione pierced them with a glare.
Was Dumbledore straight up bullying that boy? Why wasn't anyone saying anything about it?!
"... and to give you a taste of the amazing skills of our new Assistant, to whom you can refer as Professor by the way." Another small round of applause filled the room, while the students stood on their toes to get a good glimpse at the girl standing next to Dumbledore.
"Mrs. Granger here," He resumed pointing at Hermione, "May look young and inexperienced at first glance, but Transfiguration itself, teaches us not to trust appearances too much, isn't that right?"
"Right." Hermione spat through clenched teeth.
"So, without further ado..." Hermione gasped as a shower of applause rained around them.
Dumbledore drew his wand and turned to her.
"Although this will be just a demonstration, a friendly duel if you will, I'd still suggest not to stand too close to the stage, Mr. Tanner." A tall Ravenclaw boy retrieved his hands from the stage, followed by the many others who had leaned against it, "Mrs. Granger? Your wand, dear."
Dear. Hermione shivered.
She caught a glimpse of Tom's pale face in the crowd, his eyes wide with fear. She returned to focus on Dumbledore.
"What does this mean?" Hermione whispered when Dumbledore approached for the ritual bow.
"I have vouched for you, I've hired you no question asked... now I want to test your skills… is that too much to ask?" Dumbledore said, barely moving his lips and bowing first, "Do you feel the need to contact the Prophet about it?" He mocked.
"I didn't even expect you to hire me ... I was hoping you'd wonder why I wanted to be here in the first place." She whispered, finally drawing her wand.
The crowd roared in excitement and anticipation.
"Oh, isn't it always the same reason with you, Mrs. Granger?" Hermione clenched her jaw and bowed. Dumbledore was careful to cast a long glance at Tom as he turned to go and position himself at the bottom of the stage.
Hermione's blood began to heat up and she marched to her spot as well. This was just ridiculous… only a conceited fool would have thought this was a good idea to teach her a lesson. Then again… this was Dumbledore.
"Does anyone from the teachers' table want to choose a starting item for us? Our beloved Headmaster, maybe?" Dumbledore asked, spreading his arms in the direction of his colleagues. Headmaster Dippet rose cheerfully and drew his wand.
"With great pleasure, Albus!" The plump man said, then, with a flick of his wand he sent a chair landing right in the middle of the narrow stage, "That should provide the right size, something bigger would be too dangerous!"
Dumbledore smiled at the Headmaster's words, Hermione shrugged.
"Whenever you're ready, then!"
Dippet had not finished saying it, that the chair had already turned into a warthog. The animal started running towards Hermione, charging at full speed.
Okay, fuck gallantry, I guess. She thought.
Hermione was quick, the warthog turned into a cat with a flick of her wand and it started chasing its tail on the spot, eliciting a chorus of 'aww' from a small group of girls nearby.
"Great defense! Great use of a non-verbal! Take notes!" Dumbledore said cheerfully to the crowd, while really, he was just measuring Hermione's skill to balance his own. At least he had the decency to sound somewhat impressed.
The hall gasped at the professor's next move. Hermione's harmless kitten grew out of proportion to morph into a massive Bengal tiger, which found Hermione way more interesting than its tail.
Hermione doubted that the students, especially the younger ones, would notice what Dumbledore had just done, but she surely didn't miss the hint. Changing the size of a transfiguration was definitely not a beginner's move, Hermione herself, who had studied a lot in recent years, would not have been able to perform such a metamorphosis.
It was clear that Dumbledore wanted to let her know who was in charge.
Hermione took a step back, mentally cursing the professor as the tiger leapt towards her.
She could see his point, but who in his right mind would use such a potentially dangerous beast with all these students standing so close!?
Hermione would later think that Dumbledore's disregard for the safety of the students shouldn't have surprised her that much after all, as this was the same man who had thought it a wise idea to host an adult Cerberus, in a room that could be opened with a simple Alohomora.
Something big and harmless, big and harmless… she racked her brain for the right choice. The crowd held its breath.
Hermione moved just in time, the tiger jumped and landed on her in the form of a large wagging St. Bernard dog.
"Just in time!" Dumbledore raised his hands above his head to make the students cheer.
The applause was not long in coming, along with the relieved sighs of those who had feared the worst. Hermione patted the big dog's head affectionately and took the moment of distraction to peek at Tom, who was looking at her with a mixture of admiration and immense apprehension.
The dog became a chair again as she lost focus.
"That was quick thinking!" someone marveled in the background.
"She's good!" yelled someone else excitedly.
"Dumbledore will have her on her knees in a moment…" Laughed someone else.
"Let's try something more exotic!" Smiled Dumbledore.
Hermione turned just in time to see the chair transform into a huge snake. The colossal beast raised its large head and hissed menacingly.
Hermione paled at the memory of what had happened the last time a snake had appeared in a room with a Parselmouth and her mouth went completely dry at the memory of Nagini.
Horrified she turned to Dumbledore first, now smirking knowingly at her, and then to Tom, who was already advancing alarmed towards the stage.
Slytherin's heir. If he had talked to the snake everyone would have known, everyone could have told him about the… NO.
Hermione blinked twice and when the snake lunged forward, revealing its long fangs, she struck with Stupefy first, knocking the beast backwards and out of her face, then she struck again, quickly, accurately. The snake squeaked loudly and turned into a huge slimy worm, which fell limp, in the center of the stage.
Many students gagged in disgust and leaned backwards. Hermione couldn't really blame them, the worm was not very appealing to look at considering its size. A chorus of cheers rose from the Slytherins.
She locked her gaze with that of the professor, but found no trace of his previous fake kindness in his. The mask had cracked.
Dumbledore was getting carried away by the situation, wasn't he?
Men! Hermione snorted.
So competitive when it came to these nonsense.
It wasn't uncommon for situations to escalate during a duel, especially if both duelists were particularly good. It was easy to lose sight of the educational purpose of the whole situation, but they had such a big audience at the moment, that Hermione wondered if it wasn't slightly out of place to get so carried away. Would any of the other professors intervene? They surely didn't seem bothered by Dumbledore's odd behavior.
She was about to venture a glance at the teachers' table when the worm jerked forward and morphed back into a snake, many students screamed when the snake caught fire and rose tall and threatening, hissing at Hermione viciously.
"Professor," said Hermione, loud enough for everyone to hear, "You didn't say we could combine charms…"
Dumbledore seemed to slightly snap back to reality, he looked at the snake, then his stare slid slightly to the left, towards Tom. He smiled.
"I didn't say we couldn't do it either." He said, "I just want to give the students an idea of the infinite possibilities!" With those words Dumbledore waved his wand and the snake hissed loudly, displaying its sharp fangs, only this time the beast turned its attention towards the students who screamed in terror, stepping back and away from the stage.
All but one, who stared defiantly at Dumbledore and then fixed his proud gaze in that of the snake.
"NO" The scream left Hermione's throat before she could stop it as she lunged forward at the fiery beast.
The snake made a strange noise and the fire around it turned a bright blue. The snake froze and fell to the ground in a rumble of shattered glass that forced the professor's attention back onto the stage.
Dumbledore did not flinch, he waved his wand and the snake came back in one piece, alive and well again. The animal leapt at Hermione. She dodged but her spell missed its target.
Again the beast turned its attention to Tom and Hermione felt liquid anger pouring into her veins.
Why did Dumbledore want to provoke him?! Or was it her he was trying to provoke? Was this a threat? If she had talked about Grindelwald to the media, would he have hurt Tom? Hermione heard herself growl. Over my dead body. She swore to herself.
The following spells hit the beast in quick turns.
The snake became a large stuffed animal of itself, then a snarling serpentine-looking dragon, a balloon in the shape of a dragon, then some sort of miniature Zouwu (which slightly delayed Hermione's reaction due to shock), then into a long tree trunk.
The crowd roared with each metamorphosis, Hermione was slowly losing her beat, but she knew that Dumbledore would cast the snake again as soon as she'd let her guard down, so she forced herself not to relax.
The trunk became a long crocodile that advanced swiftly towards her.
Hermione was about to strike back when the beast abruptly changed direction once more, and opened its jaws at the crowd of students in the front row.
Hermione snapped between the beast and the audience without even thinking about it twice. The animal's jaws closed with a loud snap ripping away a portion of Hermione's sleeve and opening a long gash in her forearm.
Hermione heard the noise of Dippet's chair scraping against the floor, she told herself that the duel was about to be called off, so instead of looking at the crocodile she turned to look at Tom, who, together with more Slytherins, was yelling insults at Dumbledore, the same way a bunch of Gryffindors were rooting against Hermione.
Hermione opened her mouth to scold Tom and tell him there was no reason to be that rude, but in that moment of weakness Dumbledore struck again.
"BEHIND!" She read the word on Tom's lips.
Hermione whirled around, finding herself face to face with a giant rattlesnake.
"ENOUGH!" Dippet yelled.
But the snake bared its fangs, Hermione saw Tom making a run towards the stage, slipping through the hands of his fellow Slytherins, all failing to stop him in his mad rush.
It was as if the world suddenly started moving in slow motion. Tom parted his lips.
Hermione pointed her wand through the crowd and casted a quick 'Silencio'. She saw Tom stop dead in his track, bringing both his hands to his throat with a bewildered look on his face.
She spun around facing the snake and swiftly stuck the tip of her wand into the open wound of her arm hissing in pain.
A few students screamed in horror, Dumbledore's eyes widened in amazement as a series of runes, tattooed on Hermione's arm, lit up.
Living with the Flamels for a year had taught Hermione a thing or two about runic magic. She had taken her sweet time experimenting and refining her technique, helped by the most ancient wizards the world had ever seen. Had Dumbledore expected any less?
Hermione withdrew her wand from the gush with a groan and ran it over her tongue, muttering the spell. She moved so fast she even found the time to throw a wicked grin at Dumbledore.
She pointed the wand between herself and the snake, then ran her free hand over the bright tattoos on her forearm until she touched the right rune, an ancient Egyptian rune meaning 'nothing'. The rune engraved itself on the ground just when the snake made its move and snapped towards her face.
Hermione closed her eyes and held her breath.
The crowd instantly fell silent and then erupted into an excited roar worthy of the catching of the golden snitch during a Quidditch final.
The snake had vanished into thin air, leaving behind only a bright halo and a stunned Dumbledore.
"Mrs. Granger." He said, "We didn't say we could use dark magic..."
"We didn't say we couldn't either." Hermione spat through clenched teeth, accepting with a fake smile the hand that the professor was holding out to her with equally fake concern.
Hermione turned toward Tom.
He was looking at her with a level of pride and relief she had never seen on his face. His classmates howled excitedly beside him, nudging him in the ribs and patting him on the back but he only had eyes for her. Come to think of it, he'd never seen her fighting.
"That's how you handle a Gryffindor..." she mouthed at him with a smile. He shook his head in disbelief smiling. Hermione let Dumbledore pull her back on her feet.
"Albus! You got a little carried away there, boy!" Said Dippet in a nervously high pitch, almost a hysterical falsetto, as he made his way towards them at a brisk pace.
"Nothing my marvelous assistant couldn't handle, as you can see! I think I've proven her qualities and worth! Didn't I tell you how good she was?"
"Oh sure, Albus, sure." Said Dippet managing to bring his voice half a pitch down this once, "Mrs. Granger, it will be a pleasure to have you on our staff, you're very much welcome!" said the headmaster, quickly shaking Hermione's hand in his sweaty one "Now, now! We have a sorting ceremony to perform and a rich feast awaiting! Mrs. Granger can I have you escorted to the infirmary by one of our prefects? I'm sure yours is just a scratch, but it would be better to tend to it soon enough, we'll be waiting for you!"
Hermione nodded gratefully to the headmaster, then turned to Dumbledore, bowing briefly.
"This isn't over." she said softly locking her gaze into his.
"Of course it isn't." He bowed in turn "It has only just started."
"That was bloody brilliant!" Tom cheered as he escorted her to her rooms after the feast, "Bloody brilliant! You're wicked! Damn, you made the whole thing disappear! You vanished his snake! You virtually neutered Dumbledore! What's with him and all those metaphorical cocks anyway?"
"TOM!" Hermione almost screamed in laughter.
"You vanished his metaphorical dick! Good job, love!"
"Stop saying that! What if someone hears you!" She laughed, surprised by his enthusiasm. She hadn't thought Tom to be so averse to Dumbledore, he'd never particularly liked the man, but had never even voiced his dislike so openly before.
"Those tattoos on your arm? Why don't they show now?" He asked pulling her sleeve back and revealing a perfectly clear patch of skin.
"Ah, an old trick I learned in France ..." She belittled. An old trick, yes, almost half a century old, in fact. An old trick that had almost cost her a couple of fingers during her experiments ... but this was not the place to let Tom know.
"How's your arm?"
"All healed…"
"That bloody bastard!"
"TOM! I'm fine! It happens, it's hard not to lose it during a duel… I myself didn't exactly behave fairly…"
"Still! You never even tried attacking him… everyone noticed! He kept on going at you and you never lost your cool, even Professor Slughorn agrees… you're too good." Hermione blushed a little and tried to brush away his compliments with an annoyed gesture of her hand.
"I'm just patient." She said, "What a feast, I'm so full I think I could explode!"
"They'll talk about it for months in school."
"About the feast?"
"About your genius! And you are mine! Ah, what a stroke of luck!" Tom's smile grew so large it scared her.
"Tom…" She warned. He raised both hands in surrender.
"I didn't mean in a malicious sense... well, in yeah in that sense too but... ouch!"
"Why did you silence me during the duel?" He asked then, and his gaze suddenly sharpened.
"Because I could handle the duel myself ... strange as it may seem to you, I am quite good with my own metaphorical penis..." she smiled waving her wand before his eyes. Tom offered a short half smile and a grimace at her censorship.
"I noticed that... just ..."
"Tom, it's not exactly something you want everyone to know ..." She said nervously interrupting him.
Luckily Tom just nodded and bit his lower lip. Hermione leaned her head against his shoulder. She refused to ask him what he had just stopped himself from saying.
In a few days the stories about Hermione and Dumbledore's duel had swelled with all sorts of made-up details, although all the students had been present, there were those who swore that the Transfigurations assistant had turned into a fire-breathing dragon, and those who insisted that Dumbledore had soared above the crowd with big bat-like wings.
All the commotion was proof that Hogwarts was indeed identical to how Hermione remembered. It also confirmed Tom's theory. People would have been talking about the duel for months.
After the first exciting evening in the castle, routine pleasantly kicked in.
Classes started and soon, both Hermione and Tom found themselves totally caught up in their own rhythms.
In the little free time they could spend together, which was still more than anything they had been allowed in the last couple of years, while Tom was at school and Hermione in Hogsmeade or Paris, Tom would obviously be particularly clingy.
He would try to drag her on long solitary walks, determined to share her with the world as little as possible and Hermione mostly humored him. She was glad they were managing to mend their relationship, the how and where were not necessarily important to her.
When in November, third year students were finally allowed to spend weekends in Hogsmeade, Hermione was even more glad that she and Tom got to speed some time with Aberforth too.
During the rest of the week, however, the place where they would spend the most time together was the library.
She wouldn't exactly sit at Tom and his classmates' table, of course.
First of all, it wouldn't have been fair to sit with the Slytherins, since she was kind of a teacher anyway and it would seem like aiding and abetting.
Second, if she intended to be regarded as a teacher, and treated as one, she had to limit the time she spent with students outside of classrooms.
In fact, it seemed the students had a hard time seeing Hermione as a teacher considering she looked no older than any seventh-year student, while most of the other professors seemed to have known Merlin firsthand.
It also didn't help that Hermione wasn't particularly tall per se, and was rather petite. It was enough to think that Tom could easily tower over her now, and he had not yet turned fourteen.
Keeping her distance from the students guaranteed the best chances of being treated with the proper respect.
So, in the library, Hermione would sit a few tables away from Tom & co., happy to keep an eye on the small Slytherin study group from the distance, quick to slip them the right book at the right time every now and then, while also conducting her own research undisturbed.
Tom loved the gimmick. He could go about his studies and still have her within reach, which seemed to please him to no end.
As for Dumbledore, he had completely avoided confronting Hermione.
Not that they could avoid spending time together. On the contrary. Dumbledore was probably the person she saw the most during the week.
They spent a lot of time together, correcting homework, organizing lessons and exchanging ideas about the Time-Turner, however, whenever Hermione would try to bring up the duel or Paris, Dumbledore would change the subject.
Hermione would have preferred to talk about it, understand what the heck the professor had in mind. He seemed to know how she felt very well, but also seemed quite happy to let her simmer in her ignorance all the same.
His was an immature and suspicious attitude, but also the most Dumbledore-like attitude he had shown so far, which in a twisted way, was almost reassuring.
If Hermione had known exactly what to accuse him of, she would have been less hesitant to force him into the confrontation. Too bad that, even being sure as she was, that Dumbledore had something to do with Herbert's story, Hermione had no idea of the why and how.
It was obvious that the wizard had plans for, or at least a strange interest in, Tom.
Even during the duel, he had tried to provoke the boy to speak Parselmouth in front of everyone. But why? What could he possibly gain from him? Did he think he was somehow the key to Hermione's time travel? It didn't make much sense. And even so, why try to turn Tom against her? How did he know jealousy was one of the keys to do so? And so she vowed to keep the situation under control, glad that at least her presence would limit Dumbledore's chances of doing what he wanted with Tom.
Hermione was so engrossed in her own thoughts that she flinched when, turning down the next corridor on the way to the library, she found herself faced with a small army of girls.
She blinked a few times with a questioning expression.
"Can I help you?" Hermione asked when the girls, mostly Slytherins with the exception of a couple of Ravenclaws, didn't move to let her through, confirming they were expecting her.
"Ehrm ... Professor ... we wanted to ask you something ..." stammered a blonde girl with delicate features, whom Hermione knew to be Selwyn's younger sister, and usually, far from being so shy.
"Well then, go on, ask me." Hermione urged, slightly alarmed.
"Well, Professor, you see ..." interjected a Ravenclaw whose name Hermione couldn't remember. Something F… Fooley? No… Fawkey? Fawley… probably… yeah. Fifth year Ravenclaw.
"For Merlin's sake, Fawley, spit it out, I don't have all day!"
The girls started coughing in embarrassment, elbowing each other to spur themselves on, but none came forward yet. Hermione was about to press them to hurry and just spit it out, when the group opened up to let Rosier through.
Hermione was surprised to see the girl among that odd bunch, she would usually hang out with Tom and his little gang of boys or with the older Blacks, instead.
"They want to know if you really are Tom Riddle's guardian, Professor." Said Druella, looking back over her shoulder to gather consents. The girls nodded, obviously glad someone had finally taken action.
"Oh ..." Hermione blinked rapidly. Well, that was an odd question, she was quite certain Tom had gone to great lengths to make sure each painting in the damn castle would know she was indeed his guardian, "Well, yes, I am. Is that all?"
The girls exchanged another round of awkward glances.
Hermione rolled her eyes, she shifted her weight on her right leg and crossed her arms across her chest. That wasn't all, of course.
Was it something Tom had said or done? Had he said something weird about her? Most of the boys in Slytherin already treated her as if she were his wife more than his guardian…
Again, it was Rosier, with her shamefully beautiful lips (which Hermione had just decided would be something she'd envy for the rest of her days), the one to cut the bull's head off.
"Professor, they were wondering if Riddle was going to make a formal request... The Christmas ball is approaching. They would like to know if any of them will be lucky enough to have to add a seat at the table for the holidays."
Hermione continued to stare at Rosier with a frown.
The meaning of the girl's words escaped her completely, to be honest they seemed completely unrelated to each other even.
The Christmas ball? A formal request? Add a seat at the table?
Maybe they wanted Tom to invite one of them to the ball? Hell some of those girls were sixth years… was he that charming? That moody, chocolate-addicted brat?
Anyhow what did Hermione have to do with it? And what did Christmas have to do with it? She and Tom would spend it with Aberforth, at home, as always. Why would she care about them adding seats at their table?
"I ... I'm not sure I understand, Rosier, would you mind elaborating?" Many of the girls giggled, some whispered excitedly.
Rosier raised an incredulous eyebrow at Hermione's confused frown. The girl's expression lasted only fractions of seconds before, like any self-respecting Pureblood elite, she schooled it into a kind smile instead.
"Professor, is Tom serious about his intentions with any of these girls? Can anyone expect to receive a piece of jewelry for Christmas?" this time the girl pronounced the words slowly, as if dealing with someone who was hard of hearing.
Hermione's jaw would have detached completely from her face if it had been possible.
"You see, it seems Tom has expensive tastes, Professor, but he also doesn't seem to know the rules too well." Said Rosier.
"Because there are rules, as you will surely know... maybe you could explain it to him?" added a blushing fourth year Slytherin girl.
A faint image of Pansy Parkinson bragging that Malfoy would soon be gifting her with a bracelet making their engagement official flashed through Hermione's mind.
Suddenly she was able to connect the dots. Her eyes lingered on each of the girls standing there.
Tom has expensive taste... but doesn't know the rules well…
Selwyn, Rosier, Abbot, Flint, Burke, Fawley... Oh, God, Hermione felt suddenly sick ... what the fuck was he doing, messing with the daughters of all the most sacred Pureblood families?!
"I ... I don't ..." Hermione opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, looking shocked at the girls, all hanging from her words now, awaiting for the answer with excited looks, "But ... aren't you all a little too young to worry about marriage proposals? " She stammered.
Many excited faces twisted into disappointed expressions. Selwyn shrugged.
"We've been raised a certain way, Professor. Any of us would be happy to force our father's hand for Tom, but if he doesn't intend to step forward, he'll have to play with… well different toys."
"I'll be sure to get the message across, however, if it can help you make different choices in the near future," Hermione said turning to each of those present to make it clear that the message was aimed at each of them, "I'm not going to make proposals to your families, neither this year nor the next. I will definitely talk to him about it ... but for now, my word is final. "
"Thank you, Professor, it's perfectly clear." Rosier smiled, tucking a lock of shiny black hair behind her ear gracefully. Unlike her mates, all openly frowning and moping now, Rosier looked rather amused.
Hermione wondered if the girl had just offered to be the group's spokesperson. Maybe she wasn't really interested in Tom, not to the point of wanting to marry him? Maybe they were just friends… Or maybe ... she didn't care about a marriage proposal as much as everybody else.
Christ, how were these children so precocious?!
Some of them weren't any older than Tom… at their age Hermione had never even thought of kissing a boy let alone marry him.
Sure, at that age Hermione had punched Draco Malfoy, helped Sirius Black escape Azkaban, freed a death-sentenced hippogriff, confronted a werewolf, fought a dangerous Death Eater, used a Time-Turner for the entire school year and all while maintaining impeccable grades...
Had she been less busy, would she have been equally interested in the other sex? She had to give them the benefit of the doubt.
Hermione simply nodded, sparing herself form giving the girls a lecture. The group politely took their leave, leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts and it was then that it struck her… Had she just consented to have THE talk with Tom Riddle?
How the fuck was she supposed to have THE talk with... Tom!?
Hermione groaned and slapped herself on both cheeks. She hid behind her hands moaning in pain and shame.
Merlin, she would have far preferred to have another go at Dumbledore's snakes. Perhaps, even jumping into a pit of Blast-Enden Skrewst would've been a far more comfortable prospect.
In fact, where could she find the nearest one and simply dive in?
By the time Hermione found the courage to face the subject, Tom was basically waiting for her.
It must have been obvious to him that something was wrong. Hermione had spent most of the Christmas holidays chasing him around the village, starting several nonsensical conversations and then walking away without getting to the point.
She had a hunch he also basically knew what she wanted to tell him, or she wouldn't have known how to explain the reason for his amused look when she walked into their room on New Year's morning, sporting bright Weasley-red cheeks.
She found him still sitting among the torn papers of his birthday presents (an emerald green sweater from Aberforth, a set of crystal vials, a brand new Gobstones set and a large box of assorted chocolates from herself), and sighed at the sight of him.
The previous night Hermione had had a very drunk and very awkward conversation with Aberforth about how to approach the subject with Tom. She had to admit, she had hoped the wizard would offer to talk to the boy himself ... but of course, Aberforth hadn't been particularly keen on the idea either, although he had certainly found the whole thing much more amusing than she had.
He had laughed particularly loudly when Hermione had told him that in the end, by the way, Tom had gone to the Christmas ball with his male friends, in a group, and that she had therefore worried for weeks, for no reason whatsoever.
"Thank you," Tom said cheerfully throwing a handful of random chocolates into his mouth and rolling one of the gobstones between his fingers. Hermione just nodded, hesitating, undecided about how to break the ice.
"Are you all right, my love? You are acting ... oddly ... did I do something?" he tried schooling his face into a worried expression but the corners of his lips betrayed him and remained curled upwards.
The blasted fox… he knew exactly what she wanted to say.
Hermione felt her cheeks catch fire, but she resolutely placed her hands on her hips in the most 'Granger-Like' pose she could strike and cleared her throat.
"Tom, is there… well someone you fancy in particular?" She asked, immediately regretting the choice of words.
"You." He said earnestly. Hermione rolled her eyes. Cheeky little...
"I mean a girl… someone in your school!"
"You." He reiterated with a smirk.
"Tom! You know what I mean."
"Get on with it, you know what I mean too." He scoffed.
She stared at him intently. Oh, he could be hella frustrating alright, but this was not the time to dwell on his supposed infatuation with herself.
"Tom ... you ... you know where… uhm... babies come from… right?" She blurted out, hating herself. Why wasn't the floor swallowing her whole?
"... Sex?" Tom asked with the most innocent expression his beautifully devilish features allowed. God, she had never wanted to run away so badly.
"Yes ... you ... you know what that is… what sex is… don't you?"
Tom nodded silently and threw another handful of chocolate into his mouth, looking at her with an expression that clearly asked if perhaps she needed him to explain how that worked. Which probably wouldn't have hurt since her ideas on the subject were quite theoretical.
Could this get any more embarrassing? Ladies and gentlemen, here's 'A complete guide on how to lose any dialectical skills whatsoever', a book by Hermione Granger. Scorned a little voice in the back of her mind.
"Well" Hermione exclaimed, "Well you shouldn't do it ... sex. Well not like ever... just maybe… well not now. Not at school... Not with your classmates... please."
Tom's eyes widened, he let out a choking sound and then burst out laughing so hard he spat chocolate everywhere. Hermione snorted in frustration and started for the door.
"Oh! To hell with it! Just don't have sex! And if you fancy someone, and that someone happens to be Pureblood elite, forgodsakeTom, have the decency to find out how to properly court the girl or I'll have your sorry arse betrothed so fast you won't have time to complain!" With that she stormed out of the room.
"Wait up!" Tom tried to call her back through tears of laughter launching forward to chase her across the room, Hermione quickened her pace and slid through his fingers twice, "No, wait! Wait! I'll stop ... I'll stop laughing!"
"I'm glad you find it funny, Tom! I assure you it was just mortifying to learn that… well… whatever!" She growled.
He managed to catch her in the corridor.
Hermione tried wriggling out of his grip but sagged in defeat when she failed miserably at that. Why the hell did he have to have such large hands anyway?!
Tom fought to catch his breath, bursting out laughing every now and then, despite Hermione's murderous gaze.
"Ok, ok, I'm done, I'm done..." he breathed out, coughing to stifle another fit of chuckles at the sight of Hermione's face, which was now more or less purple, "Ok, first of all, do not go betrothing my 'sorry arse' around, you might regret it later..." He said, full rascal smirk in place.
"TOM! I'm serious!"
"Me too!"
"Oh, whatever! I said what I had to say!" Hermione snorted irritably and tried wriggling her hand out of his, but he didn't let go.
"Ok, fine, I won't be… well reckless." He conceded.
"Good." Had he really been with those girls? To what extent? And why did she even care? She groaned mentally.
"Good…" He confirmed, their eyes locked and Tom licked his bottom lip as if looking for the right words, "You do know I'm serious when I say that the one I actually fancy…"
There was a wicked something that flickered behind his sharp and amused gaze, something that twisted Hermione's guts painfully. Perhaps for a split second there, her funny discomfort became visible, because Tom hesitated briefly, his eyes focusing on something in her eyes and lingered on her cheeks.
Hermione pulled her hand away quickly and looked away.
"You finish that sentence, Tom Riddle, and I'll make sure Dumbledore's metaphorical neutering will be nothing compared to what will happen to you!" Tom let go of her and doubled over in laughter muttering incomprehensible gibberish as he tried and failed to catch her hand again.
Hermione stormed downstairs blushing all the shades of red and a purple.
"I gather that went well…" said Aberforth, clearly struggling not to laugh himself.
"NOT. A. WORD. ABE." Hissed Hermione, glaring at the direction from which Tom's hysterical laughter still thundered, echoing throughout the inn.
"I'll get his birthday cake… from the…" But then Aberforth too burst into a roar of fat laughter and Hermione sighed in annoyance as she retrieved a bottle of Firewhiskey from under the bar. When had she signed up for this?!