"I must be going soft," the Malfoy boy muttered. "It's even uncomfortable for me to watch."
"I'm relieved to see you have a sliver of a heart somewhere in there, mate," Tom watched the lanky Nott boy say.
"What's revealed Mr. Malfoy's heart?" Tom asked curiously, unable to help himself.
Both boys jumped up and it took a lot of effort for Tom to not roll his eyes at their show of respect.
"Deputy Minister Riddle," Draco Malfoy said with a smile. "We were just discussing a former classmate of ours, nothing too interesting."
Theodore Nott chimed in, "Brightest chit in our year, and we saw her cleaning the loo and clearing tables last night at Magique. Makes you wonder how committed our esteemed minister actually is to integrating muggleborns."
Tom's interest was piqued the more they shared. He kept a mild expression on his face.
"The professors salivated over how Granger was supposed to be the next minister, and now no one will even hire her to file their papers. Funny day when Vincent bloody Crabbe gets a ministry job over the only person to score perfectly on their N.E.W.T.s since you, Deputy Minister."
"She's a muggleborn, you say? Tom asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Sure is, she came into Hogwarts having memorized every spell in our curriculum. A bit of a bushy-haired menace, but she at least deserved a chance," Nott said with a twist of his lips.
"Oh well," Draco said as he stood up from his desk. "Time to head home and face the music. Mother has decided it's time for me to get married and keeps inviting girls to dinner."
"Sounds awful," Nott said with a wicked smirk.
"Couldn't be more awful than having to marry Pansy, mate," Draco said, yelping at the stinging hex shot to his backside.
"Staying much longer, sir?" Theo asked, turning back into the proper young heir the world expected him to be.
"Not tonight," the older man said. "Good evening, Mr. Nott. Give your father my best."
Theo nodded, "Of course, sir. Goodnight."
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"May I offer you a seat at the bar?" the mousy hostess said.
Tom gritted his teeth, "I would prefer a table for one, as I requested."
The girl squeaked. "Of course, sir. Right this way."
Tom casually scanned the restaurant, eyes tracking the curly haired girl who was currently cleaning a table by hand while its inhabitants watched on.
"If you'd have cleaned our table the right way the first time, we could've been eating our dinner already," Mafalda Hopkirk, a uppity woman said loudly, drawing eyes to the table.
"I apologize ma'am," the scrubbing girl said quietly. Tom could tell her face was bright red from his vantage point.
"Much better," the Improper Use of Magic Office chief said with a snooty look.
"You're welcome," the girl muttered as she walked away.
Tom enjoyed his dinner as much as he could while watching his colleagues treat one of their own kind as little more than a house elf. Most dining establishments had transitioned to using house elves for service, making it clear that most patrons saw the slip of a muggleborn as beneath their manners.
The man made his way to the bar for a nightcap, the decision solidified when he saw the girl scrubbing down glasses by hand.
"Do you think they truly believe hand washed dishes and tables are cleaner, or they just like giving you a hard time?"
The girl's caramel colored eyes shot up. She was quite pretty, even with a sweat streaked forehead and purple bags under her eyes.
"I'm happy to serve our customers, sir," the girl said, looking down once again at the wine glass she was running a towel over.
"Glad to hear it," Tom said with a smile as the girl walked into his trap. "Why don't you join me for a drink after your shift?"
Hermione's already translucent skin grew more pale.
Tom realized that look for what it was. "I'm no lecher, madam. We can even go to the Leaky, as much as it pains me to patronize such a dirty establishment."
"All right," Hermione said quietly. "I'm off in thirty."
"I'll be waiting here," the man said with the tip of a glass.
Tom stood silently at the front door of the restaurant thirty minutes later, patiently waiting for the girl.
"My name is Hermione Granger," the girl offered almost immediately, clearly unnerved by walking in silence.
"Pleasure to meet you, Hermione. My name is Tom Riddle."
The girl let out a laugh, "I know who you are, sir. I applied to work in your office."
Tom let out a soft noise at that, genuinely surprised.
"When was this, Miss Granger?"
She hummed thoughtfully, "May, I believe. There was an advert in the Prophet while I was still in school."
"I normally handle my own hiring, but was otherwise occupied with the currency legislation that had been passing through the Wizengamot."
Hermione looked over with narrowed eyes, "The Ministry's hiring office took over, I presume."
Tom found himself liking the girl's untampable snarkiness against his better judgment.
"Indeed."
"If I may ask… how is your new secretary?"
Tom snorted, "Miss Brown is a fool, if I can speak plainly."
The girl scoffed. "Lavender Brown spent more time in broom closets with her skirt raised than she did actually attending class."
"Miss Brown is also soon to be back on daddy's dime."
"That bad?" Hermione mused, a small smirk playing on her lips at the man's muggle joke.
"There are surely worse, but there are better options. Would you be interested in the position, Miss Granger?"
"Me?" the girl asked, flipping back to the meek persona she'd shed for a few minutes. "I'm muggleborn."
"And I'm not an idiot like the rest of my colleagues who prize surnames over ability. Accept the offer and show them just who they passed over."
Tom held up a finger when the girl started to speak.
"Think on it, Miss Granger. I have a feeling that Miss Brown will be out of a job tomorrow, so I'd prefer if you come to the Ministry by close of business to accept."
"Yes, sir. Thank you for this opportunity," Hermione said, a wet gleam in her eyes.
"No, Hermione," Tom replied, staring deeply into her eyes. "It's you I ought to be thanking for this opportunity."
The man appreciated the comfortable silence that followed, heading to the refurbished Gaunt Manor after ensuring the girl made it safely to the Floo.
He let out an exhausted sigh as he stepped into the perfectly warm tub, nodding at his favorite elf Raffy in gratitude. Tomorrow, he'd move another step closer to power.
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"Sir, um, Mr. Riddle. Herm- there's someone who says they are here to see you. Should I send her away?" the idiot girl that was sent up to fill in as his secretary stammered.
"Why would you do that?" the man asked, dropping his quill in exasperation. "Send her in."
"Hello, Miss Granger," Tom said with a smile, eyes quickly tracking over the girl's ill-fitting dress robes. "Shut the door, girl. Those papers won't file themselves."
A squeak sounded before the door to Tom's office was shut.
"Such a low bar to get hired here," Tom muttered.
"Yet, I wasn't suited for the 93 positions I applied for," Hermione said with a tight smile as she sat down.
"Overlooking you is a foolish decision I'm not willing to make," Tom replied honestly.
"I'd like to accept your offer, sir. I'll work as long as you need and do whatever you need. I'm a soldier in your army," the girl said with a small, embarrassed smile. "Sorry, muggle phrase."
"One that I can appreciate," Tom replied. He looked at the girl and saw her raw, extremely raw potential, and knew she'd be much more than a soldier in his army. She would be his queen.