A/N: Thank you for the favorites, follows, and reviews!

*Edited as of 1/16/18*

Chapter 2

Tom watched her with glittering eyes as she huffed loudly, her lips a thin sharp line that screamed disapproval, anger, and hatred. How was it that the girl was already so against him she couldn't even feign civility? What had the old bastard been telling her? He shifted his weight onto his other leg, wincing as Slughorn slapped him unnecessarily hard on the back in good ole boy fashion and left them standing awkwardly between the door and the table. She avoided his gaze and he unabashedly stared, knowingly making her even more irritated.

"After you," He murmured, still trying to drown out the sharp sounds coming from the active school body. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought he had a hangover, but it couldn't be. There was absolutely no drinking involved in yesterday's dark activities. Vaguely he remembered the look on Grindelwald's face as Tom pulled him from Riddle House after the Horcrux had been made. The revolutionary was stumbling and incoherent with euphoria, drunk on power and evil deeds. Tom really should have anticipated that the magical backlash would have affected him too.

The Dark Arts were many and varied, studied only by the most brilliant or foolish of wizards. And even fewer who had delved as deep as he had, and none that he knew of that made a Horcrux. Who knew what the residual effects of such magic were. He pushed the dark thoughts to the back of his mind, occluding fiercely, knowing that the Great Hall was hardly the prime spot for such dark introspection. His expressionless eyes swept the Professors at the head table and caught the twinkling blue eyes of Dumbledore. Tom forced himself not to grimace at the Transfiguration Professor and turned his attention to piling his plate with food.

Hermione was sitting stiffly next to him, trying to maneuver without touching or looking at him and he couldn't help but be amused. During his entire Hogwarts career, his peers fell into three categories. Those that wanted to ride the coattails of his power, those that wanted to use him for their own quests for power, and those that liked him well enough but dismissed him in the same thought. More the fool, they. Never, had he met anyone, besides Dumbledore, who disliked him. Even among his elders, there were few who were wary.

But Hermione was something other. Even Dumbledore treated him with a careful scrutiny but not her. So far, she had treated him as if she knew he was from the darkest pits of hell instead of just suspecting as in Dumbledore's case. He had a hard time believing that her animosity was solely based on her Uncle's word. It was a puzzle that he intended on figuring out. And he had no doubt that his interest would wane as these questions were answered. Until then, she was the most interesting person, besides himself, in the whole castle.

His arm brushed against hers and didn't fail to notice that she flinched at the touch. Perhaps she was Dumbledore's spy? Dumbledore would have only placed someone next to him that would interest him. It would make the most sense.

Leaning towards her, Tom watched her struggle not to stiffen further as the back of his hand brushed against her wrist and to appear unruffled. Unconsciously she leaned away from him, a grimace marring her face for several moments before she got herself back under control. He pretended not to notice and reached past her and poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice.

"You can call me Tom," he said nonchalantly and bit back a smirk, withdrawing his hand, making sure to brush her thigh as he adjusted his robes as if unconsciously. All the while he turned his attention back to the food in front of him. Scooping a small pile of scrambled eggs and fruit onto the plate, he avoided the heavy greasy food with a vengeance. The rich foods of Hogwarts were something that he was never able to get used to after years of bland, yet nourishing muggle food provided by Wool's Orphanage. Not to mention the scarcity of it, which was a side effect of living during the muggle war.

"If I'm lucky," she muttered under her breath, "I won't call you anything at all."

Tom snorted and speared a strawberry with his fork and popped it in his mouth, chewing it slowly. He winced again as Agatha Marchbanks released a shrill peal of laughter, seemingly right in his ear despite the half of the table between them. Once again, his thoughts were drawn to the forbidden object in his school trunk. It sang to him, called out to the darkest desires that he still held tightly to his chest.

"You don't have to, you know," Hermione muttered, trying to lean in but not too close, making sure their conversation was relatively quiet.

"I don't have to what?" He asked distractedly, his mind now pondering the effects of carrying around a Horcrux and if the things it whispered to him were true. And if they weren't, how he could make it so.

"You don't have to show me around. I will be fine on my own,"

Tom paused, swinging his expressionless stare all on her. Was she stupid? He already committed himself in front of a teacher. There was no backing out now, surely, she had to know this. Perhaps she just wanted to confirm everything bad she had been told about him by her Uncle. Like hell was he going to allow that to happen. Plus, he had no intention of leaving her alone until all of his questions were answered.

One second ticked into the next as the world moved around them, their bodies the only ones frozen as they stared at each other. Tom was the first to move, leaning in with his patented lady-killer smile, a hint of lust, want, and need bleeding through. Most women could do nothing against it, immediately wanting to 'fix' him and his vulnerable self.

Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to eating her piece of toast, missing the micro fury that disappeared from his face the moment it ran across. It was then that his knights sat opposite him, digging into the food and subtly watching the new girl.

"These are Abraxas Malfoy, Evan Rosier, Roald Avery, and Eugene Nott." Tom introduced politely the most magically powerful wizards in the school. Aristocratic sons that hailed from the most prestigious families of all his followers.

He could literally see the struggle on her face, forced to choose between being polite or sticking to her preconceived notions of them. Notions no doubt put in her head by her bothersome uncle.

"Don't believe everything Professor Dumbledore told you about us. He is a Gryffindor through and through and has always hated members of Slytherin. Even Tabatha Fawley, who we strongly believe should have been a Hufflepuff." Avery said, popping a small chunk of potato in his mouth.

"He hasn't told me anything about anyone," Hermione murmured.

"Then why do you hate us? You haven't even been here one day."

"I don't hate you," She said slowly obviously trying to answer them without lying. Tom hid a smirk behind his cup, taking a small drink. He didn't believe her for a second, watching her face twist into distaste. "Your reputations proceed you,"

Abraxas Malfoy rose one manicured brow and leaned over the table, throwing all of his Malfoy charm into it. "And what would those reputations be?"

"You, are a playboy and I was warned that you love them and leave them, that you aren't even available for something serious as you are already betrothed," Hermione said, her nose wrinkling. "And you," She said turning to Nott. "You are said to have peculiar tastes in your relationships, control issues that bleed into the bedroom." Hermione stopped to take a drink as Tom's eyes danced with unconcealed amusement.

"Who did you hear that from?" Malfoy asked, obviously highly affronted.

"Odessa Carrow. She seemed pretty certain."

Rosier snorted into his drink, before turning away and beginning a conversation with one of the other boys on his far side, clearly not wanting to hear what the gossipy Odessa had to say about him.

"And what did Miss Rosier say about me?" Tom asked, lips quirking.

"Prepare yourself for something dreadful," Hermione smirked.*

Tom rolled his eyes and popped a strawberry into his mouth and chewed lazily. He gave her a pointed look, demanding that she get on with it, knowing that Odessa had a horrible crush on him. The same crush she had been nurturing since their first year when they rode the boats across the Black Lake together.

"She said that you were off limits if I knew what was good for me and that I would be foolish to try anything because you were hers."

"That's hardly a good reason to hate me. She is delusional and has no claim on me."

"No one does, do they," Hermione muttered so quietly that Tom nearly missed it. A small dent appeared above his left eyebrow as he considered the deeper meanings of what she said. Either she knew far more about him than he initially surmised, or she was bitterly lashing out. But why in the world would she choose him, Head boy, out of all the potential angsty nemesis's available?

Excitement bubbled in his stomach as he set the glass of pumpkin juice down and hefted not only his bag but Hermione's as well. If he was going to prove to her what an upstanding and desirable man he was, he was going to have to put on an incredible show. The only option to avoid further suspicion from Dumbledore was to assuage her fears and the best way to do that was to convince her of his innocence. She would see only what he wanted her to.

"You don't need to do that," Hermione said munching on the small triangle of toast that she pilfered from the Great Hall and gesturing to the second bag slung over his shoulder.

"It is my pleasure to escort you. Where are you from that the male students do not offer this courtesy?" Tom asked, turning a charming smile on her and watched as her face bloomed red and her eyes were cemented to the floor. The smile dropped from his face as something clenched in his belly and the desire to deepen her blush became all-consuming.

Tom slowed down so that his shoulders slightly bumped hers as they walked down to the potions lab in the dungeons for their first class of the day. She continued to avoid his gaze as his eyes traced the flush of her skin. He studied it as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, drawn by the power he held over her. Everything out of his mouth caused such a delicious reaction in her. It was addicting.

"Things are different in my other school," She said finally. She looked up at him and her eyes widened at the look in his. It was predatory and intense, and he had the burning desire to fall into the depths of her dark brown eyes, searching out the secrets of her mind.

Suddenly, the doors to the potions lab opened, an invitation for early students to come in and find their seats. Tom led the way in and dropped her bag on one side of a table in the front and slid into the vacant seat next to it.

"I am not going to partner with you. Why don't you just partner with whoever you usually do." Hermione said leaning down to pick up her bag from the spot he dropped it.

"I don't have a partner. Since I am the top student and there is an uneven number of students, I was chosen to work alone. Now you are here, and you will be partnered with me no matter what you say. Professor Slughorn likes that you are Dumbledore's niece and that you are Slytherin. He won't be able to resist testing you out. Most likely, he will try to recruit you for his Slug Club. And with me being the top student, unattached, and with a most promising future, he will be unable to help himself trying to become a matchmaker. I know him well. To him, this is fate that brought us together." He leaned over and snatched her bag, pulling out her books and setting them neatly on the table in front of her seat.

"Personal experience, eh? Been set up a time or two? No one interested in the Great Tom Riddle?" Hermione said smugly before turning her haughty glare on to him but sliding into the seat next to his none the less. "Don't worry about all the rejection, there is always Odessa Carrow. No doubt she will do whatever she has to do to make it up to you,"

Tom looked away to give himself a moment to control his anger. How did she get under his skin so easily? It was nothing more than what others had said. But coming from her, it burned like a thousand red-hot needles being shoved through his skin. Well, he wouldn't let her get away with it. He leaned in close to her and smoothed his hand over her shoulder, gathering her hair and swept it onto the shoulder opposite, all the while giving her the sexiest smile in his arsenal.

"How can I focus on her thoughts, needs, and desires when all I can think about is you?" he whispered seductively in her ear. The clenching in his stomach further tightened at the shiver that ran through her whole body, goose pimples broke out all over her skin, and her warm breath glided over his neck. "Cold, love?" He purred, struggling to appear unruffled. It wasn't him that was supposed to be affected. Damn.

She whipped her head around despite the blush and glared as if he were just some annoying mud that was sucking at her shoes during the spring thaw. The curly hair flying around her head began to spark and the angrier she got, the higher the electric pulses jumped. They captivated him, drawing his eyes, as he silently mused what it meant that she had such a tangible manifestation of magic. The burning to acquire magical knowledge rose within, nearly choking him. She just became even more interesting and the only thing she did, was lose her temper.

"Fuck you, Tom Riddle," She whispered ferociously. Turing in her seat, she faced front and he could feel the fury in the way she ignored him for the rest of the lesson.

Taking out his note scroll and a large black and green feather, he prepared for the lecture of the day. Every few minutes he would lightly run the feather tip on the skin of her neck, right above the collar of her robes. Always seemingly by accident but it never was. Early on she clenched her fist and her angry blush deepened into a crimson that would have proudly adorned any Gryffindor flag. Still, she persevered in her scorn, giving him the coldest cold shoulder of his life. That feeling, deep in his stomach, moved into his chest and began roaring with approval.

Unable to fully concentrate on the lesson, he took notes as if on autopilot and brainstormed his next move. People like Hermione and Dumbledore needed to be kept on their toes. Always keeping her sexually frustrated would eventually land his arse in hot water. Plus, he didn't want to appear interested. Even if he was. By the time class ended, he was set on his new course. As hot as he ran in the morning, he would run just as cold for the rest. One minute he panted after her and the next supremely uninterested. It worked every time Abraxas did it and there was no one more skilled in stringing girls along and getting what he wanted out of them.

Once the lesson was finally over, Tom shouldered both bags and before she could say anything, he was out the door and down the hall. She quickly caught back up to him and he turned away, unwilling to show her the full smile that tugged at his lips. She was already in his thrall and she didn't even know it yet.

As they walked through the halls, students of all houses and years called out to him, shouting their hellos or thank yous or their results of a test. Everyone wanted his attention and he gave it. Never showing anyone the fury that pounded through his head, fueled by the seduction of the Dark Arts from the Horcrux that whispered enticing promises in his head.

*Quote from Pride and Prejudice when Colonel Fitzwilliam asks Elizabeth Bennet about Darcy's behavior at the ball in Meryton.