Part Two

Day 8

He was avoiding her. Hermione couldn't blame him, really. Her reaction to finding out his true identity had not been her best moment.

He hadn't been in class yesterday or today, and she hated the fact that he was skipping lessons because of her. She truly didn't care that he was a Squib. She was a Muggleborn for Merlin's sake. She knew what life without magic was like.

Truth be told, finding out Gus—smart, kind, handsome Gus—was really Argus Filch had thrown her completely off kilter. She just couldn't seem to correlate the cranky old Caretaker who wanted to torture children with this young man who had so many plans. What had happened to his dream of becoming an archeologist?

Last night, after being unable to track down Gus to apologise, she had made herself focus on her reason for being here. Half of her time was gone, and she was no closer to her goal. She had found Riddle in the library, a seat open directly to his left, but she just couldn't. She couldn't make herself reach out and sit there, no matter that she was supposed to be getting to know him.

Every time he got too close to her, her skin crawled. This boy had gotten Hagrid expelled and Myrtle killed. He would grow up to kill not only her best friend's parents but hundreds if not thousands of others. He orchestrated Albus Dumbledore's death. Hermione couldn't stand to look at him. She wished she could just Avada him now. It would solve so many problems.

She had forced herself to sit and watch him, paying attention to everyone he spoke to, hoping that one of them could prove useful back in her own time. It hadn't been long though before Riddle turned to her, raising his eyebrows as he caught her watching him. She'd quickly packed up her bags after that and fled the library, huddling under the protection of her four-poster, shivering from the cold that seemed to soak into her bones after every encounter with the future Lord Voldemort.

Hermione sighed now and cast a quick tempus to check how many minutes were left in class. Binns hadn't changed at all in fifty years, and he still droned on about the Goblin Wars, making the class seem twice as long as it should be. She shifted in her chair, struggling to pay attention to the material with everything else on her mind. Thank Merlin lunch was next. She wanted nothing more than to grab a quick bite to eat in the Great Hall and then look for Gus to apologise. She'd only known him a few days, but he was her only friend in this time. Her guilt was eating at her.

The bell rang and she sprang from her seat, her quill and parchment already stored in the bag at her hip. She rushed to the Great Hall, entering only to exit a mere moment later with an apple and sandwich wrapped in a napkin to take with her as she searched the castle.

She finally found him in an abandoned classroom on the third floor. He was sitting at the professor's desk in the front of the room, books and parchment spread across its dusty surface.

"Hey."

He looked up from his studying, staring at her a moment before he said anything.

"Hey."

Hermione walked into the room and pulled a student desk closer to where Gus sat. She gingerly perched on top of it and took a deep breath.

"I looked for you last night. You weren't in any classes or the library, and I couldn't find you."

"Oh really?" He asked. His voice was hard, but his face was hidden from her view behind his book, and she couldn't accurately gauge his mood. "Could have fooled me. I saw you, you know, even though you apparently didn't see me. You didn't seem to be looking for me too hard."

"What! When?" Her legs stopped swinging, and she straightened her spine, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"In the library. You were sitting at that table you prefer—the one where you can watch him. I may not be magical, but I'm not an idiot, you know. I know Squibs aren't really popular amongst witches. I know they usually prefer powerful wizards. And Riddle is that—powerful." Gus raised his head and stared directly at her, causing her heart to flutter in her chest. "Be careful there. He may be powerful, but he's not...light."

Hermione didn't know what to say. She wanted to tell him everything, all her reasons for following and watching Riddle, but she was bound by the fear of changing the future she came from. But she had to tell him something.

"You're wrong, you know. I may have been watching him, but I'm not interested in him. I don't want to—" she shuddered at the memory of those creepy dead eyes "—date him. Merlin, no!"

"Good," Gus replied, his voice unusually harsh. "There's something odd about him. Something I can't put my finger on. I've caught him around the castle. Never doing anything wrong, but just acting strangely. By himself staring at blank walls in deserted corridors, inside the trophy room while everyone else was at dinner. He's up to something."

She slid off the desk and walked around to the side of the larger desk where Gus sat. She stood behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder, the warmth from his skin soaking through his cotton shirt and into her frigid fingertips.

*And I want to apologise. I don't care that you can't perform magic! My parents are Muggles—magic is amazing, but it's not everything. There's plenty of life to experience and enjoy outside of it. I'm sorry I ran and gave you the wrong impression."

"Why did you then? Run?" he asked, looking anywhere but at her. At least he hadn't shrugged off her hand.

"When Caretaker Pringle came in… he—said your name. And until that moment I hadn't known your last name. And I recognised it. From my ti—home. I thought that maybe you were the same person I knew from before. But you're not, are you? He was nasty and mean and—and you're nothing like him. I'm sorry."

Gus slowly turned in his chair to face Hermione. He reached up for her hand on his shoulder and held it for a moment, frowning down at it. She sighed at the contact. So warm.

"Are you alright?" he asked instead of responding to her apology. "Your skin is like ice. And you look tired."

Hermione knew the dark circles under her eyes were doing her no favours. She'd been so stressed with trying to figure out the last Horcrux. On top of that she'd been so worried she'd offended Gus. She'd been called Mudblood so many times, she knew what it felt like to be looked down upon. She didn't want him to think his magical status had any bearing at all on their friendship. Plus, the Ravenclaw tower, while beautiful and airy, just didn't have the same cozy warmth and crackling fireplaces Gryffindor boasted. It all combined to make her a swirling mess of anxiety at night. She was lucky to catch a full five hours of sleep.

She nodded. "I haven't been sleeping well. It's so cold up in the tower, and my warming charms aren't holding throughout the night."

Gus looked at her and brushed his thumb over her knuckles. "You need more blankets. It's always cold this time of year. The castle can be drafty. I sleep piled under blankets. It's the only way I can stay warm since I don't have the convenience of warming charms." He smiled, taking the edge off of his words. "You should ask the house elves for another blanket."

Hermione frowned. She hated the idea of asking the elves to do anything, but it was probably the only way she'd sleep throughout the night. He was right. "I will."

That night, after an afternoon full of classes and Tom Riddle watching her with narrowed eyes, Hermione finally stripped off her clothes and pulled her nightgown over her head. Merlin, she was ready to sleep. She pushed the bed coverings to the side and prepared to climb in, already bleary-eyed and half-asleep. Turning down the covers, she quickly pulled her hand back when, instead of the smooth cool fabric of her pillowcase, her fingers brushed something slightly scratchy. Suddenly more alert, she turned her head to the foreign object and spotted a black, heavy-knit woolen blanket folded on her pillow.

Gus.

She hadn't had time to request another pillow from the house-elves, so he must have done it for her. He truly was one of the most thoughtful people she'd ever met. She reached out and grabbed the blanket, holding it to her chest. She buried her face in it, attempting to soak in as much of its warmth as she could.

Freshly mown grass.

New parchment.

Spearmint toothpaste.

Furniture polish.

Gus hadn't asked the elves to provide her another blanket. He'd given her one of his own.

With a smile, Hermione wrapped the blanket around herself, basking in its comforting scent. Fully swaddled, she crawled into bed, charming the quilt to cover her and the blanket. She closed her eyes, and, for the first time since she had started sleeping in the Ravenclaw tower, she slept through the entire night.

Day 10

Hermione sighed and pulled her cloak more tightly around her torso. It was a dreary, drizzly cold morning, the kind that reminded you that winter wasn't quite finished yet. She hadn't wanted to get out of her warm bed, cocooned in the warmth of her Hogwarts issued coverlet and Gus's blanket as she was. She definitely hadn't wanted to walk all the way down to Hogsmeade when Gus was forced to stay at the castle and help Caretaker Pringle scrub the classrooms.

She had begrudgingly got out of bed and hissed as her bare feet touched the cold stone floor. She threw on whatever clothes were within easy reach, tied her hair up into a semblance of control, and, at the last minute, had grabbed the thick woolen blanket that had finally managed to stave off the chill of night. She shoved it into her worn beaded bag and then hid the bag at the bottom of her book satchel. If nothing else, the hunt for Horcruxes had taught her to always overpack. Just in case.

She was shivering now as she opened the heavy oak door to the Three Broomsticks, wishing she could wrap herself in Gus's blanket without drawing unwanted attention. Instead she cast another inadequate wandless warming charm and settled herself into a back booth.

Hermione had followed Riddle and his cronies into the pub and watched now as they ordered Butterbeer from the barmaid. She ordered her own drink and cradled its warmth between her palms. She desperately needed to learn something today. She'd been here a week and a half and had nothing to show for her time except the absolute knowledge that Tom Riddle was just as dangerous as a teenager as he was as the Dark Lord. Maybe more so. People expect evil from reptilian-looking dark wizards, but it was exceedingly unexpected when it came from a boyish face.

She'd been spending too much of her time with Gus, but she couldn't seem to make herself give up his company. He was great. She'd never met someone as eager for knowledge as she herself was. She had always considered herself scholastically minded, but she craved the dopamine rush that getting top grades gave her. Gus was self-motivated, doing the work without any positive feedback, relying on his own drive and determination. He not only sat in on all the Hogwarts classes he could, but he also bought Muggle books to expand his knowledge. He was fascinated by languages and had taught himself French and Italian. He was currently studying Arabic, inspired by the new archeological excavations at Tell Hassuna in modern day Mesopotamia.

He wanted to take his love of language and ancient runes and travel the world, studying and learning from historic sites. She couldn't help but be drawn to his enthusiasm and ambition for his future. He made her start to think about her own future, about the time when the war would finally be over and she could do whatever she wanted. The world would be her limit.

Hermione shook herself from her reverie, bringing her attention back to the wizards two tables away. The pub was so loud with all the students crowding in to get out of the cold that she couldn't hear anything. She stuck her arm in her satchel, rummaging around inside the beaded bag for the twins' Extendable Ears. She pulled them out triumphantly, smiling to herself before sticking one end in her ear and letting the other creep across the wooden floor.

The boys were laughing, sniggering at a joke Riddle seemed to have just said.

"And of course Old Sluggy had no idea I'd made the switch," he continued, leaning back in his chair, one hand clutching his mug of Butterbeer, the other flung out behind the chair next to him. His own chair was precariously balanced on the back two legs.

"He asked me, but obviously as Head Boy I would never lie to a Professor."

There was a mumble from someone else, his words obscured by the coughing of his neighbour, and Hermione's brow furrowed in irritation.

"...no, I hid it. Sluggy won't be able to ever find it and pin it on me. I've got a place on the seventh floor where I can keep things. No one is able to get in but me."

Riddle suddenly looked up, slamming the front two legs of his chair back to the floor. It seemed as though he was looking directly into her eyes, even as hidden as she was in the shadows.

"Come on, you lot," he said, still staring at where Hermione sat as still as she possibly could. "It's too crowded here. Let's go somewhere these plebians can't find us."

Hermione let out a breath, relieved to be done with Tom Riddle for the day. She didn't know how it was possible, but she was certain he had known she was watching him. Listening to him. She needed to be more careful. She couldn't allow her actions now to affect the future. That could be catastrophic.

As she made her way up the winding path back to Hogwarts, her mind dismissed plan after plan of once and for all discovering what Tom Riddle had done with the last Horcrux they had left to discover. Everything she came up with seemed slightly too dangerous. She needed to stop thinking like a Gryffindor and start using some Slytherin cunning.

A sound to the right of her pulled her from her thoughts, and she twirled around, war reflexes putting her wand in her hand before she had even realised she might need it. She pointed it at the large bush beside the lane, holding it steady. "Who's there?" Her voice shook a little. "Stop hiding and show yourself!"

When her demand went unanswered, she crept closer to the vegetation, and saw the leaves rustle as though someone—or something—was crawling beneath them. She inched closer, her hand extended to grasp one of the trembling branches. She jerked back in surprise as a small, silver-grey kitten tumbled from the leaves.

"Oh, you poor thing!"

She replaced her wand in her cloak pocket and reached down to scoop up the shivering ball of fur. It was much too cold to be out here on its own, but she knew she couldn't keep it. She'd be gone in just days and a kitten would need someone to care for it long term. She bit her lips, debating her options. If Hagrid were here, he'd be the perfect candidate, but he was probably at home somewhere after already being expelled from Hogwarts.

She didn't know Professor Grubbly-Plank that well, and she was trying to avoid any unnecessary contact with anyone else she might know from the future. The kitten wouldn't stop shivering in her arms. She pulled Gus's warm wool blanket from her bag and wrapped the kitten up in it, holding the bundle against her chest. She inhaled the blanket's comforting scent—it really was comprised of her favourite fragrances in the world.

Wait a minute. Gus could take the cat! After all, he had Mrs Norris during her time at school. He must be a cat person!

Problem solved. She increased her pace, anxious to get inside the warmth of the castle and find him. Squib or not, he was becoming one of her really good friends.

Day 11

Hermione sat with Gus on the banks of the Great Lake, their bodies protected from the chill of the morning dew by the black wool blanket she had pulled out of her bag and spread out beneath them. The as yet unnamed cat rolled in a patch of sun in front of them.

"Sunny."

"I cannot have a cat named something as cheerful as Sunny."

"Chester. Boris." At each shake of his head Hermione offered up another name, determined to have him name the kitten something other than Cat. She poked him in his side with her index finger, annoyed he was dismissing all her suggestions.

Gus grabbed her hand before she could poke him again and held it between his own, running his thumbs lightly over her knuckles. The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile, but he didn't say anything.

"What about Draco?" Hermione threw it out there, finally having exhausted all other ideas.

His thumbs on her skin stilled, and he stared at the kitten, now playful stalking an insect as it crawled across their blanket.

"Dragon. Fierce loyal. I like it."

Hermione could only stare, mouth agape as Gus turned his smile towards her. She hadn't truly been serious, but now it seemed as though the kitten finally had a name. Draco. She started giggling, her free hand slapping over her mouth.

Her giggles became guffaws. The ridiculousness of her current situation, the stress of the last seven years, the anxiety of fulfilling her mission, the fear of war—all of it rushed out in a hysterical outburst that she could not for the life of her stop.

Minutes later, when her laughter slowed and turned into hiccups, she rested her head against Gus's shoulder, snuggling into his body heat as she would have done Harry or Ron. He had sat there throughout her entire outburst, watching her without speaking and just simply lending her his presence and a hand for her to hold, as though he knew her laughter went deeper than mere amusement over a cat's name.

These were the moments Hermione felt most at home here. She knew she had work to do— work that was important to the future—to her future—but she couldn't stop herself from wanting to relax and pretend as though the real world problems in her own lifetime didn't exist.

When she was with Gus, she felt as though the weight of her worries was lifted off her shoulders. She could just be herself with him, more so than any other person in her life. Harry and Ron were her best friends, and she would love them forever, but she was always the responsible one, the person who got them out of trouble.

With Gus, she was just Hermione. She could be smart and study just because she liked to, not because it was necessary for survival. Even though he lacked magic, she could discuss charms theory and potions with him, or work on translating ancient runes. With him she felt at home in the magical world in a way she never had before.

She wanted to tell him everything. Tell him about the war and Voldemort. Tell him about how she came back in time to stalk Tom Riddle. Tell him about how in her time, he was a cantankerous old man with seemingly no joy in his life. Tell him how she desperately wanted to prevent that future for him. Tell him that she was leaving in three days.

Three more days.

She needed to get up. She should stand up and say goodbye to Gus and find Riddle. She could almost feel the pressure of time in her blood, a clock ticking with every beat of her heart. She couldn't let the boys—the world down. She knew this.

Instead she wrapped her free hand around Gus's bicep, burrowing closer into his side as something like desperation began to build in her stomach. She didn't know why she was growing so attached to this person from her past. Maybe because she so desperately wanted him to stay this sweet and considerate forever. Maybe because he was all alone in the world, just as she was.

He would be even more alone after she left.

She'd give them five more minutes.

Five more minutes.