Hermione and Abraxas slipped into an unoccupied carriage, but their solitude was quickly interrupted by the arrival of another couple: Doreus and Charlus.
"Abraxas, mate," Charlus greeted him enthusiastically. "Hermione, good to see you."
"Hello, Charlus, Dorea," Hermione nodded to both of them and surveyed the three of them with a curious look. What was the relationship between these three? Dorea nodded curtly at Hermione before glancing at Abraxas with a conspiratorial smile and an eyebrow raise.
Abraxas greeted the two of them, smiling at Dorea. The two were clearly close, and reminded Hermione with a pang of her and Harry. "How do you all know each other?" Hermione asked to keep the conversation flowing.
Abraxas responded first. "Dorea and I are childhood friends, and I know Charlus through her." Dorea rolled her eyes at that description. Charlus and Abraxas spent the rest of the short carriage ride discussing Quidditch. Hermione didn't participate, and Dorea gave up on the conversation entirely, staring firmly out the window.
As the carriages pulled up to the village of Hogsmeade, Hermione noticed it bore only a superficial resemblance to the one she had known. The buildings were all the same, but the lettering on the shopfronts were much more old-fashioned, making her realize with a pang how modernized Hogsmeade was in her time, despite the fact that it always felt like such an old, classic village.
Charlus and Dorea left the carriage quickly, with Charlus waving behind him before being practically dragged out by his girlfriend. Abraxas stepped out of the carriage ahead of Hermione, extending a hand to help her out. "Ms. Prewett," Hermione rolled her eyes at his teasing use of her supposed surname. "Where to?"
"Well…" Hermione hesitated. "I've never been here before, so I suppose you will have to lead the way." She told her half-lie easily, and received an enthusiastic smile in response that only made Hermione more nervous.
"First, I think, the bookshop." Hermione was surprised by the suggestion, and shot Abraxas a look to that effect. "I'm not blind. You seem to spend all of your time reading."
He held her hand as he led her to a bookshop just a few storefronts down from where they had gotten out of the carriage. Hermione noticed with delight- and a loud stomach growl- there was still Honeydukes! The window display looked as delectable as she remembered. "We definitely need to go there later," Hermione couldn't help but comment.
Abraxas smiled and squeezed her hand. "Didn't expect a sweet tooth from you. I would say 'sweets for the sweet,' but I don't think that applies in this case."
Hermione put on a mock-affronted expression before replying, "Lovely. And yes, I do have a sweet tooth. I suppose it comes from-" She had been about to continue to comment on how having dentist parents makes you appreciate candy, but stopped herself in time. Hermione realized she was too at ease with this slippery Slytherin.
"Comes from?" Abraxas questioned. They were in front of the bookshop now. The store window had peeling black lettering that said simply "Hogsmeade Bookshop."
"Creative title," Hermione commented dryly.
Abraxas rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. "Don't pretend you're not excited to peruse all of these books." Hermione responded by bounding into the shop. Its interior with as uninterested in decor as its exterior; there were several shelves, but at one point, the owner seemed to have given up, stacking books from floor to ceiling. The sheer volume of texts was overwhelming.
Hermione walked the perimeter of the shop to start, ascertaining the organizational structure. The books seemed to be loosely grouped into categories, with approximate alphabetization ("E" came before "X," but not necessarily before "F"). Hermione's breath caught in her throat when she realized that, although completely indistinguishable and marked off in no way, there was a Dark Arts section. A serious Dark Arts section that made Magick Moste Evile look like a book of children's stories. She heard footsteps behind her and quickly ducked into the Herbology section. It was Abraxas.
"Find what you were looking for?"
"Are you serious? We've only been in here, what, twenty minutes?"
Abraxas sighed. "Alright, alright." He turned to go.
"Wait, why don't you… go into the Quidditch shop I saw on the way here? I'll be here a while." Hermione emphasized "a while," but didn't add her real reason for getting rid of him: I'd like some time alone with the Dark Arts section, please.
Abraxas looked uncomfortable at the suggestion. "Well… if you're sure. I don't mind-"
"No, you go," Hermione insisted, smiling to appease him. "We can have more fun later."
"Well, then. I'll meet you back here in about half an hour or so." Abraxas smirked at her and graciously left the store.
Hermione was increasingly amazed as she examined the texts in the corner of the store: Ancient Soule Magick, Darkest Arts: 1000-1500, and Tracing the Deathstick: Folklore or Fact?. It was a long shot, but one of these texts might assist her in finding Riddle's Horcruxes easier. And she would take any increase in odds. She soon became glad she didn't bring all of her galleons with her, or she would be at risk of spending them all. She ended up purchasing seven texts on Horcruxes, not bothering with books about the Deathly Hallows. She knew enough about them, and in fact knew where all of them were in this time period: the cloak would be with Charlus, the wand with Grindewald, and Riddle unwittingly had the stone on his finger.
Two hours and many bars of chocolate later, Hermione and Abraxas ended up at the Three Broomsticks. Hermione was pleased to see that the place looked the same as ever; one attractive barmaid had merely replaced the other. Hermione watched in amusement as the new- or old?- waitress eyed Abraxas like a piece of meat and smiled widely.
"Abraxas." She stated his name not as an acknowledgement, but an invitation.
A blush crept up Abraxas's sun-kissed skin. A strange look on a Malfoy, Hermione thought, holding back her smile.
"Madam Ward, two butterbeers if you please." Despite his blush, his voice came out silky and controlled. Hermione was mildly annoyed that he hadn't asked her what she wanted to drink, but considering Butterbeer was the standard, she accepted it silently. Somehow, the teasing that she would have given him just moments ago would have been out of place here. From the moment they walked in, Abraxas's demeanor had changed, as though he were steeling himself for a purpose. After Madam Ward gave both of them their butterbeers, Abraxas led her to the table in the farthest corner of the room. She sat down gingerly. What was this about?
Abraxas began stroking her arm with his index finger, which made Hermione feel distinctly uncomfortable. Despite his lazy demeanor, there was a determination in the tension of his brow that had Hermione feeling more like she was in a battle than on a date. Abraxas kissed her lightly on the neck and looked up at her. "I want to know everything about you," he whispered as he ran his hands through her hair- or tried. Despite her beauty charms, his fingers were quickly trapped and he resorted instead to returning to holding her hand that was draped on her lap.
"What is there to know?" Hermione's voice came out breathless, and she tried her best to make her face look as blank and clueless as possible. If you're going to treat me like I'm some dumb little girl, I can play that part.
"I want to hear all about your life before Hogwarts. You're quite the mystery, Hermione." His words set off a small panic in Hermione, and she let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding. How could she not have realized earlier that this was date was planned by Riddle? It was his look in the Great Hall that had thrown her off; Riddle seemed so angry at Abraxas asking her out. He must have known that his anger would spur her to go. But how? She had underestimated him. He was not losing control; he was playing her. And she would have to be more careful.
"Hermione?" Abraxas's voice came just to the left of her and she realized he had closed the small distance between them while she had been thinking.
"You're distracting me, Abraxas," she teased. You and Riddle, she thought grimly. "It's so hard for me to talk about with my parents, but- you know I went to Beauxbatons. It was so lovely there. I miss it sometimes, but the castle is wonderful in its own way."
"I'm glad Hogwarts is starting to feel like home for you." His voice was quiet, and his pace was slow. He was thinking, too. He peppered sweet kisses on her neck and then her cheek. Hermione reminded herself that it was so that he could buy time. "But- how did your family get mixed up with Grindewald? That must have been terrible for you." And there it was.
"Abraxas," she laced his name with honey, and tried to keep her voice light and teasing. Keep it light, and stall- how to stall? And then Hermione remembered something important: this was not a Death Eater in front of her. He was just a teenage boy. "I don't want to talk about Grindewald right now," Hermione grabbed his platinum blond hair and pulled him closer, engulfing him in a deep kiss. She registered the look of surprise in his midnight blue eyes before she closed her eyes and flicked her tongue against his. He let out a small moan and responded. Before long, his hands found her waist, pulling her close. She held his hair tightly and tried not to think too much about what she was doing. But the kiss was… weird. That was the truly the best word for it. His lips were so familiar, and even the way he held her reminded her of Draco, but there were all of these little things that were off. His kiss had more tongue, he tasted of cherries and spearmint instead of the peppermint she was used to, and… she didn't feel comfortable. She knew she was just buying time until she had to continue on with an interrogation.
The way she saw it, there were three options: give away nothing, give away everything, or find a convincing lie. The first option was unworkable; it was now clear to Hermione that Abraxas had been sent after her as Riddle's lap dog to obtain information. If she refused, she would have to deal with Riddle's questioning, and that would definitely be worse. She didn't know if he knew Legilimency yet, but the odds were stacked against her. He was seventeen, yes, but he was also probably the greatest Legilimens in history. She wouldn't take her chances there. Telling everything would be unwise for obvious reasons.
That left coming up with a convincing lie. It was probably better to lie to Abraxas than to Riddle; Abraxas would have an easier time believing her. If Riddle was excellent at Legilimency, he would view her interaction with Abraxas, but he still wouldn't be able to search her feelings in the same way he would if she told him a fake story in person. And if he were that suspicious, and came after her anyway, she would just be delaying with her current plan, which wouldn't be a bad thing. That left the question of what story to feed Abraxas.
And then it hit her like an answer to a riddle (or a Riddle, she supposed). What was the worst thing in the world to a society of pureblood supremacists? A Muggle-born witch. And what could be better than lying with the truth? It could even fend off half-baked Legilimency if it came to that. So, when Abraxas let her up for air and resumed his questioning (which was almost immediately), she responded with: "To be honest, Abraxas, my family was targeted because I'm a Muggle-born."
Abraxas's reaction was swift but violent: he looked as if he were about to be ill, but the lapse was momentary.
"But your last name is Prewett."
Hermione shrugged. "I'm not really a Prewett." She stroked his arm, enjoying his distaste. How does it feel, Abraxas, to have a Mudblood touch you?, she thought viciously. "Of course, this will be our little secret? I would be in a lot of danger if anyone found out." She fluttered her eyelashes up at him.
"Of course, darling." He laid off his questions for the rest of the day, seemingly as satisfied with her admission as he was disturbed. The day ended with their carriage ride back to the castle, where she learned he apparently wasn't done with her.
"Slughorn's party Friday?" Hermione had to use a considerable amount of effort to hide her grimace; there was no chance at making it into a smile.
"Friday sounds wonderful."
After she got back from Hogsmeade, Hermione made a beeline for her room. Riddle was there, perched on the armchair like a vulture waiting for her. But she didn't have the energy.
Hermione yawned hugely and said "goodnight, Riddle," in her best tired voice, disappearing behind her room without gauging his reaction. Hermione immediately collapsed into a heap on the other side of the door.
Sitting there in the the Three Broomsticks, it had been so easy to let her survival instincts take over. But now she couldn't help but feel a bit defeated. Her bottom lip was slightly swollen and her mouth felt like fire from the flavor of spearmint. The flash of disgust in Abraxas's eyes- his seconds of honesty- killed her. But why should it? They were both just playing along, pawns in Riddle's game. And if she had to admit to herself, that was the part that hurt the worst. She thought that she could really get under Voldemort's skin, that she was having some impact. But somehow he knew exactly how she would react to his murderous expression in the Great Hall. How? Had he been reading her mind or just her emotions? Hermione had never felt so on display. Planning for round two would have to wait; for now, she let the hot tears cascade. Her first cry in ages, she noted, that wasn't about Draco.