Tom watched the slow simmer of the potion as it turned from deep blue to electric orange in an instant, a clear indication that it was done. Tom bent down and smelled the strong scent of chocolate wafting from the mixture, reveling in his success. Happy birthday to me, he thought with a mixture of pride and bitterness. He quickly collected himself and the potion, walking through the winding hallways of the nearly empty castle until he reached the similarly empty common room.

Tom stroked the door of Hermione's room first with his bare hand, feeling the magic radiating off the door in waves. Then he poured the mixture onto his left hand, rubbing the liquid slowly into every crevice of his hand. Reaching forward, he slowly closed around the doorknob and turned; it gave in easily. Tentatively, Tom stepped over the threshold that separated the common room from Hermione's.

He cleaned off his hand and surveyed the room. On Hermione's nightstand was an unmoving picture of a short bushy-haired girl with huge teeth; it took him a moment to realize it was Hermione, and the two people standing on either side of her must have been her Muggle parents. Tom expected to feel some disappointment at this development; after all, he had been unsure until this moment that Hermione was truly Muggle-born, despite her reassurances. Although Tom knew he had exceptional gifts for ferreting out lies, he felt somewhat unsteady about that gift when he was with the witch. He didn't feel anything upon confirming this information, though, except a bare streak of pride, knowing that she must have overcome as much prejudice as he had when he started at Hogwarts with an unknown name and unknown face.

There were no other pictures in the room. There were no personal effects at all. It was as though Hermione was ready to leave the room at the drop of the hat, which, Tom thought bitterly, she did. Tom thoroughly searched the room, nearing frustration as the room continued to give up nothing. Finally, though, after several detection spells, Tom found something he hadn't even been looking for: a thick gold potion in a small bottle he recognized immediately. So I haven't found your secrets today, but I have found a bit of luck.

Tom tentatively surveyed the room again. There was nothing else to find; he had performed every detection spell he knew on every inch of the room, but all that was left was the photograph Hermione had left behind and a few books, none of which were rare or helpful.

Still, he didn't leave the room. He awkwardly reached out to Hermione's faded blue comforter, running his hands along it with a sigh. Maybe just for tonight, on his birthday… It didn't take much convincing. He spent the night curled up comfortably in Hermione's bed.

"Lyra, you look…" Hermione didn't quite finish her sentence. Lyra looked like royalty. There were no fish on her dress, and the navy blue fabric only emitted a slight shimmer when caught in the light. The dress was tight around Lyra's midsection before flaring out ever so slightly throughout its full length.

"Dull," Lyra finished.

"That's not exactly what I was going to say," Hermione replied with a laugh. "I feel rather dull next to you, in fact."

Lyra shrugged. "The gray works on you." Hermione and Lyra had shopped for a new dress the week before (for Hermione; Lyra's dress was already picked out by her sister-in-law). Again, Lyra had been surprisingly helpful on the dress front, helping her toward a dress that she would never pick but fell in love over the last few days. It was high-necked and very fitted, with a thick material. The back was mostly open, with three thick horizontal lines crossing over. The dress was the same steel gray as the dress robes Tom had worn to the Ball, but Hermione pretended not to notice and Lyra was either too much in her own world to register the similarity or had too much common sense to comment on it. Sometimes with Lyra it was difficult to tell which was the case.

Even though the dance was held at her house, Lyra insisted on being fashionably late, which Hermione understood as her family fussed over her when they arrived. Hermione mostly stuck to the sidelines as Lyra danced with Lestrange dance after dance, and other couples stuck together or rotated between old family friends. A feeling of nostalgia tugged at her chest and for once, Hermione would have really liked to dance, but her intended partner was nowhere to be found.

Sometime later, when Hermione was pouring herself yet another glass of punch, she felt a tap on the shoulder and spun around to come face to face with Avery. He was wearing midnight black robes with gold trim that was slightly too ornate for her taste, especially with the family crest adorning the left side of his chest. His usually wiry brown hair was softer than usual; it was a nice shade of chocolate brown, not quite as dark or wavy as Tom's. Average. "Prewett."

"Avery."

"Surprised to see you here." Hermione hummed in response, sipping her drink. She had no interest in conversing with one of Tom's followers.

"Care to dance?" She had no interest in that, either, but an excuse was lacking, so she placed her hand in Avery's outstretched one before he yanked her to the edge of the dancefloor and pulled her roughly into his arms.

"Really now, what are you doing here?" Avery whispered in her ear during their awkward dance.

"Why shouldn't I be here?" Hermione asked, keeping her voice even despite feeling that she had 'Mudblood' written on her forehead.

"I thought you'd be with Riddle." Ah. That makes much more sense. "You two seem fairly… inseparable."

"Yes, I suppose we do," Hermione said as evasively as possible. She doubted Tom had shared anything with them, and wanted to avoid the topic of conversation. If his followers sensed for a moment that he had refused to even say goodbye to her, her safety would be far from assured.

"And are you?"

"I'm sure Tom would love to know how nosy you are, Avery." Hermione mimicked Draco to try to sound as haughty as possible. Apparently she had been successful as the dance finished silently. Part of her felt silly for hiding behind Tom like a shield; she was a gifted witch, after all. But perhaps she had simply spent too much time around Slytherins to get into a fight needlessly. She knew she was brave; why prove it?

The rest of the dance was uneventful and Hermione ended up heading up the grand staircase earlier than she expected, though she doubted anyone would notice. Some days she felt that this entire adventure was a misstep; she loved spending time with Lyra, but the time away from Hogwarts hadn't been nearly as relaxing as she had anticipated. One thing it did, though, was strengthen her resolve when it came to Tom. When she got back, she was going to tell him everything, come what may. It may make things worse, but it might make them better. Considering how bleak it was when she left the future, it had to be worth a try. Tom had to be worth a try.

The Hogwarts Express left two weeks later, on the Saturday before classes resumed. By that time, Hermione was anxious to return to Hogwarts, missing Tom so much that it pained her. The stress of what he might say filled her stomach in a manner that left no room for actual food, so she didn't have anything but snacks throughout the day.

Hermione rushed to their shared common room when the train came in, but Tom wasn't there. "Tom!" No response. Hermione couldn't help but feel that he was avoiding her again, and could only hope that she could convince him to forgive her for leaving.

Just because she was unable to eat, though, doesn't mean that Tom was. She decided to camp out in the common room, hoping to catch him sometime in the next day and a half before class. Her plan was a success when the evasive wizard appeared at one o'clock Sunday afternoon.

Hermione was in the middle of reading one of her textbooks. Even though she had been waiting for Tom, she practically jumped when he came in, startled by the presence of another person. She quickly collected herself, though, and shot him a brief uncertain look before rushing to hug him, burying herself in his chest and squeezing him like he was a tube of paint that she was trying to get the last drop out of. Tom stood beneath her, unmoving. Finally, she let go and looked up into his eyes, likely her only hope of discerning what was going through his mind. Like the rest of him, though, they too were impassive. "Hi, Tom," she whispered nervously.

Tom reached up one of his long, pale hands and pulled out a wet piece of parchment from his shirt pocket, handing it to her unceremoniously. "I believe this belongs to you."

Hermione opened it tentatively. It was the note she had written to him. The letters had slightly run together, but there it was, her soul laid bare to him and returned to her without fanfare. It broke her resolve momentarily, but she quickly regained it. "I'm sorry about this."

"Don't be. I'm the one that got it wet."

"I meant for leaving."

"Ah," Tom responded with a slight nod although Hermione knew he had understood her meaning originally. "That. The break was very productive." The last word was pronounced slowly as though it were a warning.

"I did a lot of thinking."

"Oh?"

"I've been wanting to talk to you. I've called your name."

"I have sound proofing charms on my door. Your cat can be quite rambunctious, particularly with the scratching."

"It doesn't matter. I would still like to speak with you."

"I'm rather busy; can it wait?"

"No."

"Make it quick, then." Despite his attempt at nonchalance, Tom's slightly narrowed eyes and the two wrinkles that formed between his eyebrows gave her all the encouragement she needed. After all, she likely wouldn't get more than this.

Hermione didn't dance around the point. "I love you." Tom twitched, his shoulders convulsing slightly before he could regain his composure.

"That's unfortunate."

"Tom… I want to tell you everything." He opened his mouth to protest, but she didn't let him. "I know you're curious."

Tom laughed, a cruel laugh that she had never heard come out of his mouth, but sounded eerily familiar nonetheless. He walked toward her and she wanted to stand her ground, but she moved away from him almost by instinct, and he had her pinned to the wall within seconds without anything but a casual walk. "You were a curiosity, but weeks apart was more than enough to make me forget about your oddities. I'll deal with you after I've managed Legilimency. Until then, Granger." He disappeared outside the door while she remained against the wall of their common room, shaking like a leaf. She knew he used her last name to taunt her, to remind her that she had already given part of herself, but she still couldn't regret that. In fact, she was more determined than ever to get Tom Riddle back before he slipped further from her grasp.