Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Series and its extensive franchise belong exclusively to J. K. Rowling and all the parties that she happened to allow copyright. I own none of the characters, nor the settings, nor some of the quotes from the fifth book. I'm just playing around a bit with her characters within her HP world.

A/N: Apologies, everyone, for updating so late. Tom's POV was a pain, though, and I'm still not quite certain I'm doing him enough justice.
Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

Tom Riddle decided that he was a good kid, in spite of Hermione's occasional grumbles otherwise. He handled his first debut into society well, he did not torture any animals, he talked to snakes only twice, he refrained from bullying other kids (too much), he even dutifully screamed 'rape' at random strangers who reached for him. By all standards, he should received a medal for a job well-done.

At the tender age of three and a half, even Tom Marvolo Riddle had to admit that he had a pretty good life.

His caretakers -family, he remembered Sirius forcing him to refer to them as such - were accommodating. Sirius, though relatively absent, always made certain to 'educate' him on the complicated world outside in great details. He still didn't understand everything the man had told him, nor was he certain of the meanings to these so-called lessons. He had an inkling now, though, now that even Hermione had started telling him nasty fairy tales wherein most villains or side characters with tragic ends somehow had a variation of his name (Tom, Thomas, Tommy, Tom-tom - what in the bloody hells?) in that awkward way of hers. Hermione was... His vocabulary was still too limited for him to think of an accurate way to describe her. But Hermione was...strange, to him. She was like a fixture in his small world. She was always there, taking care of even the smallest tasks relating to him, bathing, feeding, putting him to sleep, reading to him, teaching him how to limit his hyperactive accidental magic (her words, not his, because he knew for a certain that none of those were unintentional; but he humored her, that overly serious "sister" of his). She was...not unkind, even motherly at some points, and as protective of him as a mother hen whenever situations between him and the neighbors arose (and because Tom had an outstanding sense of humour, those arose quite often). At the same time, Tom could feel that she was...distant, sometimes. He would do some random things (conversing with snakes, staring at the neighbor's loud dogs with disgust, shifting through her tattered journal, etc.) at random moments, and she would pause and stare at him with a strange glint in her eyes. It wasn't necessarily a hostile glint, but it was not a loving gaze, either, and at some points, it would almost look as if she was on the verge of tears (which was ridiculous, she was the one who told him that anyone above two year-old that still cry in front of other people were established nuisance to the general public). Tom didn't want to admit it, but she made him nervous when that glint was in her eyes. Still, all things considered, Hermione was an acceptable guardian, and he got used to her enough that he couldn't imagine a time when she would not be by his side.

His magic was incredible, strong (he felt strong, though both his guardians made sure to never discuss it in front of him, he caught the word 'phenomenal' one day when eavesdropping on them) and effective. The neighbors had magic, too, he had caught them going at it. It was nothing compared to his and Hermione's and Sirius's, though. Maybe that was why they requested him to never perform anything outside of the house. He found it uncalled for, seeing as none in his house had ever associated with these inferior people in the first place. Who cared what they think if his random burst of magic could make holes in the earth and shatter their stupid windows to smithereens? He could talk to snakes (even his guardians couldn't), he could make things move in accordance to his will, he could force living beings into doing what he wanted (though Hermione hated it and her explanation made the entire experience disgusting), he could even create the occasional unnatural disasters with the barest shifts of his moods. Wonderful, indeed.

Tom had also never needed or wanted for anything. He did not understand hunger, did not registered pain, nor suffered any lack of conveniences in his three years of life. And so, the moment he was old enough to start contemplating the thing people called 'life', he had to conclude that in comparison to those in the books and the newspaper his guardians read to him, his was an excellent life.

Nevertheless, something was lacking.

Something important.

"Let's all join the Black's soirée in the next few months." Said Sirius, almost conversationally, while cutting a piece of burned beef (that was an improvement still, Tom noticed, Hermione was an appalling cook) and putting it into his mouth.

Tom used the moment to discreetly do away with the strange-smelling fish chowder Hermione put in front of him fifteen minutes ago.

She caught him, though, and stopped him in his track with a mild glare but burned at a near second-degree. Tom gave an innocent blink, straightened his back and braced for another mouthful of the food, still paying partial attention to the adults' conversation.

"The Black dinner? The one flocked with purebloods and sycophants?" Hermione turned her attention back to Sirius, eyes narrowing.

The man swallowed quickly and gave her a bright smile. (Tom felt the hair at the back of his neck stood on ends at that, nothing good ever came about when Sirius bore that expression on his face.)

"Yes. That one, love. They want us there. You, me, and little Tom."

Tom perked up at that. Was he finally meeting new people? Hermione stopped chewing and stared at Sirius (her first-degree burn stare, how unfair, why was fish chowder ranked higher than the Black's dinner again?)

Again, he took the chance to discreetly vanish his fish chowder bits by bits before Hermione could notice it.

She asked, a bit miffed but somehow worried now:

"Tom? Why would they want to meet Tom? Why would they even want to meet me? They have never wanted to before!"

Sirius shrugged, shoving another piece of meat into his mouth:

"Their excuses are extensive this time. They want to meet the kid I adopted, even if that kid isn't taking the Black name. That," He swallowed, somehow more heavily than necessary, "and they want you to meet...er...prospective young men."

Tom didn't know which piece of information was more astounding to Hermione, but her fork fell and her knife was gripped really hard in her hand. Tom forgot his fish chowder and asked, voice too loud in the oppressive silence of the aftermath:

"What's 'prospective young men'? And why don't I have the same last name as yours?"

Sirius seemed almost relieved to turn his attention to Tom:

"It means young men the Blacks found suitable to be in-laws, suitable to marry Hermione, in other words. As for your last name, Blacks don't register adopted children into their family tree, so I, we, have to let you keep your own last name."

Tom put down his spoon grumpily:

"I don't like my last name."

Sirius shrugged again, not really apologetic:

"I don't like mine, either. But we are what we are. Pretending otherwise is pointless, and cowardly."

Tom was on the verge of arguing back, before something else he said registered in his mind.

"... Marry? What marry? Hermione is getting married? Why? Is she leaving us?" He was full on alarmed now. It was all well and good cheesy princes and incompetent princesses got married left and right. They were weird, more than a bit useless, and had nothing to do with Tom. But Hermione was not the same! Hermione was... Tom could not accept that she would leave him for any reason! Prospective young men or no. Anger rose unbiddenly and Tom suddenly had the urge to grind those so-called prospective young men to the ground. They could not take Hermione away if they were ten feet under.

The table started to shake.

"Tom!" Hermione was looking at him now, worry and warning etched on her face. If she got married, he would never be on the receiving end of such worry again. He would also never be forced to eat yucky food again, a tiny voice squeaked inside his head, never be subjected to boring fairytale time, never be berated for playing too hard with animals, never be separated from his snakes after a few hours per day, never had to go to sleep at nine, never had to feel dependent again, never... Even the light was flickering now, and Tom felt his heartbeats quickened. Never would he be tucked into bed with that throaty off-toned lullaby again, never would he have his hair combed with such gentleness, never would he be defended against the neighbors, never would he receive the occasional hugs when it was late and the silence of the night became too much for the both of them, never...

"Tom!" It was Sirius now, his voice harsh and his wand forced the air out of Tom's lungs.

For a horrible moment, Tom was chocking and grasping for air. Hermione rushed to him, hugged him close and screamed something at Sirius. Tom couldn't catch it, it hurt too much for that.

Then the pain stopped. Eyes closed tight, Tom drove further into Hermione's embrace and grasped desperately for air. Hermione was still saying something to Sirius, her voice angry and her arms tightened around Tom. Sirius was saying something back, calmer and more collected than anyone could have imagine. Tom caught the end of it, though:

"...calm him down. Hermione, look. The ground is not shaking anymore."

And it really wasn't. The light was no longer flickering, either.

Tom sneaked a glance at Sirius through the gap of Hermione's embrace. The man's grey eyes (which should be familiar to Tom) met Tom's calmly and expressionlessly. Very expressionlessly. Tom had to refrain from flinching.

He had never tried his tricks on either Sirius or Hermione, but at that particular moment, Tom had a feeling that if he ever did, Sirius would make sure that to be the very last thing he ever did in life.

Tom felt a varying levels of disgust at himself for even thinking such things, but truly, after that hectic dinner, he had developed a healthy amount of fear for Sirius. Which shouldn't be possible, seeing as he was powerful enough that even Sirius had to call 'phenomenal' at one point or the other. But he was also only three and a half years old, speaking in full but mostly halting sentences, running about but falling quite a lot, never wetting his bed but coming scarily close a few times. In other words, he was no match for the older man as of yet.

He intended to correct the fact as soon as possible, though.

"Training?" Hermione gave him a semi-confused, semi-suspicious look, "What brought this about?"

"I can't?" He asked, tilting his head in the way that she was so weak against.

Not this time, though, as Hermione only sighed and turned back to her book.

"Not in magic, no. You are too young for that." She grumbled under her breath, "And I'm not qualified enough to teach you anyhow, unfinished secondary education and all." She spoke the last part in a very small voice, but he could still catch the mounting discontent in it.

"But I want..." He started again, feeling impatient now.

She closed her book with a snap, then turned her full attention to him:

"Then again, there is something you can be trained in right now. Important things, as well." Picking him up (trying not to drop him all the way - really, he wasn't that heavy), she put him in the seat in front of her, smiling in a very disconcerting way, "In manners and social conduct, Tom. Let's turn you into a marvelous debutant and have the Blacks eat their own dirt."

Goosebumps were evident on his skin now. Merlin, why did he feel like this was a pandemonium in the making?

Despite all the long-winded and terrifying hedging, in the end, Hermione's special lessons in manners and social conducts could be summed up in only a few phrases: No torture. No bully. No unnatural disaster. Scream 'rape' when strangers approach.

Tom felt that he would do exceptionally, but Hermione had many doubts on that count, and kept making him practice by bringing him to the parks in the nearest towns. His first park debut was a disaster, proving her points, with him bringing half of the kids into tears, driving animals into a frenzy (all his new snake friends wanted to drop in and say 'hi'), generating unnatural winds that blow off all the berries on the rowan trees within the vicinity (on the balding head of the major who happened to bring his daughter there on a whim), and creating widespread social panic when hollowing 'rape' at the major for trying to reach for him to talk about said berries and snakes. Hermione's concise conclusion was "Well, at least you didn't kill anything." His second was better, though not by much, seeing as he accidentally turned one of the playmates into a tree (half a tree, his legs became roots but his upper body was fine, kind of) when the stupid sod stepped on one of his snake friend, incidentally let loose the horse nearby and had him trampling half of the pretty garden that a scowling middle-aged woman screeched at Tom to stay away from when he first arrived, but he did not scream 'rape' even once (though many people's admiring gaze at his cute look gave him the creeps). After that, Hermione had given him the stinkiest stink eyes of the century and his portion of scrambled eggs (which was half burned) that night was doubled. His third and last was the best, since he knew the rope by now and made certain that none of the kids he bullied could ever dare to show their fear, the animals were silenced at a regular basis and only homeless people got branded with 'rape' at the top of his lungs. He was all geared up and ready for the Blacks' dinner now, even Hermione had to admit so.

Hermione was a bloody liar. And he would have been tempted to set her pants on fire if not for the fact that he liked her too much for that (and the fact that she was wearing a calf-length skirt and setting that on fire would be uncultured of him). Such a liar. Nothing would have made him ready for the Blacks. For their overwhelming shamelessness and stupidity, that was.

"What was you thinking? Having a Mudblood breathing within the same vicinity of our precious children!" One Arcturus Black were stage-whispering at Sirius, gesturing rudely at Tom's general direction.

When they had just arrived, Tom was let loose on the ground with about a dozen other children, some with the signature black hair and grey eyes of the Blacks, and the other were a mixture of red head, blonde hair, or smattering brown nest, all with various degrees of disdain or overacted disgust for him. Normally, Tom would have taught them a gory lesson for that, but since he promised Hermione, and this was his grand debut, he refrained. As their disdain were of a quiet sort, Tom opted to ignore them entirely and strained his ears to listening in on the adults. He caught little, since apparently Blacks frowned upon airing dirty laundry for all to see, but he could still get full sentences every once in a while. This was one of them. Though Tom didn't really understand what 'Mudblood' meant, the way with which Arcturus Black spat the word out made it seem like an insult.

Debuts or no, Tom Riddle did not tolerate insult. And so the chandelier right above the old man's head started creaking.

"Your father told me to bring him. And whoever said he was one anyhow?"

Sirius's still hadn't noticed anything. Oh well, Tom would try to have the chandelier swing the other way when it fall, then. Sirius would only have a few shallow scars at worst. But Arcturus Black, Tom's nostrils flared and the creaking grew even louder, Arcturus Black needed to be splashed across the floor.

"I'm not talking about bringing him!" Said old man were gritting his teeth now, "I'm talking about the fact that he exists within our family in the first place! How many children did you have in the past for you to miss them so much you need a Mudblood as a replacement?"

Sirius bared his own teeth in a vicious snarl that startled Tom a bit (he had never seen that expression on him before).

"I told you to stop calling him that! And who do you think you are to question me like this?" Sirius advanced on Arcturus, making the older man gingerly retreated a step (Tom got mildly annoyed at Sirius by then. Did he not know how difficult it was to navigate the fall of a chandelier? What was it with all the moving about?), "This will be the last time you speak to me this way, boy. In this house, I don't answer to anyone but your father. Understood?"

Then, impossible enough, Sirius reached into the (magicked) inner pocket of his suit, took out a huge bag of Galleons, and smacked it across Arcturus Black's astounded face.

"For the house." Sirius said, before turning his back on the older man and walking out of the room.

Tom gawked at Sirius's retreating back and Acrturus's purple face, and forgot his chandelier entirely.

The silence treatment Tom had been receiving ended a few minutes after the last adults left the room. A long-faced, sickly boy with platinum blonde hair and a nose turned up so high it seemed as if he had a disease sauntered to the Tom, hands on hips and voice high pitching.

"My mother said you are a Mudblood." For someone only a year or two Tom's senior, he seemed awfully full of himself, "But I say you are a Muggle. An orphaned Muggle that leeched off of an addled-mind fossil."

A girl with straight black hair and a nose too big for her face rose unsteadily to her feet and stood behind this peacock boy, eyes gleaming in a vicious way as she inputted:

"Don't want you here! Out! Get out!"

Now this had become entertaining, Tom thought, slouching even further into the cushion he was sitting on, eyes darkening but face upturning in a cocksure challenge. None of his park debuts had had this kind of situation before.

Even Hermione would have to make leeway if they attacked first. He was almost anticipating it.

A red head girl his age was tugging at her dress nervously behind the audacious black hair girl, voice quivering:

"Do...on't. We were told...not...not to talk to him."

Ah, so this was a group bullying. Tom's fingers twitched a bit in anticipation. Go on, now. Do something stupid.

Even the older children, flocking together on the other side of the room, were looking on now. Those of Tom's age were crowded together behind the peacock boy, some with the same gleam as the big nose girl, one or two seemed terrified, but the majority of others were having that more or less confused look on their faces.

"Out!" The big nose kid screeched again, nose scrunching and eyes squinting. With how much she was resembling a swine right now, Tom thought that her parents should have worried more about her prospects in the future instead of teaching her how to ostracizse people with no relations whatsoever to her. He might have said just that, if not for the peacock boy's sudden grip on his collar:

"You will not stay within the same room as us. You will not breathe the same air as us. You will get out of here and find some corner to do whatever Muggle do on your own. And once the adults return, you will get back to that backwater 'father' and 'sister' of yours and tell them that you have had an excellent time here. Get it?"

From her place with the older kids, Dorea Black cleared her throats and cut him off in a warning tone:

"No calling Blacks names, Abraxas. Do what you want to the boy but let great uncle and cousin Lyra out of it."

The boy, Abraxas, turned to her with an ugly twist on his face, hands still tugging at Tom's collar:

"Please, Dorea. As if you all don't find those two the epitome of bullshit. My mother said that you Blacks only want to have the reputation of having successful Time Travellers in your family."

All the Blacks in the room had a thunderous expression on their faces (so that was what Sirius meant when he said Blacks don't air dirty laundry for all to see, even Tom nearly got fooled into thinking that they actually cared about Sirius and Hermione), but before another argument could break out, Tom got fed up and air was cut off from Abraxas's throat (he really should thank Sirius for the wonderful example). He did it casually but with such force that the other boy crumpled to the ground and started wheezing in pain. A beat of silence, then the room descended into panic. Big Nose screeched, Red Head squealed, the older children all started talking at once, and Tom shut the door, burned the bookshelves, and levitated all the books into vortexes that smacked everyone at least once across the face.

As their hysterics threatened to draw attention to the room, Tom stopped the books all at once and said, clearly and loudly:

"Silence." He narrowed his eyes at the fumbling for either wands or magical items from some of the older kids, and had the books smacked them until they dropped it, "I'm going to talk to Abraxas now, and whoever interrupts it, with screams or stupid attempts at pitiful magic (and it was pitiful, from what he had seen so far; besides, there were only two kids old enough to have wands here.)," He looked each and everyone in the eyes, smiling in that sweet way that had Hermione eating out of his palm, "I'm going to have the chandelier fall down on that person's head."

Dorea Black was pale in the face, looking back and forth at Tom and the books near her face:

"It can't be. You are too young!"

Tom had the books smacked her across the face, and gave her a Good Boy smile before stooping down to the wheezing heap that was Abraxas. The boy looked up at Tom with a mixture of defiance and fear. Tom assembles his expression into what Sirius had on his face the time he squeezed the air out of Tom's lungs. Abraxas's face lost it defiant touch immediately.

"I hate you." Tom said, conversationally, "I enjoy hurting you." His voice turned softer now, "It is up to you how frequent it is that I get to enjoy myself at your expense, no?"

Abraxas twitched, and Tom squeezed tighter. He started chocking. Tighter. And Abraxas nodded as vigorously as he could in that position. A moment of quiet enjoyment, then Abraxas gasped for air as Tom allowed him to breathe once more.

Ignoring him, Tom stood up, sat back down on his cushion, pried open a book and said while not looking at the other kids:

"We were having an amazing evening. The bookshelves burned because Big Nose accidentally set the candles on it, and all of you tried to save the books but wasn't very orderly when doing that. Is that right?"

No answer. Tom looked up at them, eyes narrowing:

"Is that right?"

Dorea nodded, against her will but was too perturbed to object. The older kids looked at each other and nodded as well. The younger children was still torn between horror and confusion, but scooting close to each other and tried to hold back their tears. Tom took pity on them by opening the door, dropping all the books and saying calmly:

"Alright. You all can cry now."

And so they did.

When the adults arrived, the younger children were bubbling in illegible terror, but each time a kid almost got close enough to nearly describe what had transpired, Dorea or one of the older kid would step in and deflected the questions. All was well, and Tom did his part just right by quietly and (somewhat) timidly rushed to Hermione's side, tugging at her skirt and peering at the fray of people from behind his lashes. Ever since they had arrived, both Sirius and Hermione had stared straight at Tom with varying degrees of knowing gleam in their eyes. Specifically, Sirius seemed torn between being pleased and getting all judgy on Tom, whereas Hermione took one look at the situation and gave Tom a look that promised a year worth of fish chowder. Neither of them said anything, though, same principle of laundry applied.

"Miss Black. Is your adopted brother alright?" A voice startled Tom out of his thoughts, as a well-dressed young man approached Hermione. He had dirty blonde hair and a smile so fake it could almost melt off his face. His eyes were too close together, and his nose looked awfully reminiscent of the opinionated girl from before.

From his place, Tom could see Hermione furrowed her brows and picked Tom up as an excuse not having to turn around to face the man.

"Mr. Nott." She said, colder and duller than Tom had ever heard from her, "I imagine that Tom is distressed. I need to take him elsewhere to calm him off."

As she moved to walk away, the Nott person grabbed her shoulder in a decidedly discourteous move:

"Apologies, lady. But I certainly do not see him being distressed in anyway." He came even closer and whispered low enough that Tom imagined only the three of them would hear, "And you know the expectations our families have. In your position, refusing me would be most unwise, lady."

He spoke the last word as if it was a mockery, and Tom could see Hermione going red from anger. Before she could let her rage exploded, Tom tugged at her hair ('Ouch! Tom!') and promptly set Nott's robe on fire.

Needless to say, there were much drama going on after that.

In the midst of shouting and accusing, Tom managed to bury himself in Hermione's arms to escape notice and be subjected to the additional pushiness that was Hermione's other suitors. Feeling a bit tired from all the setting things on fire and smacking people with books and breaking chandeliers, Tom decided to scream 'Rape' instead. The effect was just as spectacular as he had expected it to be.

All the Notts and Prewetts and Bulstrodes were shamed beyond redemption now, Sirius told them later on the way back, smirk in place and wand twiddled in his hands.

"And Hermione, what's with the long face? Do you not understand the magnitude of this soirée?" Sirius asked, taking Tom from her arms and swung the door open to enter their house.

"Magnitude?" Hermione was half crazed by then, hair crackling and teeth grinding, "Making fools out of us? Parading me like a piece of not very tasty meat? Insulting Tom in most horrible ways? Talking behind your back like you are a...! Father! What magnitude are you talking about?"

Sirius set Tom down on the sofa and taking off his robe, secret smile still in place:

"Don't get stuck on the details, love. You two being there meaning that the informal house arrest has come to an end."

Hermione gave him a blank look.

Sirius barked a laugh:

"Still haven't gotten it yet, love? We can rejoin society now! You can go take your N.E.W.T now! Heck, you can even go back to school anytime you wish!"

Silence. Then Hermione started screeching:

"Yes! Yes! Four bloody years! Yes!"

They were both laughing now, so boisterous it crept Tom out a bit. Hermione even had tears in her eyes.

"I'm two years late of my right N.E.W.T age, but no matter! Finally!"

Sirius picked her up and laughed:

"I can finally go on proper missions! No more bleeding supervisors!"

"Yes! Yes! Oh this is wonderful, father! No more experiments on you, either!"

The night would have ended on that note, happy and wondrous. But then Tom's souvenirs from the soirée just had to choose that exact moment to fell off from his pant pockets.

A few 'clack' sounds. Both Hermione and Sirius stopped and turn. And gawked at the things lying on the floor. And threw disbelieving looks at Tom.

Tom shrugged, somewhat sheepish:

"They were rude to me first."

Tiny teeth of various sizes laid on the floor, and Tom imagined how the adults from the soirée would feel coming back home and noticing that each of their kids was lacking two teeth.

He really didn't think that high society was ready for him just yet.