Chapter 4: Legilimens
Hermione found herself hurtling through time and space, yet again, and when she finally found purchase on solid ground, she was also flung into another person. This time, instead of the small body of a boy, she was flung into the hard, lean body of a tall man. Hands steadied her and she blinked up at the person she had slammed into this time.
He had perfectly combed through hair, hard, handsome, and familiar features…and familiar dark and angry eyes.
A wand was at her throat in a second, and she was backed against a stone wall.
"You." He gasped. She swallowed.
"Not going to call me a Cumberworld again, I hope?" She questioned, trying to diffuse the situation. No luck; the wand didn't waver. "Tom-" she tried but he pressed the wand into her throat, effectively cutting her off.
"No. You don't get to speak unless you're answering my questions. Who are you, and why are you here?" He ground out between clenched teeth. He was really furious with her. She noticed his eyes scanning her, and his brow furrowed in confusion. She knew exactly what he was processing at that moment.
"You're a time traveler, aren't you?" He took in her clothing, and the way she hadn't seemed to age despite the fact that the last time he saw her was seven years ago.
"Tom, I really think we need to have a civil discussion." She insisted, still held at wand point. The pressure of his wand eased slightly, but the weight of his glare did not.
"Who are you?" he barked at her again. She flinched at his aggressive tone. Just then, an echo of voices traveled down the corridor and met both Hermione and Tom's ears. He growled and grabbed her elbow, keeping his wand pointed at her ribs and hidden by his cloak. "Speak, and you're dead." He warned and started walking towards the voices.
"One minute you want me to speak, and the next you don't-" she whispered, feeling the wand dig into her ribs painfully. Two girls, both in Hufflepuff robes, chatted and giggled quietly as they passed.
"Miss Hildreth, Miss Bonds." Tom nodded to them in greeting and flashed a charming smile. They responded with flirty smiles and waves and, as soon as they were out of sight, Hermione was once again pressed into a wall.
"This is really unnecessary Tom; I'm going to tell you everything." Only a slight lie, Hermione reasoned. "And, anyways, I need your help." She told him. He was not expecting this, and pulled back slightly. "Also, I hope you know how much it pains me to have to admit that." She finished. He eyed her silently for a full minute.
"I knew you were a witch." He said finally. She raised an eye brow.
"I wasn't sure if you'd remember that." She answered. He scoffed.
"Are you daft? Of course I remember a crazy, stalker woman pointing what I thought was a stick at me." He almost seemed to be joking with her, but a cool mask of indifference had slipped into place. His wand was still at her throat. Hermione's mouth was suddenly dry. She needed to tread very lightly; this was not the same Tom she had gotten to know. He was older, more powerful, and even colder. He was a murderer, a flawless liar, a powerful wizard, and immortal. Her heart beat was frantic now, and she felt the familiar chill of fear creep up her spine.
"Now, we're going to have a long chat then, Hermione. If that is your real name." he sniffed. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"It is."
"Willing to take veritaserum to prove it?" he challenged. Warning bells rang in her head; she could not speak to him while under the influence of veritaserum. There were absolutely things he could never know, especially at this age.
"Better," she said, licking her lips nervously. She missed the way Tom's eyes flashed down to the action. "I'm to understand you're becoming quite a powerful legilimens." His eye brows lifted in surprise.
"You would let me into your head?" he questioned, feeling giddy at the thought. She tried to steady her breathing.
"Yes." She said quietly. She was a decent at occlumency, and hoped she could control what he was seeing. It was better than veritaserum, at least.
"Right then, we-" but he was cut off at the loud growl of her stomach. He tilted his head slightly and her cheeks tinged pink.
"I haven't eaten since this morning at Wool's…er well I guess since, um, 1937." She smiled sheepishly. Tom paused to process.
"That's why you left." He said. She nodded.
"It wasn't exactly my choice." She told him. He eyed her for a long moment with his wand still at her throat, although, not painfully.
"Fine. Food first, then we talk." He said and withdrew the wand. "If you try anything, Hermione, I will not hesitate to hurt you." He told her. She analyzed his words. She knew he was capable of murder without batting an eyelash, so the fact that he didn't threaten to kill her meant that she was valuable. He wanted her information…badly. She still had some semblance of control then, at least…some way to possibly still get out of this timeline alive.
She gave him a nod, and he swiftly turned them, taking her elbow again. This time, he lead them towards the kitchens. After a few minutes walk they came across the familiar painting of fruit. Using his height, Tom had no trouble reaching up to tickle the pear. House elves eagerly greeted them at the door.
"Head Boy Riddle! An honor, of course." A house elf bowed before Tom and Hermione. "And you've brought a Miss! Tweed is so happy, what can Tweed get for young master and miss?"
"Anything you have is good, please." Hermione answered. Tweed looked up at her with large eyes.
"Such manners! Tweed will give young Miss his best!" and he raced off, followed closely by a group of house elves. Tom pulled Hermione over to a small, wooden table by a fire and took the seat opposite of her.
"Speak." He ordered. She, once again, resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"What atrocious manners, Tom." She chastised. He glared.
"I'm not a child anymore, Hermione," he spat her name. "You cannot torment me like you did in the past. I'm much stronger than you."
"Torment?!" Hermione nearly yelled. "Are you fucking with me, Riddle? I did not torment you! Even when you were being a little shite, I was nothing but kind to you." She argued back. His hands were clenched in fists on the table, knuckles white.
"You threatened me at wand point, stalked me-"
"For the last time, I was not stalking you." She interrupted.
"Oh, then what do you call this?" He questioned angrily.
"A terrible, twisted joke of some sort, really. It's not like I want to be here." She crossed her arms.
"Then why are you?!" He stood suddenly, wand drawn but not yet pointed at its target. Hermione rose from her chair swiftly.
"I have a feeling you know exactly why I'm here!" She screamed back. They both turned their heads at the sound of a throat clearing.
"Tweed does not mean to interrupt…but I's brings food." He said meekly. Several house elves watched from behind him; their arms full of bowls and plates.
Hermione takes a large breath before settling back in her chair and placing a napkin on her lap. Tom is still standing, frozen and fuming at her.
"Well, for Merlin's sake, eat and then we can continue our row. Godric." Hermione says, exasperated. Tom pinches the bridge of his nose as he sits, still glaring daggers. They eat in complete silence; Hermione gladly tasting every dish and loading her plate more than once. Tom picked around, doing more glaring than anything.
"That was delicious Tweed, thank you." Hermione patted her mouth and the house elf bowed again.
"Anything for young Master and Miss!" he repeated.
Hermione met Tom's still-angry gaze and didn't hold back her eye roll this time.
"Alright, let's talk then, Tom." She sighed, suddenly exhausted and homesick. He stood and stiffly offered his elbow, which she took begrudgingly. They walked from the kitchens and she couldn't quite tell where he was leading her, until they stopped in front of a painting of a forest scene. A unicorn trotted into view. Tom glanced at Hermione before speaking to the painting.
"Berdet's" he said lowly. Hermione pressed her lips together, stopping any comment that was sure to anger Tom further. They entered The Head's shared common room and then stopped in front of what must have been Tom's room. He hissed something in parselmouth very quietly and the door swung open. As Hermione stepped inside, she felt the ripple of wards bend around her. They were no simple, run-of-the-mill kind of wards. Not that she was surprised.
The room was not exactly the dark, broody cave she expected it to be. It was glowing from the light of the fire, and illuminated with silvery moonlight that streamed in through the open window. The large bed at the center of the room was draped with Slytherin-green silk sheets, and large, black drapes were cinched open around the bed. Books were stacked neatly on two bed-side tables. There was a large chest at the end of the bed, a few pairs of shoes lined up in the closet, and several robes hanging immaculately.
She was, again, not expecting his living space to be so…simple. Maybe he was just so used to living simply? She was literally shoved out of her thoughts when Tom gave her a slight push from behind.
"Enough gaping." He growled. Hermione caught herself on the edge of his bed, and whipped around, clearly pissed off.
"Do not shove me around Tom Morvolo Riddle." She bit back fiercely. "You don't get to manhandle me like you do everyone else." He raised a single eye brow at her use of his full name.
"And how is it that you know my middle name?" He questions, looking equally angry and intrigued. He would never admit it, but he rather liked seeing Hermione riled up; she was quite a sight with her flashing, angry eyes. A normal wizard would have been intimidated, most likely. Tom didn't know of her magical ability though, but knew it would be no where near his own skill. He was not intimidated easily.
Hermione sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed her temples and forehead with an exhausted sigh.
"You may want to sit, it's a rather long story." She told him. He crossed his arms.
"I'm fine standing." He said, and she rolled her eyes.
"Godric, you are so stubborn in every stage of your life. It's infuriating!" She groans. He ponders her words; every stage of his life? Was she to show up and run into him at every stage of his life then?
"So do you make it a habit of bumping into me at every stage, then?" he asks.
"I'll get there, relax." She says, and leans back on his bed realizing how tired she is. Tom would, again, never admit that he was rather transfixed by her lazed on his bed. She takes a deep breath before she continues. "My name is Hermione Jean Granger, I am 20 years old, and my birthday is September 19th…1979." She pauses, taking in his reaction. He stands, unmoving and waiting for her to continue.
"In my time, the wizarding world has…been in conflict for quite some time. Those conflicts were resolved two years ago, and it's been peaceful ever since. I work, well worked, at the ministry and someone left a package on my desk. It had my name on it and nothing else. When I opened it and touched what was inside, it lead me to ten-year-old you." She told him. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"That is ridiculously irresponsible, to touch something that you have no knowledge of where it came from-"
"Yes, I know that now, thank you." She snapped. The right corner of his mouth twitched and she knew he was repressing that 'know-it-all' grin that she was very familiar with.
"So the year was…1999, 2000?" He asked. Hermione nodded for the latter. "And now, tonight, you've come from 1937?" He clarified. She nodded again. He let out a breath and pulled his desk chair out to sink into.
"You are very far from home, Hermione." He said finally. She couldn't agree more. "Let me see." He says. She gulps. She really didn't want it to come down to this.
"Tom…whatever you see…there are things I absolutely cannot tell you. It will mess with time…and I can't be responsible for that." She said, finding no words that could quite sum up her thoughts. He nodded once and pulled his chair to sit in front of her. She took the extra second to clear her mind. She could do this. She opened her eyes when she felt strong, cool hands on either side of her face. His dark gaze pierced hers.
"Legilimens." He spoke softly but firmly. She felt him inside her head instantly and was forced to re-live the memories he saw, whether she liked them or not.
He saw the day she opened her Hogwarts letter, the sorting hat placing her in Gryffindor, the troll, Dumbledore, her being petrified by the basilik, Hagrid and Buckbeak, Sirius Black, being chased by Lupin, punching Draco Malfoy in the nose, Harry appearing out of the maze holding Cedric's body, dinner with the Weasley family in the Burrow, Delorus Umbridge smirking at her, sneaking into the ministry under polyjuice…all these memories he flashed by quickly. He paused at one though; the one she would rather not re-live.
She was on the floor of Malfoy Manner, her back was arched in pain and silent tears leaked from her eyes. Blood dripped from her mouth and blocked her throat. Thousands of hot knives stabbed at her body.
"Filthy little Mudblood, getting your rancid blood on such a lovely rug!" Bellatrix yelled at her. "Now, I shall ask once more: Where did you get the sword?" Hermione did not answer, again, and instead continued to wither under the crucio Bellatrix had been holding for what felt like days. "Maybe this will loosen your tongue," she cackled and knelt by Hermione's left side. She lifted the crucio only to begin carving Hermione's left forearm. She thrashed against the magic that pinned her to the floor, feeling each curve of the letters Bellatrix drew. "There!" she pronounced gleefully. "Now you'll never forget your place, you Mudblood whore." The crucio began again.
Hermione found purchase against Tom's chest and shoved him away from her, breaking their eye contact. She was panting, tears left tracks down her cheeks, and her left arm stung just as it had when the scar was new. She turned away from Tom's shocked expression as he sat in the chair. She lay panting on his bed, trying to catch her breath.
"Who did that to you?" he asked, voice low and dangerously smooth. Hermione couldn't answer him. She blinked away the last of her tears and realized she had unconsciously been clutching her covered left arm. Tom's eyes flashed down to it. "Hermione, who did that to you?" He asked again. She glared at him now, the fire returning to her eyes.
"You did, Tom." She answered finally. His eyes widened a fraction. "No, that's not right; Tom Riddle had nothing to do with it." She said, standing now. Now, she was towered over him as he sat in the chair. "Tom Riddle was a curious, smart, troubled little boy. He had no friends, no family, and no place to belong. But he did have a soul. This," she pulled the sleeve of her dress up to show the Mudblood scar. "was done by a snake so evil, people couldn't even say his name. A beast with a tiny fraction of a soul. A man so hungry for power, he destroyed himself and the wizarding world that he loved so much just to try and get it." She growled and grabbed his face again. This time, she whispered the words to get into his head, but instead pushed her memories into the forefront of his mind. He gasped as she harshly invaded his brain.
Draco Malfoy and his gang hurling slurs and threats at her as she walked through the halls of Hogwarts, Sirius Black falling through the vail, modifying her parent's memories to forget her and her entire existence, Harry clutching Dobby's limp body, watching Lavendar Brown being eaten alive by Fenrir Greyback, Lupin hurling himself in front of Tonks and hit by a blinding green light, the Weasley family gathered around Fred's lifeless body. All the pain that he had caused, Hermione threw back at Tom.
Then, she showed him Voldemort himself; pale and greenish skin that looked sickly and thin, a flat, snake like face with only two slits for the nose, and blood red eyes that shone like two crimson drops of blood. His mad cackling as he struck down little children. As he played with them, like they were no better than tiny ants beneath his boots.
"This is the monster, Tom, that causes my nightmares each night. That has killed more people than one can count. The creature who has torn apart the wizarding world…all just so he could say he was the ultimate power. The best. The Lord Voldemort." She growled out and then shoved Tom's face away from hers.
Now, he was gasping for breath. His eyelids blinked rapidly, taking in what he had just seen. Hermione sat like a statue on his bed, waiting for his reaction. Frankly, she was prepared to die. She knew he had a temper, and she would not put it past him to hurl an Avada her way. He wasn't known for his spectacular control when he was angry. At least, if she died now, she would always have that satisfaction of shocking him. She sat, waiting for his reaction. Instead he blinked up at her, confusion written in his gaze.
Neither spoke for several more minutes.
"I'm sorry." He said quietly. Hermione choked on her breath.
"Excuse me?" She whispered.
"I'm sorry, Hermione." He said again. Her mouth popped open and before she could even process what she was doing, she had stood up and slapped him square across his jaw.
"The word 'sorry' doesn't mean anything to me, Riddle." She spat. He covered the slight sting with his palm and looked up at the only person he had ever, almost, considered a real friend.
"I-" he started, but was cut off when a patronus flew into his room. It was a phoenix.
"Tom, please come to the Headmaster's office. It's urgent." Dumbledore's voice spoke through the phoenix. It disappeared and Tom looked up at Hermione. They shared a horrified expression.
"Shite." Hermione breathed.
Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!