Chapter 5: Tasteful Sheets

"Stay here." Tom ordered. She scoffed.

"As if I've got any other place to go." She crossed her arms and leaned back against the many pillows on his bed.

"We need to make a plan, I'll try and stall Dumbledore as much as possible but-"

"But the old coot does whatever he wants anyways, yes I know. He doesn't change much." Hermione finished for him. He would have been amused at her displeasure with the Professor if not for the mental war he was waging with himself. He nodded once to her as a goodbye and then shut and warded the door behind him, adding an extra that would alert him if she left the room. He didn't want to take any chances losing her again, especially now.

On his way down to the Head Master's office, he focused on preparing for possible questions or excuses he'd have to give. He tried to relax his tense posture and let his nearly flawless mask of indifference slip into place. Knowledge was power, and he couldn't let Dumbledore or Dippet have any inclination of the mysterious girl that waited in his room.

He also needed a plan of, well, what to do with her. He couldn't hide her in his room forever, but he needed to know what else she knew. The things she had shoved into his head had rattled him.

Tom Riddle was not one to be rattled.

He rounded the last corner before the Headmasters office and let out a long breath before speaking the password to the gargoyle and then politely knocking on the door to be let in. Dippet swung the door open to great him.

"Ah, Tom! Please come in and sit. Sorry to bother you at such a late hour, we didn't want to have to wake you, but it is rather important." Dippet rambled. Tom nodded to him and flashed a polite smile to the other two in the room: the Head Girl, Lottie Greengrass, and Dumbledore. The latter wizard sat in a chair on the other side and nodded in polite greeting, but he regarded Tom with his usual suspicious gaze.

Tom took the chair next to Lottie; she was a quiet Ravenclaw whom he hadn't spoken to much until they became Head's together. Because of her quiet and intelligent disposition, he was grateful that she was the one he had to share a common space with and not some common dolt.

"At about 11:30 this evening, there was an…unusual disturbance in the castle wards. Nothing to be worried about, I'm sure," Dippet tried to downplay, "but something we must be aware of, nonetheless." He told the two. Tom had mastered the art of lying and had no trouble controlling his facial features in reaction to the 'news'.

"I understand that you had patrols at that time, Tom." Dumbledore continued. "Did you notice anything…out of place?" He asked. Tom knew that no matter what he said to the wizard, he wouldn't likely believe him anyways. The two shared a mutual, unspoken caution about the other.

"Yes, I was, Professor Dumbledore. I'm afraid I didn't notice anything strange, other than a few students out past curfew, which happens often enough." He lied smoothly. Dumbledore nodded and let out a slight 'hm' at his answer. Dippet clapped his hands together.

"Yes, well now you know, just be on the lookout! The professors and myself did a full sweep of the castle and are also conducting an inspection of the castle grounds as well, so rest assured Hogwarts is still the safest place any witch or wizard can be! If you do hear or see of anything…out of the ordinary…please do let one of us know right away." Dippet told them, receiving nods of agreement. "You may return to bed, thank you both!" He dismissed. "Oh! And, for security reasons, of course, please keep this between us."

Tom and Lottie both stood and bid their Professor and Headmaster goodnight and exited the office.

"I'm going to finish my rounds, goodnight Tom." Lottie said as they reached the end of the hall. Tom nodded.

"Yes, goodnight." He dismissed and resisted the urge to sprint back up to his room. He made his way back towards the Head's quarters as quickly as he could without running, and quickly made it to the unicorn painting.

Once there, he headed towards his own door and quickly un-did the wards that were in place; they were still intact, he noted with relief. He swung open the door, irrationally fearing an empty room, but found the Hermione he remembered from his childhood passed out asleep in the center of his bed.

He wanted to shake her awake, but suppressed the urge, and quietly shut the door behind him. He did a once over of the room, checking to see if anything had changed, but found nothing different. He let out a soft sigh and scrubbed a hand over his forehead before taking the opportunity to study the witch before him.

She was exactly how he remembered; hell, she was even wearing the same dress he last saw her in. He noticed a few things that he hadn't as a child though too. Like how smooth her skin was, the curve of her hips, the way she bit her bottom lip when she was thinking.

He wanted to curse her into oblivion.

Shaking his head, he moved to his closet to hang his robe and neatly place his shoes beside the others. Hermione was a distraction. He had work to do; his Knights and he had an agenda. This agenda was important for the planning of the next few years, and he couldn't afford anything but perfection. Hermione mumbled something and he turned back to the witch, thinking she was awake. He watched her for another minute, slightly amused at her sleep-rambling, before turning to transfigure the daybed he had in the corner of his room. It was a good place to lounge and read books, but tonight it would suffice to sleep on since his real bed was currently occupied. Settling in, he glanced once more at Hermione, trying to decide if she was a dream or not. What he should have been deciding was what to do with the witch next. Fighting his eye lids, he decided it was a matter best left for the morning, and the crackling fire soon lulled him to sleep.

He was back at Wool's, lying in his bed and reading with the dull, flickering light of a candle. Outside his closed door, he heard a creak. Someone was in the hallway. They better be quiet he mused to himself, not wanting to get in trouble if Mrs. Cole woke up. The footsteps stopped and Tom heard what sounded like a doorknob turning and a squeaky door slowly swinging open. It sounded very close to Tom's own door…perhaps even across the hall from his. Hermione! His mind shouted at him and he scrambled up from his bed.

The mysterious girl had been gone for weeks; Mrs. Cole insisted that the girl simply didn't want to come back to the orphanage (who would?) but Tom had a bad feeling that something terrible had happened to the girl. He was bloody furious with her too. Furious that she promised to come back and hadn't, and furious that her leaving had affected him so much.

He tiptoed towards the entrance of his room, observing a pale beam of light slipping under his door. It was definitely her room that was open! He turned the door handle, heart pounding and hands sweaty. He didn't know why he was so nervous. Peeking out into the hallway, he saw that her door was indeed open. Stepping into the hallway carefully, he made his way to her doorframe. He heard a strange but familiar hissing noise that could only be from a snake. His eye brows furrowed in confusion; why would Hermione bring a snake back with her?

He stepped into the room and saw a cloaked figure hunched over the bed. It was larger than Hermione, and Tom felt the cold chill of fear tingle down his spine. The hissing stopped abruptly, and the figure turned. It was him; the foul creature that Hermione had shown him in her head. Voldemort.

He was just as obscene looking as when Hermione had thrust him into Tom's brain. This Voldemort had sharp teeth too, and there was blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. Tom took a step back. The creature's mouth twisted into a mangled smile and he took a menacing step towards Tom. Suddenly, his mouth opened and a horrible scream came out. Tom's body jerked and flailed to get away from the beast, and then felt something hard smack his elbow.

Eyes snapping open, he realized that he had been dreaming and was jolted awake by a very real, very terrifying screaming.

He lept up, wand in hand and chest heaving. Hermione was thrashing in his bed, screaming as she had in the memory he witnessed. The one where she acquired that gruesome scar on her left forearm. Not seeing any other alternative, he placed a silencing charm on her and carefully approached the bed, as if there were a wild animal there instead of a time-traveling witch who was clearly having a night terror.

"Hermione," He spoke quietly, trying to soothe her. Her mouth was still open in a silent scream. He placed a hand on her arm very slowly. "You're having a nightmare, Hermione. It's not real." He spoke louder this time. She still thrashed. He repeated himself and sat tentatively on the edge of the bed. "Hermione," he tried again and she suddenly shot up, gasping for breath and eyes blinking. Like lightening, her wand was in her hand and pointed at his chest. He slowly raised his hands to show her he meant no harm.

"Hermione, it's me. Tom." Slowly, her wand lowered and she eyed the room around her in confusion. He removed the silencing charm and could hear how her lungs labored. She blinked at him several times before crumbling onto his lap and beginning to sob into his night-shirt.

He sat, arms out awkwardly not touching the witch as she fell apart.

He didn't know what to do. No one had ever come to him for comfort. No one had ever given him comfort either… He had never encountered this kind of situation before. She continued, not letting up as the pool of tears continued to grow on his shirt, and he finally settled a tentative hand on her back.

They sat like this for several minutes until her cries had diminished to occasional sniffles, and then her breath evened out into the steady rhythm of sleep.

How odd. Tom didn't think he'd be able to sleep for a whole week after that episode, and she had slipped right back into unconsciousness.

How rude.

He carefully maneuvered himself out from under her and guided her so her head would be on a pillow. She wiggled in her sleep and found a comfy position again, letting out a small sigh. He stared at her now peaceful face for a moment more and then made his way back to his transfigured bed. Closing his eyes, he tried to fall back to sleep, but his racing thoughts kept him awake, causing him to toss and turn until dawn. How rude indeed.

Hermione's eyes fluttered open briefly before she decided that she was too warm and cozy to really wake up, so she buried deeper into the Slytherin green blanket she was cocooned in.

Against her will, her muscles contracted and twisted her into a sitting position, wand in hand and eyes darting around her to assess where she was.

She was in the head's chambers at Hogwarts, sleeping feet away from the seventeen-year-old Dark Lord, who was currently sprawled across a much too small bed. For a moment, her heart pounded in her ears. She glanced around her again, eyes settling on a bright splash of sunlight that was filtering in from between the curtained window pane.

Trying to calm her heart rate, she closed her eyes and relaxed her body, sagging slightly into the bed again. The seventeen-year-old Dark Lord's bed, she reminded herself, feeling a quick twinge of horror clench her stomach.

Eh, the kid had good taste for sheets… Who was she not to enjoy them a bit longer? She nestled back down into the blankets and let out a small sigh of contentment.

"Well, I'm glad you're comfy." A rather displease voice cut through the silence of the room. Hermione's eyes sprung open in panic.

"Merlin's balls, Tom." She gasped, sitting up and clutching her chest. "You're quieter than a ghost." Tom stood by the edge of the bed, arms crossed over his chest and a pinched look on his face that would have made the Malfoy's proud. Hermione noticed that his hair was pointed in all directions, and she realized that she had never seen him look anything less than put together. She cracked a smile, rather amused at his rumpled appearance. His frown deepened.

"What is so funny this morning, Hermione?" He growled out. His grumpy mood only added to her amusement.

"Oh, Tom." She laughed and moved to slide off the bed. As she passed him, she couldn't help but reach up quickly and ruffle his hair. "You're just so cute when you wake up. I always knew you were a morning person." She couldn't help but tease. She quickly moved past him towards the bathroom, wandlessly shielding her back as a mild stinging hex came her way. This only made her laugh more as she swiftly closed the door behind her. She heard the mutters of 'bloody witch' through the wood.

She was contemplating using his toothbrush when there was a pounding on the door.

"Hermione, I have class." He said in an even but firm voice. She huffed, quickly making up her mind and then opening the door.

"And what am I meant to do all day, then?" She spoke to him through a mouth full of toothpaste.

"Be a good girl and stay here until I'm done." He ground out, shooing her out of the bathroom and slamming the door as soon as she cleared the threshold. She merely rolled her eyes and waited for the inevitable. Ten seconds later, the door swung open and Tom plucked the toothbrush out of her hand. "Animal." The door slammed in her face again.

"Hey! I'm not done brushing my teeth!" She pounded on the door. Naturally, she did not get a response. Sighing, she wiped the remaining toothpaste from her lips and retrieved her beaded bag to look for some 1940s-acceptable clothing, annoyed when she realized she would need to go shopping again since she definitely didn't have the proper clothing for the time. Luckily, robes didn't change too much. She settled on a pair of jeans and a pink jumper. Glancing at the bathroom door, she hurriedly slipped fresh knickers on, followed by her jeans.

Of course, this was the moment Tom chose to exit the bathroom, catching her with her jeans still unbuttoned and her outdated dress bunched up around her waist. He blinked and then continued towards his closet.

"That's an interesting outfit." He commented, picking out a fresh set of robes. She rolled her eyes again.

"Isn't this how all the ladies wear it these days?" And then she turned her back to him and continued pushing the dress up and over her head. He didn't make any more remarks until she turned back to see that he had her (very lacey) black knickers dangling from a long finger.

"These are very interesting." He teased. Blushing furiously, she marched over and snatched them out of his hands.

"Don't you have class?"

"Yes, after breakfast of course." He replied cheekily, suddenly in a much better mood than when he had woken up. The mention of food had her stomach growling in protest.

"Ugh, I would KILL for some bacon."

"You could never kill anything, darling." Tom threw over his shoulder mockingly while adjusting his hair in the mirror. Hermione's mood plummeted immediately. Tom, expecting a witty comeback at his ribbing, glanced at her reflection behind him in the mirror, observing her suddenly forlorn face. Surprised, he spun around to study her.

"What curse was it?" He questioned after a moment of tense silence. Her gaze rose slowly from the floor to reveal a neutral expression.

"Anything other than Avada would have been cruel." She said so quietly that he almost didn't hear her. He paused, hoping she would elaborate more. This information surprised him greatly… He was hungry for details. "Life is wasted on war." She said finally, lifting her chin and meeting his eyes.

"War is necessary for change," Tom responded. "Sometimes, you must make sacrifices to win." That seemed to fire her up a bit, and Tom watched with satisfaction as her eyes flashed with anger and her hands twitched into tight fists.

"I think it depends on what kind of changes you're trying to make." She countered with a glare at him. He felt his face slowly spread into a wicked grin, excited for the impending argument.

"Changes for the better, of course." He replied evenly and felt, with great satisfaction, the room growing heavier with her magical aura.

"Your definition of better is very different than mine, Riddle." She spat his namesake like it was poison on her tongue. He continued to keep a blank expression, refusing to give her the satisfaction of any emotion other than cruel and indifferent.

"Oh, but it is better when those changes include the dirt of this world knowing their place beneath my shoe." He growled, amused when he thought he saw faint sparks popping in the air around the tips of her hair.

"That's interesting, Riddle, coming from a half-blood such as yourself. I was under the impression that only pure-bloods were given the privilege of thinking they were better than everyone else." She finished smugly, crossing her arms. Tom couldn't help the slight widening of his eyes; she knew he was a half-blood. She had hit a sore spot and she knew it. "That's right, Tom. I know your father was a muggle. I know that your mother was basically a squib too. But that doesn't matter to you so much since you're the only living heir of Salazar Slytherin, hm? But isn't that just disappointing? The only heir and he's not even pure-blood. Shame his noble bloodline isn't pure-"

She was cut off when he furiously threw a curse her way. He was shocked when she batted it away with a lazy flick of her wand. It only infuriated him further.

He fired three more in rapid succession, and was slightly impressed when none of them hit their mark, and were again shielded or dodged by Hermione.

"Stop trying to curse me, you pig-headed git! You sure can dish it out, but you can't take it." She growled at him, still in a defensive position, waiting for more spells to dodge. He contemplated a crucio - and immediately recalled her memory of being tortured by the mad woman – and thought better of it. Instead, he did something that neither of them expected, and he lowered his wand. She eyed him suspiciously and didn't move from her place.

"What else do you know about me?" he asked, eerily calm. She didn't answer right away, contemplating his question. Finally, her body relaxed, but she still held a firm grasp on her wand as she lowered it to her side.

"I know that you've already created two horcruxes… And I also know that if you want to avoid being that snake-faced psycho, you better not make any more." She said, suddenly drained. This war was supposed to be over… She had been fighting since she was eleven, and now she was literally face-to-face with the cause of said war, fighting once more. She was tired. Tom, ever calculating, paused before he spoke.

"And what would you have me do instead, then?" He asked her. She met his eyes in surprise.

"You're asking my advice on taking over the world?" She responded, incredulous. Her shock was humorous to him, and he flashed her a disarming smile that began to lift the heavy mood that had settled thickly in the air.

"Obviously, yes. You really can be a Cumberworld sometimes, Hermione."