Previously...

She had told off Tom Riddle like he was a child, the man who had destroyed her world. The man who was capable of destruction, and she had admonished him. Her legs carried her just beyond the anti-apparition lines and just before she apparated, she remembered she had insulted the Dark Lord by calling him both a coward and hideous.

She was a dead woman walking.

"Everyone knows not to touch that which does not belong to them"

Three weeks had passed since she had insulted Riddle's bravery and physical appearance and for three weeks, her movements had been followed by his lackeys. He was tracking her, keeping an eye on her actions, where she went and who she spoke to. They would never say anything to her, or openly stare but she knew they were following her. It was times like these where she was ever grateful for Moody's lectures on constant vigilance.

It was always the same three tracing her footsteps, Abraxas Malfoy, Joseph Avery and Edward Lestrange. The latter always made her feel the most uncomfortable and always managed to put her on edge the most.

She had gained so much experience evading detection after her time on the run with Harry and Ron, that she managed to escape their notice several times with ease. She knew they were always punished for losing her because the next day they'd be limping, painful moans would escape their lips at the slightest movements or they'd find they couldn't hold much weight using their arms. She especially enjoyed running away from the watchful eyes of Edward Lestrange. She did feel guilty at times, but she couldn't torture Bellatrix, so she went for the next best thing.

She was in a rush today though and didn't have enough time to spare to plan how to escape their notice on this beautiful sunny summer day. Hermione had already accepted the fact that they would be reporting her actions to Tom.

The warm breeze moved her perfect curls into her face, temporarily blocking her vision. She huffed as she none too gently, removed the offending piece of honey brown hair from her face. Her hair had become more manageable over time but it still had its moments, and despite the fact that the hair products of the 1950's tended to be able to tame her frizzy curls more than the ones in her own time, her hair still had a mind of its own. Stubborn like her, it definitely suited her personality.

She was a woman on a mission, she had to get to Flourish and Blott's as soon as possible. Although it was only 9AM on a Saturday morning in June, they had a new range of books coming in today. She couldn't risk anyone taking the books she needed before she even had a chance to glance over their contents.

Hermione was intent on learning as much about the Dark Arts as possible. Not because she wanted to or because she was swayed by the magic, but because she had to. She needed to earn the Knights of Walpurgis trust, as they were called at this time. Without knowing a thing or two about the Dark Arts, she didn't stand a chance.

The Burke's were all dead, and had been for a short time. No-one in the wizarding world, not even those who prided themselves on knowing everything about everyone and everything, knew where the Burke's stood in regards to blood purity. She had a blank piece of paper to write her history on, and she was not about to make any more mistakes.

It had taken her a few days to process everything that had happened. Attending the party had been a mistake to begin with, she wasn't prepared enough. She thought she was strong enough to step into Malfoy Manor without any consequences but she should have trusted her gut instincts, which had been screaming at her to rethink her decision. She didn't know enough about Voldemort or his followers, she had to ease her way in, she couldn't expect to be welcomed with open arms into his merry little group. She had a part to play, like he did every day.

He had offered her comfort. She could only assume he supported her and gave her the much needed privacy from all those piercing eyes because he wanted something in return. He couldn't possibly know anything yet, she had only just arrived in 1951. He must want knowledge, to know which side she stood on, whether she would be an addition to his group of mindless supporters. He needed to know if she had any connections that would help him progress on his goal to world domination. He needed to know if she was powerful. Yes, the Knights of Walpurgis were all very talented, but he was constantly looking for new material, more talent.

She had insulted him, and with hindsight, he should have killed her for her insolence. He was used to nothing but unadulterated respect. No-one had ever dared to speak to him in the way she had and she was surprised that she hadn't been attacked yet. Maybe he was biding his time, making her feel safe, only to isolate her when she least expected it and then he'd torture and murder her. The last thing she'd see would be that bright green light, which she had unfortunately seen too many times before.

If she was being honest with herself, she was scared, petrified of what was to come. She should have clamped down on the words she wanted to say to him and kept them safely behind her closed lips. She should have allowed him to believe she was totally and completely enamoured with him. But he infuriated her, so much so that she had barely restrained herself from punching him in the nose, much like she had with Draco Malfoy. The satisfaction would have been so great, she would have had such a good laugh after with Harry and Ron. They'd look at her like she'd lost her marbles but praise her on her ability to throw a good punch. Oh, how she missed them. If only they could have joined her. But she couldn't think of them right now, she had books to study.

Coming to stand in front of the bookshop, the puffy skirt of her floral dress flittered slightly in the wind. Pushing open the door with one hand, the other holding down the back of her dress so it didn't expose her knickers, she stepped into the store, the bell ringing above her head to signify her entrance.

The smell of books brought a smile to her face. This is what she loved, this was something she could relate to in this time and her time. This was her home away from home. Her little white heels clicked all the way to the back at the shop, eventually coming to a halt as she reached the counter.

A tall, thin man with whispery grey hair fumbled with a stack of books behind the wooden counter. His green eyes hidden behind thick lenses in an equally thick, black glasses frame. It seemed as though he was sorting the books into different categories and then sorting them into alphabetical order. He was so engrossed in his work that he still hadn't noticed her presence after 5 minutes. As much as she herself hated being distracted from her important work, she eventually had to give a soft "ahem", detesting how it made her sound slightly like that dreadful woman, Umbridge.

Jumping slightly and dropping a book or two from the neat pile at the end of the counter, his wrinkled face looked up at her, peering over the thick rims of his glasses, a smile quickly forming on his face as he recognised her.

"Miss Burke, I should have expected you. How are you my dear?" Without waiting for a response, he simply plodded on with his greeting, "You'll be pleased to know the new books are here for your enjoyment. You have the first pick. Do you have a particular subject in mind?"

"I'm very well this morning thank you, Mr Blanch. I hope the same is true for yourself. It's such a beautiful day outside, I think I might purchase a few of your books and go for a picnic. Terribly mundane I know, however I've never been one for parties. A good book and comfy setting will do me just fine. Would you mind if I look through the newer ones, I'm not entirely sure on what exactly I'm looking for just yet. I'm hoping to find something that catches my interest from the get go." She said, as she bent down to pick up the books that had fallen, one of them already meeting her requirements.

"How many times must I ask you to call me Trevor, Miss Burke?" he said, gratefully taking the one book she handed to him, the other already opened in her other hand as her eyes took in as much information as possible in the limited time she had. She didn't want a lot of people catching her reading this type of book. She had a wholesome image to uphold to the general population.

"And how many times must I ask you to call me Hermione, Trevor?" she retorted with a small grin gracing her full, pink lips. "I think I'll take this one please. Do you have any others back there?" She took a quick peek behind the frail looking man, finding no other texts which would give details about the Dark Arts.

"'Secrets of the Darkest Art'?", he asked, his kind voice tinted with slight trepidation at her choice. She could understand the change in him, she would react the same way if she was in his position. Feeling suitably shamed, she nodded her head, trying to keep it up and remain positive. Trevor really was a lovely man and she had, had many intriguing conversations with him ever since she had stepped into the wonderful bookshop. She had grown fond of him and he admired the young woman in return. She was unlike any others in this time. She was intelligent and stubborn, never letting any absurdly biased views influence her own. She was headstrong and constantly yearned to learn. She was an anomaly and he hoped he would see many other young women follow in her footsteps.

"Very well then Hermione. I can't say I had expected this book to be your choice, but I suppose there's only so much you can read of the same subjects without getting bored", she smiled. He was trying to understand, he was trying not to judge and it made her feel good. He really was a nice man. "I don't have other books fitting this category in stock at the moment, but if you're looking for more information on this subject, you can always go to Borgin and Burkes. Although, I suppose you already know that considering your name, ay? Just be careful down Knockturn Alley Hermione. You'll only find the worst sort of witches and wizards down there." His usually shining eyes were now filled with worry.

She doubted Knockturn Alley could be worse than what it was like in her time and she was unsure anything could surprise her after so much time spent defending herself, but she thanked him for the warning regardless. She paid for her book with a single galleon, accepting the plastic bag he gave her with a smile and wished him a lovely weekend, expressing her plans to visit him again during the week, before making her way to the front door.

Stepping outside, she saw the street had become much busier in the 30 minutes she had been speaking with Trevor. Families were out and about, groups of friends meeting up for a shopping day and the odd witch or wizard on their own.

Moving away from the door to allow the Saturday shoppers space to get inside, she made her way in the direction of Knockturn Alley. Her plastic bag was held in her left hand, with her right hand keeping a slight hold on the handle of her wand.

She was confident she would be able to defeat anyone that attacked her, but she wasn't so arrogant to think she could do so without being remotely prepared first. She surveyed the beginning of the alley before making her way down the stone steps. Hermione was on high alert now, she didn't know the ins and outs of this area. She definitely didn't make a habit of coming down to this alley in her own time and she didn't plan to start doing so in this one either.

It was dark and she was nervous. She didn't really know what to expect down here. She could see lights coming from the signs above the shop doors but those weren't enough to illuminate the ground. Despite the sunny summer day, it was cold in this part of town. Goosebumps had risen on her uncovered arms and legs.

All of a sudden, the hair on the back of her neck stood up on end. Constant vigilance she thought as she cast a glance behind her. She was in trouble and she needed to get out of there fast. She could come back to Knockturn Alley another day, hopefully accompanied by someone else. She's need to make a seedy friend that would fit in with this area she supposed. She tried to take a step back but a thin, yet strong hand took hold of her left wrist, yanking her forwards so she was pressed up against a skinny man.

He wasn't alone. His two friends were grinning behind him, showing off their rotting yellow teeth, finding her predicament hilarious. Shame she didn't share their sense of humour.

"Where do you think you're going sweetheart?", he asked in what she assumed was his attempt at a seductive voice. To her ears, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Her lack of response aggravated him, causing the pressure of his fingers to dig deeper into her skin, his little and ring fingers pressing against the end of her scar. Bellatrix had carved it into her skin with a cursed dagger, making it so it wouldn't heal properly. It hurt every time someone touched it, and this time was no different.

"Are you too good to speak to me, is that it? I think we'll be the judge on how good you are, ay lads?" He sniggered, bringing his other hand to her right leg, letting it rise and go under the dress. He glanced over his shoulder at the two men who were staring at her with heat in their eyes, a dirty smirk on his uneven, cracked lips. She tried to get away from him, pulling her arm away from him with as much strength as she had, but his grip didn't budge. She whipped out her wand, bringing it up to her assailants neck. She watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he laughed at her actions.

"Oh lookie here boys, we've got a feisty one. She'll definitely be a good one", before she could cast a spell to stop the laughter from leaving his lips, her wand was taken from her from one of the other men. She watched it land in his grimy palm, and she was infuriated with both herself and these sorry excuses for men.

She was about to show them why they shouldn't have chosen her as their victim. Bringing up her knee, she stuck the wizard who held her right in the balls, hard. He gurgled as the laughter caught in his throat and his eyes bulged. He instinctively let go of her wrist and withdrew his hand from under her dress to cradle his balls in an attempt to ease the pain. She wasn't nearly done with him though, as he bent over, trying to minimise the ache in between his legs, she brought her knee up again, this time striking him the nose. Like she had with William Pettigrew, she watched as this man fell to the ground in a heap.

Next, she focused her attention on the filthy man who held her wand tightly in his grasp. He had his wand aimed at her, a spell on the tip of tongue. She didn't give him a chance, her hand extending as she performed a wandless bat bogey hex, which she was sure Ginny would have been especially proud of, followed by a quick "accio", her wand easily finding her hand.

She turned her attention to her next victim, however before she could even think of a spell, he was falling to the ground, both hands clutching at his throat. It was as if something was restricting his airway, an invisible object wrapping around his neck, preventing him from breathing, killing him.

Her eyes were wide as she realised all three of them were under different spells. The one she had cast the bat bogey hex on was now unconscious, bleeding from his nose, eyes and ears. His chest had stopped moving, growing paler with each passing second, as if all his blood was leaving him.

The man she had attacked physically had tears running down his face. Each of his bones were breaking one by one, starting with his left wrist. Moving down to each of his fingers, his ribs, his hips, his legs. The cracking was awful to hear but she couldn't tear her eyes away. He was begging her for mercy with his eyes, he thought she was doing this to him.

Finally, he grew still, unmoving, dead. All of them were.

"I have to admit Miss Burke, I'm impressed. I didn't think you'd be able to get out of that one on your own. Maybe you were right when you said you didn't need, what was it?, to rely on the capabilities of another? Wandless magic doesn't come so easily to some, just where did you learn it?", startled she wasn't alone, she looked up and saw four figures coming out of the shadows.

She knew it was him without even seeing his face. His voice was forever stuck in her memory, haunting her every day and night. He had set this up, he needed to see what she was made of.

"I'm a competent witch, I am more than capable of looking after myself Mr Riddle. Although, I must say, killing these men seems a tad bit dramatic, don't you think?" She asked, one arm spreading out gesturing to the three men laying haphazardly on the ground, the other hand resting on her hip, while her right eyebrow had risen at her question. She had to appear unaffected by what had just happened. She had to pretend it hadn't phased her and she had seen it all before.

"Perhaps, but I can't say I'm sorry. They should've had learnt to keep their hands to themselves. Everyone knows not to touch that which does not belong to them", he responded in a light tone with amusement once again shining in his eyes. Why was he always laughing at her? Surely she wasn't that funny and just what did he mean when he said they shouldn't touch what doesn't belong to them? She belonged to nobody!

"Malfoy, Avery, Lestrange" he called in a firm tone, a little louder than when he had spoken to her, "take care of the mess." They moved in sync straight away, needing no more direction on what to do. They must have got rid of bodies on more than one occasion then, she thought dispassionately, her eyebrows furrowed.

She didn't notice Riddle had bent down until he had suddenly appeared directly in front of her face once again. He was staring at her with determination in his eyes and something she couldn't quite put her finger on. She didn't know where this change had come from until she took a peek towards her feet.

The book she had bought from Flourish and Blotts had ripped through her plastic bag in her struggle to escape her attacker. He was holding her 'Secrets of the Darkest Art' book out to her. She lifted her head up faster than she thought possible, and stared at his eyes. She wasn't ready for this. She once again found herself in a predicament that she was in no way prepared for, with another mistake surely ready to push through her careful charade.

"You dropped this, Miss Burke. Would you like to join me for brunch?" A terrifying, yet attractive smile graced his handsome face. The words to refuse his invitation were stuck in her throat, her innocent eyes were wide as she tried to evaluate the unknown emotion in his own. Her mouth kept opening and closing but before she could say anything, he put her arm through the crook of his elbow and led her back into Diagon Alley, leaving three of his followers to clean up the mess they had made.

Still clutching her book in his hand and continuing on as if nothing had happened, he opened his mouth and said, "So Hermione, what would you like to eat?"

Once again, thank you so much for reading and for all of your amazing reviews!

I promise I'll try and make the chapters longer and I'll reply to all the reviews that I think need a reply in the next chapter (I'm on my phone at the moment and it's proving to be a bit of a struggle).

As usual, I hope to update again soon. I've been writing chapters in between my breaks at work but it's been difficult!

Please continue letting me know what you think! I really do love hearing from you :)