The Orphanage

by Xylosaurus

She was only 8 and had already lost her parents and memories all in one tragic night. Forced to live in Wool's Orphanage, Hermione finds friendship with a 9-year-old Tom Riddle but is soon ripped from him by a prophecy. Six years have passed and he still looks for her. AU Tomione

9. Parallel

Author's note: Hi. I am an awful person for making you all wait over a year for this update. Ugh, excuse me while I go throw myself off a mountain. So many additions, so many edits, so many tables flipped over in an act of frustration but here it is.

For those of you who are probably wondering what's happening to the lack of updates: Life's a bitch. As hard as this might be for you guys to believe, I am NOT abandoning my stories, including It's You. I believe abandoning is when you decide you don't want to continue the story anymore. I can assure you, I'm working on it, I just haven't been able to write anything update worthy.

Thank you everyone for all the support while I have been away. We've reached over 400 followers and 200 favorites SO THANK YOU ALL! Special thanks to Voorpret and kimmehkins123 for the sweet PMs and apologies to them for the naive lie of updating within the next month. (I'm sorry! I swear I really was working on it!)

Alright, enough of me. You have all waited long enough. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!

---

"Wake up," a voice called down. Hermione stirred a bit, her eyes still closed from sleep. "Hermione," the gentle disembodied voice hummed above her like an angel. "You must get up. We are running out of time."

Her eyelids slowly peeled back and in a few long seconds, her vision sharpened to see no one in her presence. She was so tired. How many sleepless days had it been since she was trapped in this endless nightmare? Hermione began to close her eyes again but the voice boomed louder in her ears.

"No, no, no," it scolded, clearing the sleepy fog from her mind. The feeling of hands suddenly grabbed onto Hermione's wrists and yanked her to her feet. She hadn't even notice she was laying down to begin with. "You have to stay awake. Time is of the essence."

She was now suspended in the air with those strong, invisible hands wrapped around her wrists like handcuffs. The jerk snapped Hermione out of her drowsy state and she was now very much alert.

"Please, no," she whispered at the sight of her familiar surrounding. Her heart dropped into her stomach.

Four, egg shell white walls decorated with the heads of chimeras, centaurs, a one cyclops and several pairs of wings. There was a large fireplace in the center of one wall with an ancient looking grandfather clock to the right, the pendulum rocking back and forth almost hypnotically. The room was spacious with high ceilings and lightly furnished with a few tables and chairs. Despite the size that was big enough to accommodate twenty people comfortably, this room was meant for one. The floor was covered in cold, flawless stone tiles. It made her shiver despite the roaring fire just a few feet away. There was a large chandelier made of the shiniest crystals Hermione had ever seen. The way they caught the orange glow from the fire and reflected it on the white walls made it look like tiny dancing flames igniting the room. It was beautiful and yet somehow familiar. Ominous, even.

Why did she keep having this looping nightmare? Why couldn't she wake up from it? Hermione didn't know how much torture she could handle this time, especially when her magic didn't seem to be working in this dreamy realm. It felt like she has been having the same dream for years.

She kicked her legs, hoping that the shift in her weight would lead to her release but the grips around her wrist held strong as she flailed.

"Where are you going, Hermione?" the deep, manly voice suddenly asked. She tried to turn around but couldn't. "Are you trying to run away?"

Hermione would have been fooled into thinking he sounded sad but the cold chuckled that followed quickly remedied the thought.

She didn't answer and just kept fighting and jerking her arms to get down. Her wand was missing from its usual spot in her skirt waistband. Hermione felt completely helpless as she continued to kick and flop like a fish out of water, hoping those invisible hands would loosen by a fraction to let her slip out of them.

"You're going to have to do better than that if you want to escape."

The amount of panic and anxiety Hermione felt was nuclear. She forced herself to calm down and take a few breaths. This is just a dream, she told herself. This is just a dream. This is just-

Hermione screamed when she felt a leather cord whipped her torso, cutting her skin as if it was nothing but tissue paper. Red blood began to seep out and stain her clothes.

"It does not do you well to be in denial, Hermione."

Another whip licked her skin with a razor sharp tongue. Hermione screamed again.

"So weak," it said disgustingly.

Another whip.

"So fragile."

Another whip. Tears were streaming down her cheeks now and her ears were grown deaf from the whipping cracks.

"Nothing but a filthy mudblood! That is all you are!"

The last whip was the hardest but Hermione gritted her teeth in anger, a sound crossed between a growl and a hiss escaped her mouth. This seemed to please the disembodied voice enough to stop the whipping.

"Oh? What's this?" it asked. "No screaming?"

Hermione opened her eyes, not knowing exactly when she closed them and looked up. She was still in the same room but now a tall fully cloaked being stood in front of her. Its face was fully covered and it held no whip but a white wand.

The figure raised its wandless hand which was stripped of flesh, muscle, and blood- it was just bone- and roughly grabbed her chin to keep her from looking away. It then tilted her face from side to side and even though Hermione couldn't see anything but darkness under the hood, she could feel it smiling.

"My sweet, sweet girl. You will make me proud, I can just feel it."

The being let go, pushing her face away as it did so and floated back to the center of the room.

"This is a dream," she said aloud, stronger now to spite it, to show her strength or what little she had left. If she registered that this was a lucid dream, she could warp it. Wasn't that the theory?

"This isn't real, it's just in my head."

The begin chuckled again, like a hunter that has spotted its prized prey, ready to pounce and dig it's claw into its heart to feel the heartbeat gradually die away.

"Not real? My girl, an old friend once told me: just because it is happening inside your head, why on earth should that mean it is not real?"

Hermione shivered as the air cooled the blood spilling from her wounds and made her clothes plaster coldly to her skin. She was losing too much blood and her head throbbed. Dizziness was seeping into her body as if to replace her blood.

The mysterious being paced back and forth in front of her, assessing her state with its unseen eyes. If only she had her wand…

Hermione jerked away when it tried to touch her face again. It laughed at her resistance and reached out to grab her chin again, succeeding this time as Hermione could only move so far back. The grip was unforgiving and would certainly leave bruises on her chin and cheeks. The cloaked creature moved closer, practically hovering in the air like a Dementor. The sight made her heart stop. The other hand pocketed the white wand and jammed a finger into her cuts. Her vocal cords shook for a scream and fresh tears ran down her face.

The being tsked and said, "You're still not ready and we are running out of time. I suppose my plans could afford a small delay, but remember this…"

The orange glow that was reflected onto the walls burst into hot flames, eating away the walls and furniture. Hermione struggled harder to get down. It was a nightmare. She needed to wake up.

Wake up!

An invisible hand grabbed her throat and squeezed the air out of her mouth. The fire grew hotter and sweat began to run down Hermione's body mixing with her blood and into her clothes. She began to choke for air.

"You belong to me now. You will always belong to me. You are mine to call, to use, as I will it."

Hermione made a nasty face and with all the strength she could muster spat into the hood. "I… belong to… no one," she rasped.

The cloaked being didn't rear back in disgust. Instead, it laughed heartily in a low baritone that echoed against the walls. The hand that gripped her chin travelled to her cheekbone and stroked an index knuckle downward.

"Yes," it hummed, "Keep thinking you can defy me. Let that radiate through. Oh yes, you will definitely make me proud, my sweet mudblood. But you are still so weak." It dug its hands back into her wounds and yanked it out to hold up in front of her face to show how much blood covered it as if to show how mortal she was.

"Pain is something you have to learn how to overcome, my dear. You can't let it cloud your thoughts."

Hermione was a whimpering mess of tears but she kept her eyes strong and powerful.

"My lovely girl," it cooed. "I have so much to teach you."

Suddenly, the flames morphed together into a giant tiger, mouth opened in a roar and fangs bared, ready to sink into her skin. Hermione stared in horror at the fiendfyre and screamed when it pounced and engulf her in hellfire.

---

May 1942- Beauxbaton

"Stupid, stupid girl," Carol muttered to herself as she pulled her night robe tighter around her waist. "Miss all-about-the-fucking-rules sneak off after curfew, and hey- good for her! 'Bout damn time she turned into a wild child but to not come back at all and worry me half to death? Fuck, now I'm talking to myself like a crazy person."

The veela continued to grumble angry congratulations at herself for being such a positive influence as she walked the cold halls of Beauxbaton in search of her best friend. Hermione still had not returned to their room and it was already five in the morning. Carol cursed the skies for not giving Hermione a proper lesson in sneaking around. What if she was caught? What if she tripped and smacked her head? Morgana knows the girl is every bit as graceful as a thoroughly drunken sailor and with Hermione's intelligence could swear circles around one.

Carol stopped to laugh at the thought. Hermione Granger sneaking out all night to get smashed and sharing her colorful vocabulary with a stranger? The veela would rob a bank to pay to see that.

The light feeling slowly died away as the half breed continued scouting for her friend. Where did Hermione say she was going? To the kitchen? The bathroom? Perhaps the dining hall? It had been hours and her magical scent was so faint now. Carol debated waking the paintings and asking them for help but she knew such actions would be reported to the Headmistress and she would not let Hermione get in trouble the first night she decided to sneak out.

Carol ran around the castle for another good twenty minutes until she could feel herself beginning to sweat. She started to panic now. Carol sped back to her room, hoping that the witch-to-be-found would be tucked away in bed for Carol to beat and suffocate with her pillow. But when she opened the door, Hermione's bed was still unmade and empty.

"Damn her!" Carol hissed and turned around. The school's caretaker would be making her rounds soon and she needed to find Hermione before then. "She totally owes me for this."

The veela flew down a spiral staircase and just as she reached another hall full of paintings she was fully ready to shake awake with her veela claws, an owl swooped in and flapped its glorious wings at her.

"Ah! Damn bird, watch it!"

It screeched angrily and circled the girl. Carol waved her arms frantically to shoo the creature away.

"Stop it, I'm busy right now!"

Carol heard something clatter on the ground and looked to find a familiar wand. Ten and three-quarter inch vine wood, delivered by a white pesky owl she recognized to be Felix.

"Shit!"

Carol grabbed the wand and ran toward the owlery. She ran until her lungs burned for oxygen but she ignored it until her hands threw open the wooden door to the owlery. The loud smack the door made when it collided with the stone wall spooked every owl out of their resting place and flew around in a panic whirlpool. Carol brandished her wand toward the birds of prey.

"Immobulus!"

Instantly, every owl was reduced to a slow motion flight as Carol looked around. The place was relatively small so it only took a second to see Hermione wasn't there.

"Hermione," Carol called but no one answered. Instead, Felix, the only owl that was not under Carol's spell, clawed at the glass windows to door of the balcony. With a squint, she could see there was a blue glow on the other side. Carol ran up to replace the bird.

"Damn it!" she growled when the door wouldn't open. Without warning, she pointed her wand at the door.

"Bombarda!"

The glass door shattered, spewing tiny shards of glass in every direction. Carol didn't even cover her face as she ran through the explosion to Hermione. The girl was lying on her back, drenched in sweat and unconscious. There were red gashes all over her stomach and blood was slowly collecting in a puddle around her. But that wasn't even the strangest part.

She was also glowing blue.

"The fuck?" Carol knelt down and tried to touch the girl but the glow hissed and rattled like fire. It even singed her sleeve. "Hermione! Please, wake up!"

Nothing.

The veela cast several healing spells but nothing seemed to work and Hermione continued to lay unconscious.

At least she's breathing, Carol thought but it did nothing to ease her panic as she still couldn't think of a way to wake up her friend.

"Wake up!" she pleaded again, hoping her voice would carry into the witch's dreams but Hermione kept still as a corpse.

She decided this was enough and stood to run for help but just as she stepped across the debris of glass shards, she heard a fit of coughs behind her.

"Thank Morgana!"

She jumped back to help Hermione sit up. God, the girl looked like something straight out of a horror movie all covered in sweat, wounds and blood. The blue glow was gone and the cold morning wind made both girls shiver in their thin pajamas.

"C-Carol?" Hermione stammered. Her eyes were bloodshot like she had been awake for a straight week.

"It's me, it's me. I got you. You're going to be okay now." That last part sounded like a lie in her ears. There was so much blood. "We have to take you to the infirmary," she said as she helped the witch up but stopped when Hermione screamed when she bent at the waist.

"Sorry!" Carol shouted as she placed Hermione back down flat. The witch was in no condition to be moved anywhere. "I'm going to get some help. Stay here, I'll just be five minutes tops."

Hermione shook her head nauseatingly and raised a weak hand to cover her wounds. Carol instantly placed her hands over and helped to apply pressure as more blood gushed between their fingers. Hermione winced and took in a shuttering breath as she focused on her magic.

"Hermione, you need help. I'll fly over to Headmistress."

"No," the witch responded definitely. "No hospital."

"Are you crazy?! You're in no condition to argue."

Hermione just shook her head again and went back to concentrate on this new energy she felt. She had a theory and she needed to test it. The injured witch closed her eyes and focused her magic on stitching her wounds back together. The blood that seeped out was now returning to its owner. Surprised, Carol ripped her hand away from Hermione's. Within a matter minutes, all the blood that had spilled was back in the girl's body and her wounds healed with a red scar left behind as a reminder.

Hermione started to cry. Her tears collected and streamed down her cheeks as loud, choked sobs broke her like the glass door surrounding the witches. Carol, who was starting to get teary from just watching Hermione's devastating state, bent down to hug her.

"It's okay, Hermione. You're okay now."

Hermione cried harder as a fierce tidal wave of emotions that she had been neglected to feel while in her dream swept her away. She wasn't okay at all.

Hermione continued to sob as she and Carol hugged each other for comfort. The witch watched the sun break free from the horizon, bathing them with the world's first light, chasing away the darkness around them. But Hermione knew better than to find comfort in this moment.

Carol began to rock Hermione back and forth, careful to not bend the witch's body too much. "It was just a dream. It's not real." But Hermione knew better.

"Just because it is happening inside your head, why on earth should that mean it is not real?"

It wasn't just a dream, it was very much real.

---

May 1942- Hogwarts

Another usual afternoon had Tom hidden away in the Restricted Section with an interesting book in his lap. After the ordeals of meeting his father and grandparents and after that awful nightmare, Tom dove into endless research. Horcruxes, Salazar's family tree, spells, curses, magical artifacts- he looked into everything he could.

The book he had this time was rare, one of eight copies in existence, with one thousand, two hundred and twenty-two pages filled with mysterious magic, written and published in the seventeenth century and would easily fetch over five hundred million galleons on the black market. And here it was, hiding on the top shelf in the ancient magic section. What luck! Tom couldn't tell if his magic was humming along with his excitement as he ran his fingertips across the cover or if the book held its own ancient magic that was vibrating happily to have a new reader.

It was an odd relationship Tom had with books. He would spend hours with them, days if possible, stored away in an isolated corner of Hogwarts never to be seen by unwanted eyes. He treated them like one would treat a lover, handling them with care as his hands caressed the spine, turning each delicate page with optimum level of carefulness as if the thin parchment would dissolve with the wrong amount of pressure. Books had been his parents, his teachers, his friends. On some days, they molded his mind into a sharp sword that could slay kings and cut out the heart of dragons. On other days, they taught him words that could raise an army and bring a civilization crumbling down to his feet.

He loved everything about them, the smell, the feel of the smooth paper between his fingers, the soft sound that came with a turning page, like a sigh, the slow adventure his bookmark made from front to back- it was magnificent how plain, black ink could paint vivid pictures in his head. Books held stories, it held knowledge, wisdom, power, and most importantly, it held answers.

Time-Turner: an extremely rare device that contains a small magical hourglass with sand that allows the wearer to travel back in time with a simple turn of a dial.

This was it. This was the answer to his prayers. All he had to do was get his hands on a Time Turner, go back in time and prevent his life from turning into the shitty hell that it was now. He could go back to the day he was born and cast a spell on his mother so that she would survive the pregnancy. Then the two of them would go to Riddle Manor, kill the worms there and live comfortably with his Father's riches with house elves at his beckoning and clean, expensive clothes in his closet.

With the power of time travel, Tom could rule the world.

"... so cute..."

"... so handsome…"

"... so yummy..."

Tom lifted his nose from his book and peered over the top to see three girls sitting shoulder to shoulder just a few tables away from him on the other side of the red velvet ropes that cut the public off from the Restricted Section. They immediately blushed and turned away to scowl among themselves for getting caught. He looked back down and continued his reading but the constant giggling and whispers crawled into his ears like parasites.

"Merlin, I would cut off my leg if I could just spend a minute petting that face," one girl said. She looked familiar and yet Tom had no idea who she was. In fact, he couldn't really place a name on the other girls as he couldn't clearly see their faces as they hid themselves behind curtains of hair and manicured hands. The girl kept glancing up and down like a bobble head toy he had seen window shopping in Hogsmeade. She pulled her hair back to tuck behind her ears and even with a more clear view of her face, Tom couldn't identify her.

Just another faceless fangirl.

The girl in the middle kicked her head bobbing friend.

"Relia, we have to get back to our research."

"I think we should change our research topic to a more deliciously handsome subject like the one over there."

"Be quiet. You two are so conspicuous right now."

Tom growled lowly to himself as several nasty hexes ran through his thoughts. Some almost made it to his lips but he simply licked them away before they could be uttered.

What happened to the library being a quiet place to concentrate?

The wizard went on for two more paragraphs before the three witches in blue began to chatter like monkeys again. His magic rattled around him, begging to be shot out in one of the few new dark spelled he read over the weekend. His right hand itched to take hold of his wand.

"I wish I had a teacher's note so I could go over there and talk to him," a girl continued on.

"Girls, I love looking at him as much as the next girl but we really need to finish this."

Yes, go back to your petty research paper and leave me alone you insufferable cows, Tom ordered silently as his brain strained to concentrate on the inked words in front of him.

"Janet, you're no fun."

"Neither is this paper!"

He took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on his book.

The number of turns is equivalent to the number of hours the wearer will be sent back. However, the laws of time traveling is-

"April, did you hear anything I just said?" the pesky girl named Janet asked. They were shushed from a student nearby, a Hufflepuff boy with an angry vein throbbing next to his left brow.

"Hm? Yeah, Giant Squid."

"That's not even what the research paper is on!"

Tom snapped his book shut causing a startled twitch from the girls before he removed himself from their loud presence. He really wasn't in the mood nor did he have the patience to tune out his fangirls and one more interruption would have every student in the vicinity screaming in agony as Tom held them under the Cruciatus curse.

That would be an interesting explanation he would have to give to Dippet.

"See, look what you did! He's leaving now."

"Yeah, way to go, Janet."

"Me?" the girl asked, appalled. "He would still be there if you would have kept to yourself and helped me with this assignment."

"Oh my god, shut up!" a Hufflepuff boy said from the neighboring table.

Tom heard a slap, followed by a shriek and books falling to the ground. The sound of quick clicks from the librarian's heels grew volumes as the woman raced toward the source of the disturbance. He rolled his eyes and continued away from the scene without as much as a backwards glance.

He walked to the back right corner where there was a small spiral staircase the lead to the second floor. Tom hated having to leave the scene as if he was running away like a coward. It was humiliating but he knew that one more disturbing outburst from the witches would have them on the ground writhing in pain. After climbing the spiral staircase, Tom found a well-lit corner with high bookshelf walls to hide him from other pestering students and a large window to shower warm sun rays on him. Once he made himself comfortable, he flipped open to the correct page and began reading.

The number of turns is equivalent to the number of hours the wearer will be sent back. However, the laws of time traveling is strict and should not be taken lightly.

Tom rolled his eyes again before continuing.

To change history would mean to create a paradox, an alternate world. Too many paradoxes may very well rip the time vortex and create a black hole in the universe. Once a black hole is born, the damage from time traveling will be permanent. Even if the wearer were to go back and undo his actions to prevent the paradoxes from occurring, black holes are elements outside the realm of time. That is why people, both wizard and muggles alike, believe they are the secret to dimension jumping. However, this has yet to be proven true as those who crossed over have never crossed back.

While there is potential in traveling back years, many wearers simply travel back a few hours, or days, at most. In fact, the longest amount of recorded travelled time was two months. Although travelling back in time takes seconds, once the wearer is in his or her desired time, he or she will have to live out the amount of time travelled back before catching up to the present. In other words, if one travels back three days, then they will have to relive those three days until they can "return" to their original time.

Tom's nose twitched. That didn't sound promising at all.

It is unclear how this affects the wearers aging. Does reliving time stop the aging process or does the process continue to go on? Another common theory is that the outer appearance aging stops but the biological does not. These are just some of many mysteries yet to be answered.

So, you can look twenty but your insides are that of a sixty year old? That's practically rotting on the inside! Tom winced with disgust at the thought of his organs melting inside his body.

There are many things still unknown about the Time-Turner as the creators disappeared. What is the sand, exactly? When was the Time-Turner first created? Why does the dial only turn one way? If it was forced the other way, would it bring the wearer to the future? Does the device even hold that potential, and if so, what are the consequences then?

Only one person had tried to reverse engineer the item, but when the hourglass was cracked and the golden sand spilled free onto his hand, he aged rapidly and turned to dust within minutes. No one had tried to tamper with a Time-Turner again.

For more information, refer to chapter 42: Time rifts and black holes.

Tom shut his book and closed his eyes to digest what he had just read. One turn equaled one hour. If he were to go back fifteen years, that was well over a hundred thousand turns. He could charm it to turn for him but then the problem would be he would have to wait all that time to see how he changed his future. Not only that, but there was the possibility that he wouldn't age correctly. Tom didn't want to die young.

Then again, he did have a horcrux. It was too bad that the ritual used to bring him back would take years to prepare and he didn't trust any of his Knights to do the work. Half of them didn't even have the brain capacity to do their homework, let alone prepare a complex ritual for the next couple years. Hell, Tom didn't even know if he could pull off the ritual himself. He could try to create a spell but spell inventing is a dangerous hobby. Most inventors have ended up with a limb missing, in a vegetative coma, or dead.

Create a counter Time-Turner? The boy brainstormed but then he shook his head at the idea. He didn't even know how the contraption worked in the first place and from what he just read, the one person who tried to reverse engineer the object turned into a pile of dust.

"Damn it," Tom growled.

The bells in the clock tower chimed twice and the bitter annoyance simmering inside Tom began to boil like an awakening volcano. He had Transfiguration with Dumbledore in twenty minutes. The thought of skipping his least liked class crossed Tom's mind but he knew he couldn't do that. Tom had to keep up the image of the perfect student.

When he got to the first floor and arrived at the red velvet ropes, he noticed that the Ravenclaw girl who was so worried about her assignment sat alone. She looked up as he approached closer.

"Good afternoon," Tom said smoothly, like sweet melted chocolate.

"Oh, um… hi," she croaked.

Tom recognized her up close now. Janet Wallon, fourth year Ravenclaw, tan skin, small mole on the right side of her neck, and smelt like a candy store. He resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose in disgust and move away from her overpowering odor. If memory served, she hung out with Relia Collins and April Haven. Same year, same house. Relia was the one with the naughty mouth, he noted. Short nail beds and uneven jagged nails indicated that she chews them often. Probably out of nervousness. Her academics were mediocre but higher than her friends and he could understand why.

Overall, she was a nobody.

Tom towered over the mess on the table, a breathtaking smile still on his face. "Miss Wallon, correct?"

The girl's face had gone scarlet and she had ceased to breathe. Tom hoped she wouldn't pass out. His next class would be starting soon and he did not want to carry the unconscious girl half way across the castle to the Hospital Wing.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She blinked several times as if she didn't understand what he had just said. His tolerance was wearing extremely thin.

"You seem a bit pale. I'll have Madam Pince call for the school's nurse."

That seemed to snap her out of her trance.

"Janet," she said in a rush of air, "You can just c-call me Janet. And no, you don't have to call the nurse."

He plastered a smile on again. "Janet."

She blushed like a drunken man. God, these girls were too easy it was beyond boring.

"I couldn't help but notice you and your friends earlier."

The Ravenclaw tried to swallow the lump in her throat to speak properly but all she could do was gape like a fish out of water. Here was the most handsome, most sought after boy in the school and he was talking to her! She hoped someone would strike her down now so she could die happy.

Tom seemed to notice the pleasure she was taking in from his presence and decided to ruin it.

"It was quite distracting, truth be told. So much so that I could not concentrate and had to remove myself. Also, not only did you disturb me, but you disturbed the people around you, including Madam Pince. The library is a quiet place for students to study and concentrate, not to gawk at people. Since you tried to stop your friends I will let you off with a warning. I will, however, deduct ten points each from you and your friends since you all caused a disturbance that resulted in several students being physical. In the future I would appreciate it if you and your friends are more courteous to those around you."

She paled and nodded frantically. "Y-yes, I'm sorry. I'll make sure we're quiet next time."

He pulled the corners of his mouth back into a wider grin and turned away without so much as a "thank you," or "goodbye." He didn't want to waste his time with a nobody so, he continued out of the library and away from the lustful eyes burning holes in the back of his head. He noticed the school's librarian looked a bit pissed when she saw him leave and he could guess why.

She blamed him for the hormonal fight those students got into.

Tom smiled a silent 'goodbye'. He really should have hexed them all.

Once he was outside the library's perimeter, Tom reorganized his thoughts. There was so much to think about. With a Time Turner, Tom could walk the time stream, molding his life- no, the world, into his personal play pen. He could make himself a god. He could make sure people never came into existence by killing their ancestor. But like the book said, every time you take a dip into the river of time, you create a paradox.

Sure, people have been known for using it, but never to travel so far back that Tom had intended to. And those potential side effects...

A shiver crawled up his spine to think about rotting on the inside.

What was the point of being all powerful when your organs were liquid? Besides, Tom wouldn't even know how to get his hands on a Time Turner in the first place. The only known location is the Department of Ministry and Magic. Fat chance they would let anyone near those items.

Tom huffed angrily at the many obstacles obstructing his plans and looked out a nearby window. It was cold today with the whipping wind and from a distance, an army of black clouds were marching toward the castle to attack the stone walls with rain. There would be a thunderstorm tonight and from the look of the size of those clouds, it would be a great one.

Tom stopped at the window, his eyes getting lost in distant memories.

He wondered if this storm would bring her back to him but caught himself mid thought and shook his head. How many times had he thought of this?

Probably as many letters he sent out.

And how many times was his wish granted?

The same amount of letters he got back.

Enough was enough. Professor Dumbledore had once said, "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

She was a dream. She haunted his dreams, causing him to toss and turn in yearning like a pathetic fool. No more. He had waited too long. He was done.

As much as he hated the old goat, perhaps it was time Tom took the advice.

---

December 1942- Hogwarts

Tom watched with hooded eyes as Avery fell to the ground, his body contorting in a sickening dance that made the other boys wince and look away. Tom, however, could never pull his gaze from such a beautiful sight. He started to count the seconds.

Five… ten… fifteen…

When he counted to thirty Tom released Avery from his punishment. The boy shuttered weak breaths as tears stained his cheeks. The mirth in Tom's eyes was replaced with a sick combination of blood lust and amusement.

"You failed me, Avery."

"I-I'm sorry. My cousin said-"

He was interrupted when Tom flourished his wand in a complicated pattern and sent what looked like a ball of electricity at Avery who arched his back so high it wouldn't have surprised Tom if his spine snapped. The idea almost brought a smile to his face.

"Do I look like someone who cares about your excuses? I asked you to steal me a Time-Turner, a quest you volunteered for if I'm not mistaken. I was even kind enough to give you all summer and this semester to do it."

"'m sorry," Avery whispered, his body resembling a broken rag doll.

Tom stared at the pathetic boy who cringed away under the cold glare. When Avery said he knew someone working within the Ministry that could swipe a Time-Turner, Tom was thrilled. The idea that he could control time made his magic hum with excitement. He could have made his life better, a life filled with comfort, wealth and power. He would have rebuilt his family name to its original glory and claimed his title as Salazar Slytherin's rightful heir. No one would question his blood status. The Gaunts were part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. With a Time-Turner, Tom would have never stepped foot in Wool's Orphanage.

But now, it would appear he wouldn't be getting the item unless someone was daft enough to hand such a powerful tool over to a teenager.

Tom straightened up to his full height. He had grown even taller or more aristocratic in the last couple of months. He pointed his wand downward and sent a spell that resembled a lightning bolt to shock Avery. The writhing boy twisted in pain like a wet t-shirt being rung dry. Tom held him there for a few more seconds until he could start to see Avery's eyes roll into the back of his head. He stopped the spell and the room was deafeningly silent.

"You all will do best to remember what happens when you fail me," he said addressing the other three boys. They mumbled quiet apologies. Tom paced back to tower over Avery. "Do not disappoint me again, Avery."

He whimpered like an injured dog that had gotten too many kicks to the stomach.

Tom smirked and looked at the other boys.

"Malfoy, should I just skip to the fun part or do you actually have proof of your competence."

Malfoy dipped into his robes and pulled out a silver dagger. "I have it, My Lord."

Tom's dangerous smile blossomed across his handsome face as he looked at the blade. His hand descended down and picked up the blade.

"This is it?" It wasn't asked like a child opening a big present only to find the opposite of what they wanted. Tom looked at the small blade with rapture as he held it up to the light.

"Yes, the dagger of Lady Morgana, said to absorb any magic into it and was used as a ploy to destroy Merlin himself."

Tom continued to inspect it in the light as the metal glittered beautifully. He hummed.

"Well done, Malfoy."

Malfoy couldn't help the smile that broke out on his lips and his chest puffed out proud. It was a rare treat to get any kind of good word from Riddle, let alone a praise.

"Clean him up. We want to be presentable for our coming guests."

Tom waved a lazy hand signaling that the boys could take their friend away.

"Do not be late," he said before ducking out of the room.

The halls were clear and comfortingly quiet. There would be fifteen minutes for his knights to doll up Avery before the dinner feast began. He could go to the owlery.

Should I?

What would be the point?

I told myself I would stop this nonsense. To stop making myself pathetic.

But what if…

Maybe just…

Once more...

Tom growled and sent a ball of fire at a tapestry. He watched as it slowly burned.

Why? Why was he like this!? Why did he have to torture himself over a stupid girl? A fucking muggle girl! Muggles were nothing but evil in his life. His muggle caretaker made it her life mission to keep him in that miserable hellhole of an orphanage. His muggle father didn't want anything to do with him. The bastard even insulted his mother!

Tom clenched his fist as the fire burst into an inferno.

And now he was making himself sick over a muggle girl? Over another person who clearly wanted nothing to do with him? He thought she was different. He thought she understood but she was nothing but one of them. She abandoned him!

Tom waved his hand to put the tapestry back to its original state and stomped away up to the owlery.

One last time.

But what if there was nothing again? What if Tom climbed to the top of the castle to find that the treasure he had been searching for was still lost? This would be her last chance, their last chance. But this was crazy! He was a wizard, a powerful descended from Salazar Slytherin himself! What power did Hermione hold on him? She was a muggle, no better than a muggle-born! A filthy, non-magical muggle like the rest of the people in that prison they called an orphanage. He was using her for company, not that it made sense since he was just fine on his own. Perfectly fine, in fact. It would have been better if he never met her. He should have shunned her like the other, threw her to Billy and his pack of wolves like a chew toy. She was beloved by all the adults. The other kids tried to talk to her once they got over the idiotic rumor that she was cursed. She would have thrived with all the attention she was getting, maybe even made a friend. She would have been happy.

And she was, wasn't she? She was happy with… him? The creepy boy that everyone shunned. The delinquent that stole toys and threw stuff animals into the fire place just to laugh at the crying children, just for a second of attention. The mysterious boy that seemed to hurt anyone that crossed him without so much as placing a finger on their body. The boy that could talk to snakes. She laughed and practically glowed with utter childish joy with him. She ignored the attention given to her and gave hers to Tom.

And he thrived off of it. The first person to look him in the eye with mirth instead of fear and hatred. The first person to ask him to join in an activity, not because they felt obligated to, but because they wanted him to. The first person that could stand to be near him. The first person that gave him warmth and affection with no hidden motive. The first person to make him feel… wanted.

Just one more time, he promised himself.

When Tom was just a few stair steps away from reaching the top of the owlery, he could hear the sound of parchment ripping.

Shit, there was someone already up here. He stopped and debated to come back later until he heard a familiar giggle.

"Poor stupid little girls."

Rip!

"Such a shame these love letters will never reach their destination."

Rip!

"Ugh, these reeks of pathetic! Tom would vomit the moment he smelt these."

Rip! Rip! Rip!

"Chocolate frogs? Tom doesn't even like-"

Tom sprung forward, his arms stretched out with long fingers clamping around Lucia's neck. He pulled her backward and slammed her into the wall.

"What. Have. You. Done?" he hissed, his voice shaking with rage. His eyes flashed red.

The girl seemed to finally register who was choking her and she paled even more. Her hands went to pry Tom's off of her delicate neck but he just pulled her forward and slammed her head into the stone wall again. Tears began to stream down her face as she gurgled and gasped for air. Tom's hand tightened around her throat to completely crush her windpipe and she kicked against his legs in a desperate reflex to get away from him. He responded with a slap that stung her face more than any hex. When her eyes began to roll into the back of her head, Tom released her and watched as she fell to her knees on top of a pile of mail addressed to him that had been shredded to ribbons and confetti.

Tom's eyes flashed with renewed blood lust. His hand wrapped around his wand.

"I won't repeat myself again, McGroff."

She was sobbing and coughing uncontrollably. Tom bent down, grabbed a fistful of her robe and pulled her up until she was standing on jelly legs, staring at him.

"You better explain yourself while you still have a tongue."

"I- r-r-rip… mail-"

"Who were they from?"

She gulped. "G-g-girls."

"Who?!" He slammed her head into the wall as if it would fix her speech. It only made her cry harder and stars danced in her vision.

"P-please. I-I do-n't know! Fangirls," she spat out the last word.

"And who gave you permission to destroy my mail. Who gave you permission to touch what is mine?"

Her eyes had widened to saucers. Her body was trembling so hard it shook Tom's hand. She had never seen this boy act like this. He had always been to prim and proper and perfect. He helped students that dropped their school supplies, he showed some first years to their classes, he never got an answer wrong, and he was smarter than any upperclassmen. Sure he would act cold at times, but no one is a constant ball of sunshine. She loved him.

But this new side… it terrified her.

"I-I thought- but we…"

"Oh," he whispered, a cruel smile now forming on his lips. A smile that held no warm or kindness and made her blood freeze and her stomach churn. "You thought just because we fucked a few times you can do whatever you want? Hm?"

Her lips began to quiver. She had never heard him swear before.

He laughed menacingly and just as fast as the smile formed it melted away. She tried to look away but Tom grabbed her face in an iron grip and yanked her chin back, forcing her to look at him.

"Do not take me for your Prince Charming, McGroff. Now you better answer all of my questions truthfully or I will take it from you. And I promise it won't be pleasant. How long have you been going through my mail?"

She whimpered like an injured animal. "F-four months."

The last four months? He had sent two letters during that time!

The hand around her robes tightened and twisted. He lifted her a bit until the tip of her shoes was just skimming the surface of the floor like a ballerina.

"Have you been going through any of my other personal possessions?" If she touched his diary...

She shook her head as best as Tom's grip would allow her. "No! I s-swear!"

His hand around her clothes didn't loosen.

"Who were the letters from?"

"So-some girls."

"Who?"

"I-I didn't-"

"WHO?!" he roared so loud she fear it would burst her eardrum.

"I don't know, I don't know! J-just some fangirls. I-I just wanted t-to make sure you wouldn't leave me. I didn't want other girls getting in my way. P-please," she was fully sobbing now, "I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me."

"Shh," he hushed suddenly. The hand around her robes let go and climbed up to brush her wet cheek. His other hand rubbed her upper arm almost soothingly. "Shh, shh. None of that now. I'm sorry, I should not have acted that way. It's just, you have to understand that I do not like people touching my things" he said in a whisper, wiping the river of tears away with the pad of this thumb. "Now be a good girl and just take some deep breaths for me."

McGroff was so caught off guard. It was like Tom had done a one-eighty, his voice now softer than silk, his touch so light yet somehow firm and secure as it held her hips and traced tiny circles with his thumb. Tom smiled when her breathing slowed. He tucked a brown hair strand behind her ear and lifted her face with a knuckle under her chin. She could smell his musky scent and closed her eyes to concentrate on the feeling of his body pressed up against hers. Tom twisted a curl around a finger and gently pulled. Ever since rumor of Tom preferring curls was spread, every girl seemed to have changed their appearance. Then again, just yesterday, he heard rumors of him dating some upperclassman and a month before that, he liked redheads with blue eyes.

He raked his hand through her hair and took a handful of curls to kiss. The brown locks didn't feel right, but they felt familiar enough and Tom allowed himself to be lost in memory. The comfort of being next to a warm body, of feeling their sleeping breath on your face after they had fallen asleep to your voice. The feeling of just being held...

The Slytheirn girl opened her eyes to look up at him and he was painfully reminded of the truth as it shattered his fantasy.

Her eyes were green.

Their faces were so close now. Just one move and their lips would touch. He licked his lips. She licked hers. His eyes…

They were still red.

"Lucia." He breathed her name like it was the most beautiful thing to touch his lips. "I really need to know who sent me those letters. It's very important to me."

He was caressing a cheek and McGroff couldn't help but lean into his gentle touch.

"Who sent me those letters? I need names."

After a few seconds of taking in his warmth and breathing in his delicious scent and minty breath, she said truthfully, "I don't remember."

His breathing stopped. His lips sealed shut. His jaw clenched. His eyes flashed bright red.

Tom slowly leaned forward and could tell the girl was holding her breath. He traced the shell of her ear with the corner of his mouth. She gasped at the intimate action and soon her body softened into relaxation. Tom's mouth was breathing hotly by her ear and she closed her eyes, a small moan escaped her lips at one point. Her mind was hazy from the lust she craved for him. Tom ran a hand from her arm down to the waist and she closed her eyes again, waiting for him to touch her.

To Lucia, the sweet moment seemed to last forever.

Tom pulled his body back and the witch felt something poke into her rib. "Crucio."

---

December 1942- Beauxbaton

The music was loud and bounding, vibrating the dance hall and every decoration in it. People were laughing as they twirled on the dance floor with friends and dates while others conversed by the wall or food table. Hermione was sitting at a table with her friends who all mutually decided they needed a break from all the dancing and jumping around. Her flowy, ruffled navy blue dress was tight and sticking to her body with a thin layer of sweat underneath. She was fanning herself with a napkin and took a sip of a much needed cold beverage.

"He's looking at you."

"What? Who?" Hermione asked, putting down her drink to follow Carol's line of vision to the other side of the room. Her eyes fell on the group of boys in red smiling at her and her table of well-dressed friends. One boy in particular was practically devouring her with his eyes.

She turned back and muttered an, "Oh," into her drink.

Carol rolled her eyes. "Don't 'oh' me. Go over there!" she whispered encouragingly, although it came out as a harsh order. Hermione shook her head and took a large gulp of her drink.

Carol's glare became menacing. "How do you expect to get a guy if you can't even look at one for more than five seconds?"

"That's absurd. I've looked at a guy for more than five seconds."

"Teachers do not count." Hermione gave her a scorching glare but the Veela was unfazed and said, "Want to prove me wrong? I dare you to turn around and stare at those scrumptious creatures for a full minute."

"Fine." Hermione turned around and was shocked to find a red suit just inches away from her face. She looked up and the boy above her asked,

"Vould you like to dance?"

It was Viktor Krum, the most loved and popular boy at Durmstrang who during their short two weeks stay had instantly taken a liking to Hermione. There was something about her studious and quiet self that gravitated him toward the witch. Hermione hadn't given him much thought in the beginning as she concentrated on her work, not to mention that Krum was constantly surrounded by a horde of girls every minute of the day except for when he was in the bathroom or retired to his guest room. If allowed, Hermione assumed that his fans would follow him into the bathroom and guest room as well.

The fact that Krum had taken an interest in her never ceased to fascinate Hermione. Sure she went to an all-girls school, but growing up, no muggle boy had ever looked twice at her during the summer. In fact, most of them teased her. But Krum was different. He followed her around the halls, sat with her for hours, just watching her study in the library, although his presence alone made it difficult for her to concentrate.

Krum would find her outside reading up against a tree and march around in a workout in nothing but brown trousers, a thin tank top and a goofy smile with his usual horde of girls following him. He paid them no mind. You could say it was his shy way of trying to get her to notice him. After just a few days, the two finally exchanged enough words to be deemed a conversation and much to Krum's excitement, they haven't been separated since.

He gave her a charming smile as a way to persuade her to take his offering hand. She just looked at it with a puzzled expression until her brain registered that the Bulgarian student was asking her.

"Oh, me? I-I… um-"

"OF COURSE SHE WOULD LOVE TO DANCE!" Carol all but screamed impatiently in Krum's face in an attempt to help Hermione before she crashed and burn. Hermione's face flamed red as the people around her chuckled good heartedly at Carol's outburst.

The Veela must have noticed her tiny mistake and straightened herself up saying, "I mean… I'm sure Hermione would love to dance with you, Krum. She was just saying how much she wanted to get on the dance floor. Didn't you Hermione?"

"What? Wait I-"

"Of course you did," her friend interrupted not trusting her friend to say anything that would help the situation in her favor. "Go on you two, the next song is about to start."

The muscular boy stood in place as his eyes shifted between the beautiful girl in her navy blue dress and her Veela friend who wore a Cheshire-like grin. With an encouraging wink from Carol, Krum matched her grin with his own.

"Excellent!"

He grabbed Hermione's hand as the girl was forced from her chair and taken to the dance floor.

"Keep a sharp eye on her, Krum!" the two heard Carol yell.

Hermione looked back to her table and found her group of friends laughing and smiling for her to have fun before Krum's friends took a partner for themselves. Once they were on the dance floor things became awkward as the music was still upbeat. The witch stood still, not knowing what exactly to do. It was so different being silly and dancing with friends. She could let loose and not care how she looked. But now with this handsome boy watching her, Hermione was at a lost.

After ten agonizing seconds of frantically looking everywhere but the Durmstrang boy, the music slowed and a voice spoke into the microphone.

"This one goes out to a special pair of love birds on the dance floor."

Hermione looked up toward the stage just in time to see Carol running off.

A hand slipped into hers all of a sudden and Hermione looked back to see Krum smiling. He raised her hand up and kissed it. She couldn't help the blush that splashed her cheeks.

"Dance vith me?" he asked again.

Hermione swallowed the nervous vomit back down and nodded. He placed her free hand on his shoulder and placed his on her waist before leading them in a slow but graceful dance. Hermione would look down every now and then as she tried to keep her clumsy feet from acting on their own accord. Merlin forbid she stepped on the toes of Durmstrang's beloved student.

One, two, one, two, one, two...

She found herself getting into the dance the longer she and Krum were connected.

"You are a vunderful dancer," he complimented, seeing how flustered she was.

"Thank you. You are a wonderful d-dancer too," she stuttered and looked back down to her feet as an excuse to look away.

Circe, why was it so difficult talking to a boy? She had already spent two weeks hanging out with him. Well, he would always just sit quietly in the library with her, but still, you think she would have gotten used to the close proximity.

One, two, one, two, one, two...

He smiled and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Don vorry, Herm-own-ninny. You can step on my feet if you vunt to."

Just then, Krum moved his hands to Hermione's waist and picked her up, spinning her in the air before placing her on the ground and moving his hands to their original place on her body.

"You see? You are so light, like a quaffle. You von't hurt me."

Hermione laughed, still a bit dazed from the sudden lift and muttered a simple 'thank you,' as she didn't know how else to respond. Krum even went so far as to pick her up and placed her feet on top of his for a few circles until she stepped off giggling. After that, she was able to relax and enjoy herself.

Every so often the two would turn and Hermione would catch Carol's eyes looking over her dance partner's shoulders. Hermione would throw her an, "I am so going to kill you," look and her friend would respond with, "Shut up, you're loving this," wink before both girls were spun away. They continued to dance for hours as songs switched from slow and soothing to fast and exciting. Hermione was turned in every direction as Viktor twirled, dipped and lifted her. She found herself laughing hysterically, drunk on how much fun she was having. Sooner than she realized, people started to tire and trickle out of the halls, including some of her friends. She didn't even realize how long they had been dancing or how late it had gotten.

"I'm a little thirsty. Would you like to get a drink?" Hermione asked. She was genuinely tired and her shoes were killing her feet. Hermione wasn't used to wearing heels and all this dancing would probably have her feet swollen to triple their size by tomorrow morning.

Krum nodded and placed a hand on her lower back to lead them to the refreshment table with a pyramid of wine glasses with the sweet winter berry juice in them. Krum took a glass for each of them and handed Hermione hers. She took a sip and glanced at her dance partner. She was much more comfortable now.

Interesting how dancing could bring people together.

"You're going home tomorrow," she noted the obvious aloud as nothing else came to mind. "How did you like your stay at Beauxbaton? I'm sure you miss your friends visiting Hogwarts."

"I am in a beautiful castle vith the most beautiful girl I have ever met. Vat is there not to like?" he charmed, causing Hermione to blush again under the dim candle and lantern lighting. "It is much better here than Durmstrang."

"I'm sure you school is beautiful," the witch said.

"It is," he agreed with a nod and turned to look at her. "I vould love to have you come visit me sometime."

She shook her head. "Thank you but I'm quite busy here. My exams won't pass themselves, I'm afraid." They both shared a small laugh at the mention of school work.

"And the summer? You can come to Bulgaria to visit me at my summer home. My Mama would be so happy to have another girl in the house."

Viktor was one of five boys. Two of them were one year old twins.

"I haven't made plans yet. I can ask my aunt and uncle but they are a bit overprotective." Hermione began to get a bit nervous as it started to sound like she was just making up excuses not to see him.

Krum looked a bit crestfallen but kept on a charming smile. "That is alright. All I do is play Quidditch with my friends anyway."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "Quidditch seems like a dangerous sport. Especially with the way your team plays."

"Your team has Veelas. They are much more dangerous to play vith," he chuckled and Hermione couldn't help but laugh along.

When the Durmstrang boys challenged the girls in a friendly match to show off their skills in hopes of impressing some into being their date, Carol got too into the game and accidentally knocked a boy off his broom, sending him to plummet a good forty feet to certain death before one of his teammates caught him. She had been apologizing ever since and now the two were dancing. Even with only half of their team, the other at Hogwarts, Durmstrang put up one hell of a fight. When Krum played both a chaser and seeker and had scored the first seven goals for his team, the pressure was on. The girls picked it up with great defense and managed to score a few goals themselves. The beaters of Beauxbaton were on mark with their targets that game and with both being half Veelas, their extra strength gave them enough power to knock the boys off their broom.

Durmstrang was having a hard time avoiding the bludgers and catching their falling comrades. Even Krum had taken a hit, a hit one too many for his teammates as when they saw their seeker and captain was being the center of attention for the two beaters, the group of boys form a protective line around him. If the seeker goes down, so does their chances of winning. Like a chess game, you must protect your king. However, the strategy was impractical as it left their defenses wide open for scoring and with the extra bodies around blocking him, Krum couldn't get to the snitch first. The game ended with 200-130 Beauxbaton. While the boys may have lost the game, they each won a date. All except Krum, of course. He only had eyes for one girl at the school and she was always disappearing right under his nose.

Hermione giggled. "I guess you're right. What will you do when you go back to Durmstrang?"

"Training. I have been asked to join international team as the youngest seeker and vill start in two veeks." She could hear the over proudness in his voice.

"Oh, that's great. Congratulation!" she said earnestly. He smiled a 'thank you' and promised tickets for her and her friends to his first game and any games she wanted to attend after that.

"And vat vill you be doing?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I'm returning to my aunt and uncle's house tomorrow early morning. We are going to do some traveling over break."

"I hope not too early."

She smiled. "I will still be here to see you off if that is what you are worried about."

"I am not so vorried anymore," he said with a wink.

They stood with their backs to the table of drink as they gazed upon the couples still dancing. It was getting late and Hermione let out a yawn. Despite the drink and standing where there was a cool draft, Hermione was still hot in her flowy dress.

"Herm-own-ninny," Krum called, causing her to look up. "I can't move."

"What?" she asked confused. They both tried to lift their feet but they were glued to the ground.

"Oh," she heard him whisper and point above them.

Hermione saw a mistletoe take form. She instantly looked over to the dance floor in time to see Carol shove her wand in her dress pocket before forcefully swirling her date away from Hermione's heated glare.

Damn that girl.

"What is that?" the boy asked. "I have never seen that plant back home before."

"Um, it's called a mistletoe."

"Mistletoe," he echoed, amusement and curiosity clear in his deep, thick accented voice. "Do toes grow out of it?"

The witch laughed and shook her head. "No, nothing of the sorts. In the muggle world, there's this silly tradition that when two people are under a mistletoe, they have to kiss." She could feel her cheek flaring up intensely. Oh goodness, she never thought this was going to happen tonight!

"So ve have to kiss to move," he concluded. Whoever said the boy was a brainless monkey that only knew how to catch a golden ball should be strung up and flogged. "Is it alright if I kiss you?"

She didn't answer immediately and her nervousness was wreaking havoc on her brain. Before Krum could apologize for the forwardness, the witch nodded.

How else were they going to leave?

Hermione readied herself, remembering all the late night girl-talks with her roommates about fashion, movies and the number one topic: boys. Hermione could hear her friends' voice whispering in her ears.

"Just lean in and pucker your lips."

"And don't forget to close your eyes."

"No! Leave your eyes open so you don't miss!"

"Kissing with your eyes open is just weird. Close them!"

"Let the guy come to you, that way if he misses it's his fault."

"That's a great idea!"

"Don't forget to move your lips with his."

"Don't be a stiff."

"Don't use too much tongue."

"No, use A LOT of tongue!"

Hermione's head began to overload as more and more instructions drilled their way into her thoughts and she wondered if there was visible steam shooting from her ears. The closer Krum's lips got, the more flustered she was as she tried to map out what to do. It would be her first kiss. Her first real kiss on the lips!

Just pucker your lips, she told herself.

Hermione closed her eyes and brought her lips out just a fraction. Time froze around them and she couldn't help but do one last peek to see how much distanced was between their lips.

With a few inches left between their lips, Hermione felt strong hands grip her head and bring it down, tucking it into the boy's chest as he caged her with his arms and threw his cape over her head. The witch squeaked in surprise, confused by his actions.

"That vas dangerous," Krum whispered down to her. He let go of her head but placed his index finger under her chin to bring her face up and asked, "Are you alright?"

Hermione looked up to see that someone had burned the mistletoe above them and that it had fallen like a comet. The ashes landed on the wizard's back. Thankfully, his suit was very thick and he didn't feel any pain.

Hermione, however, began to freak out.

"Your suit!" Her hand went to go brush the charcoaled mistletoe away but Krum stopped her by holding her hands. His were so warm and slightly moist. She couldn't tell if he was nervous or just hot. Probably both.

"It is alright. Do not hurt yourself for me." He turned his head and blew the plant away. There was a black smudge from where it had hit him.

"Yeah, but your suit-"

"No," he said sternly but his eyes were soft. "Are you hurt?"

"No, but I don't-"

She was silenced by his index finger on her lips. "Then that is all I care about." He then looked up at the scorch mark and sighed. Hermione too began to look around and caught Madame Lynch pocketing her wand. The woman sent a scathing sideways glare before strolling to the other side of the room.

"It is too bad," Krum muttered, only to look down at Hermione with a smirk. "But I guess it is better this way. I vould not vant you to kiss me because you had to."

Hermione smiled at how sweet this intimidating looking boy was. She took his hand and the two snuck in two more slow dances before the clock struck midnight and the party was sadly over. Krum escorted Hermione to the top floor where her room was. They stopped at the beginning of a hallway that would lead to her room. Hermione got on her tip toes, as if she wasn't already on them because of her high heels, and gave Krum a small kiss on the cheek. She didn't miss the small blush that crossed his cheeks from the innocent act.

"For the mistletoe," she explained and then whispered, "Thank you. I had a wonderful night."

Krum whispered something charming that made her laugh. She couldn't remember what it was as most of her blood seemed to have been redirected to her head for most of the night but it made Krum smile in return. Before Hermione could walk away Krum brought her hand up and gave her knuckles a kiss before letting the red faced girl escape his grasp.

Hermione quickly dove onto her bed as her lungs remembered to breathe again. Her lips had never been that close to a boy's before.

Hermione kicked off her shoes and changed into a more comfortable sleeping attire. Carol stumbled in a few minutes after Hermione in a complete state of giggles. The girl's face was flushed strawberry red. With perfect timing, Hermione threw her pillow right when Carol turned and the soft object smacked the Veela's face.

"That's for the mistletoe," Hermione said with a grin she couldn't hide.

Carol threw the pillow back but Hermione caught it in her hands before it could hit her face.

"Shut up, you loved it."

Both girls giggled and spent whatever time they had to sleep to talk the night away.

---

Meanwhile at Hogwarts…

Tom sat in a dark corner in the Restricted Section with his feet on the table and a heavy book in his lap. The welcoming dance thrown for Durmstrang had grown tiredly annoying fast and the wizard wanted desperately to escape. Tom hated forced social events. Even with the Slug Club parties, Tom could only tolerate boring small talk for so long before he wanted to rip hair.

It was only a miracle Tom was able to escape. As a Prefect, it was part of his duty to monitor the room for students trying to spike the punch bowl or running off for some "inappropriate romping," as Dippet so eloquently put it. Luckily, Tom was able to ask the female Hufflepuff Prefect to take over for the remainder of the celebration in exchange for a dance with him. A small price to pay for a moment of solitude.

As pathetic it would have been to voice the thought aloud, the library had always made him feel safe. For eleven years, he had been living with muggles who rejected him. But here, in Hogwarts, he was worshipped. Girls threw themselves at his feet, teachers bragged about him to friends, guys despised him and yet wanted him to notice them. Within these castle walls, he was a God, loved by all.

It felt good. It felt right.

Tom had been busy reading a particularly dark book about interesting spells used in past wars. Most of the stories were gruesome and the spells that came out of every war were fascinating. He had flipped to a chapter about concealing spells when the front door to the library squeaked open.

He put out his Lumos and edged his way toward the front where he saw none other than Madame Pince strolling into the room.

Shit, did Tom set off a silent alarm? She probably put it up for the ball so that no one could sneak in for a quick rump. Damn it.

When the woman began to walk toward the restricted section, Tom took out his wand waved it toward the other side of the room. Several books flew off the shelves and tumbled to the ground, startling the woman who swore colorfully in shock. Just as Tom had wanted, she stomped toward the source of the noise allowing the wizard to slip out of the room with his book in hand.

A glance at the clock above the library entrance told him it was close to midnight yet the boy had no urge to go back to the Slytherin common room. He knew his housemates were throwing a small after party and even with silencing charms, Tom didn't need people interrupting him.

He turned on his heel decided now would be a good time to take a stroll of the castle. Walking aimlessly might sound dull to other people, but it was the only way to explore a castle like Hogwarts. You must be lost before you can discover. That was how the castle worked.

And so he walked, just letting his feet take him wherever as his eyes took in both new and familiar sights. There was suddenly the sound of giggling and Tom ducked into the nearest alcove. He peaked out and saw a Hufflepuff Prefect walking out of a secret passageway with a Ravenclaw girl in hand. He hushed the girl who only giggled more and the both ran down the hall towards one of their common room.

The Slytherin looked at the opening to the new passageway. He rushed towards it and slipped through, right before the heavy door shut behind him. There wasn't much inside, it was just a dusty, narrow hall with a few sleeping portraits snoring.

"You there."

Tom immediately turned around. His eyes darted in every direction in search of the owner of the voice.

"I can… feel your magic, boy."

Again, Tom's head twisted in every direction but there was no one in sight.

"Where are you?" the wizard called. "Show yourself!"

"Up here."

Tom looked up and found the portrait of Salazar Slytherin glaring unforgivingly down on him. He took a step back.

"I have never seen you before," Salazar said as he assessed the young wizard. His eyes landed on the green Prefect badge. "You are a Slytherin."

"I am," was all Tom dared to reply.

This was him. This was the great man who was Tom's ancestor. He could barely believe he was talking to the ancient wizard.

"There is something about you, child. I feel this connection between you and me, even in my current state." There was a pause as the portrait took the time to study Tom's face as if sizing him up.

Tom never liked being stared at and now was no different. He had half a mind to burn the portrait right there but that would be unacceptable. To burn a priceless portrait of Salazar Slytherin, one of the four great founders of Hogwarts, would be like signing his one way ticket back to the orphanage. Instead, Tom just glared back, annoyed that the picture had not said anything.

Then, Salazar said, "Put your hand on my portrait."

"What?" Tom asked, confused by the unique request.

"You heard me, boy. Touch the paint of my portrait, just my crest will do. I want to test something."

Tom glared at the man. As great and powerful as he once was, Tom didn't liked to be ordered around. Reluctantly though, the young Slytherin raised a hand and touched the acrylic paint. The colors of the portrait brightened and Salazar looked a gasping breath.

"I thought so. You are of my bloodline."

"Yes."

"What is your name, my boy?"

There was something compelling about this founder. Tom couldn't help but follow orders.

"Tom Riddle."

"Tom," the painting repeated as his eyes sized him up. "Yes, I have heard word of you from the other paintings. Intelligent, charming, mysterious... You are like me. I can feel it in your magic, your hate for muggles and muggle-born. I can feel your hunger for power. I can feel my blood in your veins."

"What is your point?"

The portrait laughed. "I like you. You remind me of my son. Before he went mad, of course."

Tom turned his back. "I'm leaving-"

"Have you heard her yet?"

He stopped. He didn't turn back but asked, "Her?"

"Her. My pet. My beloved."

Tom finally turned around. "I do not know who you are talking about."

"My precious Basilisk. You have heard her, yes? I heard her whisper for the first time after my death. She was calling for her master, but she was not calling for me."

Tom tried to think back. There was a time heard heard something. It was faint and was a hissing sound. But that was years ago when he was sleep deprived and thought it was the fire eating the logs he threw into the fireplace.

"You have, haven't you? Or do you not possess the gift?"

That stunned him, but Tom quickly recovered.

"I have the gift," Tom spoke back in parseltongue. It had been so long since he last spoke the language and yet it flowed from his mouth to fluently. Salazar smiled.

"My young heir. I have another gift for you but it is one that you will have to find for yourself as Hogwarts had changed since my time here. The entrance has been hidden but she is very much alive. I give her to you as well as my private chambers. It is under the school and only a parselmouth can enter the chambers."

"You're giving me a room and a pet?"

"Fool!" he roared, making Tom flinch, "She is not just a snake, she is a Basilisk. Her species is the King of all serpents. One look in her eyes will instantly kill anyone who sees them. This includes you."

"What am I suppose to do with it?" He sounded like an ungrateful child who just received cleaning products for Christmas. But really, Tom was ecstatic.

"Carry on my legacy. You wish to rid the world of muggles and those impure, correct?"

Tom blinked. Did he not know Tom was impure as well? Could he not feel it in his magic?

"Yes."

The portrait smiled. "Then go. She will be helpful. She will listen to only you; no other parselmouths will be able to command her."

"What about the chamber? How do I find it?"

"If you listen, she will call. Let your magic find her and you will find the entrance."

"Is it really that easy?"

"My boy, nothing in this world is easy. But I can feel the raw power inside you. You are capable of great things, things I wish I could have accomplished when I was twice your age."

"Can't you just tell me where the Chamber is?"

The painted man shook his head. "There are ears and eyes all around us. Consider this a test, my young heir. Now go, before someone sees you."

Tom nodded and left without a word.

---

December 26, 1942- Malfoy Manor

Christmas had come faster than anyone had anticipated. Tom had been invited to spend his holidays with the Malfoys, an invitation he gladly took. Lady Malfoy had showered him with gifts of expensive clothes and wristwatches and sturdier school supplies. Coming from an orphanage, Tom never had the luxury of owning such exquisite things. He was lucky to get a wool sweater that didn't have a hole in it. Now he was wearing iron pressed pants, a silk shirt and dark green and black dragon skin shoes. Over their holiday feast, Abraxas' parents had interrogated Tom about his life and how much they love what a good influence he was on their son. Tom continued to play the modest boy which the two just ate up.

Later at night, the three boys sat around Lord Malfoy's office, sipping on some strong firewhisky that was only brought out for special occasions. Lady Malfoy had excused herself for the night two hours ago after having too much to drink. It was nearing midnight now.

"So, Tom," Lord Malfoy said, his voice low but light with alcohol from his fifth glass. Tom was working on what he thought was his second but it was hard to tell since the older wizard filled his cup to the brim when it was half empty. "What are your plans after school? You have a bright mind and I am sure the Ministry would fall over themselves to have you."

Tom lowered his glass to his lap as he fought the urge to twist his face in a sour expression from the liquor. While it burned almost pleasantly down his throat, the taste was something abominable.

"I was hoping to work as a professor at Hogwarts. There is a rumor going around that professor Merrythought will retire next year."

"A professor?" the man echoed with amusement. "How very noble. We need more good teachers in the world to educate the new generation. Not like Dumbledore."

"Father," Abraxas whispered with a warning tone.

The man took a swing. "The Dumbledores used to be an honorable family, good reputation, extremely well connected- they were a family that everyone looked for at a party. And then news got out about the deaths of those muggle boys. Hmfph! Serves those filth right. If I ever saw a muggle even look at my son I would personally remove their eyes from their head," he babbled. The alcohol was definitely doing the talking now.

"Such a shame that the press made Percival to look like a monster. He was a great man. Hogwarts never offered Muggle Studies until Albus petitioned for it during his last year of school. Disgusting. Why should my kid learn about useless things like electricity? That is why we have magic!

"Father, you are babbling again."

"So what if I am? It is the truth and you know this. Your mother and I want the best for you," he said with a pointed finger at his son. Then he turned to Tom. "The Wizarding World was very different when I was your age. We did not have electives like Muggle Studies. Defense classes were much harder with more spells to learn. I admit, some were dark but it was good to know about them. Durmstrang teaches their students, why shouldn't Hogwarts. Even that girly school in France teaches more advance spells. To think that they are teaching you it is all right to mate with muggles. Disgusting! I am surprised parents had not petition for the class to be abolished."

He took a large gulp as the two younger boys kept silent. The man closed his eyes and sighed deeply. The two Slytherins passed glances to each other, Tom looking a bit confused and Abraxas looking a bit embarrassed. Just when Tom thought the man had fallen asleep, Lord Malfoy opened his eyes and looked at Tom and Abraxas with glassy orbs.

"My older sister ran off and married a muggle man when I was six." His voice had softened. "She was only nineteen when she left and said she loved him and he loved her. Back then, the trace they put on wands did not break until you turned twenty-one. My dear sister was so young and ashamed of her prejudice family and desperate to get away from us that she snapped her own wand so we couldn't locate her. My father had somehow tracked her down living in this pathetic hut they called a house. She was filthy and poor and her beloved was drinking away what money she had taken from the family vault."

There was a haunting pause. Neither boy knew what to say. It was the first time either of them had heard the story. It was the first time since his own marriage that he had spoken about his sister.

"My sister was pregnant with a boy. She was so happy. Father was furious that his heir was a half-blood. But father loved my sister. His first born. His precious little princess. He ordered for her to come back home where she would live comfortably, where his first grandson could be raised around magic. She refused, said something about how in love she was with the muggle and how she could never leave him. She was in denial about his drinking and her state of living. It broke father's heart to come home without her. I remembered mother cried for weeks. I have never seen the Malfoys so destroyed."

He grew silent again.

"...What… what happened next," Abraxas asked timidly.

Lord Malfoy didn't say a word. His glassy eyes kept on his dark drink as he swirled it in his cup to create a mini whirlpool. A log in the fireplace cracked and the sound seemed to pull him out of his daze.

"She died. Her so called beloved husband drank too much one night and came home with a belt in hand. He beated her until her face was unrecognizable, screaming what a useless tramp she was and how he blamed her for not taking more of the family fortune. And then, he took my unborn nephew away. He whipped and punched and kicked her stomach until she was bleeding between her legs. They both died that night."

Tom could feel the air shift as magic was pouring and twisting in anger around them. The glass of firewhiskey he was holding shattered. Tom didn't flinch. Lord Malfoy had a dead expression but his eyes were very much alive.

"One month after, my father woke me up and told me we were going on a hunting trip. I was so excited, the thought of taking down a chimera or whatever beast we came across made my heart race. I asked him where we would be going. He said it was a surprise and to not say a word to mother. We apparated to a thick forest and walked until there was a cottage in front of us. Father pulled out his wand and told me to pay attention. I don't think I spoke a word until we got back to the Manor. Inside the cottage was the man who took my sister away from me."

He turned to face his son and guest again. "Muggles and mudbloods are vile creatures. They do not deserve to share this world with us. They enter our world and think it is one big amusement park with flying brooms and silly potions. They are foreigners marching on native land demanding they have a right to be in our world. We have been nothing but kind and private people until they hunted us with their pitchforks and fire. They use us and then they destroy us. They can not be trusted. They must be destroyed, for all of our sake."

The grandfather clock struck one in the morning the moment Lord Malfoy stood. With a wave of his hand, the mess from the broken glass and spilled drink had vanished.

"My apologies for keeping you up so late, Tom. I hope I did not bore you with my rambling."

"Not at all, Lord Malfoy. Thank you for sharing your story and I am very sorry for your lost. I know what it is like to lose family to muggles."

He nodded. "Well, it is rather late and my wife will have my head if she finds us up so off to bed you two."

They both murmured a good night and departed for their separate room.

On this walk, Tom couldn't stop thinking about the story he had just heard. It was too close to what his past was. What would have happened if his father beat his mother? What if his mother had gone back to the Gaunt family?

His head was swimming with what-ifs. Once Tom reached his room, he stripped down to his boxers and slipping into the king size bed. He wanted to sleep, he wanted the dull ache in his chest to disappear and he wanted his head to stop pounding.

Tom spent the rest of the night tossing and turning in his sleep and he dreamed of nothing.

---

The town was still as small as she had remembered it. The snow had locked people inside of their warm houses, sipping of hot beverages and eggnog with possible love ones by a warm roaring fire.

Hermione stopped at the double door gates for a moment and closed her eyes. Nostalgia began to ravish her body in large waves of old memories. It had been so long. Too long, really. She should have come back sooner but she was afraid of what the boy behind the door of room twenty-seven would think of her. He must hate her. Did he miss her? Would he even remember her?

She only had less than thirty minutes to find out and precious time was ticking away.

With bright eyes now open, she pasted the gates and walked up the short flight of steps she hadn't crossed in years. The paint was chipping from the icy weather and she could see two broken windows with paper taped over the cracked hole, no doubt caused from kids throwing toys around.

The building still held its strange aura of dreariness as if it was haunted by Dementors and yet it also felt different somehow. Like it was a bit livelier? Hermione brushed it off as the holiday spirits.

Hermione stopped in front of the large wooden door and smiled a bit at the sound of children screaming joyously. Her hand subconsciously rubbed the bracelet on her wrist, her heart was beating painfully fast at the anticipation.

"Now or never," she whispered to herself.

With a small, tight fist, she knocked on the door. A few minutes later, the plank of wood swung open and out peered a similar old face from her past. The woman's eyes squinted and she turned her head this way and that like an owl, with a nagging feeling tugging on her memories. Hermione could see that something finally clicked and the matron could do nothing but drop her jaw, let out a choke sound and cover her mouth with her wrinkled hands. Tears began to flow down her cheeks.

Hermione smiled. "Hello, Mrs. Cole."

---

Author's Note: AH!

Thanks again everyone for the wonderful support. 3

Until next time.