Chapter 5 Houses and Homes

They reappeared in an alley behind a café Hermione used to go to as a child. It was brand new in this time; in fact, it wasn't even open to the public yet. She smiled as she peeked inside an open window at the brand new tables and chairs lined up neatly in rows. In almost fifty years she would sit at one of those little tables and read her school books while her parents talked quietly over tea.

A retching off to her side brought her attention back to Tom. He was leaning heavily against the wall and looked very green.

"I am so sorry I should have warned you! Side along apparition can make people sick and I didn't think-" His gagging cut her off.

"You… should try and," he closed his eyes tightly and his fingers curled into the brick "think more often." He said in-between clenched teeth. Hermione reached out to guide a soothing hand over his back.

"Don't touch me." He groaned and she instantly pulled back and waited for him to catch his breath and draw himself up. "I'm… ok. Where are we?"

"We are still in London if that is what you are asking, as for where we are… we are at a café near my old house."

He seemed to perk at this. "Are we going there?"

She shook her head. "There is no point, its… just a house. It's not my home anymore."

He frowned. "Aren't they the same thing?"

Her heart wrenched for him, because he truly didn't understand… and until he got to Hogwarts he wouldn't really understand how a place could be a home. Even then he destroyed it in the end. He was just so damaged even at such a young age.

"A home is a place where you can be yourself without fear and relax; it's a place where there are people who love you waiting."

He was thinking hard. She could tell from the way his eyes focused on her, looking at her without actually seeing her.

"I don't understand," he said slowly "how can that make any difference?"

"It just does, you will understand one day."

He snorted. "Doubtful, unless I get adopted I am at Wools until I am eighteen, and I don't see that happening any time soon."

Her heart broke for him all over again. "It could happen." She offered weakly. He glared at her.

"I'm young not stupid, Mrs. Cole chases people away from me. I know it. It was why you picked me… you know I am not going anywhere anytime soon."

"Oh Tom that's not true-"

"Isn't it?" his eyes were stony, hard, and there was a hollowness to them that scared her.

"It isn't." She repeated back at him.

"Then why?" he demanded "Why me? I have been puzzling over it ever since you gave me my key and this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a grubby piece of paper. It was worn, and looked like it had been folded and unfolded again and again. In faded pencil was a small list of date and times in her hand writing. "You could have picked anyone in the world, why me?"

She didn't know what to say. She didn't even know why she had picked him. She could lie, but she was a very bad liar and even at his age Tom would be able to tell if she was. Why Tom? She had been puzzling that over herself and couldn't think of any reason to pick him. She knew what he was- what he would become. But looking into his eyes she could only see a lost little boy, abandoned, and alone.

"I don't know yet."

His eyes widened in surprise, as if he had not expected her answer. "You don't know? How can you not know?"

"I don't know a lot of things Tom, but… I suppose if I gave you that key… I trust you."

It was the only logical explanation, and when she thought about it, it made perfect sense. She would only have given that key to Tom Riddle if she trusted him. Somehow, somewhen, this little boy must have gained her confidence, her faith. It was hard to believe.

"You trust me?" From his tone he apparently found it as hard to believe as she did.

"I must. Why else would I give it to you?"

His lips twisted in confusion. "I don't know…."

He looked lost and she quietly reached for him again sighing as he took a step away from her. "Well that's all in the past," for now at least "so there is no use dwelling on it. We can only move ahead."

Tom sighed and said nothing, looking a bit calmer then he had before. "I can take you back to the orphanage-"

"NO!"

She flinched at the volume but quickly regained her composure. "Ok, then we are going to a flat close by. I am going to be staying there until I have to go again… alright?"

He nodded, looking tired. She gave him a sympathetic smile and started to walk around the corner, beckoning for him to follow. He followed slowly behind her, silent as a shadow. Quietly, they made their way to the building. It was tall, plain, and all together unassuming. "We are on the fourth floor, 3D."

She was speaking more to herself at this point. Tom was lost in his own thoughts and had been their entire walk, and she didn't dare disturb him for fear of setting him off again. Where had that burst of emotion come from to begin with? Could it have just been an emotional childish rant? She had not been around many children in her life, even when she was a child herself. She vaguely recalled various temper tantrums from other children. But this wasn't a temper tantrum… it was just raw emotion.

Hermione was forcibly reminded of Harry again. They were so alike it was surprising. Harry was the same way when he was upset; he would bottle it away and then unleash it in large torrents before going deep into himself, pensive despite what anyone else would do.

The worst part of dealing with someone like Harry or Tom was the fact that when they were upset there was nothing you could do without making it worse. You could only wait for them to sort themselves out.

She hated it.

"Hermione, we walked past it."

Tom's quiet voice drew her from her thoughts. He had stopped a few paced behind her, staring at a simple oak door with 3D carefully painted on the front.

"Oh! I didn't even notice."

"Obviously." He mumbled.

She pretended not to hear and with a small flourish that made Tom roll his eyes she pulled out her new key and unlocked the door. As soon as the door opened a fireplace ignited to her right, lighting up the room. As soon as everything came into clear view she gaped at what she saw.

It was the room Tom had the Room of Requirement make for her. The same beige couch and armchair, the same bookshelves (minus a few books) everything was an exact copy. Tom had stepped into the room, peering around curiously, his hand absentmindedly reaching out and touching everything he walked past. He stopped a few feet away from the bookshelves, his hand patting the arm of the armchair by his side with mindless diligence.

"Can I open one?"

There was hunger in his tone, a hunger she well understood. "If you like, just be careful. I don't know what is on the shelf and it could have something dangerous."

His nose wrinkled, "books aren't dangerous."

She wanted to laugh at the declaration. "Well some wizard books are… I am surprised you didn't know that."

He picked up a large leather bound book that was almost too big for him to handle comfortably and slowly carried it over to the armchair. "Why?" He asked as he settled down and flipped it open, peering down at the parchment.

"Because if I had known about Diagon Alley at your age I would have read every book I could get my hands on from the book store."

"They will not let me in on my own; they say I need an adult." He sounded rather put out by that and Hermione almost smiled.

"I suppose they would… I am going to go unpack. Will you be ok here?"

"Hmn."

She supposed that was a yes. She walked past him to a small door she saw next to the bookshelf. Beyond it was a large, king-sized bed with a deep red comforter and very comfortable looking pillows. There was a small dresser across from the bed and a desk under a window to her left. It was already stocked with ink, quills, parchment, and a small dictionary.

She set her purse down and pulled out the tiny suitcase, setting it on her bed and tapping it with her wand. It quickly grew to full size, none the worse for wear. She knew there were spells she could use to unpack quickly, but she decided to do it the muggle way, letting herself check her things over again as she put them away.

Hermione gave a little rueful smile when she realized that she has packed too much. I can always take some back later. The thought comforted her. She liked having something constant, the vault provided that. Perhaps this place can be something I can come back to as well. She liked the little flat, it was soothing.

She wanted to explore it more. I should finish unpacking she thought reluctantly, but as she halfheartedly dragged her fingers over a red blouse she was folding curiosity finally won out and she went exploring.

There was a small bathroom attached the bedroom. The room was spotless and white with only a few deep red adornments standing out like spots of blood. Red curtains half covered a charmed window that showed a shoreline from a foreign beach. Red towels were hung neatly on a rack below a pale picture of a field of daisies blowing in an invisible wind. A fluffy red rug was wrapped around the toilet; it looked perfect to dig chilly toes into late at night.

A giant claw footed bathtub rested in one corner of the room, but unlike a regular muggle bathtub this one had three faucets. Next to yet another door was a small sink next to a countertop. Hermione quickly summoned her toiletries and set them on the counter. She then turned her attention to the new door.

This one led out into a kitchen, it was small, but it would suffice. There were a few high cabinets stocked with mismatched plates and glasses, all organized neatly. A stove was placed next to a vintage (or rather modern in this time) fridge. It was stocked with fresh food which surprised her immensely.

How could she have a fully stocked fridge? She examined every inch of it but could detect no spell or enchantment that could explain it. Could someone have stocked it? But who would I give access to? Unless she didn't.

Hermione quickly cast a detection spell but could find no traces of anyone except for a vague glow from the next room over. That's Tom in the front. There is no one else here. A brief red flash caught her eye and she froze.

Red meant magical non-human.

It was coming from a couple of folding closet doors. Tense and wary Hermione inched closer to the closet, wand at the ready, eyes trained on her target. Surprise would be her weapon and with a violent flick of her wand the doors flew open with a crack, making the creature behind the doors squeal.

She had knocked flour loose and everything was covered in the fine white powder . It obscured her vision and she hissed in frustration as it blinded her. A spell she couldn't see or identify smashed into her stomach, sending her flying back into the door. Her head hit the door with a loud crack and she saw stars.

The flour was starting to settle and Hermione could see her attacker. A short crooked creature with floppy ears, all solid white from the flour, its large hazel eyes narrowed in fury. Hermione stumbled to her feet, her head spinning wildly as her scrambled brain tried to identify the little creature.

It raised a hand.

Oh, it's a house elf!

The elf cast, and Hermione was thrown into darkness.