A/N: My deepest gratitude to all reviewers: san01, tofuubeaver, pottersgirl91, Lizzy Evans, nehimasgift, litprincess, MandaPandaAR, hanvu, Silver Tears 11, PapayaCrazy, LaNi-GoLDfiSh, Emi-Bum, svelte, bigmamatree, kat6528, Shadows08, and BehindBlueEyes52. Y'all have no idea how freaking fabulous you are! 74 reviews and that's only on the first 5 chapters! Not even half way (this chapter makes halfway) to where I've written. And I'm not done yet. -winkety wink- Welp, enjoy the chapter, my friends.

Chapter 6 – Lunch with Tom & Royalty

Hermione walked out into the entrance hall on the King's arm and noticed the Duke and Duchess of Holyhead waiting. Both were extremely plump, just like the King.

The Duke was an older man with a white mustache that was so bushy, Hermione wasn't quite sure how food could get past it to his mouth. He had glasses on, yet he squinted his beady black eyes as she walked over to him and nodded gracefully. He offered to take her hand, and she hesitated. This whole touching strangers thing was really starting to get to her.

"Your highness. So wonderful to see you looking like such a grown up lady," he greeted as he kissed her hand, his mustache tickling her knuckles and making her giggle.

"Anastasia," said the Duchess. Her tone was as snooty as the expression on her face which seemed to radiate a disgusted sort of attitude toward Hermione. Hermione frowned and sighed as she turned back to the King who was talking to the Duke.

"I've invited General Mardon and one of this troops, Aramis, to lunch with us, is that all right with you, my good man?"

"Sounds excellent," said the Duke.

"Shall we go out into the garden and meet them, then?"

"Most positively," the Duke agreed. Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed as she slouched and followed her father, the Duchess grimacing at her as she passed.

"Young ladies should not slouch. They should stand tall and straight while holding their head high. It's good for the posture, you know," the Duchess sniffed.

"Well-," Hermione began in an angered voice, but she remembered herself and that she should be polite and continued in a different tone. "That's very useful to know. I'll keep that in mind," she added politely as she stood up straight and held her head high while continuing to walk outside.

When they entered the garden, Tom and the General were standing there in military uniforms of bright red with white pants and black boots to their knees. Both had gold fastenings on their red jackets, and the General had a golden sword at his hip.

Hermione did a double take as she looked at Riddle, but he caught her and smirked as he narrowed his eyes.

"Ah, General Mardon... Aramis," the King greeted. "Shall we all sit down, then?"

"Absolutely. Aramis... get the Princess's seat for her. Duchess, would you like me to help you into your chair?" Mardon offered.

"Why, General, how generous," the Duchess laughed as she nodded. The General walked over and pulled out the chair for the Duchess as the King and the Duke took a seat, and Tom pulled out the chair for Hermione. She took her seat cautiously as the young Dark Lord grinned broadly in a malicious way.

"Let me push you in," he whispered evilly as he gave a forceful shove on the back of the chair that sent Hermione flying toward the table. She gasped as her stomach became compressed between the back of the chair and the table.

She adjusted the chair and glared at Riddle who was trying to suppress a laugh. At first, Hermione thought that he was doing so because of her, but then she saw that he wasn't even looking at her. Instead, he was looking across the table as he went red in the face from holding in the laugh. Hermione looked to where he was looking and saw that the General was having a bit of trouble pushing the Duchess in now that she was sitting on the chair that he had pulled out for her. Hermione was the one trying to suppress a giggle now as Mardon went red in the face while pushing on the chair with tremendous force. The Gryffindor about suffocated as she pressed her face into her hands when the Duke got up and began to help the General.

"I say... this... chair is... stuck," the General grunted as they finally got her chair pushed in with a last shove.

"It must have been the sidewalk," the Duke sighed as he wiped a bit of perspiration off his forehead with his napkin while taking his seat once more.

"Yeah, the sidewalk she cracked when she sat her fat bottom down," Tom mumbled. Hermione heard him and almost choked as she snorted and tried not to laugh out loud.

"I say, child, are you all right?"

"Ye-yes, Duke... I'm... I'm fine. Thank you," Hermione rebounded as she shook off the urge to chuckle again and sat up straight while looking toward the King.

"I hope that tripe and linguini carbonara are fine with everyone?"

"Tripe!" Hermione's stomach turned at the word.

"Yes, dear, I knew that it was one of your favorite meals, so I thought that maybe you would want to share with everyone," the King announced happily.

"Oh, why yes, I would," Hermione said in an attempt to cover her shock.

"It's horrible for a young lady to raise her voice any louder than that of a whispering wind," the Duchess corrected. Hermione rolled her eyes as Riddle smirked at her from the seat on her left before listening in on what the King, Duke, and General were talking about.

"... it's abominable. To think that they are challenging us," General Mardon huffed. "I mean, with our army, we could easily take them down and out. And as if our army isn't good enough already, we have more and more upstanding, fine young gentlemen coming in everyday. Isn't that right, Aramis?"

"Uh... huh! Yeah, that's right, sir," Tom played along. "Lots and lots of new recruits."

"That's marvelous," the King roared as he lifted his glass for a toast. "To General Mardon and his army... may peace always reign over this great country!"

"Here, here! Cheers!" Everyone raised their glasses, and Hermione's nose crinkled at the taste of the drink in her hand.

"What's wrong, dear?"

"Nothing, Father," Hermione lied. "It's just my drink. It tastes bitter."

"Ah, yes, it's the best wine in the country. You love Chamberry Curtell," the King beamed. "Don't you?" He stopped smiling and raised his brow at her as he waited for her to answer.

"Yes. Of course. I just think it surprised me a bit... I've not had it in a while," Hermione smiled.

"That's my girl," the King said proudly. "But if you like, I can have the maid bring out some apple cider. Would you like that?"

"Yes, very much, thank you," Hermione replied as she sat down the bitter red liquid in her golden goblet and pushed it away from her. She did notice however, that Tom had finished off his glass and that the Duke was pouring him a clear liquid. "What's that you're drinking?"

"Ah, Princess, this is some of the finest liquor in my home land of Holyhead. It's special made... I believe the salesman in the market called it vodka," the Duke explained as he stopped just short of overflowing Riddle's glass.

"Vodka, did you say?" Hermione faintly remembered Ginny going to a party with some friends one summer where she drank this Muggle alcohol. Hermione had supported Ginny back to the Burrow where she had to stand in the bathroom next to Ginny and hold her hair back as the youngest Weasley threw up from consumption of the drink.

"Yes, vodka." The Duke uncorked the bottle again and stood up, leaning over the table toward Hermione's new empty glass that the maid was preparing to pour cider in. "Would you like some?"

"No. Thank you though, but no," Hermione declined.

"I'll take some more though... if that's all right with you?" Hermione turned to Tom as she raised her glass of apple cider to her mouth. She was in shock. Riddle had finished that full goblet of vodka and was wanting more.

"Now, that's my kind of boy. A young gentleman who knows how to handle and drink his fair share of fine liquor. Good man," the Duke congratulated as he poured the future Voldemort another brim-touching glass of the potent alcohol.

Hermione shook her head as she watched Tom gulp down half the goblet in one drink.

"Don't you think you should stop?" she advised as he winced at the burning sensation which filled his throat and nose.

"Why?" he quizzed, taking another gulp.

"Because we've not even began lunch, and you've put away a goblet of wine and vodka. Not to mention the fact that you're about done with that one," Hermione scolded.

"Just because you can't drink, doesn't mean I can't," Tom mumbled to her as the main dishes were brought to the table and served to them.

Hermione was more than thankful for the linguini carbonara because the tripe didn't look too good. Its creamy white color and feathery looking texture made Hermione's stomach turn as she grimaced and watched Tom take a large bite. She swallowed and began to stare down at her own plate, feeling bile rise in her throat.

Lunch ended on a good note with the Duke and the Duchess arguing. It might not have seemed like a good note to others, but it had been to Hermione. She had yet again been telling Riddle to lay off the drinks, seeing as he was on his fifth glass of vodka and his fourth glass of wine, when the Duchess spoke up and told Hermione to mind her business because ladies were not to tell gentlemen what to do. This lead to the Duke, who himself was a bit tipsy, telling the Duchess that she was a 'tight wad' and that she should mind her own business herself. Hermione had snorted with laughter as the Duchess sat there looking appalled, but the Gryffindor cared not. She was glad that someone had told off that nasty lady before she did.

"Rodden, Rodden! Come, come, my good man. The General and I plan to go to the drawing room to look at some of the maps of the country side, would you like to join us?"

"Why, yes, that would be wonderful," the Duke agreed before hiccuping and getting up to leave the table with the King and Mardon. The Duchess rose from her seat, clicking her fingers so that one of the maids would follow her as she said something about needing her nails and hair tended to before resting for a bit.

This left Hermione and Tom alone, but it was no use to Hermione that she could be alone with him now. The teenaged Dark Lord was completely punch drunk and had no common sense to him at the moment.

"I'm going inside. I'll leave you to wallow in your drunken state," Hermione tutted as she rose and started off for the castle across the garden path. She was almost onto a different walkway that ran along the castle and to the front door when she heard some dishes clank behind her.

She looked back and saw that Tom had finished his drinks and was headed towards her. She shook her head and turned to continue walking, hoping that he would stumble and fall and stay there in the gravel to sleep it off. But her wishes were dashed when she heard his feet upon the gravel behind her.

"Just go away," Hermione mumbled in prayer. She looked back over her shoulder and saw that he was advancing on her and quick. "God, he walks fast for a drunk! Fall, fall, please, fall."

"I need to talk to you," Riddle managed as he suppressed a hiccup.

"You're drunk, so there's no use talking to you," Hermione pointed out in a dignified tone.

"Stop! I wa-nt... want to tal-k... talk," Tom hiccuped.

"Go away," Hermione ordered with annoyance as she pulled her dress up to her knees and started to jog away from him.

"No you don't," the unseasoned Voldemort growled as he grabbed her arm and spun her around forcefully to face him. Her back hit the stone wall of the castle, and she winced and grimaced as she got a whiff of the potent and horrid alcoholic perfume.

"You need to go bathe," Hermione choked. Tom said nothing to this as he kept a hold on her elbows, keeping her pinned to the castle wall. He watched her turn her head back and forth, from side to side, and something came over him.

He thought her extremely beautiful at that moment in time. The way her gentle, light brown, silky looking curls bounced gracefully with every turn of her head. Her lips looked gorgeous and full as she frowned at his grip on her. And she did look ravishing in her dress and tiara.

"Riddle, let go! You're hurting me," Hermione groaned as she struggled to free herself from his grip.

"Look at me," he said gently. She didn't want to look at him because that would make the smell stronger if she faced him directly. But she did as she was told because something in his voice and the way he told her to look at him made her want to more than ever.

Without warning, Tom leaned forward quickly and pressed his lips to hers as she looked up at him. She was in shock. Hermione could barely move as she stood there wide-eyed, her nose burning with the smell of alcohol, and her lips firmly against his. He pulled away slowly, savoring the moment as it ran through his mind while her big chocolate brown eyes stayed locked on his face, waiting for feeling to flow back into her numb lips. He loved the look of shock on her face for some reason unknown to him. The surprise in her expression seemed to say that she liked it, and as he gently let go of her, she slid slowly to the right and away from him.

Something inside him didn't want her to leave, so he reached out to grab her arm again, but this time something was different. For when he spun her around, her hand met painfully in a stinging manner with his cheek and left him in shock this time.

"Don't you ever touch me again," Hermione warned through gritted teeth. She felt so helpless and scared of him in that moment, and she wasn't sure why. He was the future Dark Lord, and it seemed to worry her more that he kissed her than it would if he were to threaten her with the Killing Curse.

Later that night, Hermione lay awake in her bedroom, hugging her pillow and staring out the open balcony door at the star-strewn sky. Suddenly, a sound came from outside her bedroom door. Then there was a knock and the groan of someone who was either in pain or someone who was trying to scare her.

"Hello?"

"Get... out here," Tom called hoarsely.

"Riddle?"

"No, it's bloody Father Chrismtas. Just get out here," the future Dark Lord grouched before giving another groan. Hermione slowly crept out of bed and to the door as she wrapped a dressing gown around her.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm sick you imbecile. I need you to do a spell for me because I can't get it right at this moment in time due to-"

"Your drunken state," Hermione finished. "I told you to stop, didn't I? Hmm?"

"Yeah, yeah, now shut up and get to it," Riddle ordered.

"Why should I? This should teach you to listen next time," Hermione scolded. She was loving being able to rub this into his face. He was such a jerk, and he was getting what he deserved.

Suddenly, Hermione didn't feel so powerful anymore as she watched Tom rush past her and lean over the balcony to throw up. Hermione grimaced as she remembered Ginny doing something of the same. Recalling how miserable the only Weasley girl had said she had been while she was doing this, Hermione realized that Riddle's stomach probably turned and ached just as Ginny's had. It was then that Hermione realized, good or bad, no one deserved to suffer like this. Not to mention she did need his help to get things back to rights.

"Sit down," the Gryffindor sighed as he came back into her room and got she her wand off of the nightstand.

He had been about to lower himself onto the trunk below her bed when he felt sick once more. Getting up, he went back out onto the balcony and awaited the wave of nausea to pass. Hermione exited the room as well to find him sitting on the stone floor, his back against the railing, and his face pointed to the heavens with his eyes closed tight. He was clutching his stomach and moaning a bit. It was apparent that he truly was in pain.

Hermione could hardly believe it. She had never thought that something like this could tear down Tom Riddle, future Dark Lord. That's when she realized that he was human, and like all humans, Tom needed someone to love and care for him.

Sighing again, she sat down, pointed her wand at his stomach, and watched his facial expression lighten as the spell took affect. She then summoned a washrag from off her dresser, along with a bowl of cool water. She dipped the rag into the water and wrung it out before moving to wipe his face off.

"What are you doing?" Tom had seized her by her wrist in an all too tight grip as he glared at her suspiciously.

"I was just going to wipe the sweat off your face. You look exhausted. You really should get some sleep," Hermione said as he let go of her so she could wipe his face.

She cupped his face with her left hand and wiped gently with her right, dabbing his forehead and staring into the depths of his eyes which were stone cold and emotionless.

"There," Hermione whispered as she put the rag back into the bowl and continued to stare at him. She watched his eyes, waiting for some kind of expression, emotion, anything. Then something happened.

His eyes glittered for a second, a warm, strange, but inviting glitter before they went back to being cold and unfeeling.

"I don't need your pity," he growled before jumping to his feet swiftly and walking back into her room.

She watched him disappear out the door before she gathered the bowl and rag to take back into her room. Normally, she would have been mad had it for instance been someone like Ron, but she found herself pitying him rather than being mad. This was strange. She reminded herself that he was Lord Voldemort, a seriously dark and evil wizard of her time. But something weird occurred. A voice that was like her own in sound, yet not like her own in feeling pushed up from her throat and spoke out.

"Not yet he's not. Not Voldemort yet." Sighing, she felt herself smile while remembering those eyes locked on her own.