Disclaimer: All rights and characters belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros™. Nothing is mine but the creativity and storyline.

Hermione needed no help getting around school.

Baring in mind that she'd walked through those halls more times than she could count, she was confident venturing to class by herself. The only thing she needed was her timetable. That – trusty Dumbledore – seemed to be exactly the same as Riddle's. Whenever she walked into a class, he was there. And with a spare seat beside him. Hermione didn't think this strange, and didn't take the time to pity him. Seeing as he was cruel to everyone who ever even looked at him, she wasn't at all surprised.

Potions, much to her distaste, was the first lesson after dinner. She'd never really liked potions, but this time Snape wouldn't be teaching it, and she thought Professor Slughorn was a much better teacher, anyway. He was much younger than the last time she'd seen him, obviously. As were many other teachers; like Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick. Slughorn was... almost handsome. Now he was thinner, and with a full head of hair, and his clothes seemed much more expensive, and less moth-eaten.

When she walked into the room, she was among the first to arrive. Though, she'd always seemed to notice that Tom was there before her. And most of the time she left the previous classroom before he'd even gathered his things. Why was that?

But, she just put on her straightest 'let's-get-to-work' face, and made her way over to the empty seat beside Riddle that would have been assigned to her, anyway.

Tom sneered at her as she put out her things on the table, and rested her bag to the floor. She didn't even glance at him once while she did this, and this only got even more on Tom's nerves. But Hermione had the right to be a little short with him, or maybe even a little cheeky. He had, after all, killed everyone she'd ever cared about...

Even if it wasn't in his lifetime, yet.

When she finally did turn to look at him, the crease in his brow was so deep the wrinkles had began to crack against the bridge of his perfect nose.

She smiled innocently, and said, "Don't concentrate so hard, Tom. I can almost smell your hair burning."

Tom's eyebrows relaxed, and a smirk crept across his lips.

She was taken aback but how handsome it was.

Yeah, she'd known Tom Riddle had been handsome, she'd seen him in the Pensieve, but this was different somehow. The mercy memories in the water didn't seem to do this gorgeous boy justice. They never got the twitch of his appetising lips right, or the curve of his eyebrows, or the delicate paleness of his skin, adding a sort of speciality to his thick, crisp, dark chocolate hair. His jaw line seemed off, and the longness in his slender neck, adding to his height, didn't seem to be long enough. And the sparkle of life, daring to come out, in his grey eyes was gone. His big hands, with his thin, lengthy fingers, didn't seem much bigger than hers in the Pensieve. But in real life, if she placed her hand down subtly beside his on the desk, it seemed as though he could crush her wrist in one single squeeze.

To think that he could have gone from being this attractive, to a hideous monster, sent a rush of remorse into Hermione's system. Voldemort would have got many more followers if he'd stayed looking like that.

This thought snapped Hermione back to her senses, and almost didn't catch Tom's sentence.

"You're the one whose hair blew up."

Hermione could only smirk back, hardly able to summon a chuckle or a real smile; still being wrapped up in Tom's stunning features.

She couldn't think of a good enough comeback, so she just turned back to the things she'd set out on the desk, absently fiddling with her quill.

As soon as Tom took a breath to speak again, she turned to look at him; happy to have an excuse to study his face again.

"And it's 'Riddle' to you."

Hermione immediately wished she hadn't looked at him as he spoke. Not because of what he'd said, that didn't bother her in the slightest, but because his cruel grimace was back and his grey eyes pierced her muddy brown like a silver dagger to a maroon, broken heart.

She smirked again, and narrowed her eyes a little, to stop his penetrating gaze just slightly.

"But 'Tom' is your name."

Tom opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him – infuriating him further.

"Although, I forgot that your father's name was Tom." Riddle's mouth clamped shut in surprise, wondering how she'd known that. "And of course you'd hate your filthy Muggle father's name."

She'd put a slight emphasis on these last four words, subtly imitating his voice to the way he'd said it to Harry that day he'd went into the Chamber of Secrets, just after showing him the anagram that made up his name.

'I Am Lord Voldemort'

'Tom Marvolo Riddle'

'"Surely, you didn't think that I was going to keep my filthy Muggle father's name... No. I fashioned myself a new name. A name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, as I became the greatest sorcerer in the world!"'

Tom stared at her as if she was out of this world. How on earth had she known that? Not a soul knew about his family, he'd always shun them if they asked him. But she had known...

Tom just chuckled darkly, desperately trying to hide his shock. "Well done, Granger. However, Arthimancy isn't permitted, now, is it?" He tutted at her, shaking his head with closed eyes. "Don't misbehave yourself, Granger. Especially on your very first day."

Hermione smiled sweetly again, the picture of innocence. "Tom," she began, and Riddle grimaced involuntarily, "if I'd used Arthimancy you would have felt it before I'd had a chance to see anything."

Tom's nose began to twitch, as his snarl began to slowly rise across his face.

"And I don't need to use Arthimancy to figure out the anagram your name produces."

Hermione had turned her head just in time before she saw Tom's face completely relax. Apart from his eyebrows that were knitted across his forehead, and the crinkles on his nose become so deep she could have traced them with her little finger.

What anagram? What was she talking about?

And, for once, Tom had completely no idea was she was talking about...

Professor Slughorn came into the classroom just then, stopping the paper bird fight that had been going on, and all the hustle and bustle of conversation, when everyone quickly scrambled over to their desks and sat down.

Unlike Snape, he didn't shout or issue detention; he just smiled and pointed his wand swiftly at the blackboard. The chalk suddenly snapped up and began writing.

With his free hand, he picked up the lid from the cauldron on his desk, and the sweet smell of freshly cut grass, and fresh parchment, and quill ink filled Hermione's nostrils. She knew instantly what it was before Slughorn had even began talking.

"Can anyone tell me what this..." His speech trailed off as he saw Hermione already had her hand high in the air. "...Yes, miss...??"

Hermione put her hand down and smiled. "Granger. It's Love Potion, sir. And a very strong one, judging by the smell."

Slughorn nodded in confirmation, but Hermione started up again. "Of course, it doesn't cause actual love – that would be impossible," She was surprised by the fact that she was quoting what he had told her class, back in her past, "But it does cause powerful infatuation or obsession." The image of Lavender Brown filled her mind, and she thought the urge to giggle.

Slughorn swallowed, obviously not expecting the new girl to be so forward and confident, but he smiled nonetheless. "Very well done, Miss Granger. 10 points to Slytherin."

Hermione felt very strange knowing that she wasn't gaining points for Gryffindor anymore, and looked down at the silver serpent dancing on the front of her robes. She'd never really liked green...

"As Miss Granger said," Slughorn started again, "you can always tell by the smell how powerful something is. But, with Love Potion, it smells different depending on each person's likes. To me, it smells of old potion cupboards, and dusty parchment, and stale red wine." He didn't seem at all embarrassed to share this information with the class, but several different people exchanged glances.

Hermione wondered what it smelt like to Tom. But, knowing him, it probably didn't smell of anything at all. He was so filled up with hate for the world, his compassion was gone. He must have forgotten everything about the feeling of love or happiness.

Slughorn swooped back to his desk, and put down his wand. The chalk fell back neatly into the hole in the board where it was kept, and Hermione saw that the instructions on how to make the Love Potion were now written on it.

Slughorn gestured to where Hermione's gaze had already been. "You have thirty minutes. You know what to do."

At that, he sat back down, humming absently to himself, as he picked up a quill and started to write in his curly, fine print.

Hermione was up to the cupboard gathering her things before anyone else had even stood up. She heard the awful screeching of stools and shuffling feet on the floor as she picked up the last of her ingredients and made her way back to her table. She passed Riddle on her way up, and their gaze locked on for just a minute. She was sure she'd saw something behind those grey pools of nothing, but he'd breezed past her before she'd had a chance to study it any further.

She was applying the second lot of ingredients when Tom came back. Her potion had already turned a royal colour of blue, and she was carefully stirring the liquid. Once clockwise, twice anti-clockwise and half a stir clockwise again.

Tom slurred with his potion. Carelessly tipping things in, sloppily stirring it and cutting things up lazily.

Hermione had learned a few tricks of the trade, though, in her sixth year when Harry had found Snape's old potions book. Like crushing the beetles instead of slicing them.

When she saw Riddle hastily stirring his potion wrongly again, she gently pushed him away and grabbed his hands over the spoon to stop him going any further.

"What do you think you're doing?!" She snapped, and Tom took his hand from beneath hers so fast it was as though she had caught fire. She began rapidly stirring the cauldron properly, adding in a few more crushed beetle shells, and one last phoenix feather. Riddle's potion stopped fizzing, and turned a shocking shade of yellow. She huffily let go of the spoon and turned around to Tom like he was a stupid little kid.

Which she supposed he was.

"Do you have any idea what would have happened if you'd stirred that like you were one more time?!"

Tom arched a single dark eyebrow. "Exploded, like your hair?"

Hermione did not in the least care about what he had just said. "It would have created a fume so strong it would have corroded a hole in the windows! It would have radiated everyone in this room to nothing but bones, and it would have drifted like that through the entire school!"

Tom shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Nothing major then."

Hermione growled and returned to her own potion, now distracted by the rage inside of her.

Riddle was so stupid. Acting like he was some sort of happy-go-lucky child that couldn't care less. He had no idea of the damage he could have caused if he'd kept stirring.

"You'll want to add some more Carpel." She said through gritted teeth after a minute or two, her anger drying down. "Otherwise it'll stay that colour."

Tom sneered down at his potion and at the ingredients lined up before him. "Which one's the Carpel again?"

Hermione didn't even look up from her cauldron. "The pink liquid in the genie-like bottle."

Tom looked at her then, but she didn't even blink. "What's a... 'genie-bottle'?"

Whoops. Hermione should have known he wouldn't have cared for Muggle fairytales.

She shrugged and shook her head vaguely. "Just some old Muggle folk-tale I heard,"

Tom immediately looked away and snarled once more. Hopefully he wouldn't catch on why she was familiar with the Muggle-tales.

After about five more minutes of nothing but silence, apart from the occasional fizz of a potion or a drop of an ingredient, she sighed, stepped away from her things and looked at Tom.

"Tom..." She said, softly. This time Riddle did not grimace. "...What do you smell when you sniff the Love Potion?"

Riddle hesitated with his staring for a moment, but did not look at her.

"What's it to you?"

Hermione kept looking at him, the edginess in his tone hurting her feelings. "I was just wondering–,"

"Yeah, well, don't!" Tom snapped, slamming down his spoon on the table and standing to face her, his eyes narrowed into slits and his teeth bared in a snarl. Hermione was taken by surprise, but blinked through it, and stood the same as she was. Tom's breathing had become deep pants with his frustration, and the unshed tears glistened in his eyes like rhinestones in the sun. Hermione felt her own eyes sting, and her nose tingle, but blinked through that, too.

"You know what, Granger? You know too much than what's good for you!" He snapped harshly. He was referring to her geeky knowledge (which he was jealous off), but also to what she knew about him. "It may be alright for you to be nosy and poke yourself in situations you shouldn't be in where you come from, but it's not here!" His voice had begun to shake, and his chest was rising and falling an unhealthy amount. "Especially not around me!" Hermione knew instantly she'd said too much before, and she knew exactly what he was talking about. "I have no idea how you knew that stuff about my father but..." he shook his head, "...I may be a filthy Mudblood, but I get three times the amount of respect you ever will!"

Hermione's heart panged. He sounded just like Malfoy. Except he would always call her the Mudblood. And to hear the remorseful words come from Tom's lips it pushed her to the edge. Not once in her life had she heard someone regret their blood status. Especially her 'Mudblood' friends. It made her angry to hear the words spill so easily from his mouth like liquid toffee.

"Yeah, well, believe it or not, Tom, you're not the only Muggle-born in Slytherin."

She stood up quickly, gripped her books with such a force her knuckles turned white, and slung her back hastily over her shoulder. A second after she'd stepped away from the desk towards the door, the signal went off for next lesson, and she was out of that door before anyone had realised what was what.

She had to get out of everyone's range of sight before the tears spilt over.

Hermione had managed to convince herself that they were tears of anger. Hot anger that had been building up over the years about Malfoy and Riddle, and everyone else that had ever made a snide remark about her blood status.

But she knew they were basically the unshed tears for her lost Harry and Ron. Their faces tickled her mind like a feather duster, and she could hear their voices swimming around her ears like an unwanted echo.

"Come on, Hermione. Don't be like that." She heard Harry say.

"Yeah. It's only Riddle." Ron said, in the voice he usually used when saying 'bloody hell'.

"The longer you sit in here the crying the sooner Riddle's going to turn into Voldemort." Harry said again, almost whispering, ignoring Ron.

"You came all the way back to bloody 1888 to stop him doing just that, 'Mione." Ron said in a quieter, less demanding voice that was actually comforting.

"You aren't going to do that sat in the bathroom..."

Hermione sniffled in spite of herself, and tried to wipe her tears.

It was so like them. They sounded so familiar it was as though they were sat right beside her.

And she knew they were right. If she kept on like this Riddle would go on to kill them in the future, and she would have experienced all that pain for nothing. Not even a better future.

She stood up, wiped the last of her tears and stomped from that bathroom, her remaining sobs covered up by the determination slowly racking her body.

N/A: So, how's it coming along? You like?? :D I realise it's kind of boring at the moment, but I promise you it will get you giddy soon enough. ;)

Your reviews are amazing, thank you so much! x

The quotes in here are from the movie Chamber of Secrets (Surely, you didn't think I was going to keep my filthy Muggle father's name...) and the movie Half Blood Prince (Slughorn's Love Potion explanation).

I hope you enjoyed it!

Oh, and I'm sorry for the short chapter again, I just thought that then would be a good time to end it. I'll try to make these longer, I'm sorry again.

Kelly xxx