CHAPTER FIVE

Hermione followed Tom close to his side with her arms crossed over her stomach. His 'friends' were on their heels, snickering to each other about what could only be the fact that they were nine boys against one girl. It didn't help that the girl was from their rival House. Hermione kept glancing up at Tom but he kept his dark eyes straight forward. He had a steady walking gate, with an ever so slight strut.

Hermione was glad that her back was to the disgusting boys saying crude things they'd like to do with her. While Hermione was watching her own feet, Tom glanced down at her and over his shoulder at his followers. With one icy glare they fell silent. Tom wouldn't admit to anyone that the affect of their words on Hermione bothered him as well.

Hermione took a deep breath and cringed at how small her voice sounded at the beginning, "So, why are we taking the long way to the One-Eyed Witch passage?"

Tom furrowed his brows and met Hermione's eyes, "You're not as innocent as you look, miss."

It surprised him that Hermione knew about any secret passageway out of the castle. They fell silent again and the hiss of the boys behind them filled her ears again. If he weren't the future Lord Voldemort and mass murderer, Hermione would hold Tom's hand. Perhaps she should stop holding him accountable for crimes he has not yet committed. Hermione shivered involuntarily and Tom pressed his eyes shut as though stealing himself to do something.

"Want my cloak now?" he asked her quietly.

The boys behind him gaped at his politeness.

Hermione, however, had seen this side of him before. Whether it was forced or true was a different matter, "That would be … nice."

Tom shook himself free of his black coat, which was badly beaten with age, and side-stepped to walk behind Hermione. She felt him drape the heavy coat on her shoulders and she did not object. It was surprisingly warm and the scent was ... fragrant. Tom may be many things, but, at least he bathed regularly. A grin pulled at the corner of Hermione's lips which did not go unnoticed by the tall handsome boy walking beside her.

She was smiling at her private joke while he thought she was happy to be wearing something of his.

Tom glanced teasingly at the boys over his shoulder before bending down to whisper in Hermione's ear, his face turning abruptly sad, "I wish we were alone."

Hermione turned her face in the direction of his warm, minty breath and admitted, "If it meant being free of them," she indicated the students with a pointed glance at the corner of her eye, "for the first time, we'd agree on something."

Tom nodded and straightened back up, "One good thing to come of this."

"Hopefully not the last," Hermione said in an undertone.

She hoped that this risk that she was taking would help draw him to the 'right' side, the side of which she was toeing the barrier. But with his, for lack of a better word, fellow-racists accompanying them, she doubted she would make much progress with Tom.

"They're good in bed, the Mudbloods. You heard that, my lord?" Avery called up to his leader.

Hermione felt her stomach drop through the floor. Was she still a muggle-born in this time period? She had not tested writing to her parents yet. Hermione kept her eyes forward, hoping that her inaction would deceive them all into believing something she wasn't certain of. Maybe she could lie that she was a half-blood like Tom, whom probably claimed pureblood status along with his ties to the Slytherin bloodline.

She could see the statue of the One-Eyed Witch down the corridor and barely resisted flinching when Tom replied, "Do you know this from experience, my friend?"

His tone surprised Hermione and made her relax a bit. Tom seemed amused by Avery's outburst rather than inclined to investigate the boy's claim. At his retort, the boys flanking Avery guffawed and Hermione shot a look over her shoulder at them.

She called forth her bossy tone that got Ron and Harry to do their assignments, "Are you all trying to get us caught?"

Tom grinned down at Hermione's authoritative fire and glanced back at his followers, "I must have been mistaken when I judged your intelligences."

A few of the boys started stammering with apologies and explanations but stopped when Tom held up a hand without looking at them. Hermione guessed that those that had spoken out were the ones that were at the bottom of their social ladder.

They reached the statue of the disfigured witch and Tom said the password, "Dissendium."

The hump of the statue's back split open at his voice, revealing the short stone slide that would lead to the tunnel to Honeyduke's Sweetshop's cellar.

Tom turned and offered his hand to Hermione, "Lady's first, miss Granger?"

Hermione glanced from his calculating dark eyes to his long, thin, and pale hand. After a moment of hesitation, she placed her soft hand on his and he helped her down the slide.

It was odd entering the Shrieking Shack without the Whomping Willow to contend with. Hermione followed Tom inside with Rosier behind her. He didn't speak to her until they reached the stairs that led up to a door in the floor of the shack.

"He hates mudbloods above all things." He growled in Hermione's ear once they were inside the shack. The other boys circled around them to the back of the shack while Rosier added, "Even the pretty ones."

Hermione wiped her head around, smacking him with her thick mane as she turned to face him, "You've got more guts than I suspected, Rosier." When he looked taken aback, Hermione sneered, "Don't look so surprised. You've got a lot of nerve threatening the top witch in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"I am Riddle's confidante," said Rosier boastfully. "You're going to need a lot more than good marks to gain my level of status."

Hermione tilted her head and rolled her eyes, "I invite that challenge, Rosier. Now, get out of my way."

Rosier glared at her, "Watch your tongue, witch-bitch."

Hermione gasped as a bone-white hand grasped Rosier's shoulder and twisted him away from her. Although Tom's face was inscrutable, Rosier seemed to shrink beneath the power of those dark almond-shaped eyes of his leader. Tom did not need to be the oldest in their group. They all but bowed with one single look from him. Hermione's lips parted in surprise when Tom started hissing huskily down at Rosier who began to tremble.

He was threatening Rosier in Parseltongue.

When he was done, Rosier excused himself to rejoin the rest of the students drinking in the back of the shack. Tom watched him retreat then locked his eyes onto Hermione unnervingly quickly. He closed the distance between them and, after looming over her with dominance, he sank down onto the moth-eaten couch with her. Hermione already knew about Tom's ability to speak to snakes because of having known Harry Potter.

Hermione cleared her throat, "You're a Parselmouth."

Tom gave her a small smile and tilted his chin a little upward, "Does that scare you?"

Hermione felt so small sitting beside him and wondered if he could hear her heart thundering within her chest, "It is said to be connected with the dark arts ..."

"And yet?" Tom prompted her while the boys at the opposite end of the shack fell almost silent.

Hermione shook her head, "I had a friend who could speak it. It scared me at first but ... I accepted it. I didn't like it but it's not like he asked for it. Does Rosier speak it?"

Tom scoffed, "The dastard is frightened by it. English is his first and only language, Hermione."

Hermione wished that she had learned some words from Harry while she had the chance. But, she had always stubbornly ignored the issue so that he would lose interest in practicing it.

Hermione looked off into the broken window up at the full moon, thinking for a moment of Remus Lupin, "I heard talk, Tom, about you parading your ... talent for your House."

Tom seemed to be mentally scrambling for a way to get her back to being impressed by him, "Salazar Slytherin was gifted with this talent as well, miss Granger."

Hermione gazed back up into his eyes, "Let me guess, you're now going to tell me he's your ancestor. I've read that his last descendants died with the Gaunt family."

She already knew that he was. But, Hermione wanted to give him the impression that she didn't know as much as she did about him.

Tom nodded, "Your knowledge goes beyond the textbooks -"

"Actually, I read it in Hogwarts: A History." Hermione lied impulsively, feeling her throat go cold.

Why had she said that? She betrayed her stoic stance and glanced up at him with fright flickering in her dark eyes. Hermione scrambled for a subject to change to.

"Maybe Rosier is frightened by it because he doesn't understand you, Tom." She said quietly, trying to relax. "Like I said before, no one does. And I have not learned anything new."

Tom glared at the side of her face and she could feel his eyes boring in to her, "My confidence is a prize to you?"

Hermione returned his glare, "One that I'm not interested in anymore. You're boring me with these games, Riddle. I'm leaving now." She pushed herself up to her feet and pointedly handed him his heavy dark coat before giving the boys a sarcastic smile, "Nice to meet you all. Goodnight."

Hermione marched to the exit and did her best to ignore the catcalls of the future Death Eaters behind her.

"Bye, Hermione!" called Avery, who grunted as Lestrange elbowed him in the ribs.

She heard Yaxley stomp across the wooden floor, "You come back soon!"

A few of the boys chorused, "We'll miss you!"

Hermione stumbled down the cellar door to the tunnel and burst into terrified tears. She staggered bumped against the dirt walls, pinching herself on protruding roots that seemed to grab at her skirt and shirt.

"Hermione!" she heard a resonant voice call out accompanied by heavy footfalls.

She shook her head and crossed her arms over her belly, "I'm tired, Tom. Alright? I just want to sleep."

She felt his hand grip her bicep and she twisted around, yanking her arm free of his grasp, "What did you bring me here for?"

Tom glanced from her dripping tears to her welling eyes and said quietly, "You asked for it."

Hermione's voice trembled and broke with her continued sobs, "You knew? Didn't you? That's why you joked about it. You already knew."

She had a feeling that he had already found out about her muggle lineage. Hermione must still be a muggle-born in this era, too. He had brought her here to make her suffer for something she was born into. Tom wanting to punish Hermione for something she couldn't control was her assumption. It was the only conclusion she could come up with.

Tom glanced at the ground then glared into her eyes, "Did you really think that I'd waste all this time on you if I didn't know what I was up against?"

Hermione pressed her lips together and shook her head, "What were you going to do to me?"

"Nothing -!"

"Rape me? Torture me? I bet you could see just how 'dirty' my blood is when it spills out on the floor!" Hermione sobbed.

He took a step closer to her and she stumbled backwards. Hermione was losing control. She couldn't handle him anymore. All she wanted to do was run. Run away and never look back.

"We're not done!" hissed Tom as he reached forward to steady her on her feet.

Hermione slapped his hands away, "We were done before we started, Tom. If you're going to kill me then just do it!"

Tom was silent for a few agonizing moments then he said quietly, "Nobody has to know."

"I heard that nothing gets traced back to you," Hermione cried. "Don't worry, I'm sure you won't have to pay for my murder either."

Tom's lips twitched with frustration, "I'm not the villain you make me out to be, Hermione. No harm will come to you by my hand."

Hermione's lips parted in shock, "Why? What makes me different than the rest, huh? Explain that to me!"

Tom shook his head, "I don't know what to say to you. I don't know how to explain it. It's ... you just are. You're special."

Hermione scoffed, "You're doing a really good job of making me hate you."

"And you're failing at making me hateyou," Tom said quickly, stolen in the moment. But, to Hermione's surprise, he continued, "I'm confused, Hermione. You flipped everything upside down for me. You make me question my difference between right and wrong. When I saw you ... it was like a light that incinerated all the dark."

Hermione realized that her mouth was gaping and she shut it. She swallowed before saying the only thing that came to her mind, "Oh."

Tom swaggered down the stairs with his flock of followers on his heels. They were under the impression that he had not detected their wary stares or hushed whispers of mutiny. Perhaps they had been disappointed by their lord that they were not allowed to have their way with Hermione Granger in the shack tonight. But, it did not matter to Tom whether their dreams were satisfied. If any had laid a finger on the enticing Mudblood, they would have found themselves in grave peril.

He led his flock of wary cocks to the wall concealing the Slytherin common room, "Pure-blood."

The sound of his deep voice sent chills all over the future Deatheaters' pale skin. The only boy that was arrogant enough to believe he had no reason to tremble was Rosier. It always amused Tom that their House founder made it so easy to gain access to their common room. Perhaps he relied solely on fear to deter unwanted guests. Their common room was located in the dungeons of Hogwarts and extended partially under the Black Lake.

Tom stepped into the grand room and stood aside while his 'friends' filed in. He slouched against the cold stone wall, his dark brown hair stroking his high pale cheekbones. Rosier was the last to enter the Slytherin common room and Tom laid a long thin hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I require a word with you, Rosier." he said calmly.

The rest of the boys did not pause even for a second as they marched off to their respective dormitories. Rosier raised his eyebrows and Tom gave him a small smile, "Walk with me, my friend."

A few hours earlier, Tom had escorted the muggle-born back to her common room. The Fat Lady, whom had awoken with a start at the sound of their footsteps, fell silent to hear what Hermione was saying to Tom.

"Honestly, when I look at you ... I see a waste. You're so gifted, Tom. You really are. But, I don't think ... no, I know that you don't care about anything. Unless you find or birth a side of you that can care, I can't spend time with you anymore."

Hermione turned to face him by the portrait. He furrowed his brows,"Are your demands ever going to end?"

"When you let me see who you really are. When you show me you can feel ... anything. Anything at all," Hermione replied with a tilt of her head.

Tom clenched his teeth, flexing his jaw muscles, "You can't accept the way I am?" When she only continued to look up into his dark eyes, he nodded, "I'd have to change."

Hermione shook her head and held one of his cold hands in both of hers, "Don't do it for me, okay? Do it for yourself. I ... care about you, Tom."

Tom curled his lip, "How can you? You hate me."

Hermione shook her head fervently,"I just don't know you well enough to like you, Tom. Is it not enough that I've grown to care?"

Tom swallowed deeply, his protruding adam's apple bouncing up and down. She had made his mouth go dry.He scowled down at her,"Hypothetically, if I were to try to ... make some compromises, what would I have to say to make you believe me?"

Hermione said the password to the Fat Lady and the portrait swung forward before she replied quietly, "Actions speak louder than words, Tom. Not groveling, not arse-kissing. I'll know it if I see it. I'll see you later -"

Hermione was about to turn her back on him to step over the threshold into her toasty common room when she felt his thin but strong hand coil around her upper arm. He yanked her around and their chests collided. Before Hermione could react, Tom sank down greatly and kissed her. She wondered why he was not forcing his tongue down her throat like he had the first time. This kiss was tender, slow, and easy. But, there was a bit of pressure in it.

After what felt like a split second, he pulled away,"Just in case I fail you. "

He watched her touch her lips, glossed with saliva, with her fingertips. Hermione's large dark eyes glanced between each of his before she turned her back on the tall, handsome, future-killer. Before closed closed the portrait behind her, she peeked up at Tom.

"It's not too late, Tom. Fight for it."

Tom took long strides down the length of the common room with a dozy Rosier panting at his heels. Their common room was cavernous and grand. There were low-backed black and dark green leather couched, ornate ethnic rugs on both the stone floors and hanging on the walls. Their fireplace, which did not have a chimney, was the mouth of a serpent carved in marble. The emerald flames flicked like its forked tongue would have.

Tom stopped by a window that separated him from the bottomless depths of the Black Lake. Rosier staggered to a halt by his leader and gazed up at him, "What does my lord require of me?"

Tom smirked without meeting the boy's eyes, "It is my understanding that you threatened my guest, miss Granger, last night."

Rosier gulped and looked around uncertainly, "Has this act offended you, sir?"

Tom looked down at the naïve boy, "Hardly at all."

He allowed Rosier one moment to think he would leave his presence unscathed before Tom wrapped his fingers around the boy's throat. He slammed Rosier against one of the many columns in the room with such force that bits of dust and stone rained down upon them.

While Rosier spluttered beneath the pressure of Tom's grip, Tom's dark eyes bored into those reddening eyes of his victim, "I don't feel, my most trusted confidante. I do not succumb to happiness or sadness. I don't feel anything. Hermione Granger is mine for the taking. Do not forget whom you answer to again."

Tom let a few more seconds pass while Rosier gasped for air before unclenching his fingers from around the boy's throat. Rosier slid down the smooth column to the icy stone floor, massaging his sore throat.

Tom turned his broad back on the boy and watched a grindylow swim past the high window before him, "Feel free to pass that along to the others, my friend."