CHAPTER SIX

Hermione creaked open the door to her dorm and slipped inside. It was almost dawn and all the girls were still snoozing away. She gave a sigh of relief and tip-toed over to her bed with her shoes held in one hand. Hermione sank down to the floor and placed her shoes beneath her bed. Her cloak was still draped over the foot of her bed and she tugged it down to stuff it in her trunk.

Hermione realized she was shaking when she fumbled with the buttons of her shirt and that she was crying when she felt a tear drop plop on her knuckles. Her breathing was jagged and hitched. She tried to calm herself down. Tom had kissed her again ... and she wasn't sure why she was crying. It wasn't a bad kiss.

No matter how much she tried to deny it, it was ... a nice kiss. Tom had saved her from certain death ... or worse. It baffled her that he apparently did not despise her for being a muggle-born. Hermione managed to unbutton her shirt and wriggled out of it. She then realized why she was weeping ... Tom really did have a chance for redemption.

Tom found it amusing that his fingertips had left bruises on Rosier's neck. He found it even more hilarious that Rosier was still trembling in his presence the next morning. Tom had not gone to sleep like the rest of them. Well, perhaps Rosier did not get enough rest either. But, it was more evident on that boy than Tom Riddle.

The only thing that irritated him was that now the rest of his 'friends' were shooting him glances of uncertainty. They were mutinous stares. Tom made a mental note to remind them never to doubt him again. Rosier had bags under his eyes which were reddened ... probably from crying. The hours Tom had spent awake had not gone ... unproductive.

When thoughts of the enticing Mudblood, Hermione, grew too intense to bare ... Tom had one way of releasing that pent up tension. For the common courtesy of everyone else in his House, Tom had washed his white-as-snow hands well afterwards.

Hermione had drifted off into a restless nap while the rest of the girls in the room were getting dressed for the day. It had taken a while for her mind to stop thinking long enough for sleep to coax her down. She had her blankets tucked beneath her chin and her thick unruly hair was fanned out around her head like a crescent moon. Two of the girls walked over to Hermione and were about to hake her awake when one pointed out that Hermione was wearing mascara and tinted lip balm. Her hair had betrayed its former style but the smell of the potion was still fragrant to the girls.

After whispering a few theories between each other, they finally left Hermione alone.

Hermione yawned as she staggered down the stairs to the common room. Her delicate white nightdress billowed around her skinny ankles. Her wand was held loosely in her hand. Hermione heard a boy clear his throat and she felt like she had never woken up more quickly than in that moment. She whirled around with her wand held erect and she gasped again when she saw who was slouching against the wall.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione breathed, letting her wand down a little but not lessening her grip on it. "How did you even get in?"

Tom grinned and bounced off from the stone wall, "It would appear that I can be very ... persuasive. By the way, today's password is 'chivalry'."

Hermione scoffed and then gave him a small smile, "You're kidding."

Perhaps it was this easy to smile at the future dark lord because of what had happened last night. She didn't want to hold her breath in case he had come to tell her that he never wanted to see her again and, consequently, would carry on down his path of destruction. Hermione then became acutely aware of how messy her hair must look and that she was in her thin nightgown.

"Let me just go put something on," Hermione whispered, discreetly trying to tidy her hair.

Tom plopped down on the couch before the empty fireplace, "I'll be here."

Hermione hoped that Tom wasn't bothered by the fact that her skin was growing clammy in his large hand. She was now wearing dark pants and a wool Gryffindor sweater beneath her black robe. Her hair was clipped to the back of her head with the strong teeth of a hair clamp. Tom was also wearing his robe but Hermione noticed that he was still wearing what she had seen him last in beneath the cloak. Either he had gone to bed wearing them or he had not slept at all.

She couldn't figure out which. Tom seemed just as alert as he would have otherwise. Tom found himself forgetting to observe his surroundings. He blamed Granger for toying with his focus and blinding him to the curious stares of the students gorging themselves on those benches that lined the aisle he escorted her down. Hermione wondered by he wanted to sit so close to the professors still lingering at their empty plates. She caught professor Dumbledore's eye and smiled up at him. Seeing him from time to time no longer tested the strength of her tear ducts.

The Transfiguration professor nodded graciously at her then looked up at Tom who clenched his jaw muscles aggressively. Hermione sank down onto his chosen spot on the bench, realizing now that they were about twenty feet away from her fellow Gryffindors. Tom hesitated for a moment longer as though not wanting to be the first to break eye contact with Dumbledore.

Then, he felt Hermione tug on the sleeve of his robe, "Tom, what's wrong?"

She felt him stroke the nape of her neck as he reluctantly lowered himself down beside her, "Just lost in thought."

Hermione casually looked around Tom's shoulders at Dumbledore and saw that the professor was now laughing with Slughorn who seemed to be trying very hard to avoid making eye contact with her.

Tom grinned, "Look's like someone lost their spot on Slughorn's Shelf."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "He just doesn't know what's going on right now."

Tom cleared his throat while Hermione served herself some slices of oranges with toast, "What do ... do youthink something is happening?"

Hermione set her toast back down on her plate and gazed up at him, "I hope so."