CHAPTER EIGHT

Tom was growing obsessed with the enticing, ravishing, mysterious mudblood ... muggle-born. He sneered to himself at the indications that she was now enjoying his constant company. It had taken a few months to gain her attention. Now that he had it in his grasp, he could only imagine what he could do with it. She was immensely intelligent, one of the many ways she matched him in strengths.

How could someone of such inferior birth inherit such gifts? He wondered if she had someone stolen it from a worthier ... no, she was worthy of it. In fact, Tom could hardly think of anyone more entitled to such supremacy. He blinked and found that he had wondered out onto the training grounds. Now too far away a duel was playing out between two little Second Years.

One was a Hufflepuff girl and the other was a Gryffindor boy. Tom stopped in his tracks when the little blond Hufflepuff disarmed the unassuming Gryffindor. He raised his eyebrows then rolled his dark eyes when the brown-haired boy dropped to the ground and began to cry. Someone ought to teach this child what it means to have a backbone that Gryffindors were so revered for. Tom approached them and the little girl wisely dropped the boy's wand onto the grass and ran for the castle.

The little boy was wiping his snot on his sleeve when Tom's long shadow encased him in darkness. He glanced up at Tom and flinched, scrambling backwards away from his wand. Tom guessed that this boy was also a muggle-born, whose first instinct was to rely on brawn rather than magic. The boy whimpered as Tom stepped carefully over his wand and loomed over the boy.

He seemed to hold his breath before exhaling sharply after Tom said, "Relax, kid." Tom bent down and offered his long, thin hand for the boy to grab. The boy's welling eyes widened even further and he shook his head feverishly up at Tom. Tom curled his lip in frustration, "Take my hand. I'm not going to hurt you."

The boy gave a little frightful shriek and scrambled to his feet, pushing past Tom and picking up his fallen wand as he dashed up to the safety of the castle. Before, such fear in his presence would have fueled his ego. Now, as he watched the little boy disappear into the crowd, he felt his heart sink. If Hermione were here, what would she say? Would she be proud that he had tried to help the child?

Or would she be bothered by how afraid the boy was of him? Tom frowned, puzzling over why he cared so much about what Hermione thought of him. Why did he offer to help the boy at all? Why hadn't Tom hexed the student for being weak? What was happening to him?

Tom focused his scowl up at the Astronomy tower where he had escorted his girlfriend to her class. She hated that class. The mere thought of Hermione's infamous reproachful-expression melted his glower away, cultivating a grin in its place.

Hermione felt moist, cold lips lather against her neck, "Tom, stop it. I need to get this done."

The towering Slytherin prefect whispered in her ear, his lips brushing against her bushy hair and soft skin, "Com'on, love. Live life on the edge."

They were in the otherwise empty library a little over a week since the night he confessed to her that he murdered his father. Hermione raised her shoulders and he sank down into the chair beside her, "Please! If I don't get this done, Slughorn'll give me lines for sure."

Tom placed his hand on her parchment to which she growled. He chuckled at her little aggression, "Not if I have anything to say about it."

She rolled her eyes as he worked his tongue into her mouth. Since he told her about his father's untimely demise, Tom seemed to be attached to her hip. No matter where she went, he was there. Hermione couldn't decide if it was because his fancy towards her was growing or that he was insuring himself that she would keep his secret as long as he was not too far from breathing down her neck. Hermione lifted her chin up and down with his lips pressed gently against hers.

She placed a hand, that had not yet stopped instinctively trembling whenever he was near, on his long, thin thigh, "Alright, Tom. Five minutes."

"I'll use it well," Tom said throatily, his cold minty breath nearly making her shiver. She gasped when he yanked her chair closer to his. "Sorry," he whispered and kissed her lips before saying, "The Graduation Ball is around the corner."

Hermione swallowed nervously, "You don't say."

She hoped he didn't hear her voice crack from fear. Tom looked away from her, "We're allowed to bring ... dates."

"Tom -" Hermione started but her voice was choked when those dark eyes looked into hers.

Tom smirked, "No excuses, Granger. You're my girlfriend now."

Hermione wilted in her seat. The idea of being escorted to the ball was both frightening and ... tempting. She didn't know why she felt that way. But, she couldn't lie to herself. He was slithering beneath her skin, his fangs scratching at the delicate flesh of her heart.

"Yes, Tom Marvolo Riddle." Hermione smiled up at him and rested her head spontaneously on his sharp shoulder. "I'll go with you."

Tom stared at the top of her head then kissed her curly locks, "My evil plan is working."

Hermione turned her head slightly to kiss the sleeve of his robe and mouthed for no one to read her lips, "So is mine."

It was now the middle of February of 1945. The snow had melted away and shoots of flowers, both magical and muggle, were pushing through the dry soil. Within a herd of girls from all four Houses, Hermione tried her best to remain anonymous as they were escorted down Diagon Alley by Professor Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures professor. Hermione remembered Professor Dumbledore saying during the speech she listened to from him in her Third Year that this man had retired 'in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs'. The professor did walk with a bit of a limp.

But, he appeared to be in otherwise good health at the moment. Kettleburn stopped outside Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions, "Now, seeing as we have a rather large amount of students graduating this year, we'll have to form a line and take half-an-hour turns with groups of fifteen. To be fair, I think it best for us to try to file in alphabetical order."

About ten minutes later, after way too many girls insisting that their last names began with the letter 'A', Kettleburn shouted them all to silence, "New plan! I'll hand pick randomly."

Hermione wanted to shrink away into the crowd but this desire was extinguished when the professor called out, "Granger! Hermione Granger, step inside."

The girls, already well-informed that Hermione was Tom's girlfriend, parted a path for her as though she was infected with a horrid case of Spattergroit. She focused on the cobblestone street and ducked into the shop. Taking advantage of being the only customer in the store, Hermione ran her fingers along the dresses floating just a few inches off the wooden floor. She hovered indecisively over a burgundy dress that would end at the middle of her shins then shook her head. As two girls from Ravenclaw staggered into the shop, Hermione touched the soft fabric of an olive-toned dress.

She sighed heavily and made her way over to one of the curtained dressing areas. Hermione wriggled out of her pleated dark grey skirt and pulled her red sweater up over her head.

A voice that seemed to come from behind the mirror she was facing said, "A good bite of lemon cake would do you well, skinny."

Hermione's hands had immediately soared up to hide her bosom, "I don't need critiques, thanks."

The mirror groaned, "As always."

While the mirror grumbled on about being unappreciated, Hermione stepped into her dress and discovered that she had more cleavage than she had thought when the strings of corset inside the dress constricted her ribs on their own and lifted her breasts. The dress lacked straps and circled widely around her ankles. Hermione's lips parted as she examined her reflection in the mirror, noticing a few moments later that the mirror had fallen silent.

"Beautiful," said the mirror quietly.

Tom stepped into the Slytherin Common Room and closed the door behind him. He had always been able to lock away his feelings, his reactions to how people feared or revered him. Tom now commended the little Gryffindor for being smart enough not to trust him. Hermione had kept Tom at arms length ... until now.

Tom murmured to himself, "I'm endangering her ..."

"Eh-hmm," he heard a girl clear her throat.

Tom tensed up then turned to see who it was, "Herm-Hermione?"

"Hello," she said, smiling up at him.

Tom glanced around the room. She was sitting on the long, dark leather couch that faced the fireplace, which was carved to resemble a snake's mouth. Her hair was hanging over one of her shoulders, revealing her graceful pale neck. Hermione furrowed her brows as he gave her no reaction.

"I thought I'd save you the hassle of following me," she explained, getting to her feet. Tom tensed his sharp jaw line and Hermione clicked her tongue, the sound echoing around the cavernous space, "I can see you don't like it. I'll just leave -"

"No!" Tom blurted out, holding his hands up. He then exhaled sharply, "It's just ... you're in my common room."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, "My, my, my. Who knew you were so observant."

Tom took a few more steps closer to her, "I can't remember if any Gryffindor has ever been in here before."

"Am I just 'any' Gryffindor?" Hermione asked. Tom shook his head fervently and smiled sheepishly. He frowned when he realized that his emotions were showing and regained his infamous composure. Hermione circled around him, trailing her finger down his arm with his eyes following, "I'm ready for a tour of your dorm."

Tom swallowed, wondering when the blockade around his emotions was torn down, "My -?"

"Dorm," Hermione prompted. "I've heard it's brilliant." Tom looked down at the ground between them and she smiled, "You're squirming."

"I'm fine," Tom insisted with an uneven exhale.

"Don't worry, it's entertaining." Hermione entwined her fingers in his hand. Tom considered her for a moment, looking down into her innocent eyes. What was she playing at? His gaze intensified and Hermione frowned, "What's wrong? Did I do something?"

"You always do ... just when I think I've got you pegged," Tom murmured as he looked away, indicating the descending staircase at the other end of the grand common room.

Hermione took a deep breath, hoping she had not made a mistake by coming here. She knew anyone else, especially Slughorn, would find her mad. But, Tom has had millions of chances to do her in. She was safe alone with him. Hermione let him escort her to the mouth of the staircase.

Though his cold white fingers were still in hers, Hermione walked a little behind him. She watched the shadow of the Black Lake dance its ripples across his black robe, cast by the high planes of glass separating them from the innumerable monsters that found home in the murky waters. He was more than a foot taller than her. Though he was quite thin, yet blessed with broad shoulders, there was the power of a snake's coils in his grip. Hermione's soft skin warmed his touch.

If only it would have an effect on his heart. As they approached the ominous dark archway, the tiled walls were illuminated by ignited wooden pegs fastened into the stone.

Tom reached out and pulled a torch out of its place on the wall, "These don't extend all the way down. We all learn to find our way in the dark. But, let's just put-off the imminent danger of you hurting yourself." Hermione swallowed and forgot to mask the anxiety in her widened eyes. Tom smiled reassuringly, "Don't you trust me?"

Hermione couldn't wait anymore for her voice to come back to life so she just settled on nodding and returning a smile. The steps were over a foot wide so she had to take one at a time whereas Tom could have probably taken double with his long, skinny legs.

After a few moments in silence, Hermione cleared her throat, "Does it give you joy to scare people? Tom?"

Hermione was left wondering if she hadn't spoken loud enough but Tom replied quietly, "I ... never thought of it that way."

She staggered down a few steps to be at his side, "How do you feel about it?"

"I don't," Tom said simply, keeping his eyes ahead.

Hermione paused a little on a step then trotted after him, "You don't know or you don't -"

"Feeling is a belated ailment," he clarified. "I was fortunate to have seventeen numb years."

Hermione saw the end of the staircase was not too far, "And now?"

"I'll tell you when I've got it pegged," said Tom as they reached the foot of the staircase.

There was a maze of hallways laid out before them. Tom indicated the one furthest to the left after sending the torch up the staircase with a nonverbal spell, "Mine's down there."

Hermione instinctively grasped his hand and laid her head against his forearm as they walked down the chosen corridor. Tom raised an eyebrow before looking down at her and grinned uncertainly.

"Who do you room with?" Hermione asked to fill the silence.

Tom cleared his throat, "No one. We don't share. Slytherins prefer time alone. We draw energy from solitude."

"Up in Gryffindor Tower, we get a few dorm mates." Hermione said, leaning away from his forearm but still keeping her hand in his.

"I know," said Tom as he stopped outside room .VI.

Harry and Ron had gone to the Slytherin Common Room without her in their Second Year to interrogate Malfoy. But, now, Hermione has gone further than they had. Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort, was holding his door open for her to step inside.

"Not what you expected?" he asked as Hermione crossed the threshold.

The room was about ten by twelve feet wide. The ceiling was a couple of feet taller than normal. The walls were grey and extensively cracked. As she stood in the center of the room while Tom closed the door behind them, a tiny shard of the stone ceiling fell into her thick curly locks. Hermione turned on the spot and gaped at the Slytherin embelem relief on the wall directly above his short wooden bed.

"Did you make this?" Hermione asked as she touched the serpent in the relief.

Tom nodded at her back, "This is the oldest dorm in the castle. But, that's ... not why there are cracks in the walls."

Hermione squinted up at him over her shoulder before turning to face him, "That wasn't cryptic at all."

Tom smiled, "Don't get ahead of yourself. It's just from my experiments."

Hermione walked around him. There was a dresser opposite the bed with a dark green oriental rug filling the space between them. There was a black candelabra on the ornate wooden desk set next to the dresser. About six text books were stacked neatly by the wall. There was a black journal set on top of them all. She recognized it as the diary that had possessed Ginny Weasley. She wondered if any other horcruxes were so plainly in sight.

Hermione pointed her wand at the candelabra, "Incendio!"

The wicks ignited, brightening the whole bedroom. Tom looked extremely pale in the firelight. Hermione tucked her hair behind her ears and placed her hands on his flat stomach.

"Don't get offended. But, the only thing that's missing from my guess is silk bed sheets." Hermione giggled for him, hoping it didn't sound feigned.

Tom chuckled and cupped her face, dipping down to press his lips to hers. He felt her long dark lashes flutter against his skin. He pulled up and away from her, watching her slowly open her dark eyes up at him. Tom rubbed his thin and chiseled face as he turned his back on her and sank down on the low bed.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, walking over and kneeling down before him. "Talk to me, Tom."

She had known this would be necessary. Hermione had to take this final leap to bound Tom Riddle around her finger. She tentatively placed her hands on his boney knees and stroked them with her polished thumbs. Tom's eyes were on her, but, Hermione felt like he was millions of miles away.

After what felt like too long, he finally blinked, "What are you doing?"

Hermione rose up from where she had been sitting on her knees and ignored the pain of her knees pressing into the stone floor. Tom turned his face away but Hermione gently turned his head back to face her. But, his eyes were closed.

"Is it because I'm a mudblood?" Hermione asked quietly, to which Tom's eyes snapped open. "Tell me to go and I will. But, know this, I will never, ever come back. If you come after me, I'll -"

Tom suddenly clasped her face and kissed her, hard, "Don't you ever call yourself that again! And you're not going anywhere!"

He dropped his hands to her thighs and, with surprising strength, lifted her onto his lap with their lips still sliding against each other. Hermione felt his long icy fingers comb through her thick dark hair, gripping it.

"Ow," Hermione hissed when he pulled a little too hard on the roots.

Tom panted and pulled away, "Did I do something?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and stretched up to his magnetic lips. Her heart was pounding within her chest. She felt weightless as he ran his hands from her mane to her waist and back. Their breaths were winded as though they had sprinted all the way up to the Astronomy tower. But, she was beneath the Black Lake ... straddling the lap of Lord Volde- no, he was Tom Marvolo Riddle still.

There was still a chance to save him from himself. Too many people were counting on her. In this moment with his lips against hers, she realized that Tom depended on her, too. He just didn't know it yet. A whimper escaped Hermione's lips.

But, when she felt him start to pull away she shoved him flat on the bed, his head hitting the dimpled pillow. She writhed over him, choking his concern for her pain ... she wondered if his empathy was real. At the thought of this being all an act, Hermione felt her throat go numb. She feverishly untied his robe from around his neck and leaned back so that he could pull his dark green sweater up over his head. Hermione and Tom stared at each other for a few moments, their chests heaving.

She was surprised that his pectoral muscles were so defined. Hermione could see a few abdominal muscles moving beneath his porcelein skin. Tom's hands were on her thighs. Without hesitating a moment longer, Hermione unbuttoned her long-sleeved white shirt and freed herself from it with trembling fingers. Her cheeks flushed when her long dark hair touched her bare breasts.

Hermione laid her hands on his belly and Tom gulped, "I feel ... like a mesmerized cobra coaxed from the darkness."

She tucked a curtain of his dark hair behind his ear as she lowered herself onto him, trailing her fingers down his hollow cheek to his sharp jaw. Tom reached down to the ground where his wand had fallen and with an elaborate twirl there was no fabric between them anymore. Tom hugged her to his chest and turned them over without using his hands. Hermione felt her back touch the bed after a moment, realizing that he had floated to be on top of her. His infamous jeering smile was nowhere to be seen.

Tom's long dark hair was sticking to his forehead shining with sweet. Hermione was shocked that he felt so heavy when he lowered himself onto her since he was so thin. When he entered her, she inhaled sharply at the agony. Tom closed his eyes and breathed hotly against her neck. Hermione gulped, trying to stem her tears from the pain.

She pressed him to her chest with her hands on his back. Hermione blinked her welling eyes up at the fractured ceiling and mouthed, "Forgive me, please. I don't feel sorry anymore ... he needs me."

Tom was all the way in, which Hermione discovered the hard way that he wasn't supposed to do that on her first time. Perhaps he didn't know ... it then dawned on Hermione that she wasn't a virgin anymore. A tear dripped down to her ear as he continued to slide up and down inside of her. Tom shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut, completely unaware that he had been sucking on Hermione's neck. A brown mark was forming where his lips had been suckling on the base of her neck.

Hermione trailed her hands around him to rest on his shoulders as he leaned away. His entire long body was trembling as he retreated from inside her. Tom was still breathing heavily and his dark almond-shaped eyes were glancing between hers, "Hesh kasrasah seh." When Hermione frowned and shook her head to say that she did not know Parseltongue, Tom said hoarsly, "Don't - ehhm - don't leave ... me."

Hermione raised her eyebrows up at him and her mouth gaped when his lips started to quiver. His dark eyes were brimming with tears. She whispered up to him, "I won't. Listen, I know you've been abandoned your whole life. You're afraid that I'll be next. But, believe me! Tom," she cupped his face when he kept turning away so that he had to look her in the eye. "I'll never go away."

Tom crumbled against her chest and Hermione grunted softly at the mild impact of his weight against her. She combed one hand into his dark hair and stroked the other along what she could reach of his boney back. He turned his head away from her, his mouth slimy with his leaking nose and his cheeks moistened with tears. She was the key to unlock the dam withholding all his repressed emotions. Only time will tell if they were better left restrained.