Riddle and His Lady
Chapter Two: Disappearing Act
Ronald Weasley was a simple man; he had simple needs and had never asked too much of life. He thought that he had not been asking much of Hermione when he turned up at her door, and he was most certainly shocked when he was, rather bluntly, rejected by her. He had always loved her fiery temper, it was one of the things that attracted him, and the way her cheeks heated up when she was angry. He daren't admit it, but sometimes he had to hold himself back from grabbing her shoulders and kissing her when she was having a fit at him, although that had taken the wrong turn once, which taught him never to do that again. Harry's temper, however, made Ronald feel exceptionally ashamed of himself, and in this case he was already feeling ashamed.
The young, red-haired man was currently standing in the living room of Harry Potter with a rather angry-looking cat plonked in his arms, receiving quite a stern telling-off.
"What?! What do you mean she just vanished?" Harry shouted.
Ron spluttered, opening his mouth like a fish and then closing it. He felt incredibly stupid, standing before his best friend, being forced to explain himself for his actions like a child. Suddenly, Crookshanks struggled in his arms, hissing and clawing. Ron dropped him and he scuttled off towards the kitchen. Typical, Ron thought, even the cat doesn't like me.
"I don't know what happened, Harry! Honestly" Ron insisted, waving his arms around like a mad man before throwing himself on the closest chair and dropping his head in his hands.
Harry looked as if he was about to explode. "Ron, please. A person cannot just vanish without trace. Something must have happened." Harry knew from the guilty expression on his friends face that he was not being completely honest; it was just a matter of time before it all spilled out.
"Okay," Ron sighed, refusing to meet his eyes. "We were arguing and I…might have performed some spell on her, and then she disappeared. I didn't know what the spell was, Harry, I swear..."
Harry sighed, forgetting his anger, deciding it would get them nowhere. "Where did you get this spell from?" Harry inquired, running his hands down his face. He was grateful at that moment that Ginny was tending to an unhappy Crookshanks in the kitchen or he might have started interrogating him out of desperation.
"I just found it, mate. It was written on a scrap of paper in my house. Never seen it before in my life, but I thought it sounded interesting and remembered it." Ron replied, exasperated.
"And what did the paper say, Ron?" Harry pushed, just as Ginny came in handing them both a cup of tea. She offered her fiancé a small smile before leaving the room again.
Ron racked his brain for a moment, sipping his tea and then clicked his fingers in the air, "It said, 'Praeteritis- to resolve feuds'."
Harry nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. Yes, Harry thought, little did he know that resolving a feud meant making Hermione disappear.
"Right, I'm going to contact Kinglsey and Minerva. I want to find out a little more about this spell before we do anything else."
And with that, they both apparated to the gates of Hogwarts to alert the Headmistress of the sudden turn of events.
Wizarding London
September, 1947
It had been a fairly pleasant, quiet day when Tom had chosen to begin reading his newly purchased book on Moste Hideous Hexes by R.E Slinger. It was a reasonably interesting read, although the hexes, Tom had found, were rather tame for his liking. Having received no visitors that day, Tom had taken the opportunity to relax a little. That is not saying he had no friends...well, "friends" was not the word he would choose. There was Abraxas, of course, whom he had known for nearly nine years now although he had always seem him as the "village idiot", as muggles said. Then there was Dolohov who he would rather call an acquaintance than a friend. Other than those two, Orion and Rosier were the only people he would say he had some sort of "friendly" relationship with. Both of which would call quite often at his home, although Merlin knows why as they both knew Tom was hardly the conversing sort of chap.
The young wizard had been reading intently about the Exomento hex, finding the subject rather amusing, when a blinding flash of purple light had appeared in the corner of his room, shaking the bottles of herbs and potions on the walls. If it had not been for his restriction charm he had previously put on the shelves, the jars and bottles would almost certainly have fallen off and smashed, and that would certainly not have been good judging by the effects of some of the potions he had.
Tom, however, chose not to panic about these turn of events as a rather pretty young woman appeared before him. He would have thought she was a muggle, judging by the apron and baking tin, had it not been for the wand she was clutching in her right hand so tightly that her knuckles had gone pale. Still, Tom looked upon the scene quietly and calmly, he never let anyone see the mask slip for more than a second.
The witch appeared quite dazed, staring around the room with her mouth slightly open. He watched her swallow nervously, taking in the room around her before jumping slightly, realising that he was sat in the corner observing her silently. With a raised eyebrow, slightly annoyed that someone would have the audacity to just appear in his room, he watched her lick her lips and shuffle her feet.
The woman opened her mouth slowly and cleared her throat before saying, in a rather timid voice, "I do apologise. Might I ask who you are?"
Placing the book down on the mahogany table beside him, Tom proceeded to gracefully flick his hair from his eyes and straighten up in the arm chair. "I think, as you have just...materialised on my property, it would be fitting for me to be asking the questions, miss...?" He trailed off softly.
Tom nearly laughed at the state of the young woman as she nodded her head quickly and said, "Granger, Hermione Granger." He nodded, assuming that she must have been at least a half-blood with a surname like that. He paused, considering what to do next. Afterall, it was certainly not every day a witch just emerges through a purple flash in his room.
"My name is Tom," he suddenly exclaimed, jumping from his seat and walking over to her in three long strides. He painted his best smile on his charming face and offered to take the baking tray from her hands, before offering her a hand shake which she accepted timidly. He noticed that she still kept the grip on her wand after handing over the tin.
"You can put your wand away," he chuckled, sending her another false smile, "I won't attack you, I promise."
Tom knew he was only half-joking, but it would not do to just attack the girl on the spot. He needed to find out a little more about her first, find out if she was a threat to him in any way, or just a simple girl who likes to bake and accidentally put a spell on herself. She didn't look particularly stupid, although looks can be deceiving, which is something he liked to use to his advantage.
Hermione, however, didn't seem to find it very funny as she scrutinized Tom quietly. He then offered to make her a drink to calm her nerves, carrying the cake into the small kitchen and placing it on the work surface. He had to admit, he did not spend an awful lot of time in the kitchen. He would rather go to the Leaky Cauldron to eat as he had never been particularly gifted in the cooking area.
"As I said, I do apologise for this...mishap. This was certainly not deliberate." She insisted, taking a seat at the small dining table and watching him pouring her some tea.
"No need to apologise, Miss Granger." He smiled, handing her drink to her, "How exactly did this mishap occur anyway?" He inquired, taking a seat opposite her.
Hermione found it rather difficult to concentrate on what he was asking her. She had never been the Lavender Brown type of girl, fawning over handsome boys and planning weddings ten years in advance. Hell, she could remember overhearing her planning her and Ron's children in the Gryffindor common room. No, she had never been that sort of girl, but now she was under the interrogation of a rather handsome young man and she was beginning to feel her palms sweat.
"Well," she began rather shakily, "this might sound a bit mad."
"I'm sure I can handle it, Miss Granger," Tom smiled.
She nodded and then a thought struck her, "Before I begin, would you like some cake? As a sort of apology for turning up in your home," she smiled, "I'm a fairly good baker, so I won't poison you." she joked.
"If you insist," he replied and went to fetch some plates and forks.
"Ah, apple cake?" he asked and she nodded, slicing them both a sliver, "My favourite," he commented, smiling up at her.
Once they were both sat down and comfortable she finally began explaining how her ex-boyfriend had turned up at her house, expressing his desperation for them to be together again and how this lead to him barking an unknown spell and sending her there. Tom listened to her story quietly, nodding when appropriate but not interrupting.
"And you have no idea what the spell was?" Tom inquired, having finished his cake, commenting that it was delicious and propping his head up on his hands.
"No, I can hardly remember what he even said. All I know is that one minute I was standing in my kitchen, and the next there was a purple light which seemed to absorb me and I was here..." she trailed off, feeling a little bit stupid.
Tom seemed to be in deep thought, rubbing his chin with his thumb and staring off into space. "Honestly, I can't think of any spells off the top of my head. You certainly didn't apparate because you would have recognised that."
They fell into silence once more and Hermione took the opportunity to study his flat. "Are we above the Leaky Cauldron by any chance?" she asked, recognising the street outside the window.
"Yes, we are." Tom replied, smirking. Hermione nodded in reply, continuing to examine the room as Tom sat, deep in thought, presumably trying to come up with some possible spells.
She noticed that the decor seemed quite dated, particularly for the 21st century. And dated by several decades.
Tom noticed, half way through considering the different spells could have sent Hermione there, that she was observing the room with a deep frown on her forehead. He knew that the kitchen was hardly the neatest or cleanest thing he had ever seen, but his pride hardly lay in the kitchen. He decided, after several minutes of watching her confused expression as she scrutinized the room, to ask her what exactly the problem was.
"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" he asked, innocently.
Her eyes snapped back to him and her face flushed, "Please, call me Hermione. And no..." she trailed off.
It was clear to Tom that there was something wrong, so he pushed her. "Don't hold back, Hermione." He quite liked the taste of her name on his tongue, it was one he had never come across before.
"Well, I was just thinking how dated your kitchen is. I mean, I'm not saying it isn't at all nice, but it is rather...forties?" she guessed, cocking her head.
Tom couldn't help but laugh then. What a bizarre woman, he thought. "Well," he began, chuckling, "of course it is forties style."
"Why?" she questioned, a crease forming between her eyebrows again.
Tom was now getting a little bit confused, and speaking to her with the utmost bluntness, said, "Because it is the forties?"
There was a large, pregnant pause after that, before Tom continued, "Well, late forties, mind you."
With a small shudder, Hermione then squeaked, "Excuse me?"
Right, there is the third chapter for you! Thank you to Angel, Jessica and Strawberryluv for reviewing :) It means so much to me to have people complimenting me for writing
For those who are wondering, the Exomento hex makes the victim lose control of their bowels. I thought that would be a particularly nasty one, so I mentioned it.
I'll try to update again as soon as I can and please leave me some comments as I love getting them, and without them I probably won't update.
-Buckbeak