Riddle and His Lady
Chapter Ten: The Morning After
Previously:
Minerva and Hermione joined them around the table as Orion explained the rules of the game; each shot glass would be filled with some sort of alcoholic drink and then levitated by four people who would be sat at the table and given ten glasses each. They would each be given ten seconds to levitate one shot glass at a time. Each glass they levitated successfully, they would be able to drink. The more drunk a player got, the less accurate their magic and the more likely they are to drop the glass, the player would be given three shots, one containing an unpleasant potion rather than alcohol.
Hermione could not really see the point of the game, other than to get more and more drunk. But she was not one to argue; after all, she had already had more than was sensible to drink so she was hardly going to turn more free alcohol down.
Once he had explained the game, Lucretia, Lyall, Abraxas and Eileen took their seats at the table and Orion joined Hermione as she watched and slid an unexpected hand across her back and to loosely cup her waist.
"Having fun?" he asked with a charming grin on his face.
Hermione nodded with a smile but did not say anything.
"Well, that's good because I have an inkling tonight is going to be quite eventful," he said with a wink and continued to watch the game unfold.
Hermione Granger had always prided herself in saying that she had never, not ever in her life, had what was known as a "hangover". She had never allowed herself to drink so much that her morning after would result in a hangover; no, she was responsible. But as she awoke from her slumber with a tremendous headache and her hair matted around her face, she could no longer stick her nose up and say that her hangover record was still clear.
It occurred to her as she stared with drooping eyelids around at the unfamiliar bed she was sprawled on, with expensive looking midnight blue sheets. The colour was quite comforting for her currently pounding head. She reminded herself to make a pepper up potion at some point that morning. Although, she wasn't even certain it was the morning. She felt as if she had been sleeping for an age.
Slowly, she lifted the heavy covers from her to find that she was not actually wearing the dress she had been the night before. No; instead she was clad in a sheer, emerald green, buttoned shirt with the initials T.M.R sewn into the breast with silver thread. With wide eyes, it occurred to her that someone must have dressed her. She prayed to Merlin that it had been a house elf rather than an actual person. Rubbing her forehead, she dragged herself from the bed and gave herself a shaky moment to gather herself once she was standing.
Staring round the large bedroom with no recollection of the night before, she found herself drawing a complete blank. She considered that Tom might have taken her home, but this was not her bedroom and it wasn't his either. She could recall sitting down after Orion fetched her and Minerva from the kitchen, already rather drunk at that point, to play drinking games. From there, she had no idea whatsoever what happened next. Walking timidly around the, rather grand, room, she studied the shelves on the walls. They carried hundreds of books, and usually she would have been in awe seeing so much reading material, but for once, the last thing Hermione needed was a book. She deduced that she must be in one of the many rooms in Orion's home. She hoped that was the case at least; even during her time spends with the Order she had not seen all of the rooms in 12 Grimmauld Place, so it was a possibility.
The young, perplexed, witch was then startled as the door to the room creaked open and a calm looking Tom Riddle entered the room carrying a wooden tray bearing a steaming mug of hot chocolate, an apple and toast with jam and marmalade. He seemed surprised to find Hermione up and out of bed and placed the tray beside the bed. She felt quite ashamed of herself, seeing him so neat, not a hair out of place, clearly not at all feeling the effects of last night, and her dressed only in a men's shirt and clearly struggling from her extensive intake of alcohol the previous night.
"Good morning, Hermione," he said calmly with a small smile, although it seemed quite smug to her, "how are you feeling?"
She grimaced and replied, "Not too jolly," taking a bobble from around her wrist and tying her mass of hair up.
"I think it would be wise of you to go back to bed," Tom said, pulling back the covers for her. Hermione complied, reaching for a slice of toast with marmalade and realising how hungry she actually was.
She observed him as she ate her toast. He rested on the edge of the bed, before lying down fully on his back and resting his hands on his stomach, staring up at the ceiling.
"Where exactly am I?" she asked once she finished the toast and moved onto the hot chocolate.
"We're still at Grimmauld Place," he replied quietly, not looking at her, "I put some pepper up potion in the hot chocolate by the way. I thought you might need it."
She thanked him and tugged the covers a bit closer to her. She felt weirdly comfortable with Tom Riddle lying at the edge of her bed whilst she was in it wearing nothing but a shirt. She asked about the shirt, and he said it was one of Orion's. She chose not to let him know she knew it wasn't one of Orion's, she felt far too ill to even give it proper thought, so she stayed quiet about it. He had asked Lucretia to help her get changed as it wasn't very chivalrous of him to do it himself. She could not help but laugh a little at that.
"I have to say, you surprised me with just how much you can drink." He commented lightly, with a small smirk.
"Thank you," she replied, smugly.
"Ha, I never said you could hold it though," he continued, deflating her smugness immediately.
"I can hold my drink, thank you very much." She snapped, averting her eyes from him, feeling the burn from his insult.
He chuckled, "I beg to differ. If that was the case you'd be able to remember last night's events,"
"Maybe I can."
"You've already proved yourself wrong, otherwise you already would have mentioned the part where you walked in on Orion and Parkinson in bed together," he said, although all the usual smugness was gone from his voice, and instead he almost sounded regretful. Or rather, pitiful for Hermione.
She clearly didn't know what to say to that, as her mouth had opened in shock as if she was about to exclaim something; give Tom some sort of response. But instead she couldn't. She felt quite hurt.
"Yes," Tom said awkwardly, "at which point I decided to end the night and took you here to sleep. As you can imagine, you seemed quite upset at the time. I thought it best you just get straight to bed."
Hermione just nodded, looking at her hands cupped in her lap.
"Anyway," he piped up after a few awkward minutes of silence, "You can't stay here all day, so you're coming back with me."
She nodded, suddenly jumping up from the bed, swallowing a large and uncomfortable lump in her throat, and moving to the en suite to analyse the damage to her appearance. "You're right; I can't just wallow in self pity all day. I'm sure Rosmerta is expecting me and I can't keep her waiting any longer."
Tom stepped in front of her before she reached the door the the bathroom with his arms crossed, "No, that won't do. You're not expected at work today, so we're going out."
"Oh," she retorted, jutting her hip out and placing her hand on it, "are we?"
He nodded and then swirled around her, taking hold of her waist and pushing her towards the bathroom. "Now, go and sort yourself out, I have clothes for you, and then we'll head off." and before she could even give him a proper answer, although it was clear the decision had been made for her, she had been forced into the bathroom with a toothbrush in hand and a hair brush in the other and the door was closed behind her.
By the time she left the bathroom, her tray had been taken away by the house elves and a new day dress was laid out on the bed with a pair of shoes and tights. She sighed and went towards the bed to get dressed.
She hadn't it in her to argue with Tom, and when she actually thought about it, he was trying to be nice. He wasn't doing anything spiteful or nasty. In fact, he was trying to cheer her up. Which meant he recognised at least that she was going through some emotional pain with what she had discovered that morning. There was no harm in going out with him for a day; and anyway, she was sure she'd find each moment as torturous as if she was spending it with Draco Malfoy! No, Hermione knew she was lying to herself about that. She actually rather enjoyed Tom's company. There was no denying that he was attractive...although that word didn't quite seem to do him justice.
She vaguely remembered she had supposed to be annoyed with him for something, although she could not remember what it was. Although at that moment, nothing Tom could do would hit her quite as hard as what she had discovered about Orion.
Once she was dressed, Hermione collected what limited things she had and departed the room.
She met Tom in the empty drawing room, holding a mug of tea and a slice of toast. In that short scene, he seemed so normal to Hermione; so human. The room was empty. Of people, that is. Of mess, it was far from empty. And yet there Tom sat, leaning back in front of the fire in a cosy chesterfield arm chair, sipping his tea and reading The Daily Prophet with an unimpressed expression on his marble face; and he looked so perfect; absolutely flawless and unspoiled, surrounded by heaps of mess and broken glasses and alcohol stains on the carpet. He seemed almost like an angel, but she supposed that's exactly what he was when he went home. A perfect, faultless angel surrounded by a war zone that had nothing to do with him. He was just a boy at the end of it all, she supposed; a boy just like Harry, with no true parents and a looming fate slowly following him and backing him into a corner that he didn't want to face.
The young witch rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the thoughts going through her mind. She was about to say something smart, a typical pedantic remark but he beat her to it.
"Are you just going to stand there, gazing at me, or are we leaving any time soon?"
She felt her cheeks rise in temperature and retorted sharply, "I was not...gazing! I was merely observing. Waiting for you to hurry up, if you will."
Tom chuckled and took the last bite of his toast before standing up, brushing himself down and placing the newspaper on the arm of the chair. "I will never tire of your temper, Hermione. Shall we go?"
She nodded, noticing his eyes looking her up and down with an approving gaze, and then took his arm and happily left the house.
I cannot even apologise enough. I wouldn't blame any of you if you've given up on this story now, I would have by now but I've been at uni for the past six or so months and it's just completely taken over everything.
I know this was a short chapter compared to some of my others but I promise to update the next one between now and May because I love writing this, and I love hearing from you all who love reading it! I'll treat you all in the next chapter to some fluffy bonding and hopefully you'll forgive me!
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