Riddle and His Lady
Chapter Fourteen: Horatio
Previously:
From the corner of her eye she could make out a smirk on Tom's lips as they moved slowly. The rest of the group was still and none of them talked, nor even looked at either of the two men.
Moving a table closer she managed to overhear a small part of what Tom was saying, "You'll never win her round now anyway, Orion. Maybe you should learn to keep your activities a little more private next time."
Hermione chose to move to that table then, just before Orion could jump from his seat and land one on the wizard opposite him. She quickly collected the glasses, flashing a smile at the people round the table and informing them that the pub would be closing in five minutes.
"Is everything okay?" she inquired, her eyes darting from person to person.
"Oh, yes," Abraxas insisted with a warm, but clearly faked smile, "We're all fine,"
Hermione nodded and moved the tray into one hand before walking from the table, making sure to lightly touch Orion's shoulder as she passed.
Bugger this, she thought suddenly with a impulsive feeling of determination and turned back to the group with her eyes focused on the black haired man on the end of the table.
"Orion," she spoke confidently, forcing all heads to turn in her direction, and a bright smile lighting up her face, "I'd love to spend my day off with you. I finish in ten minutes if you want to discuss it then," and then promptly darted back to the kitchen with a tower of glasses clinking beside her.
It surprised Minerva greatly that she was able to adjust so well to speaking to Severus and Albus through their portraits after their deaths. She has always thought that if a person died that she was close to it would not be the same to speak to a painting of them. The painting was almost like a barrier and it wasn't truly them, so she wasn't really talking to them. She voiced her concerns to the portrait of Albus, to test how he would respond, to test whether it was like the real Albus. She has not been disappointed and after that she began seeing the portraits as a blessing. Her loved ones were dead, but she would always have them there to speak to even if they were in a frame and for that she was grateful.
"I remember the first day she came into my office when she arrived in the past; such a pleasant, mature woman. I would have liked to have taken her on as a teacher here," Albus commented airily, resting his head on the side of his frame and popping a sweet into his mouth which he had acquired ten minutes ago from the frame of the founder of Honeydukes while he was out visiting family.
"I could see her teaching charms; she was always so good at charms," Minerva added, playing with a small silver vile on the desk in front of her labelled "Hermione Granger".
"She was always so good at everything, Minerva," Severus snorted rudely, but everyone in the room knew he had always held great admiration for the girl even if he didn't admit it.
"You know, the memories I have of her when I was a young woman feel so vivid now I can barely believe I haven't always had them. She became one of my greatest friends," Minerva continued, ignoring Severus' comment.
"I feel the same, Minerva. It feels like an insult to her that we did not remember; but I only wish I could remember what happened to her." Albus added quietly.
"As time goes on I'm sure the memories will come back because I suppose, in some sense, the memories haven't yet been made. They will come to you," Severus reassured, growing somewhat bored of the conversation.
Hermione arose that glorious Saturday morning an hour earlier than she usually would. Her incentive was to attempt to read the time travel book the Seer had given to her, but every time she attempted to read it her mind blanked. The dialect of the book was so bizarre that she thought it couldn't possibly have been written in the last 400 years; it was almost like a mixture of the English that she was familiar with, Chaucer's English and a whole different language as well. She knew, although she really didn't want to, that at some point she would have to return to the shop she got the book from to see if the woman could help her decipher the words. So instead she got ready for her busy shift and sat at her desk to reply to her last letter from Dumbledore instructing her to visit his office to "mull over her memories" as he put it.
She replied to him saying to expect her at midday on Monday, which unfortunately meant she had to write a second letter to Orion to rearrange their day date to another day.
After finishing both letters, she was downstairs by 10am for breakfast. Saturday was always a difficult shift, but thankfully Rosmerta's nephew was to join them that day for extra help so Hermione wasn't too worried about the day ahead. Handing the two letters to Rosmerta to send, she took her place at the breakfast table and piled her plate up high with eggs, beans, toast, mushrooms, sausages and potatoes. Her late night working meant she hadn't had enough time to eat the night before she was certainly making up for it now.
"Remember my nephew's coming today, Hermione. You'll love him; most of the girls do," she chuckled, "he's clever too, oh yes, he's very clever. He's in his last year of school, you know; Head boy. Me and my sister have no doubt he'll have a job at the ministry waiting for him as soon as he leaves school," and on and on she went. It seemed astonishing to Hermione that Rosmerta was not equally as tired as she was after the night they had had in the pub, but the landlady seemed perfectly chipper, sitting there salivating over her nephew and how wonderful he was. Hermione knew exactly what sort of boy was going to walk through the door, so it came as no surprise to her when Horatio joined them an hour before they were planning on opening.
Rosmerta enveloped the boy in a tight hug the moment she saw him, kissing him on his sandy blonde head. His hair was perfectly shaped into a side parting and his clothes were neat but he had a look about him like although he looked perfect, he hadn't even tried. He was effortlessly perfect, and Hermione hated those sorts of people.
Horatio, who looked significantly older than he actually was, planted a kiss on each of Hermione's cheeks as soon as they were introduced. She smiled a brief hello at him and ran away to fetch her apron, missing his long stare that followed her out of the room. It became apparent as soon as their shift began that Horatio had never heard of the term "personal space" and insisted on standing as close to her as was possible when she was pouring drinks at the bar. Moving slightly away from the young man didn't seem to deter him either; he just moved impossibly closer to her and at one point she was certain she felt his hand grazing her waist. But she gritted her teeth and endured the torment of him. After all, he was Rosmerta's nephew and she'd probably get the sack if Hermione told her she suspected Horatio of being a bit of a pervert. Several times he even deliberately moved into her path, as if he thought she wouldn't notice, just so she would have no choice but to narrowly squeeze past him.
She was more than happy when Rosmerta told her to go and wait the tables, just because it meant she didn't have to endure him for a little bit.
"What can I get for you this afternoon, gentlemen?" She asked her first table of three young men sweetly.
"Three butterbeers and three fire whiskies if you will, darling," the first wizard requested before smirking and adding, "and anything else if you're offering," earning a few chuckled from his friends.
Hermione felt her face burn up and she snapped, "I'll offer you nothing of the sort!" before charging off to take more orders and hearing one of them shout, "Don't be such a prude," earning guffaws of laughter from the other two.
Collecting herself, she continued working and quickly took their order to them, ignoring the further comments she received when she returned to their table with the drinks. If this is what they're like when they sober, she thought, I dread to think how they'll be after a few drinks.
As the afternoon grew on the men ordered more and more drinks, so many that their bill was growing to be more than Hermione would have earned in a month. And as they drank more, their comments became louder and more often until Hermione could take the harassment no more.
"If you continue, I'll be forced to kick you out and bar you from the pub," she retorted firmly, toying with her wand behind her back which she had been using to levitate the trays of drinks.
"I'd say we're probably your best customers right now, sweetheart," the loudest one barked, leaning towards her in a predatory stance, "if you'd just come over here and sit with us for a bit we might pipe down."
"I really don't think that's appropriate," she replied hotly, becoming very unsure of how to deal with the situation. Hermione jumped back slightly from surprise as the loud one rose from his seat and took a confident step away from the table and towards her and she prepared herself to use her wand against him, but then Horatio seemed to appear out of nowhere and placed himself in front of the man. Oh thank Merlin, Hermione thought with a sigh of relief, scared she may have done something she would have regretted.
"I'm afraid we stop serving customers after they've ordered 30 units, sir, so we cannot take any more orders from you. Many apologies," he said with a tight lip and led Hermione away from the table swiftly.
"Thanks, Horatio," Hermione began with a grateful smile, but was interrupted by his firm hands on her shoulders.
"If that ever happens again, tell me immediately. If I'd known, I would have served them instead." He said with a frown of genuine concern and all that Hermione could do was nod her head because the feeling of guilt was rising in her stomach and she realised that she had seriously misjudged this boy. He was arrogant and a bit too touchy-feely, but he was genuinely nice and considerate too. Before she could properly thank him he went off and continued his shift, leaving her dumbfounded at the bar.
But her brief few minutes of contemplation were broken by a hand waving in front of her face irritatingly. She immediately snapped out of her trance and her eyes focused on the face of Tom Riddle stood in front of her.
"Oh," she exclaimed, "Tom! Why are you here?"
A cocky smirk spread over his face and he replied, "Why, I've come for a drink, dear Hermione." He said with a tone like she was stupid, "I'm joining friends."
She nodded, walking behind the bar to pour him a beer. "The others aren't here though; I expect you're early," she commented, her eyes flashing nervously up to his, remembering their last…intimate conversation.
Tom shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers although it had not gone unnoticed that she was suddenly a bit red around the chest and her speech was a little tense. "Not those friends. Some other friends; they're already here."
Hermione nodded quickly, his eyes watching her every move were not helping to calm herself and she worried if she spoke she might lose her voice from nerves. She clumsily finished pouring the pint and slid it over to him. Tom moved to grab it immediately, very lightly stroking the back of her hand with his fingers as he took the glass from her, his eyes darting from their hands to her face and her eyes that were firmly locked on his. Without even a goodbye, Tom then turned quickly and walked to the back of the room with his drink and a smirk on his face, joining his three old school friends, Nott, Avery and Carmichael. The three boys who had previously been harassing Hermione. She looked on with a bitter smile on her face and continued working.
"Riddle!" Avery barked, jumping from his seat and clapping his friend on the back. Tom sat down with the three young men, choosing not to ask why none of them had drinks in front of them.
Almost as soon as he sat down, Tom forgot the pleasantries required of him in public and asked, "Did you visit the Seer?"
Carmichael nodded his head with a stern look on his face, "We told her we were visiting on your behalf," he explained, "I don't think she would have helped otherwise; you do have a way with older women, Tom."
His three companions laughed but Tom was too preoccupied to find it funny, "Yes, but did she tell you which book she gave to the young witch?" he asked, growing impatient.
Carmichael then proceeded to pull a scrap of paper from his inside jacket pocket and unfolded it, handing the paper over to Tom with a confused frown on his face. The note read: Pockets of Time and Travel – by M.R. Cattermole
"Why would she be reading that?" Nott asked, just as confused as the other boys. As far as he was aware, time travel didn't even exist; maybe in theory, but certainly not in practice so it seemed a mystery that there should even be a book about it.
"Your guess is good as mine," Tom replied quietly, his gaze darting to the young witch he had recently grown to be so infatuated with, whizzing around the pub levitating drinks with her wand.
Well, it seems I have a bit of apologising to do. I began my first year of uni this year and I cannot even begin to explain how busy it's been. So busy that this is the first time in over 6 months that I've even been on this website again. But I want this to change and I want to finish this story and considering I won't go back to uni until October, this is the summer do finish it!
So it's been mentioned by a few of you that I've been going off topic with this story, with regards to the actual plot, which is completely true. Some of you have commented that I've been focusing too much on the love triangle and less on Hermione's role in the story. So I intend to balance it from now on; for those who like the love triangle, that doesn't mean you won't be seeing the boys in this for a while, they'll still be in it as much as they already are but I think I need to make the chapters longer so I can include the time travel as well.
So hopefully those of you who read it from the start will continue reading it now, and hopefully more of you will join the story and enjoy it too! Please review, I always say how much I love my reviews and let me know what you think. xx