Author's Note: I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter! Sakuya-kaleido - No, I am not the author of Everything I know; that would be onecrimsontie, and in the future if you have any questions, please log in so I don't have to put it in an author's note.
Hermione didn't remember going to bed, but she supposed she must have made it, since she woke up in her dorm. She had expected to stay up for hours, contemplating the meaning of what she had said to Tom, but luckily her fatigue had won out.
Once again, she and Elizabeth were awake before almost everyone else in the Slytherin dorms, and were in the Great Hall before most people, too. Hermione was glad that Tom Riddle had slept in – or had she and Elizabeth woken up earlier than usual? She wasn't yet awake enough to know, but she was glad that she wouldn't have to deal with him, at least for a while.
Keeping this thought in mind, she began to eat - she wasn't sure whether she would have an appetite once she had to face Tom again. She had more than touched upon the truth last night, and that scared her. Scarier than that she had been convinced to talk to him honestly, though, was what the honesty meant: she no longer thought of him as being evil. He had somehow managed to humanize himself in her mind, and she didn't like that. If she couldn't see him as being The Bad Guy, how could she possibly keep her task in mind?
Then again, she realized, it might be better that way. Without the constant nagging in the back of her mind that he was the future Lord Voldemort, the primary cause of all of her problems for at least the past year, she'd be able to get closer to him, and she had already decided that the only way she could possibly succeed was if she could somehow managed to get close to him.
Of course, she was going to have to make sure she didn't ever forget why she was here; that would be disasterous, even if it weren't for the threat of the Dark Lord in her time.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Tom Riddle, himself – hadn't she seen enough of him already over the past five days? But she had barely started her mental preparations, readying herself for his constantly stressful presence, when he did the most surprising thing Hermione could think of: he sat down on the other end of the table. She fought to keep the shock from showing on her face. It was difficult. After all, he had actively sought her out at every meal since the start of term. And she had felt certain that - after what had passed between them the night before - he would want nothing more than to taunt her, to provoke her into saying something which might betray her further. But, apparently, she was wrong, for there he was at the opposite side of the table, as far away from her as he could sit while staying with their house, not sparing a glance in her direction.
It was, she found, unnerving. She had thought that she would be happy to be free from his constant presence, but her curiosity was driving her crazy. Damn that Riddle, she thought, angrily taking a bite of whatever was on her fork. I won't be able to enjoy my breakfast now. And, indeed, she barely tasted anything, though she had previously been certain that her food was delicious. A part of her wanted nothing more than to go up to him and ask him exactly what his problem was, but she knew that would just be silly. So she sat where she was and forced herself to keep eating, refusing to even look in his general direction.
She knew that she was being incredibly foolish; she couldn't get close to Tom if she wouldn't speak to him. She knew that the smart, responsible decision would be to walk over to where he was sitting and talk to him; tell him that she hadn't been lying, or trying to mess with his head last night, that she had meant what she said about not hating him. But she was a proud girl, and just this once she tired of being responsible; she was going to sulk and act like the moody teenager she had every right to be. Her pride wouldn't allow her to make such a concession as to initiate conversation with him – especially today – and she was going to finally let her pride win over her reason. It felt good.
Hermione looked down at her plate and was surprised to see that it was empty – the Great Hall was still mostly deserted. Sighing, she piled more food onto her plate, knowing full well that she would eat all of it without tasting a bite. It was going to be a very long day.
By halfway through the morning, Hermione was convinced that she had been correct; this was sure to be the longest day in existence. She tried to pay attention in her classes, but the behaviour of Tom Riddle was too unexpected. She found herself dividing her attention, trying desperately to listen to her professors while dissecting the entire encounter last night, wanting very much to figure out why his behaviour had changed so suddenly. He had won, after all; he had gotten her to admit what he wanted, very much against her will, and she could see no reason why he wouldn't be gloating about it. Staying away from her seemed the most counterintuitive reaction she could think of. When she remembered who he was, she hated herself for obsessing; but then she rationalized that it was for the good of the mission, to figure out what was going on. She silenced the voice that tried to protest that the mission was not what she was most worried about, and continued to think.
The pattern continued throughout the morning; she found herself getting constantly frustrated with the strain of trying to make her brain do something it was obviously opposed to. She wished that classes were over, so she wouldn't have to try to pay attention, and found that she was consistently the first one out of class.
She sat down at lunch, somehow exhausted, in a seat at on one end of the table, not seeing Elizabeth but glad to not have to make conversation. As at breakfast, she didn't pay much attention to what she was putting on her plate – her mind was whirring and, to tell the truth, she didn't really care what she was eating. She just sat in silence habitually putting food in her mouth and chewing on it. Not tasting, just… chewing. She didn't notice the faces she was making as she thought. The, 'what on earth is he thinking face,' surfaced a few times, along with the, 'who the hell does he think he is?' face. In the end she began to dismiss the whole thing putting on her, 'I couldn't be bothered anymore,' face and nodded to herself. She was so lost in thought that it took her a moment to realize someone was talking to her.
"Excuse me?" she asked, having missed what the young man had said – she usually had an impeccable memory, but her mind had been elsewhere for the past week, and though she knew she had at least one class with him, she couldn't begin to think of his name.
The nameless boy then answered her question. "I said, my name is Charles Black. We have Potions together, I think, and Arithmancy." He then moved a seat closer so that he was sitting next to her.
Trying to not let the surname 'Black' faze her, Hermione searched her memory and thought she remembered seeing him. "Yes, I remember. I'm Jane Levvens – I just transferred here."
"I know," he said. "Tarnley, right?" Hermione was surprised – how on earth did he know, when she'd just met him? "I overheard you talking to Elizabeth on the train."
Hermione cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, alright," she responded wondering how he overheard her when, as far as she could remember, she and Elizabeth had been alone. She turned back to her food. The plate was half empty. She didn't even remember eating it. She frowned.
"So, how do you like it here at Hogwarts?" he asked – Hermione thought that she was getting rather tired of the question.
She mentally rolled her eyes as she conjured up her – now memorized – response. "I rather like it here, actually. It's much bigger than Tarnley, of course, and the classes are quite difficult – some of the most advanced in the world, I've heard – but it's nice."
He nodded. "Yes, I quite agree. I have to admit, after spending so much time here, it's rather like home. I'm sure I'll miss it when the year is over – but don't go spreading that around now, or you'll ruin my reputation," he added; his voice told her that it was a joke, but something in his eyes suggested that there was a hint of seriousness to it.
She laughed a little, a quiet chuckle that was not quite her own. "Of course," she said and was surprised to find a hint of sarcasm behind it. Damn him, she thought to herself as Tom ran across her mind yet again.
There was a lull in the conversation while they took a break from talking and ate some of their food, during which Hermione, without meaning to, looked up and stole a glimpse at Tom Riddle. She had managed, up to now, to push him from her mind for the few minutes she spoke to Charles and, seeing as he had been indifferent to her the entire day, it wasn't hard to figure out why she was infinitely surprised to see that he was looking back at her.
The infinite surprise then rose when she found the expression on his face was… angry? No, it wasn't quite anger, though he definitely wasn't pleased. It reminded her of Ron in fourth year, when she told him she already had a date to the Yule Ball. She laughed at herself; the future Dark Lord couldn't remind her of Ronald Weasley. She was just being nostalgic.
Finding that she had been lingering too much on the ultimate specimen of complexity, she gave up in trying to decipher exactly what his problem was. After giving him what she meant to be a quick, dismissive look, Hermione turned back to her plate, taking a bite and smiling at Charles.
"What was that about?" he asked after a moment, having seen her nonverbal communication with Tom.
She gave another short laugh, one that belonged to Jane and not herself. "Nothing at all," she replied.
For the rest of lunch, the two of them talked, Hermione finding Charles to be a very interesting person and a good conversationalist. When the bell sounded and it was time to return to their classes, they walked together to Arithmancy – and not once did Hermione think about Tom Riddle, though if she had been paying attention, she would have been hard-pressed to not see the furious look in his eyes betraying his usual calm demeanor.