Author's Note: This is the last of what I had originally written that I will be reposting...so from now on, updates may be a bit farther between (though I'll still try to make them at least semi-regular). I haven't gotten any reviews on the last chapter, which is sad, but I hope that you're still reading; after all, the best (hopefully) is yet to come!
Hermione had an amazing time in Arithmancy, though she had no way of knowing whether Charles was really as ambitious and hardworking as he seemed. And she had to admit that he certainly didn't lack charm – or maybe it was just overall people skills. He had a rather unique knack for maintaining excellent eye contact with those sparkling blue eyes of his – so excellent, in fact, that she more than once had to ask him to repeat what he had said, as she found herself almost literally getting lost in his eyes, something she didn't actually believe happened in real life; she blamed it on stress.
Meanwhile Tom Riddle, who was watching her very closely, was a lot more suspicious – he promised himself to have a nice 'chat' with his old acquaintance Charles before long. He didn't like the way she kept smiling and laughing, especially during class – it just wasn't right! After all, school was about preparing you for the future, practicing for the real world. Not smiling and laughing and – good Lord – having fun! It was bad enough if he decided to ruin his own education, but interfering with somebody else – that Jane girl, mysterious and confusing as she may be, she definitely had the right ideas about school. Grades like hers, almost managing to match his own, didn't lie.
Hermione found herself not sparing the invisibly upset Tom Riddle a single thought through her conversations with Charles. They spoke mostly before class, occasionally a few words within, and she found him to be quite…interesting. Not dramatic, not confusing, and far from annoying, but interesting all the same in a way that didn't make her want to pull out all of her hair and start crying, much to her delight. Better yet, if he had plans for world domination and mass genocide, Hermione didn't know about them, and he certainly wasn't being obvious about it. Instead, he talked about their classes. Mostly. She was unpleasantly surprised to find out, however, that his favorite class was one she couldn't stand.
"However," he had explained upon learning of her repulsion for Divination, "the professor can really make a difference. I've heard countless stories about people who write the divining arts off entirely because the only Seer they've met was mildly talented and overly dramatic. But really, it's an amazing subject – if it's handled properly of course."
Hermione, straying from the effect of his eyes somewhat, was surprised at his description of a bad Divination professor – it seemed he had met Professor Trelawny at some point! She was stunned for a moment as she reminded herself that in all likelihood, the Seer hadn't been born yet, and walked into the classroom.
So he made her think, as well. Maybe he didn't convince her that Divination – or, as he called it, the divining arts – was the most worthwhile branch of magic discovered as of yet, but he made her consider that maybe, just maybe, there was something to it after all, which was a feat unto itself. She even got to thinking that perhaps, just perhaps, she may try it again with some effort this time.
Tom, of course, considered Divination fairly worthless and a load of idle guesswork, since he wasn't very good at it. He detested the subject, as a matter of fact, and thought that it ought to be banned from Hogwarts entirely. Watching the two of them, he was becoming increasingly angrier with Charles for ruining this girl. Charles should have learned after what had happened the last time he had interfered in Riddle's affairs… No matter, it would be taken care of soon enough, but the damage to Jane might be irreversible by then…
As Hermione and Charles sat in Potions that day, chattering indecently through the professor's instruction, Tom developed an odd glint in his eye as he decided what to do next.
Hermione was not altogether surprised when Charles sat by her at dinner that night – after all, they had gotten on quite well together. But when the curious Tom Riddle sat on her other side, she told herself that she should have expected it. After all, she had gone almost 24 hours without being graced by his presence – a new record, it seemed.
She was, however, surprised when Tom started a conversation with Charles, of all people. She had been expecting some snide comments about what had happened in the previous night's detention – she had mentally braced herself when he turned towards her.
"Black," he said in a pleasant tone, "I take it you've met Miss Levvens? She's a transfer student, you know, from Tarnley – the first transfer we've had in decades, actually. From what I've seen, she's quite the scholar – she might manage to graduate with the second highest scores in our year!"
Upon hearing this, Elizabeth – who held a grudge against Bethany White and had thus forced herself to surpass all the Ravenclaws for 3 years in a row, and who had held a firm grip on 2nd in her year for just as long – turned from across the table and several seats over to shoot Hermione and Tom a pair of disbelieving looks, and malevolently hushed the people around her, suddenly very interested in their conversation.
Hermione was amazed – what did he think he was doing? "In fact," he continued, his voice becoming slightly less cheerful, "I would consider it a personal letdown if she didn't graduate with honors. Wouldn't you, Black?"
The expression on Charles Black's face was casual, but there was something behind it that Hermione couldn't quite identify. "Yes, of course Tom. It would be horrible."
The meal was a silent one between the three of them.
Throughout the Great Hall there was chattering, exclamations on mistakes in classes, mutterings about disagreements, giggling and laughing. The Gryffindors were going on about somebody or another changing the portrait to their dorm so now they couldn't get in, The Ravenclaws were discussing new techniques on making even better flash cards for their exams, while the Hufflepuffs were idly going on about just how large the sky in the great Hall looked that night. Nobody noticed the Slytherin table, mainly because nobody could hear it. Judging from the lack of noise, they might as well have not been there at all.
Nobody was talking. To Hermione it felt like the meal would never end. The people sitting around Elizabeth were still silent, afraid of invoking her wrath, and Elizabeth herself was put in a bad mood by Tom's statements. Hermione was tempted to start a conversation, just to relieve the very awkward, uncomfortable silence, but she certainly didn't want to talk to Tom, and Charles was obviously disturbed by Tom's implied threat; she didn't want to give Tom a reason to act on it, and she was certain that he would stick to his word.
She was outraged. Tom Riddle, for some unimaginable reason, refused to leave her alone. The only time she'd managed to forget about him, not have his presence constantly surrounding her, reminding her of how miserable she was supposed to be, he refused to allow her even the one thing that helped her forget about him. He could bother her all he wanted; he could pester her with terrible questions that shook her entire self-concept; he could act snide and condescending while never forgetting to be the completely composed character he always presented. She would not stand for him interfering in her relations with others.
She spent the rest of dinner trying to decide upon the best course of action for rectifying the situation. She played through several scenarios in her mind, trying to figure out what would work best, but realized that she couldn't count on her interpretation of Tom Riddle to hold true in real life; every time she thought that she understood him on any level, any time she thought that she knew what he was going to do next, he proved her wrong.
So she decided upon the most sensible course of action she could think of: to wing it, completely, that night after dinner. She ate with a renewed fervor, ignoring the very obvious silence coming from her table.