Author's Note: As you probably have realized already, underage magic is allowed here. This chapter is mostly about their backgrounds. It's one of the longer chapters, and I hope you enjoy it. Kind of OOC for some characters.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything but the plot. Everything belongs respectfully to JK Rowling and I am not using this fanfiction to make money. There is one scene in this chapter that is from HBP, which unfortunately does not belong to me.
Tap tap tap.
Hermione sighed irritably, erasing some words and replacing it with others. The letter had to be absolutely perfect, but she was having little success with it. She had spent the last hour or so revising it, but she hadn't gotten past the first three words. I miss you. Well, of course she did, and she was pretty sure he knew it too. He easily filled up an entire parchment, and this was Nick she was talking about. The same Nick who only wrote two feet while she went overboard and wrote ten. Why couldn't she do it?
Tap tap tap.
Maybe she should tell him about her life? But nothing had really happened. While she trusted him enough to tell him about her mission, that stuff would better be told in person. Mail could easily get intercepted. What else could she talk about? Riddle? Hermione smirked at that thought. Yes, she was sure Nick would love to hear about him. Hermione sighed again. There was absolutely nothing to write about.
Tap tap tap.
"Would you stop it?" Riddle glared at her. Hermione looked up from her spot across from him. Being a Malfoy, Abraxas rented an entire train for them to ride. However, for some reason, Riddle wouldn't allow her to sit alone and instead made her sit in the same compartment as him. To top it off, His Royal Highness had been in a pissy mood ever since they left. Abraxas sat next to Riddle, reading a book. He too looked up when Riddle spoke. "Your tapping is driving me insane."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I tap when I write," she informed him coolly, and went back to what she was doing. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Riddle glowering at her. "It helps keep me concentrated."
"Concentrated?" Riddle snorted. "Why would you need to be concentrated? I'm sure whatever crap you write, your dear secret boyfriend Nick would love it."
Hermione's head flew up and she gaped at him. "H-how did you know?" she stammered at him, enraged when he smirked. "Why, you insufferable prick! Why are you looking at my mail? Ever heard of privacy?"
Riddle looked amused. "Calm down, Granger. I didn't do anything. Lavender's the one who told me. She's been invading your privacy, so why don't you go yell at her? I'm the innocent one."
Innocent. Yeah right. At the mention of Lavender, Hermione sobered up immediately, and she turned away and stared out the window. She was not going to let the girl ruin her trip, but she felt bad about the state she had left Lavender in. She hoped Harry was taking care of her.
She had never been to this part of London before; the urban part had been replaced with lush green forests. How long had it been since she'd seen a real forest, not one ruined by all the environmental issues? Hermione sighed and gazed outside dreamily. It reminded her of her home, but she had never heard of Little Hangleton before, so there must be some distance between them.
Her home. Hermione sighed. How long had it been since she had last been allowed to go there? It felt like decades, when in reality, it had been just a few years. She especially missed the garden, when she would spend hours in it reading. She wondered if it was still there, and if the housekeepers were still tending the plants. She hoped they were. Her father had kept her away from it for the last few years, though Hermione had never figured out why. Maybe there was something special hidden in it.
"Earth to Granger."
Hermione snapped out of her memories and looked into the irritated eyes of Riddle. He had been in a crappy mood ever since a little girl ran into him on the streets, making him drop his ring onto the cobblestone path. It had been amusing to watch, though the little girl was so terrified, Hermione thought she would faint. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Someone's awfully distracted," Riddle smirked. "Must be my lovely presence."
Hermione couldn't even find the effort to roll her eyes at him. Instead, she went back to staring out the window dreamily. "It's not that—I just…haven't seen this many trees in a long time." She said softly. "It reminds me a lot of my home."
Crap. As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted it. She whirled around to see Riddle staring at her, amused. He had obviously caught her slipup, and he hadn't even set it up. She had spilled all by herself. "Your home?" he asked. Abraxas had decided that the conversation was more interesting than his book, and dropped it in his bag. He, too, stared out her with big, innocent eyes. Riddle's mouth curled up into another smirk. "Do tell."
Hermione huffed. She had to stop letting him get the upper hand. She let things slip too easily. Riddle, on the other hand, had never spoken anything about his personal life. Hermione thought that she was exceptional at keeping secrets, but in reality, Riddle was the master. "Why don't you tell me about your home?" she countered, and was pleased to see Riddle scowl. "Whenever you're ready, Riddle."
"Why do you want to know?"
"Why do you want to know?"
Before Riddle could respond, a woman came in with the trolley and beamed at them. Hermione wondered what she did the rest of the time, since the rest of the train was empty. "Food?" she asked happily, obviously not sensing the tension of the air, especially around Riddle.
"Um," Hermione said, looking at all of the selections. They all looked good, but then again, she barely had anything to eat at the Manor. She had sometimes snuck some food out, and Abraxas had saved some for her, but she was always still hungry. She fingered the limited amount of coins she had in her pocket. Abraxas had given them to her as a precaution. "How much are these?"
"Oh, no, dear," the woman smiled down at her. "These have already been paid for by Mister Malfoy over there. You can pick whatever you want."
Hermione glanced over at Abraxas, who was grinning. He wasn't kidding when he said he had everything covered. Hermione turned back to the trolley lady and said, "Oh, well, if that's the case, may I have one of everything?"
Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see Abraxas's jaw drop quite dramatically, while a look of surprise crossed Riddle's face. His mask was quickly back on, though Hermione was positive she had seen his mask slip, even if it was just for a few milliseconds. The trolley lady, however, showed no reaction other than a small smile, and quickly unloaded half of the items onto the seat next to her. Hermione thanked her and ripped open the closet item.
"Would you two like anything?" she asked Riddle and Abraxas kindly. They both eyed the pile of goods next to Hermione, and then to Hermione, stuffing a chocolate bar into her mouth, and shook their heads. The lady gave a small curtsy, one last beam at Hermione, and quickly left the compartment.
"Granger, I didn't expect you were one to waste food," Riddle smirked at her when the trolley lady was out of the compartment. Hermione had moved on to a bag of jellybeans, tearing it open loudly. He and Abraxas watched her stuff her face, rather amused.
"Waste?" she asked, and then made a face. "Ew, I hate kiwi. And I am not wasting, Riddle. What, you think I can't finish this?" She quickly emptied the contents of the bag and moved onto the M&Ms. "I don't care if I get fat. Food is food."
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Riddle smirked. This girl was unique alright. He remembered at Hogwarts, the amount of girls sobbing pitilessly because of their weight. Pathetic. They should worry more about their magic casting skills than their size. They weren't going to be spared just because they were skinny.
Now that he thought of it, Hogwarts girls were pitiable, period. They strode around with their high pitched squeals, as if they owned the place. They were delusional; all they cared about was making themselves pretty. Riddle didn't care if a girl was pretty; if she was ugly and had her uses, he was fine with that.
Then there came the fact that most of them couldn't even figure out how to use a wand. They might as well be muggles, the lot of them. Of course, no one, not even most of the professors at Hogwarts, equaled his magic skills. The old codger was an exception, and an annoying one at that. However, the most the girls knew how to do was cast a simple stunner. Yeah, as if that'll save you from being murdered, Riddle snorted.
Lavender would fit in perfectly. Come to think of it, the Hogwarts girls were extremely like Lavender with their obsessing over his good looks. He couldn't help that he was so handsome, but they really needed to get some self control and keep their hands to themselves. However, he didn't deny that he was an exceptional actor; his charms even affected Granger, though not as well as the other girls. But he already found out a long time ago that Granger was not the other girls.
Since Granger didn't seem to like Lavender too much, he could only guess she would flip if she ever went to Hogwarts. He would, too, if he had to spend every day sleeping in the same room as the girls. Riddle's lips curled into a smirk. Granger had no plans to go to Hogwarts. He had heard her talk to Abraxas about it. However, he was going to make sure Granger went to Hogwarts. There was only so many days in a summer, and there was still more mysteries than answers with her. And like a detective, it was his job to crack every mystery.
"Hermione?" Abraxas sounded very amused, though he tried not to show it. His stomach rumbled loudly, and he grinned sheepishly. Hermione eyed him for a few seconds, and then directed her attention to the food next to her. "Can I have some of those colored circles?"
"They're called skittles, Abraxas." Hermione said, offhandedly. She had gone back to scribbling on her piece of parchment, though thankfully stopped her intolerable tapping. "I thought I made myself clear before. I am not going to share. Go get your own."
Abraxas displayed a look of mock hurt. "But I paid for all of those."
"I don't care. Get your own."
Riddle smirked as Abraxas huffed in frustration and got up, excusing himself to go to the bathroom. Perfect. Now he and Granger were alone. As quietly as possible, he snuck his wand out of his pocket and into his hand. Granger didn't even turn around. She was too focused on her precious candy to notice. Pointing the wand at her, he uttered a quiet stupefy.
As expected, Granger had her wand out in less than a second and she cast a nonverbal shield. Interesting. Her reflexes were one of the best he had ever seen, and he had seen his fair share. Also, she was advanced enough to cast some nonverbal spells. However, these were all rather simple, if one practiced enough. It told him very little. He wanted to see if she knew more. She looked at him wide-eyed. "Riddle, what are you-"
He didn't give her a chance to finish the sentence, and instead shot a body-binding spell at her. Once again, she cast a shield, but this time, she narrowed her eyes at him. Good. She was alert now. It made the duel even more exciting. Riddle raised an eyebrow at her, but she didn't seem to be too eager to attack him. Maybe she was worried about damaging his face. Riddle smirked. As if she could ever land a spell on him. However, he could play the game her way.
He sent the babbling curse at her next. He wanted to test her out before he could be too sure of her abilities. While he did want to break her, now was not the time to do so. There were too many witnesses, and there would be a suspicion around him if anything happened. However, Riddle wasn't sure he would break her even if they were alone; she was an interesting creature, much too interesting for him to just snap.
Granger didn't even bat an eye, and just step-sided it. She had apparently decided to put him under some pressure as well, as she sent the avis curse at him. So the girl did know how to cast spells. Interesting. He waved his wand around lazily, and the birds vanished. He raised an eyebrow at her, as if saying, 'is that all you have?' His taunt work; she clenched her jaw and stood in a ready stance.
He was rather surprised when she opted for the disarming spell. With a twitch of annoyance, he realized she was holding back, just as he was. She didn't want to show him her true power. She just underestimated him, Riddle thought angrily. She was looking down on him. Well, then he'd just have to make her show her true power.
He twirled his wand around, and the red jet disappeared. Before Granger could react, he said smoothly, "Imperio." He saw, delightfully, Granger's eyes widen before the spell collided into her chest. A dreamy look washed over her eyes, and she stood perfectly still and stiff. Perfect. Now he had complete control over her.
"Now, Miss Granger," he said, his voice as soft as silk. She turned to him and gave him the sweetest smile he had ever seen. He ignored it. "Why don't you show me your true powers? Let's start with a-"
"Sorry I took so long." Abraxas came in cheerfully. Riddle never hated him more. "The damn toilet wouldn't flush and—" He trailed off, looking at Riddle's wand pointed towards Hermione, and Hermione's wand pointing towards Riddle, though there was obviously something not right with her. "What are you two doing?" he asked, his forehead creased.
Riddle sighed. "We're dueling, Abraxas." He informed him, and then continued before he could stop himself. "But Granger here seemed to underestimate me, so I decided to put her under the Imperius to see how strong she really is." He caught the look of concern in the boy's eyes. "I'm not hurting her in anyway, except maybe her pride." He stared pointedly at Abraxas. "It would do you well if you sat back and did not interfere with my plans.
Abraxas sat down, but glanced nervously at Hermione and then back to Riddle, and then back to Hermione. "Um, My Lord?" he asked quietly. "I've seen an Imperius before, and I don't think that's supposed to happen."
Riddle glanced back at the girl. It was true; she was supposed to be still and silent and obedient. However, she was trembling, her whole body shaking. But what surprised Riddle the most was her eyes. They were positively murderous.
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Hermione had little time to prepare as the spell hit her straight in the chest. She couldn't stop thinking how incredibly stupid she was. Why had she allowed him to get the upper hand? Why had she frozen up when he had cast it? If she couldn't find the time to cast a shield, couldn't she at least dodge? What happened to her reflexes? Because of that, here she was again, under the dreaded curse. She could handle the Cruciatus, she could handle everything else, but she couldn't handle this. She had never been able to handle this.
She really was weak. The memories and hallucinations were going to come any moment now. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want to feel the pain again. She had avoided this curse for so many years, only to be caught by Riddle. It seemed like Riddle had a knack for digging out her weaknesses, though he wasn't always aware of it.
"Now, Miss Granger," she heard Riddle's voice say. It was so smooth, so pleasant, so…alluring. "Why don't you show me your true powers? Let's start with a-" He was cut off by another person whose name she couldn't remember. It started with a vowel, and it had a rather strange letter in it, but she couldn't connect the letters together to make a word. Not that she wanted to; all she wanted was for Riddle to speak again. She would be more than happy to obey.
Suddenly, Riddle transformed into her father in front of her eyes. His blonde-white hair was exactly how she remembered it, and his lips were curled up in a nasty smirk. He fiddled with his wand, and Hermione was suddenly reminded of the nasty tortures that had been caused by that piece of wood.
It was the nightmare from her childhood.
"Why, Hermione, it's nice to see you again," Amusement was laced in his voice as he took a step towards her. Her whole body was trembling, and she took a step back fearfully. "Are you as happy to see me, my daughter?"
Hermione stumbled backwards. Unable to speak, she just shook her head. She was scared. She was very, very frightened.
"Cat got your tongue?" he laughed like he had just made the funniest joke ever. Perhaps he had; his humor was wacked, after all. "Well, I guess I'm going to be the only one talking at this family reunion, aren't I? Such a pity."
Family reunion?
Hermione glanced sideways, and found in horror her mother, bent over in pain. Her mother, who had always been so strong, who had always been there for her. She lifted her bloody face to meet Hermione's, and in her eyes she could see disappointment. Hermione turned back to her father angrily, only to find him laughing. How could he laugh?
"You brought this onto her," he said evilly. "This is your punishment for disobeying me." He glanced down in disgust at his wife groveling on the floor, and nonchalantly cast the killing curse at her. She slumped over as the green spell hit her. Hermione opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. She clenched her fists so tight her knuckles turned white. Tears threatened to overflow. Her father, however, paid her no mind, hardly batting an eye.
"Now, I trust that you'll talk?" he sighed when she shook her head, biting her lip hard. "Hermione, Hermione, Hermione. When will you learn it's futile to go against me? Why don't you open your mouth, or the next one to go will be your friend."
"No, no. Not Nick. Please." Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Not anyone else. Please don't hurt anyone else."
Her father eyed her tear stained face with disgust. He had never been one to show emotion, other than a few signs of insaneness every now and then. "Well, then, my dear, you'll have to accommodate my wishes as well, won't you?"
"I-I'll talk. W-what do you want to know about?"
Her father smirked triumphantly. "Why don't you tell me everything?" he asked smoothly. "About the part you played in your friend's fake death." He sighed, apparently bored. "It was brilliant, I'll give your friend that. But he forgot one thing; I'm extraordinary. He'll never escape me."
Hermione opened her mouth, but then a voice that sounded suspiciously like Nick's flooded her mind. He doesn't own you. You don't owe him everything. The greatest defeat would be giving into him. Don't tell him what he wants to know.
He'll never catch me.
Slowly, but surely, she brought her wand up so it was pointing at him. Her father eyed it for a couple seconds, and then laughed. He laughed, as if it was the funniest thing he had ever seen before. What he didn't realize was that Hermione was dead serious. He had taken enough from her for her life time. She wouldn't allow him to take something else.
"Why don't you put that wand down?" he said. "You and I both know that this is just a waste of time."
"NO!" She screamed at him, raising her wand up higher. Her father raised his eyebrows as her voice escalated higher. Hermione knew she sounded insane, but she didn't care. "SHUT UP! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TALK TO ME! STAY AWAY FROM ME."
Her father eyed her wand before taking two quick strides and pressing the wand directly into his chest. Hermione breathed out in fear at his proximity. "You don't have the guts, Hermione." He said quietly, never breaking eye contact. His eyes bore into hers like no one else's. Not even Riddle managed to have this effect one her. "You and I both know you're an innocent angel, so why don't you put down that wand?"
"I will hurt you," she said, but even she doubted it. The trembling in her voice gave her away. Her father raised an eyebrow at her, clearly not believing her. She tried again, willing her voice not to shake. "I will hurt you."
"Go on, then," He laughed in her ear. "Give me your best shot, darling."
"Crucio," she yelled at him, and he only laughed when the curse went straight through his body. She cast the spell another three times, all yielding the same result as the first. Her father grabbed the tip of her wand and guided it to his head, where it pressed into the skin of his forehead.
"Now, Hermione, a simple torture won't do," he cackled. "Why don't you prove to me you're not the innocent, naïve girl I thought you were? Why don't you kill me?" he offered his suggestion as calmly as if he was talking about the weather. "Because you both know you can't."
His goading finally got the better of her. She wasn't an angel. She wasn't innocent. She was Hermione Granger, a girl who would do anything to protect a friend. He was her father, and she would hurt him. In a voice that was strangely strong, she hissed at him. "Avada Kedavra."
Her father vanished.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
Hermione straightened herself up to see both Riddle and Abraxas scowling at her, though they both had a look of…shock? Hermione noticed that she had scattered all her food on the floor and bent down the pick them up. The sound of the goods tumbling in their boxes was the only sound in the entire compartment.
"I-I'm sorry." She stammered, avoiding eye contact. "Memories come back when I'm placed under the Imperius, but they usually pass by rather quickly." They were definitely getting better though; she was handling the situation much better now, though anyone would after being through the same hallucination for so many times. She was making improvement. It was still difficult, of course, but it was a step forward.
Hermione suddenly remembered. "Speaking of which, what the hell is wrong with you? What was with your Imperius stunt there?"
Riddle ignored her question and just glared at her. "I have memories too," he informed her coldly. "But none of which include me casting Crucio four times at two innocent boys in the same compartment, and then follow it up with the killing curse. So let me ask you again, Granger. What the hell is wrong with you?"
Hermione had frozen in place. She had actually cast the curse? She had never done that before. But then again, she had never actually managed to get rid of her father; her captor would always end the curse before she could find the courage to. However, a glance at Abraxas told her all she needed to know. The boy looked awfully shaken up, and Hermione could see the window next to him cracked. Her wand lay next to her, and she didn't miss the flinch Abraxas gave when she picked it up.
Hermione trembled. What had she done? It was always the same memory. Why had it been harder to deal with this time? Was it because her relationship with her father was not life and death anymore? Did she start to develop feelings for him again? He was her father, of course, but he was evil. There was no way she could let herself become attached to him again.
She hung her head in shame and let her tears fall. She was going to feel embarrassed later, Riddle would most definitely tease her, but the situation was already bad enough. There was no way she could make it worse.
"Granger, are you crying?" asked Riddle in an incredulous tone. She couldn't raise her head to meet either Abraxas's or Riddle's eyes.
"No, I'm peeing from my eyes," Hermione said sarcastically, and then sniffed. "Yes, I'm crying, Riddle. Don't sound so surprised."
"I've never thought you were one to cry."
Hermione ignored him. "I'm sorry. I've caused enough trouble as it is." She headed towards the door and pulled it open. She would just go into the next compartment and cry herself to sleep. "I'll just go in the compartment next door. I promise I won't cause any more trouble-"
The door suddenly slammed close with alarming force that Hermione was sure that if her head had been one inch to the right, it would've gone splat. Hermione raised her head and saw Riddle, his wand in his hand, his face livid. Abraxas was eyeing the boy and his wand fearfully, edging away slowly. Riddle, however, paid him no mind.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked murderously. "Did I tell you to go anywhere? Sit down."
Hermione sat.
He paced around the compartment angrily. Abraxas had decided to stay out of it, but he had a worried look on his face. Hermione didn't miss the fact that he had placed himself far away from her as well. Hermione tried to ignore the cold, gripping feeling in her chest.
"Stop crying," Riddle snapped at her, after a few minutes of sniffling pitilessly. "I thought you were stronger than this, Granger." He was right, as always. This was just pathetic. Strong girls didn't cry. She quickly wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, but didn't dare to raise her eyes to meet Riddle's.
Riddle waited until she had calmed herself down before saying, "Tell me about your memory." His voice was surprisingly soft, and Hermione almost thought she imagined it. However, Riddle wore that expectant look on his face, all traces of anger gone. He had put his wand away and resumed his pacing, never taking his eyes off of hers. His eyes had lightened up slightly, returning to their usual blue-grey color. They were mesmerizing.
"Erm, you know," She looked away awkwardly. She was afraid her eyes would start raking up and down his body any moment. That would be embarrassing. She could keep her ogling to herself. "It's just from the time that my mother died. It always happens when someone puts me under the Imperius." She shrugged. "No big deal."
"Didn't look like no big deal." Riddle's eyes darkened once again, and Hermione gulped nervously. However, he seemed to gain control over himself, and instead asked in a much calmer voice, "Your mother died?"
CRAP. How did he manage to do it? Why did all he have to do was ask a simple question, and she'd suddenly babble to him everything? He hadn't needed to do any work himself! She was the one giving him all the answers.
That was it. She was done. She huffed and crossed her arms, staring out the window. Riddle had sighed, but didn't force her. However, before Riddle went to sit back down, he walked over to her side and patted her head awkwardly. He was back in his seat by the time Hermione turned around, reading the newspaper leisurely. Hermione thought she had imagined it, but she caught Abraxas sneaking amused glances at Riddle.
Hermione hid a small smile for the rest of the trip.
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Hermione didn't think it was humanely possible to get lost so quickly. After all, at her walking pace, it took her at least ten seconds to wander away. So it should've taken her at least ten seconds to get lost.
She was wrong. It only took four.
She scanned around, but she couldn't find neither Riddle's nor Abraxas's head bobbing through the crowd. At five foot four, she was easily blocked by the crowd. Where were they? All she had done was turn around to look at the fabulous books on display, and then they disappeared. Hermione scowled. They had left her all alone in the middle of a strange, London street.
Indeed it was weird. Hermione would never have guessed that Little Hangleton was a muggle town. Riddle had said that his father lived here. Did that mean that his father was a muggleborn? If he was, didn't that make Riddle a half blood, or a muggleborn himself? No, he would not have held himself so highly if he was a muggleborn. He had to be a half blood. That sounded strange to her mind; Hermione had never thought of him for anything other than pureblood.
Riddle and I are the same, then. Hah.
Hermione looked around one more time, but not finding Abraxas's blonde locks nor Riddle's dark hair, she sighed and turned towards the bookstore. A few minutes of browsing couldn't hurt, could it? If they weren't there now, what was the chance they would come in the time she was in there? Plus, she could always look out the window. She was sure she wouldn't miss it if Abraxas's bright hair flashed by outside.
She entered happily. The smell of paper reached her nose, and she inhaled deeply. She didn't care that it was a muggle bookstore. Books were books. She wandered around, not searching for anything in particular. Just being around books improved her mood significantly.
After browsing for a couple of minutes, Hermione picked up a huge textbook circling around cats. She had always wanted one, and she figured it was a good time to learn about them. Never know when Father decides to get me a pet, Hermione snickered. She opened the book happily while wandering towards the front of the store to pay. Hermione figured that Abraxas wouldn't mind, and Riddle wouldn't find the effort to care. A book on dark arts? Maybe. However, a book about cats? Of course not; it posed no threat.
She was so engrossed in her book that she didn't realize there was someone in front of her until she walked straight into them. The book flew out of her hands and fell to the ground with a thump.
"I'm sorry!" she squeaked, stumbling backwards. In front of a grown man with dark sunglasses masking his eyes. She couldn't see his facial features, but his face shape combined with his hair surprised her. He looked strangely familiar, though she couldn't place her hand on it. It annoyed her, to not know things.
"No, it's all me," he said smoothly, bending down and picking her book up for her. She thanked him, and he nodded, standing back up. Hermione noted, absentmindedly, that she hardly reached his chin. He offered his hand, and she shook it. "Are you alright, Miss…?"
"Hermione." She said, blushing slightly when he flashed her a grin. Again, something about him seemed very familiar. "I'm really sorry about this…I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"That's because I didn't say it." He looked away, almost as if he were embarrassed about it. Before Hermione could question it, however, he turned back towards her and smiled. "Just call me Tim."
"Alright, Tim," she nodded. "Sorry for bumping into you. I'll take my leave now. It's nice to meet you." She smiled and turned around, jumping out of her skin when he grabbed her elbow.
"Sorry for startling you," he said, not sounding very apologetic at all. "Hermione, was it? You don't seem familiar, so I'm guessing you've never been to Little Hangleton before." Hermione shook her head. "If that's the case, would you like me to show you around?"
"Erm," Hermione's mind was whirling. Abraxas and Riddle should have noticed she was gone by now, and would want to know where she was. Also, she desperately wanted to start with her book. Also, the saying, 'Don't trust strangers,' crossed her mind. "I think I'm fine, Tim. I wouldn't want to bother you."
"Nonsense." Tim threw some coins onto the counter. The girl behind it flashed him a flirty smile. He seemed to be well known around the town. Hermione, however, just stared at him in shock. "There, now I paid for you, so you are indebt to me. How about some ice cream?"
No, no, no, no, no! He's a wacko! He's coming out of nowhere and asking you to eat with him! You don't even know the man.
Her stomach, however, spoke different. It chose the moment to rumble loudly, causing Tim to chuckle. Hermione blushed and looked away. It had been some time since she had eaten her goodies on the train, so it was natural that she was hungry again.
"Okay," Hermione said, retrieving her book from the girl behind the counter. "You're lucky I'm hungry, though I'll have to leave as soon as we're done. I have a lot of work to do." As if to prove her point, she waved her book in front of his face a couple of times before putting it in her bag.
"You're in luck. I know the perfect place." Tim said smoothly, holding the door open for her. "Once you get a taste of their ice cream, you will never want to leave."
Hermione laughed uneasily. Why had she agreed to accompany the man? He was becoming weirder and weirder the more he talked. Since when did adults promote ice cream obsession? She wanted nothing more than to run away and hide, but Tim's legs were considerably longer than hers, and she had never been a fast runner anyways. He would catch up to her in no time.
"And here is Frankie's Ice Cream!" Tim presented, jolting Hermione out of her thoughts. The little shop looked quite nice, and he led her over to one of the booths. At least it was close enough to the door that she could run to if necessary. The waiter came, handing them the menus and greeting Tim happily, before returning to his spot behind the counter. Tim seemed to get around in the town. "Best ice cream place in all of England. Never eaten better."
Hermione nodded and scanned down the menu. There really were a lot of selections. This place was so much fancier than the ice cream stands she used to see in front of the hospital. She had never seen ice cream so beautiful before. The only form she had ever seen it before was a small scoop on a cone, and that was it. Hermione could suddenly see that those people lacked serious creativity. Their ice cream cones were plain; this was art.
She was suddenly well aware of the fact that Tim wasn't even looking at his menu, and was instead staring at her. She felt extremely uneasy and raised her eyes to meet his questioningly. He gestured towards her menu, as if telling her to hurry and decide.
"What are you getting?" she asked, trying to start a friendly conversation that would get rid of all of the awkwardness. She glanced out the window every few seconds to see if Abraxas or Riddle had come to get her, but no savior came.
"I'm not getting anything. I'm not hungry."
Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. "Come on, you need to get something. What, are you just going to watch me eat?"
A smirk graced his face, and it informed Hermione that that was exactly what he had planned to do. However, he seemed to change his mind and shrugged. "I'll just get a scoop of vanilla. I'll take a break from the fancier stuff."
"Do you come here often?" Hermione asked politely, waving the waiter over. Tim nodded. Hermione ordered a simple strawberry milkshake, which arrived in less than a minute. Hermione took a sip and sighed happily; Tim wasn't kidding when he said that the food here was the best. Even the milk shake exceeded her standards, something that was very hard to do.
They sat for a couple minutes in silence, when Tim spoke up. "Where are you from, Hermione?"
"I'm from Russia." Hermione answered honestly. Indeed, she had been born in Russia, but her mother had quickly brought her to England. She didn't remember anything about Russia, to be honest. She knew England so much better, and she considered England to be her home. Her father, on the other hand, was a different case. He loved Russia so much that Hermione could swear that if Russia was a person, he would marry her.
"Very nice," he swirled his ice cream around with his spoon. "Do you speak Russian?"
"No," Hermione confessed, dabbing at her mouth gently with her napkin. "I spent very little time in Russia, so I speak mostly English. I do know a few words, but I am not even close to being fluent. What about you?"
"I've lived in Little Hangleton all my life." Tim said, staring dreamily out the window at something Hermione could not see. "I sometimes wonder how the outside world is. I've never been outside this peaceful community, so I wonder what is past these boundaries."
Hermione snorted, and then immediately blushed when he raised his eyebrows at her un-ladylike sound. She had been around Riddle for far too long, and she was starting to act without thinking. "The outside world is nothing extraordinary." She told him. "In fact, sometimes I wish I didn't know about it."
"Why not?" he inquired curiously.
He had asked the wrong question. Hermione dove right into a lecture about corruption and explaining the different types of problems there were with government and environmentally. Tim surprised her by being more educated than she thought, throwing in some of his own opinions and arguments time to time. While Hermione finished her milkshake quite quickly, she found herself in no rush to leave.
Yes, she decided afterwards. She liked Tim just fine.
卐
"Hermione's gone," Abraxas said, looking around. Indeed she was, however, now wasn't the time to dwell on it. If the girl couldn't keep herself from wandering off, that was her own problem. Riddle spun on his heels and hurried down the cobble path, Abraxas scrambling to catch up to him.
All around him were muggles. He didn't understand why his uncle would have to live in a place like this. First his mother had to be married to a filthy mudblood, and now his uncle had to live in the same village as them? Disgusting. They were all unworthy of carrying the Gaunt name.
"My Lord?" Abraxas panted, slightly out of breath. Riddle paid him no mind and instead just pushed ahead. They had reached a more deserted part of the town. Their footsteps echoed loudly. "If I may ask…where exactly are we going?"
"Did I say you could speak, Abraxas?" Riddle hissed at him, and the blonde boy next to him closed his mouth. The only reason he had brought him along was so Granger would be more willing to come along with him. He had been rather curious about the witch, and perhaps he acted a tad irrationally. However, now was not the time he wanted to deal with either of them. There was something much more important in front of him.
He stopped shabby looking house and turned around to glance at Abraxas. He was staring at Riddle expectantly, as if he was suddenly going to ask Abraxas to accompany him to a get a cup of tea. Riddle sighed and said, "I'm going inside now. You are free to do whatever you want," Riddle stared pointedly. "But you are not to come inside."
"But, My Lord-" Abraxas started to protest, but Riddle just calmly stepped into the house and closed the door behind him, effectively cutting off the remainder of Abraxas's sentence. Riddle would deal with him later.
When he turned around, he had expected to see an elegant wizard with clean robes. After all, that was how he had always imagined his uncle. Instead, he saw a drunk man staggering upright, many bottles clattered on the floor. He was staring at him in disgust, and even a little…fear? Riddle's mouth curled up into a nasty smirk, which was quickly wiped away when the man pulled out a wand and a knife, pointing them at him. This was obviously not his uncle; his uncle would have never resorted to the use of muggle weapons, such as knives.
"YOU!" he bellowed. "YOU!"
Riddle merely raised his eyebrows, waiting for the man to calm down. However, he did the opposite; he drew his arm back as if he were about to through the knife at him. Riddle grew irritated; this kind of behavior was unacceptable.
"Stop."
The man was so surprised, he dropped his knife and stared. It wasn't often one heard Parseltongue; there were so little individuals in the world gifted with this beautiful language. A long silence settled between the two, before the man broke it.
"You speak it?"
"Yes, I speak it," Riddle watched in disgust as his supposed 'uncle' swayed back and forth, clutching the table for support. He had originally thought, prayed even, that he had gotten the wrong house, but seeing as the man in front of him could speak and understand Parseltongue, there was no doubt; this was his dear mother's brother, and Riddle was almost as disgusted as he was when he thought of his father.
"Where is Marvolo?" he asked. Marvolo was supposed to have the Slytherin locket. He needed to find him. He needed the locket.
"Dead," His uncle replied. "Died years ago, didn't he?"
Riddle frowned. This was not part of his plan. He had never heard of Marvolo's death. How could he obtain information from a dead person? This made his job so much harder. "Who are you, then?"
"I'm Morfin, ain't I?"
"Marvolo's son?" Of course, Riddle already knew the answer. He had done his research quite thoroughly. He would've never come here if he wasn't completely sure.
"'Course I am, then…" Morfin pushed the hair out of his dirty face, and with this action, Riddle saw the ring that he wore on his right hand. There it was. The real ring. He eyed it with greed. He would get his hands on it soon enough. A simple stunner should do it, but not before Morfin gave him more information.
"I thought you was that Muggle," whispered Morfin. Riddle felt his magic rising violently, lashing out. He was being compared to a filthy mudblood. How dare he. "You look mighty like that Muggle."
"What Muggle?" Riddle asked sharply. Surely, Morfin wasn't talking about his father.
"That Muggle what my sister took a fancy to, that Muggle what lives in the big house over the way," Morfin said, spitting on the floor. His eyes looked murderous, but they were nothing compared to what Riddle was feeling. "You look right like him. Riddle. But he's older now, in 'e? He's older'n you, now I think on it…"
Morfin looked slightly dazed and swayed a little, clutching onto the edge of the table for support. Riddle paid him no mind, thinking furiously. He was a perfect image of his father? That was disturbing. He carried the face of the man he hated, but at the same time, it would be easy to single him out from the crowd.
"He come back, see," Morfin added stupidly, and Riddle narrowed his eyes at him. He moved in a little closer and said,
"Riddle came back?"
"Ar, he left her, and serve her right, marrying filth!" Morfin spit on the floor again, and this time, Riddle didn't even try to hide his look of disgust. Morfin didn't notice and continued, "Robbed us, mind, before she ran off! Where's the locket, eh, where's Slytherin's locket?"
Riddle was outraged. So the locket hadn't been in Marvolo's possession? It had been in his mother's? His mudblood loving mother? Riddle sneered. She was unworthy of holding such a valuable item, just like Morfin was unworthy of holding the ring that currently rested on his finger.
Morfin suddenly picked up his knife again and shouted, "Dishonored us, she did, that little slut! And who're you, coming here and asking questions about all that? It's over, innit...It's over..."
Morfin started to babble nonsense, and Riddle realized he would be getting no more information out of his drunk uncle, and cast a simple stunning spell. Morfin slumped over his arm chair. He would be back for him later, after he had dealt with his father. He couldn't let the suspicion arise around him, and he sure Morfin wouldn't mind taking his place. The man was so far out of his mind, he deserved any punishment that he got.
Reaching down, he plucked the ring from Morfin's dirty fingers, replacing the ring on his own finger with it. Hepzibah Smith had given him a fake one. She certainly had the nerve, and was rather stupid, thinking she could trick him. However, she still had much knowledge stored away in that brain of hers, and he had many uses for her. Riddle was sure that she had Hufflepuff's cup somewhere in her possession, and would only be a matter of time before she told him where it was. He would disposal of her when he was done with her.
Riddle narrowed his eyes and performed one last scan, not surprised when he didn't find anything in the messy room. There was nothing of use, but the trip hadn't been a complete waste. He twirled his new ring around, feeling much more powerful.
It will only be a matter of time, he thought to himself. Just a little longer everyone will look up to you. Everyone will be in your command. His mind immediately flashed to the bushy haired witch, and he smirked. Yes, he would have fun making her beg.
His mood was lightened up considerably by that thought, and he opened the door swiftly, stepping outside, slightly startled when he saw Abraxas standing in the exact same spot he had left him in.
"What are you doing here?" Riddle asked suspiciously, closing the door quietly behind him.
"I—er—was waiting for you, My Lord." Abraxas cast his eyes towards the ground, bowing his head. "I heard some of the townspeople talking, and they said that the person who lived there was not very pleasant, and that he was a dangerous person."
Riddle grew irritated as he walked, closing the gap between him and the blonde hair boy. Abraxas twitched nervously, eyeing Riddle's hand as it went towards his wand. "Were you worried about me?" he asked softly and dangerously. "Did you not think I could handle myself?"
"No!" Abraxas shook his head fearfully. "I-I just came back to see how you were doing."
"How much did you hear?" Riddle hissed at him, eyes narrowed. Abraxas would prove a witness to his association with Morfin, and though he was one of the only people Riddle actually trusted, Riddle had no doubt Dumbledore could easily break into Abraxas's mind. The meddlesome out fool, sticking his nose where it didn't belong. "Eyes up, Abraxas."
Nervously, Abraxas raised his eyes to meet Riddle's, and Riddle scanned them for awhile. He discovered, irritated, that the boy was indeed telling the truth. Damn, now he had wasted his time, and he didn't even have the pleasure of cursing the boy. Well, he could relent his anger quite easily; the big house Morfin talked about was right over the hill, and he would be reaching it soon enough. He turned on his heels and left Abraxas behind, though he wasn't surprised when the boy caught up quickly.
"My Lord?" Abraxas dared to say. He seemed to have gotten his courage back. He probably figured that after Riddle had read his mind, there was nothing worse that could be done to him. Well, he was wrong on that count. Riddle could easily think of at least five worse ways of torture."If I may ask, where exactly are you going?"
Riddle scowled and walked even faster, but the other boy had longer legs than he did, so he was just wasting his energy. He was like a puppy, clinging to its master. "I am going," he told him in a cold voice. His eyes must've turned back red, as Abraxas shield back, but he didn't care. "To take my revenge."
ஐ
Hermione laughed happily. She hadn't been so carefree in such a long time. The sun was setting. She hadn't realized how fast time had flown by. Tim had shown her a few more spots in the village, each more brilliant than the next, and Hermione soon forgot about her desire to read. Her book lay forgotten in her bag. She knew she really had to get back to Abraxas and Riddle, but a few minutes couldn't hurt, could it? Tim was starting to remind her more and more of the father she never had. She had grown on him so much already.
Tim had bought her sunglasses like his, refusing her attempt to pay for them and to pay him back for her book, and the two had engaged in a girly fight, pawing weakly at each other. She had lost, and she now wore her new sunglasses happily, even though it greatly darkened her vision. They made a small turn into a back alley, and Tim stopped.
"See that?" he pointed to a small narrow path that seemed to disappear off into nowhere. "That's the path I used to take when I was little. I would sneak out of my house to come eat at Frankie's. The waitress there would promise to keep my secret if I came to visit her every day."
"And did you?" Hermione asked curiously.
"Of course. I was a kid. I couldn't resist the temptations of ice cream," Tim laughed. "Then there came the day where my mom found out. It wasn't pretty. She was wondering why I was getting so fat." Tim's eyes twinkled as he spoke of his childhood.
"What did she do then?" Hermione asked, rather amused. The wind had picked up, and she brushed the hair out of her eyes. It was getting cold, but she paid it no mind.
"Oh, she did what any other mom would do. She locked me in every night, nailing all the windows shut and stuff. I would always spend my nights plotting how to get out of my jail. Eventually, I did, but I didn't consider the fact that my mom would come check on me each night." Tim shrugged. "Regardless, my nightly adventures ended there, but I still use the path sometimes."
"Sounds cool," Hermione nodded. "I always wished I had secret escape routes, but I didn't in my house. At least, if there were, I never found them. I used to try to dig my own, but my parents would always find out." Hermione smiled, remembering the time her father had walked into her room and saw her butt sticking of a hole on the wall. It was one of the only times he had been shocked speechless.
"Sounds like we both had entertaining childhoods," Tim grinned, and then glanced in the distance. "I think it's about time for me to get back. It was nice meeting you, Hermione."
"Yes, I have to get back too." She smiled at him. "Thank you so much for today, Tim. I enjoyed it so much. I never knew that Mentos combined with coke could make a dangerous weapon."
"That's common knowledge here, so don't give me too much credit. However, I am glad you had fun. I had a lot too. Feel free to swing around if you ever come to this little town again-" He was cut off when two grown men hobbled over. Hermione took a step back, narrowing her eyes.
"Look what we have 'ere." The shorter man grinned, his tooth rotten. "A young couple, out in the back alley. I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?" he cackled, like it was the funniest thing anyone had ever said.
Hermione glanced at Tim. He was at least twenty years older than her, so the prospect of dating him made her retch more than the idea of Abraxas and her had. It was as if someone asked her to date her father. Tim seemed to think the same thing, and he made a face at the two men while backing him and Hermione up at the same time.
"No yer don't," two more men appeared from behind them, blocking Tim's secret path. They both brandished knives, and looked as insane as the first two men had. Hermione grimaced. This was not good, to be caught in a muggle back alley. Their voices would never be heard over the loud bustling crowd on the main street, not to mention she couldn't use her wand. Sure, she could obliviate all of them, including Tim, but an obliviating spell could easily be broken by an able wizard. She didn't want to get in trouble for revealing magic to the muggle world.
"Please put those knives down," she told them dryly. "They're quite dangerous, and they are not good objects to play around with." She eyed it tiredly. "You might stab yourself."
The man behind her licked his lips and grinned. He didn't catch her insult, but Hermione hadn't expected him to. Even though they were standing at least five feet apart, Hermione could smell his breath, and it made a skunk seem like an angel. "Now, darling, what would you do to get your boyfriend out of this situation?"
"They seem to think I'm a pedophile," Tim muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes discretely. Only he could find humor in such desperate times. Hermione resisted the urge to smile; it would give the men the wrong impression.
"Hm," Hermione pretended to think, and then stalked slowly towards the man who had spoken, to the surprise of everyone. As she neared him, she could see lust in his eyes. He truly was a pig. Tim yelled at her not to give herself up, but fell silent when the short man pointed his knife at him. That was better; she didn't want Tim to be in danger as well. There was no way she could take on four grown men while defending him at the same time.
"You want to know what I would give?" she asked in her best flirty voice. She sounded extremely silly to her ears, but the man seemed to buy it, lowering his guard. His grip on his weapon lessened considerably. Perfect. Her finger trailed down his arm to his hand, where he held the knife. She gently gripped it with her fingers. "I would give this." And before he could react, her hand connected with his face, sending him flying into the wall. His knife remained in her hand, warm to her touch.
Before anyone else could move, she threw the knife with accuracy towards the man who was closest to her. The first time Nick showed me, I thought he was completely psycho. No human can throw like that, Hermione mused to herself. Completely caught by surprise, her knife connected with his and sent it flying. Hermione noted, rather annoyed, that her knife had barely skimmed over the edge. She was out of practice. Before he had a chance to register what had happened, she struck the back of his neck and he slumped over. Perfect. Two to go, and they were both on the same side. Now, she wouldn't have to worry about watching her back.
Tim was still frozen, staring at her in shock, but the other two men snapped out of it. The shorter man charged at her, but he was clearly all words and no actions. She didn't even need to knock the knife from him and just hit him on the side of the head. He fell immediately.
The other man seemed to think that throwing the knife at her would make it better, but it was so terribly off target, she didn't even need to dodge. That left her facing a weaponless man, who was beginning to look scared at the cold look on her face. Good. She walked up slowly to him, making sure to cut off his escape route. He held up his fists, but he had already known he lost. Without putting much effort, her fist connected with his jaw, and he stumbled backwards, retaliating. However, one more well-placed blow in the head and he crumbled.
Hermione wiped her hands off on her jeans, feeling her heart beating loudly. She loved the adrenaline rush she got when fighting. "Well," she said loudly. "That's that."
Tim was still rooted in the same spot. "W-what was that?" he asked, shocked. For a second, Hermione thought he was angry, but his face lightened up immediately. "That was amazing! I didn't know you had it in you, Hermione. I thought we were done for."
"Never give up," she walked over to him and grinned. "There's always a chance you'll win."
"Four to one? The chance is quite small."
"Well, I did alright, didn't I?" she shrugged. "And I had you as well."
"Lot's of good I would do for you," Tim said. "I'm just an extra baggage you have to carry around."
"Oh, Tim. Don't say that,"
Hermione's eyes drifted towards the short man on the floor, who had apparently regained conscience. However, he was clearly still dazed, his eyes glassy and unfocused. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him up. His eyes were cross-eyed and rolled around helplessly but Hermione didn't care. She spoke carefully, making sure to spit a lot on his face.
"If I ever, ever, see you again," she spoke in a murderous tone. The man suddenly looked very small and scared. "I will kill you. And if you don't think I'm capable, then why don't you test me again?" her voice got quieter, and her eyes were narrowed. "Now, get your stupid butt out of my face or I might reconsider."
The man nodded and quickly scampered away, not even glancing at his friends. Hermione felt someone's hand on her arm. Tim was examining the part where she had accidently been cut when she had attempted to dodge. Huh, so she clearly wasn't in the same shape that she was before. She would have to start training again sometime soon. Not everyone in the world were as weak as these four men, and she never knew when someone might catch her off guard.
"I'm fine," She reassured him, though the look on his face showed he didn't quite believe her. "This is just a little cut. I can take a little blood. It's no big deal. I'll just get some band-aids and I'll be-"
"Hermione?"
Hermione turned around to see Abraxas standing there, Riddle next to them. She must've looked weird to them with her sunglasses, though Abraxas's eyes were straying to the unconscious three people lying on the floor.
Riddle, however, was staring at Tim. Hermione was quite shocked to see a murderous look cross over his face, but she was even more shocked to hear the next words come out of Riddle's mouth. "We meet again," Riddle said, his lips curling into a nasty smirk, one that Hermione had only seen once. Riddle normally kept his composed façade, even when he was angry. "Father."
Hermione stared as Tim removed his sun glasses. No wonder he had seen so familiar; Riddle looked almost identical to him. His hair, his cheekbones, and most of all, his eyes. Why hadn't she seen it? She had spent a whole day with this man, and it turned out he was Riddle's father? Her fighting skills were now lacking, and so were her observing skills? What was wrong with her? Why was she so blinded by her environment?
Tim, or whoever he was, Hermione didn't know anymore, sighed. "Indeed." He sounded rather sad, though not scared as she would've expected him to look under Riddle's glare. "I've been waiting for you, Tom."
To Be Continued…
