Author's Note: And so Hogwarts begins. My schedule from now on will to be release every Friday, so I'll try to stick to it. Key word is 'try,' but the reviews do help speed the process along. *winkwink*
Chamilia:I can't say much about Nick without giving something important away. But he and Hermione are not going to secretly get married and come back and assassinate Tom, if that's what you're worried about. ;)
Thanks so much for my reviewers! It helps me a lot, and motivates me. You guys are the best.
Chamilia Lutien Tinuviel , Angellwriter, Zombie Reine, GoldenAura, CathyCullen16, sweets1111, Red Sphinx, andiescandieee, hateme101
The store was completely silent; everyone was watching the two of them. Hermione lowered her hand slowly, noting that Nick's cheeks were beginning to take a red tinge. He raised his fingers and touched the part where she had slapped him, before lowering his hands and stuffing them in his pockets. He never broke eye contact with her. Ron looked like he wanted to step forward and help, but wisely thought better of it.
"That was a good slap," Nick told her quietly. "You've gotten better."
Hermione ignored him. "You didn't contact me," she narrowed her eyes at him. "Not one letter, not one phone call."
"You didn't get my letter?" Nick asked worriedly.
Hermione felt irritated. That was all he cared about? "Of course I did, but that was after five years, Nick."
"I'm glad you got it," was all Nick said. "I was worried when you didn't respond."
Hermione almost reached out and slapped him again. She clenched her fists and hid them behind her back so he couldn't see them shaking. "Is that all you have to say?"
"Yes."
Hermione glared at him. "You walked out of my life," Hermione said, trying to mask her hurt. "You walked out of my life, Nick. How can you expect to walk back in?"
"If you'll let me, I can."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "What makes you think I will?"
Nick gestured towards himself. "I'm me, right? You could never stay mad at me for long."
He was right, but if he thought she was going to forgive him off the bat and jump into his arms with a huge smile, then he was terribly mistaken. "Yeah, well, I thought you could never run away from me for long. Turns out we were both wrong, weren't we?"
"Look, Hermione, I know that you're mad at me," Nick frowned at her. "But may I step outside with you? I need to have a word."
Hermione crossed her arms, refusing to budge. "No,"
Nick looked around, and then glanced back to her. "You sure? Because I'll just say it, plain and simple, in front of everyone. I don't think they're things you want others to hear."
Hermione scowled at him. He was undoubtedly referring to her father. "Are you blackmailing me, Nick?" she hissed at him.
Nick looked sad. He didn't deserve to look sad. "I don't want to, but if that's what'll make you talk to me, then yes. I am blackmailing you."
Hermione growled and spun around. Everyone in the store looked surprised with the murderous look on her face. Riddle quirked his eyebrow at her; he had probably expected her to be lovey-dovey with Nick. Fortunately, he stayed silent, which she knew was hard for him to do; he must've had a snarky comment waiting on the tip of his tongue. "Excuse me," she said frostily, noting how Ron was backing up slightly. Good, he should fear her. She was formidable. "I need to have a little talk with Nick. Don't wait up."
Before anyone else could say anything, she dragged Nick out of the shop and slammed the door behind her. She heard Madam Malkins yelling inside the store, but her voice got fainter and fainter as the two of them walked away from the store.
"Was that really necessary?" Nick said easily, the two of them along the cobblestone. Hermione didn't know where they were going, but Nick seemed to be confident enough. She had never been allowed to go to Diagon Alley; anything relatively close to Hogwarts had always been a big 'no' for her father. "From the looks of your friends, I don't think they thought you had it in you."
Hermione scowled at him. "You deserved it." She told him darkly.
Nick's grin vanished and he nodded solemnly. "I suppose I did." He looked away. "How are you doing, Hermione? Are you still working for…?"
Hermione nodded.
Nick sighed. "I thought so."
"I'm not brave like you, Nick." Hermione muttered under her breath. "I'm not strong like you, either."
"Are you sure?" he looked at her skeptically. "Remember when you knocked out a ten foot giant when you were five? With you bare hands? That's not strong?"
Hermione crossed her arms and scowled, but didn't say anything.
"There was also the time you fell down the stairs and broke six bones in different places. You didn't cry. My mom did all the crying for you, but you just sat there." He cast her a sideways look. "That's not strong?"
Hermione remembered that incident too well. She had just been yelled at by her father, who claimed she had been spending too much time with books and too little practicing magic. She had protested and argued, but to no avail. Her father ended up locking up half of her books. Her thoughts had been on how to steal them back, and she didn't notice the stairs until she fell down it.
Hermione sighed. "This is a different kind of strong, Nick. I don't see the connection."
Nick rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything else. An awkward silence lapsed between them, and she had to walk faster to keep up with his long strides. After awhile, she turned to him, and just to be polite, she asked, "How's your life, Nick?"
"Not bad," he answered. "I started living with the Weasleys, and I'm going to Hogwarts tomorrow. Speaking of which, did your father finally allow you to go to a legit school?"
Hermione nodded happily. "I was fairly surprised, but I'm not going to question him. I don't want to make him change his mind."
Nick remained silent for awhile, and then said finally, "I was worried about you,"
"And so was I. Loads of good that did,"
Nick sighed. "I'm sorry. What do you want me to say?"
"I don't want you to say anything. I want you to start explaining."
"I thought I did that pretty well in the letter," Nick raised his eyebrow. "That's my life in a nutshell. Russell is still after my sorry arse, and I've moved in with the Weasley's. There's nothing more to it. I couldn't write you a letter beforehand, because I was afraid it would get traced. Once I found a stable Owlrey, it was easier."
"Russell, huh?" Hermione mused to herself. "Haven't seen him in awhile."
Nick snickered. "He's too busy trying to make up elaborate plans to catch me," he said. "Ooh, I've got one of his stupid ones. He levitated a watermelon towards me and ended up missing. Turns out Stalin—you remember Stalin, right? He's that short guy with the ugly afro—had also cast some unknown spell. Nonetheless, the watermelon ended up exploded in both their faces and I got front row seats."
Hermione looked at him, momentarily forgetting her anger. "A watermelon?" she snorted. "That's it. Russell's officially gone bonkers."
"That's not even the best one. There was also a time where he finally figured out he couldn't land a spell on me and just forgot about his wand. He threw the nearest thing he could get his hands on at me. The said object happened to be a duck."
"A duck," Hermione repeated in disbelief. "That's kind of pathetic."
"Russell is pathetic."
Hermione looked at Nick. Even though he had talked about it in a joking way, Hermione knew that it was getting to Nick. He was a teenager, just like her. It must've been hard, to be by himself for so long. If Russell had been after her, she would've broken so long ago. She knew how brutal the man could be when he wanted to be. Hermione was supposed to be his friend. What had she done? She had slapped him.
"Nick, I'm sorry," she took a deep breath as the two of them sat down on an empty bench. "It wasn't my place to slap you,"
"No, I can see where it was coming from," Nick cast her a sideways look. "If our situations were vice versa, I would've done a lot worse than just slap you."
"Like throw a duck at me?"
Nick snorted. "I'm not that desperate."
They sat quietly, enjoying the cool breeze, when Nick suddenly asked, "So, tell me about your friends."
"My friends?" Hermione asked him quizzically.
"Yeah, the people you were at Madam Malkins with. They didn't look too pleased when you dragged me out of there." His eyes twinkled. "Look at you, already having three bodyguards."
Hermione scowled at him. "They are not my bodyguards," she informed him. "Actually, I'm the slave at one of their mansions, so if anything, I'm the one who is below them."
"Slave?" Nick's eyes widened. "Is this for…?"
"Yep."
"Wonder what your old man's up to now," Nick said, though the twinkle was gone from his eyes. "I see no strategic advantages he could get from putting you there."
"Trust me, I've been thinking about this for longer than you."
Nick frowned for awhile, seemingly lost in his thoughts, before he turned back to Hermione. "Nonetheless, I still want to hear about your friends."
"Right," she nodded. "Well, first, the two slaves who worked with me at the mansion are called Harry and Lavender. Harry reminds me a bit of Ron, while Lavender is the same as me when I'm talking about books. Just ten times louder."
"Alright, I get the image," Nick grinned. "The name Harry sounds familiar though…"
"Nick, there are five million 'Harry's in the world."
"I suppose so," Nick said, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Though I can't shake off the feeling that I've heard that name over the past few days."
Hermione grinned and rolled her eyes. Knowing Nick, the said name had probably popped up ten years ago. His memory was good—better than hers, as he constantly taunted—but it often sorted out events in the wrong order. "Moving on. The three other boys in the store were Abraxas, Orion and Tom, but I call Orion and Tom by their surnames. Abraxas is the youngest son at the mansion I work at."
"Very pureblood names," Nick commented. "Are they all purebloods?"
Hermione thought of Riddle and his problems with his blood status. "Well, kind of. Some purebloods and some pureblood wannabes."
Nick whistled. "I see what you're doing. Getting close to all the influential people, aren't you?" he grinned when she punched him in the arm. "Ow, woman. That hurt. I was just kidding." His face turned serious again. "Are you fitting in okay?"
Yeah, totally, with Riddle on my tail on every slip-up I make. "Better than my last one. It's my turn for storytelling. So, there, I was tracing a muggle named Jack. Don't ask me why Father wanted me to befriend him, but he did. Anyways, so, I was all business for the first few weeks, but apparently it didn't look like that to him." She snorted at the memory. "He ended up cornering me."
"Classic," Nick rolled his eyes. "I always told you you were sending the wrong signs."
Hermione ignored him. "So he kissed me, and I suppose my squirming turned him on even more. I was actually trying to throw him off me in the nicest possible way, but again, he got the wrong idea. I nearly punched him when he almost the gun I hid with his hand."
"Your gun?" Nick's eyes widened. "Isn't your gun hidden in your jean pocket?"
"Exactly."
"He touched it with his hand?"
"Yep." Nick snickered. "Don't say anything."
"Alright, alright, I won't." Nick held his hands up. "So, you said you were fitting in better? No guys throwing themselves at you and kissing you?" he smiled.
Hermione gulped. Sure, no one had thrown themselves at her, but she had done the exact same with Riddle…
"You okay?" Nick noted her expression. "You look like you just swallowed a lemon."
"I…er…no one has thrown themselves at me, nope." Seeing Nick's expression, she felt compelled to go on. "I kind of got myself into a truth or dare game, and..well…I threw myself at someone. And kissed them." She added quickly. "Against my will, of course."
Nick's mouth dropped open. "You played a truth and dare game?" he asked incredulously, completely ignoring her embarrassing declaration. "I know they're your friends, Hermione, but do you have a death wish? You know what would've happened if they asked something personal."
"I know, but I'm still here, aren't I? I learned my lesson." Unfortunately, they still won't let me hear the end of it. "I will never play another game again,"
Nick frowned, but didn't press it further, much to her relief. However, she almost died when he asked, "Out of curiosity, which one of your bodyguards did you kiss?"
Hermione coughed and looked away. "Ah, er, Riddle, actually. Though it was Black that came up with the dare."
Nick laughed. "You have a weird relationship with them indeed."
"We have a weird relationship," she pointed out wryly.
"How do we have a weird relationship?" Nick asked, slinging his arm around her shoulders. She laughed and squirmed, but he tightened her grip on her. "We're bestest friends!" To prove her point, he gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek.
"Ew, Nick!" she squealed, rubbing off the spit. "That's gross. Now I have your saliva all over my face-"
"Get your hands off of her,"
Hermione looked up. Standing in front of them, lo and behold, was the king himself. Riddle stood there, a rather furious expression on his face. Abraxas and Black were standing behind him, still levitating her precious books. They cast her a curious glance. Ron was standing far away, as if afraid to go near the three Slytherins. He shot Nick a look that Hermione couldn't interpret. Behind Ron, she could see Walburga and Avery loitering around. She didn't know if the two of them saw them yet.
Nick removed his arm from her shoulder and stood up, brushing himself off. His face was expressionless. "Hello. I'm Nick. Are you Abraxas?"
Hermione almost choked. Riddle's face gave away nothing, his previous anger gone. His face was polite, but Hermione could see a hard edge in his eyes. "No. I'm Tom."
"Ah," Nick said, the name registering in his brain. "You must be the knight in shining armor who stole Hermione's fourth kiss."
Hermione coughed loudly, turning red. The angry look on Riddle's face had returned. Black whispered something that sounded suspiciously like, 'Ooh, little shortcake is not as innocent as we thought!' Abraxas elbowed him.
"W-wha—" Hermione sputtered. "Why were you counting, Nick? Even I don't know how many…" she trailed off, thoroughly embarrassed. Nick was smirking at her—that bastard, he did it on purpose!—so she decided to change the subject. "So, you guys, this is Nick. He's my childhood friend."
"Bestest friend," he corrected.
"Whatever," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Nick's first day at Hogwarts is also tomorrow, so you'll be seeing more of him."
"Great," Riddle snarled. His bad mood from earlier hadn't seemed to wear off. "I'll look forward to it." He turned to Hermione. "Granger, up. We're leaving."
"What?" she squeaked. There was still a lot she needed to catch up with Nick. Not to mention, she still needed his advice. He was the only person in the world who understood what she was going through. "I still need to talk to Nick."
"Your time is up," Riddle snapped at her, and then forcefully dragged her to her feet. Hermione glared at him, but he didn't notice, focusing his glare at Nick instead. She hadn't seen him this angry before, not even with his own father. "I'm sorry, but we have to go," he said, not sounding very apologetic. "I hope to see you at Hogwarts," His tone clearly implied the opposite.
Nick inclined his head politely. If he was scared by Riddle's expression, he didn't show it. "Ditto." He scanned Riddle's enraged face for a few seconds, before bending down and kissing Hermione on the cheek. "Bye, Hermione," He said calmly, though Hermione could see he was clearly fighting a smirk. That prick, he obviously did it on Riddle's benefit! It seemed to work; Riddle glowered at the other boy. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Bye, Nick," she managed to call out before Riddle wretched her arm backwards. She almost stumbled into the pile of books Abraxas was levitating. Nick nodded at her, and sent a mock wave at Riddle. The other boy said nothing, his face blank once again, and dragged her over to where Walburga and Avery were sharing an ice cream. Before Hermione could protest, Riddle hissed something at them, and she felt the darkness of the apparition envelope her.
ஐ
"Abraxas, you're insane,"
"I can assure you I'm not," the blonde told her swiftly. "Honestly, everyone has been charging at this wall for the last few centuries. It's not going to suddenly block you out."
"You never know," Hermione muttered. "There could be a house elf who doesn't want me to go to Hogwarts because there's something there that wants to kill me. And then the house elf could be compelled to lock me out."
Abraxas threw her a grin. "You come up with the weirdest stories."
Hermione said nothing, but instead glanced at her luggage behind her. She was so happy when she got to pack them. She had never imaged that the day would come where she would be allowed to put Hogwart books in her bag.
After returning from Diagon Alley, Riddle had stomped off to somewhere. She hadn't seen him since, but Abraxas said that since he got his Prefect badge, he had to get on the train earlier. Hermione had shrugged it off; of course Riddle would be a Prefect. Because he's really so perfect, isn't he? She thought to herself.
Black had apparated away, promising to meet them on the train. He left with the words, "Don't do anything naughty, you two. I'll be joining you on the train, and I would like to keep my innocence, thank you." Abraxas had slugged him in the shoulder, embarrassed. Hermione had just left, pretending she hadn't heard him. She had learned over the past few days that the worst possible thing one could do was to encourage him.
She hadn't been able to see Harry or Lavender before she left, but Hermione guessed that the two of them probably pulled through with their plan to sneak into the park. It was a pity; she wanted to talk to Harry about Ron, and she wanted to say goodbye to both of them, but she settled on writing a short letter. She had left it under Lavender's pillow.
"Would you like to go first?"
"Aren't you the gentleman," Hermione teased him. "If I break my neck, I'm going to sue you."
"Sue?" Abraxas blinked. "Who's Sue?"
Hermione's jaw dropped open. "There's no suing in the wizard world?" she asked. She had been in both the muggle and wizarding world that she often couldn't tell if something was in one world or in both. Maybe wizards had more effective ways.
"No…" Abraxas said slowly. "I've never heard of a girl named Suing."
"Never mind," Hermione resisted rolling her eyes. It wasn't Abraxas's fault that he didn't know something muggle. "So, I just run?"
Abraxas looked like he wanted to continue the previous topic, but instead just nodded.
Hermione took a deep breath. It was okay. This was a wall. She had dealt with harder opponents in the past. What was the worst thing that could happen to her? She could crash, and look like an idiot, but it wasn't life-threatening. Pushing her cart, she began to gain momentum. The wall grew nearer and nearer, and she closed her eyes and anticipated the crash…
The crash never came. Hermione opened her eyes and saw families walking together. They were all, no doubt, wizards, as they all carried carts with animals. She looked down at her lonely suitcase. She would have to request for an animal later on.
She saw Ron's red hair in the distance, bobbing up and down in the crowd. Two twin towers stood next to him, picking at something on his face. Ron scowled and flicked them off, before waving his mother and getting on the train. Nick was nowhere to be seen.
Hermione's eyes focused on the huge train in front of her. It was huge. This was it. This was the Hogwarts Express. She was going to ride it, and then go to Hogwarts. Hogwarts! The reality started to sink in, and she felt a huge smile cover her face.
…only to be promptly ripped off when something barreled into her right side, causing pain to erupt.
"Damn it," she heard someone curse. It was Abraxas. "Hermione, did you just stand here, staring? You have to move, you know. This wall is like a door. What happens if you stand in front of a door? You get flattened."
"What if the door opens the other way?" she murmured, but stepped away from the wall nonetheless. She didn't take her eyes off the train. It was one thing to watch it move in the pictures, but it was another thing to actually be standing before it.
She could only imagine what Hogwarts would be like.
"Come on, Hermione," Abraxas picked up his both of their luggages quite easily. "It's just a long train. There's nothing too special about it. Get on the train or we'll miss it."
She really didn't want to, but Abraxas had a point. Hermione cast one last look at the outside before climbing in. Abraxas was right; it looked exactly like a normal train, both inside and outside. Still, it was the Hogwarts Express. It didn't matter what it looked like.
"Why don't you levitate the luggages?" she suggested. She felt rather bad about making him carry hers as well, but he insisted.
"Wouldn't want to scare the first years with my awesome spell casting abilities." Abraxas replied cheekily.
She found most of the compartments mostly full, so she kept walking. If she had been alone, she would've just chosen a random compartment, but she had no idea how keen Abraxas was to sit with random people, and she didn't want to be separated from him either. Not to mention, he might have other friends he wanted to sit with.
Though, Hermione thought wryly, I doubt he'd have problems making 'friends.' She spotted some girls in compartment three who were blowing kisses at him. She turned around, but found her friend either oblivious or purposely ignoring them.
She was starting to get rather impatient near the end of the train, as the number of people in each compartment grew, but amazingly stumbled upon a compartment that was completely empty. Hermione stared at it.
"Abraxas?" she called. He arrived moments later with the two trunks still firmly in his hands, a slight bead of sweat in his forehead. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like, 'Thank Merlin for Quidditch muscles.' "Is this compartment cursed?"
"No." He sounded amused as he tucked their trunks away and opened the door to the compartment, plopping down immediately and making himself at home. "Why would you say that?"
"Because all the other compartments are full," she said suspiciously, but sat down across from him anyways. "Why is this one completely empty?"
"That's because Tom claimed it his first year," Abraxas said. "And you know how Tom is. He doesn't like to share. This compartment, compartment number twelve, will always be known as the compartment of the Knights."
"The Knights?" Hermione inquired, coming across an unfamiliar term.
Abraxas paled considerably and look away. Hermione didn't miss the nervous look that crossed his face. "Nothing."
Hermione remained silent, her mind whirling. Did Riddle's followers have a name? What was their purpose? Who was in it? Did they hurt people? With a leader like Riddle—she had no doubt he was the leader—anything was plausible.
The door to the compartment swung open and Black came sauntering in. "Yo, shortcake!" He greeted cheerfully, plopping down next to her. "I have decided to call you Squirtle from now on."
Hermione looked at him. "Pardon?"
"Squirtle. You know, the pokemon? Since you're short, you're a squirt. And squirt sounds like Squirtle, does it not?"
Hermione stared at him. "How do you even know about pokemon?"
"That would be my doing," Abraxas grinned. "When he was three, our mothers arranged for us to meet. He took my favorite stuffed animal and chewed on it. I was not happy."
"I was a little kid," Black defended. "Little kids like to chew on stuff."
Abraxas ignored him. "I turned on a muggle tv that my parents had threw down to the basement, and the first thing that popped up was pokemon. So I tied him up and made him watch the whole season."
If only Father's punishments were so easy.
"It was horrible," Black made a face. "They were so stupid. The bad guys sucked at disguising themselves, and they still ended up fooling the protagonist. Plus, they were all ugly."
"That's my favorite childhood show you're insulting there," Hermione laughed. "Though I have to admit, the disguises were rather pathetic. I bet I could do better than that," she said haughtily.
She immediately regretted it. A smirk formed on Black's face, and she didn't want to hear his suggestion about what she should disguise as. Fortunately, she was saved from Black's reply when the compartment door opened once again.
The boy who came in looked a lot like Black—Hermione guessed they were brothers. His eyes, however, rather than light and joking like Black's, were dark and moody. He looked almost like Riddle when Riddle was irritated. His eyes immediately flashed to Hermione, and he narrowed his eyes.
"And who might you be?"
"I'm Hermione Granger," she said, noticing the way his body tensed up at her surname. "And what's your name?"
"None of your business," he said coldly, and then spun to Black. "I hope you know what you're doing. Mother disowns blood traitors." Without saying anything else, he slammed the compartment door and stomped away.
"He seems nice," Hermione murmured.
Black sighed. "You'll have to forgive my brother. Cy hates muggleborns as much as Tom does."
"And you?"
Black shrugged and deftly avoided her question. "But you're not muggleborn, are you?"
Hermione shook her head. Sometimes she did wish she was muggleborn to avoid having her father as a parent, but then she would have to face the discrimination of blood status. It was bad enough when she announced she wasn't a pureblood.
"Cygnus is another Avery," Abraxas explained. "They're both quite rude. The major difference is that the kid worships Tom. I always thought he'd ask Tom to marry him, but I guess he hasn't worked up the courage yet."
Hermione patted Black's arm sympathetically. "Your brother is going through a lot," she told him, putting on her most innocent face. "You need to offer him advice."
Black scowled. "If Cy wants information about Tom, he can get it himself. I sure am not going to ask Tom if he has a gender preference."
Hermione giggled. She didn't see why it would matter; as long as the person had something Riddle wanted, he didn't care who they were. He would stop at nothing to get it. It didn't have to do with feelings on his side. She doubted Riddle would care if his target was a boy or a girl.
Hermione glanced out the window. The scenery was flashing by so fast that she couldn't make out distinct objects. Everything looked like a green blur, but she didn't care. She was on the Hogwarts Express, and she couldn't be happier.
I'm going to Hogwarts!
She must've dozed off, because when she opened her eyes again, the sky was turning dark. Dark clouds loomed in the sky, though, to her disappointment, she still couldn't see the castle. They must be getting close, though, since she didn't remember the books saying that students needed to spend the night on the train.
She turned away from the window and noted that her two companions were both asleep. Abraxas looked like a baby when he was sleeping, and she smiled fondly at him. She turned her head slightly to look at Black, who was leaning against the wall. It sounded like things were getting pretty heated in Black's dream, and when she cast him a look, she saw a little drool coming out of his open mouth.
She giggled and reached for her wand, producing a marker out of nowhere. This was going to be fun.
That was how Riddle found her, ten minutes later. She had already finished with Abraxas and was on her way to draw a pig nose on Black's face when he opened the compartment, a weary look on his face. It was replaced by a smirk when he saw her leaning over Black, a marker on his face.
"Well, Granger," he smirked, shutting the door behind him. He shifted Abraxas aside to make room for him to sit down. A Prefect's badge was pinned on his robes, and she marveled at the shininess. "You look like you're having fun."
"Yeah." She quickly tucked away her marker. She didn't know why, but it suddenly seemed extremely silly that she was drawing on their faces. "How was your Prefect meeting?"
Riddle scowled. "Terribly boring. We went over the patrol schedule for at least fifteen minutes. It was self explanatory, but of course some blubbering Hufflepuff didn't get it at all. Then they went over the rules like we haven't heard them from the first day."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Should you be trash talking the system?" she asked him. "What would the teachers say if they knew the famous Tom Riddle was actually not so perfect and tolerant after all?"
"What are you going to do, tell on me?" Riddle smirked. "No one would believe you. After all, like you said, it is your word versus Tom Riddle's. Who do you think they'd believe more? The new student or the perfect role model?"
"The new student, of course."
"Whatever makes you sleep at night, Granger."
Hermione realized it was pointless to continue arguing with him, and promptly changed the subject. She asked him a question that had been on her mind for the majority of the train ride. "What house do you think I'll be sorted in to?"
Riddle looked at her. "You already asked me this before."
"That was before. Your answer could've changed."
Riddle scowled. "I didn't learn anything new about your personality, Granger. All I know is apparently, you like to swap spit with your childhood friend."
Ah. He was still sore about that.
"We were not 'swapping spit,'" she glared at him. "We were merely hugging, and you overreacted, which led to Nick provoking you. He wouldn't have done it you weren't so angry."
"Because you know him so well,"
"As a matter of fact, I do," Hermione almost yelled at him. What was his problem? "He's my best friend. Why do you care so much?"
Riddle clenched his jaw, ignoring her question. "Looked like more than that."
"Why do you care?!"
Unfortunately, like always, Riddle never answered her question. Instead, he turned to look out the window. Hermione followed the suite, but didn't see anything of interest outside.
"Gryffindor." He said finally.
Hermione blinked. Riddle thought she would go to his enemy house? Well, that was awkward. Was now the time where she supposed to declare war on him?
Seeing her disbelief written on her face, he explained, "Weasley's in Gryffindor."
Hermione stared at him like he had gone crazy. Just because Ron was in Gryffindor meant she was supposed to go there as well? She didn't even know Ron that well. She probably knew even Black more than she knew Ron. All they did was talk a little; it wasn't like they were best friends.
Plus, Hermione thought sadly. I can probably never be friends with Ron, not when my own father murdered his sister.
Or maybe Riddle thought that since Ron and Nick were friends, Nick would go to Gryffindor as well. That would probably be the case; Nick was definitely brave and loyal like a Gryffindor. He would fit in just fine. However, even though Nick was her best friend, would she be in Gryffindor? Could she be in Gryffindor? She tried to place herself there in her mind. She didn't think she would fit in.
She was jolted out of her thoughts by a surprised yelp that elicited out of Riddle's mouth. Abraxas had turned over so that he draped himself over Riddle's lap. He mumbled something, and then threw his arms around Riddle's waist, hugging him. Hermione couldn't help but laugh as the dark look on Riddle's face grew. "Abraxas," Riddle hissed, thoroughly disgusted. "Get off of me."
When Abraxas didn't move, Hermione snorted. "He's asleep, Riddle. He can't hear you."
Riddle scowled and pushed Abraxas off of his lap and onto the floor. Thankfully, the seats weren't two high up, and when the boy's head crashed into the ground, it didn't seem like too much damage was done. The boy groaned and sat up, now fully awake.
"Ow," he rubbed his head. "Who did that…" he trailed off, his eyes widening when he saw Riddle sitting there, a look of annoyance on his face. "I'm sorry, Tom. I didn't see you there."
Riddle simply said, "Get off the floor or I'll kick you."
Hermione glared at him. "You're the person who pushed him onto the floor in the first place."
"If he didn't want to be on the floor, maybe he should think twice about molesting me."
He was being utterly ridiculous. "He was not molesting you!" she said so shrilly that Black began to stir. "He was sleeping. You can't control what you do when you're sleeping."
"Hermione," Abraxas said, trying to appease her. It didn't work. "It's alright. I'm fine." He sat down on the chair again. Stupid Slytherins refusing to anger Riddle. Hermione harrumphed and turned away, but not before seeing Riddle roll his eyes.
That prick.
"Holy shit," Black slurred, sitting up sloppily. "What happened to your face, dude?"
Abraxas stared at Black. He had just noticed that Black's face had been drawn on. Crap. She had completely forgotten about her works of art. "I could ask you the same thing."
They both simultaneously turned to Hermione, revenge written on their faces.
"Wha-" She gestured towards Riddle, who was sitting there, rather amused. "Why would you single me out? How do you know that Riddle didn't do it?"
"Unlike you, Granger, I don't lower myself to such childish pranks," Riddle informed her.
Black grinned and flipped her body so she was lying down on the seats. She squealed as he loomed over her. "Ready, Abraxas?" he called over his shoulder.
Abraxas produced two spare markers and handed one over to Black. He had a rather insane look on his face. It scared Hermione to no end. "We're going to give you a complete makeover, Hermione."
Black looked at him. "Panda?"
Abraxas nodded. "Panda."
"What?" Hermione said, squirming. Black didn't release his hold on her, and instead, tightened it. "Panda what?"
"You'll see, Squirtle. You'll see." Black turned towards Abraxas. "How about a Squirtle…?"
Abraxas shook his head. "Panda."
"I feel like you two are speaking some foreign language," Hermione muttered as Black started tracing something near her mouth. She snapped her teeth, trying to bite his hand, but he pulled away, laughing.
"You better close your mouth, Hermione dear. I doubt that marker tastes good."
"And stop moving, for Merlin's sake. Do you want me to draw in your eyes?"
"Riddle," she snapped, turning her head purposely. Black cursed under his breath when she messed him up. "Help me."
"On contrary, Granger, I think I shall stay here," Riddle replied smoothly. "This is rather amusing to watch."
"I'll draw on your face one day," She hissed at him, before Black turned her head so she had to stare at him.
"I'll look forward to it, Granger."
"There you go, Hermione," Black smirked. "Now you can even stare at my face when I give you a makeover. Many girls would die to be in your position."
"Why don't you go find another girl to bully, then?"
"Too much effort," Abraxas said, capping his marker. He stepped back, observing his work. "Perfect. Just like a real panda."
"This is a work of art," Black said happily, producing a mirror out of his robes. "We could sell her for millions of galleons."
"Do you always carry a mirror around with you?" she asked him.
"Of course. I never know when I want to look at my beautiful face."
Hermione snorted and grabbed his mirror. Raising it to her eye level, she almost dropped it again. "This," she said, rather scandalized. "Is possibly the worst piece of art I have ever seen. I could've done better in kindergarten."
"Kindergarten," Black repeated blankly.
Hermione rolled her eyes, but rephrased her sentence. "I could've done better when I was five."
"That's why it's so brilliant," Abraxas piped. "You'll walk around having an ugly panda on your face for your first day at Hogwarts. You didn't think we would make it easy for you and draw it beautifully, did you?"
"No, but I expected it to resemble a panda somewhat." Hermione said shortly, patting around her pocket. When she didn't feel the familiar piece of wood, she glared at the two boys. The two of them wore similar guilty expressions. "Give me back my wand."
The two of them looked at each other, before looking back at her. "Why would you want your wand, Hermione?" Black purred.
Hermione glowered at him. "I don't know, maybe to wipe the marker off my face?"
Black held her wand up in front of her face. Hermione snatched at it, but Black moved his hand away. "Tsk, tsk, Hermione," He said. "If you want it, you'll have to try a lot harder than that."
Hermione growled, ripping her hand out of Abraxas's grasp. The blonde boy let out a yelp, but Hermione didn't find out what he did next. She threw herself onto Black, tackling him onto the ground. The other boy grunted, and she reached for her wand. He held it away from her.
"Nice try, but that's not enough," Black sounded way too gleeful for someone in his position. "However, if you give me a kiss, then I shall consider it."
Hermione paled, though she breathed in a sigh of relief when she saw the teasing look on Black's face. She could, however, feel Riddle's dark magic rolling off him in dark waves. Black noticed as well, as the look slid off of his face and he glanced nervously at Riddle.
Why does he have to get angry so often?
However, before any of them could say anything, the door opened once more. Cygnus and Walburga were standing near the door, both of their eyes immediately focusing on Hermione's peculiar position. Hermione did not miss the disgust evident in both their eyes.
"I was hoping you might be gone by now," Cygnus clipped.
"Cy," Black said warningly, though his eyes were on Walburga, who had discovered Riddle was also in the compartment. She flounced over to where he was sitting, and instead of sitting down on the empty seat next to him, she placed herself in his lap. Riddle plastered a pleasant smile on his face, settling his hands on her waist, and Walburga giggled. Hermione almost gagged.
There goes her 'relationship' with Avery.
"Sorry, but I'm still here," Hermione stood up smoothly, brushing herself off. Black sat up, rubbing his head. "What do you have against me, anyways?"
"You're making out with my brother."
Hermione stared, loss for words. Black laughed loudly, pushing himself against the wall to support himself. Abraxas, to his credit, at least attempted to hide a grin. Riddle looked amused, but Hermione wasn't sure if it was because of her situation or because Walburga had latched herself to his face.
"Really, Hermione," Black winked at her. "If you were that desperate, you could've just asked. I know I'm sexy and all, but I think you can keep your hands to yourself."
"Black," Hermione groaned. "Do me a favor and shut up."
Cygnus was staring at the two unamused. He must have a strong tolerance; even Riddle smirked when Black showed off his dramatic acting skills. "I don't care what you do, Orion. If you want to mingle with the wrong crowd, don't drag me into this."
Riddle frowned, though Cygnus was obviously just referring to just Hermione. She decided right there that she really did not like Black's brother. "For your information, I'm not muggleborn," she felt the need to clarify it. His whole hate seemed to be fueled upon the fact that she was muggleborn. "I'm half blood,"
"Does it matter?" Cygnus asked softly. "You're all the same."
He left a furious Hermione in his wake as he stepped out of the compartment and closed the door behind him. Abraxas looked in between Hermione and Riddle, as if deciding who to comfort first. Hermione suddenly realized what Cygnus's statement would've done to Riddle's temper. All her anger evaporated instantly and she suddenly feared the safety of Cygnus's life.
The dark scowl on Riddle's face confirmed her fear.
However, Riddle wouldn't hurt one of his fellow housemates, would he? If he told Cygnus why he was attacking him, then it would be revealed to everyone that Riddle was a half blood. However, Hermione realized, Riddle didn't need to explain to anyone. He would just walk up to Cygnus and curse him, and because he was Tom Riddle, he would get away with it.
Although she hated the Cygnus, and she had no doubt that he hated her back, no one deserved to get murdered by another man.
No one.
ஐ
"Are you lost?"
Hermione blinked up at the girl in front of her. She was tall, which was hard to be in Hermione's mind, as she had spent the last few weeks with a couple of boys who were easily at least five or six inches taller than Hermione. The girl had beady eyes, spectacles and brown hair was tied up in a bun. If it hadn't been for the Prefect badge attached to the front of her robe, Hermione would've thought she was a teacher. She looked rigid and rather uptight.
"No," Hermione shook her head. She looked around the crowd, but even the first years managed to block her view. She really was short. Riddle had promised to bring her to the Headmaster's office after he showed the newly sorted Slytherin first years to their common room. "I'm waiting for Riddle, actually. Erm," she added quickly. "Tom Riddle. You might know him. He's a Prefect."
The girl's eyebrows almost disappeared under her hair. "Of course I know Tom Riddle," she said. "I don't think there's anyone in this school who doesn't know who Tom Riddle is." She stared down at Hermione. "Are you his sister?"
Hermione stared at her. "His s-sister? No." she patted her hair to make sure it was still her own. Bushy hair greeted her fingertips. "Do I look like him?"
"No," The girl said, seemingly already bored with Hermione. She kept glancing around, as if she couldn't wait for a distraction so she could get away from Hermione. Well, she thought to herself, if she didn't want to talk, she should've just stayed away. "I don't think Tom even has a sibling. Even if he did, he or she would probably disguise themselves."
Hermione blinked at her. "Why?"
The girl scanned around the crowd—scanning for Riddle, Hermione supposed—before bending low and whispering, "Tom's evil, that's why. If I were his relative, I would be ashamed to show my face at school."
Nothing I didn't know before.
"Why is he evil?" Hermione asked innocently.
"Honestly, he has all the girls wrapped around his finger. Most of the professors as well, except for Professor Dumbledore. Tom can never fool Professor Dumbledore."
This was the second person that mentioned Riddle and Dumbledore in the same sentence. "I know someone who said the exact same thing," she told the girl. "Ron Weasley. Do you know him as well?"
"Yeah. His red hair is sort of hard to miss."
Hermione nodded. "Are you in Gryffindor?"
The girl smiled proudly. "Yes. It is, after all, the best house."
Hermione refrained from snorting, and instead smiled politely. "I'm going to get sorted," she informed her. "Riddle was going to take me to the Headmaster once he was done showing the first years around."
"Ah," the girl nodded, focusing on something in the distance. She was obviously not giving the conversation her full attention, and Hermione wondered why the girl was still talking to her. She had millions of opportunities to slip away. "Tom got assigned to you, didn't he?"
"No, he offered and I accepted."
The girl whipped around, staring at her with wide eyes. "Tom offered…?" she asked, murmuring to herself. She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, I guess that would fit in well with his plan." She trailed off.
"What plan?" Hermione asked loudly.
"Tom has a perfect student image to maintain in front of the teachers." The girl explained. "It would help enhance his so called 'perfect role model' image if he helped out a random new student. Dippet would buy it quickly, anyways."
Hermione frowned. She certainly hoped that was not the only reason that Riddle offered. "I'm not a random new student to him," she said. "I sat with him on the train, and I knew him from before."
"No way," The girl breathed, a look of amazement crossing her face. "You were the girl who was in the Slytherin compartment on the train?"
Hermione wondered how on earth the news could've travelled that fast. It wasn't that important, was it? "It could be Walburga," Hermione suggested. "She was there was well,"
"No, they specifically said that it was an unidentified normal girl," the girl glanced at her. "No offense or anything."
Hermione shook her head. "None taken."
"You know Tom outside of school?" The girl asked her. "Since you're not his sister, are you his girlfriend?"
"No!" Hermione denied a little too loudly, causing many heads to swivel towards her. The girl snickered slightly. "I don't know what kind of relationship we have, actually. Maybe acquaintances?"
The girl observed her carefully, and then said, "It's good that you're not his friend yet. It makes my job much easier." She caught the skeptical look Hermione gave her. "Look, I'm not trying to pry into your personal life, but Tom's not what he seems like. I don't know how much about Tom you know, but he's dangerous. I'm not saying this to get him 'all to myself,' like many girls say, but I know how he is."
Trust me, I know a lot about Riddle as well.
The girl was still staring at her worriedly, and Hermione blinked back, unsure of what she was supposed to say. 'I won't go near him?' she couldn't do that; she had the promise she had made to Tim. Thankfully, she was saved from replying when someone put their hand on her shoulder.
"Granger," the subject of their conversation said smoothly. He smirked slightly, and then lifted his eyes to meet the girl. She stared back, face perfectly blank. "Minerva."
"Tom," she greeted frostily, and Hermione instantly knew that her earlier statement wasn't a lie; this girl clearly did not like Riddle. "I will leave you two to let you visit the Headmaster," she nodded at Riddle, and then sent Hermione a glance, before spinning on her heels and walking away.
"Looks like you've made a new friend already, Granger," Riddle drawled once Minerva was out of sight. He gestured for her to follow him, and she did, rushing to catch up with his long strides. "Aren't you popular."
"Who was she?"
"Minerva McGonagall, often referred to as Minnie by Orion," Riddle said. "She' the best in transfiguration, but I'm still better, of course," Riddle said haughtily.
"She doesn't seem to like you much,"
Riddle shrugged. "Can't win them all,"
As they walked through the hallway, Hermione begged to differ. Everywhere she looked, there were girls swooning after him, or boys offering a slight sign of greeting. Riddle ignored them all and brushed through the castle. After awhile, the girls gave up and started to glare at her instead.
Hermione suddenly realized she had associated herself with the wrong person.
"Nervous?" Riddle asked, and she realized she had been silent for a couple minutes. Hermione shook her head; she wasn't nervous with the process, but her results. Was she going to follow her father's footsteps, or was she more than just her father's daughter?
She hoped it was the latter, even though she would be leaving behind most of her friends if that were the case. She just wanted reassurance that she was not like him.
She was thinking too much. She needed to get her mind off of this.
"Who do you share a room with?"
Riddle looked caught off guard. She didn't blame him; her question was rather sudden. He recovered quickly, however, and said smoothly, "Abraxas, Orion and Cygnus."
"Are you allowed to share rooms with different grade levels?"
"Yes." Riddle said slowly. "Though it doesn't apply in our case. We're all going into our fifth year."
Hermione's jaw dropped open. "Cygnus is going into fifth year?"
Riddle sounded amused. "Of course. You didn't think he was a first year, did you? Orion and Cygnus are twins." He smirked at her expression. "The Blacks have a lot of children," he informed her. "They have to make sure that the family name will be carried on forever."
"Any other Blacks I should note?"
"Alphard," he offered. "Orion's older brother. He's not particularly important." Hermione almost snorted. "He's the Head Boy, and some random mudblood," Hermione coughed loudly. "I'm sorry, muggleborn, is Head Girl. She doesn't deserve it." Riddle sneered.
Hermione rolled her eyes, ignoring Riddle's last statement. She couldn't win that argument, anyways. "He's Head Boy, and even he's not particularly important?"
"Of course," Riddle smirked. "He's dreadfully boring."
"Oh, really," Hermione deadpanned. "Who is classified as important to you, Riddle? I'd like to meet them and congratulate them."
He had her pinned against the wall before she had time to close her mouth. "You, Granger," his breath was doing wonderful things to her body. Goose bumps formed along her arms, and she was sure it wasn't because of the cold. "You're interesting."
"Nice try, Riddle," she tried to push him off, but he caught her wrists and pinned them above her head. "This type of trick isn't going to work on me. I'm not affected by you."
"Who says this was a trick?" he asked, leaning closer. She closed her eyes, feeling how his breath fanned across her face. Seconds passed, and no contact came. She opened her eyes, only to be met with Riddle's smirking face. He stepped away. She felt the loss of his body heat right away.
"Yes, Granger, you obviously aren't affected by me," he drawled, before heading towards the Headmaster's office. Hermione swore under her breath, and hurried to follow him, though she put some distance between him and her.
Stupid Hermione! Why do you keep letting him get the upper hand?
They walked along for a couple more minutes in silence, before Riddle said, surprising Hermione, "Are you afraid of me?"
Hermione was so caught off guard; she looked at him, suspiciously, as if he was asking her a trick question. Riddle, however, never even turned around. "No," she said quietly. It was true. Her father would be the only one in the world she would fear. Riddle was a big bad bully, but she could take him. "Why?"
Unfortunately, before he could answer her question, they arrived in front of the Headmaster's office. "Lemon drops," he said, and then grimaced. "The Old Codger made up the password this time."
Hermione decided that this Dumbledore person seemed to have a lot of people who extremely liked him and who extremely dislike him. She also decided that Dumbledore must be something else to be able to see under Riddle's acting.
Riddle let her up a set of stairs, and Hermione saw two men sitting together. The one who was wearing purple robes and was sitting behind the desk was undoubtedly the Headmaster himself. He played with an empty goblet. She had no idea who the other man with red robes was, until she saw Riddle glare at him.
Ah. So that's Albus Dumbledore.
"Tom!" The Headmaster, Dippet, greeted enthusiastically. "What brings you here?" He glanced down at the badge pinned on Riddle's robes. "Ah, you accepted the position! Always knew I could count on you." He turned towards Dumbledore cheerfully. "Isn't Tom a great student?"
The tone in Dumbledore's voice clearly implied that he held the same feelings for Riddle as the boy did for him. "Yes, he's simply delightful to have in class," his gaze shifted to Hermione, and she suddenly had a panic attack. What if he recognized her? What if he somehow found out about her father, and her mission?
However, before she could panic too much and giver herself away, Dumbledore smiled gently at her. "You must be Hermione Granger." He said kindly. "Armando has told me of your admission to this school. I look forward to seeing you in transfiguration." His eyes twinkled.
Hermione ignored the cold glare Riddle was giving her, and instead smiled back. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. I will try my best."
Dippet nodded, distracted. He seems to only want to talk to Riddle, Hermione thought to herself. Riddle wasn't kidding when he said that he had the Headmaster wrapped around his finger. "Now, Miss Granger, if you would please put this hat over your head." He handed her a pointy old hat, not even bothering to stand up and put it on her head personally. He turned to Riddle, and his expression instantly lightened. "Tom! You don't need to stay here. We'll make sure Miss Grangos makes it back to her dormitory safely."
"Granger," Hermione muttered under her breath, but Dippet hadn't seem to have heard her.
"No, it's fine, Headmaster," Riddle said politely. "It is my duty as a Prefect to escort her back to her common room. I would not wish that she gets lost."
Dippet beamed at Riddle. Hermione almost rolled her eyes as Riddle shot the Headmaster a sickening sweet smile. Dumbledore was glancing at him suspiciously, but said nothing. "I'm sure Miss Granger will appreciate that," Dippet said, casting a pointed look at Hermione.
Who does he think he is, telling me what to do? However, Hermione didn't fancy getting kicked out before she even started the school, so she tried to keep the snarl out of her face as she said, "Thank you, Riddle."
Riddle smirked.
She turned back to Dippet before Riddle could make any snide remarks and asked, "May I be sorted now?"
Dippet nodded, but he had gone back to reviewing some papers on his desk, clearly not listening to what Hermione was saying. She grabbed the hat on the table and stuffed it on her head. The last thing she saw before the hat covered her eyes was Riddle's face.
Surprisingly, it didn't have his usual smirk on it.
ஐ
The sorting hat was quiet for the first couple of minutes, leaving Hermione to wonder whether the Headmaster had given her just a plain hat. She clenched her fists, waiting nervously for it to talk to her, and when it finally did, she wished it hadn't.
"Oh ho ho," the sorting hat said, sounding very much like Santa Clause. "I've never sorted one of his children before, and now, in the same day, there are two."
Hermione had been stupid thinking the hat wouldn't know. Of course the hat would know. It knew everything in her head. "Please don't tell anyone," she asked timidly.
"Miss Granger, I am a hat. No one listens to a hat." It paused, and for a second Hermione was worried that it might've retreated into a hole to cry. However, it soon followed up by saying, "Let's worry about getting you sorted now, shall we? First off, do you have any preferences, Miss Granger?"
"Yes," she said. "Please don't put me in Hufflepuff,"
"Wouldn't dream of doing that," the sorting hat told her. "Not only are you not compatible with the house, but I also think you would be in danger if you were. I don't think he would take it too lightly."
"No," Hermione admitted. It was true; her father had some sort of hatred against the Hufflepuff house. She would've expected him to hate Gryffindor, but he seemed okay with that house.
Maybe it's because Albus Dumbledore was there when he was a student.
Hermione hardly knew anything about her father's personal life. Every time she asked, she would received a dose of Cruciatus. He would tell her what he wanted her to know about his personal life, and if he didn't tell her, she wasn't supposed to ask. However, Hermione highly doubted her father would ever bring up Albus Dumbledore in a conversation any time soon.
Not unless he wants Dumbledore dead.
"Any other preferences, Miss Granger?"
"No," she said. "I want to be honestly sorted. Don't let any of my thoughts interfere with your sorting,"
"You're scared of being like him, aren't you?" The sorting hat mused, and Hermione was in awe about how easily it could pick through her brain. If only she could stuff the hat on her father's head, and see what happened.
"Miss Granger, not everyone in Slytherin is like him," the hat reminded her gently. "Just because someone is in Slytherin does not mean that they will turn out to be evil, dark wizards,"
No, but there's a higher probability there. Hermione's thoughts flashed to Riddle.
The sorting hat seemed to catch her thoughts, and said, "There's also someone there that needs your help as well."
Great. It was going to go all 'Tim' on her now.
"Though, you have wonderful things waiting for you on the other end as well," it mused. "Your friend, Nick, was sorted today. He's in Gryffindor. Can't say I had as much fun sorting him. He seemed to be keen on blocking his mind, and didn't talk to me at all. It was boring."
Nick's in Gryffindor.
"Maybe I should just go to Hufflepuff," she said meekly. "It would save me a lot of trouble."
The sorting hat made a sound that sounded like a laugh. She couldn't tell. "You may prefer whichever house you want, Miss Granger, but the final decision remains with me. And I've already decided which house to place you in." It paused, and then said, "Remember, Miss Granger. You can only turn evil if you want to,"
Without waiting for her to respond, it opened its mouth loud and wide and screamed out a word.
"SLYTHERIN!"
