An Unlikelier Ally
A/N: So this is like two days late and I blame it almost completely on the difficulty of writing Tom Riddle. I had to do a near-complete character study before I felt comfortable enough to really start penning Tom (figuratively - no pens were harmed in the making of this chapter). A few questions came into my mind as I was writing this chapter, and they're fun questions that end up being at least somewhat relevant.
1. Why does Hannibal Lecter love Clarice Starling? It's not exactly the same type of situation here but I believe the answer applies.
2. What might Slytherin and later Riddle have against muggles in the first place to not want to be tainted by them?
3. What would Tom Riddle think of the Lord Voldemort from the Harry's 4th-7th year? (that will be important later on in the story)
4. What is Tom Riddle/Lord Voldemort afraid of besides death and why?
Just a few fun questions to consider. Feel free to guess in a review or something. I'll give you my own answers as I write the story.
---
The library book sat on her bed and mocked her as she entered her room.
Hermione sighed and dropped her bag. She had read the book cover to cover at least a dozen times since she had gotten it a week ago and she was not even close to wanting to try it.
She looked past that book to the little leather book on her bedside table that she had found it on the weekend's trip to Hogsmeade. It was in a tiny store students used to buy supplies they had forgotten from home and did not want to be yelled at by their parents to have it sent over called Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. As far as Hermione knew, Neville had a permanent tab there.
The little book had fallen off the shelves when she pulled the first journal out. It was about the size of her hand, made of forest green leather, and bound with silver string. When she saw it she almost wanted to cry. It was like providence, if Hermione Granger were to believe in such a thing.
It was a beautiful little diary, she had to admit as she picked it up from the side of her bed and put it on the small desk in front of her window along with the book Dumbledore had left her.
She sat and folded her arms, dropping her head on them and studying books in an entirely different manner than she usually did. From the side they just looked like books and books were always such a comfort to her. They were good friends and stout companions of a sort entirely different from Harry and Ron and the idea that these books could harm her was distinctly unsettling.
She admitted it to herself then, in the small Head Girl's room hung with Gryffindor colors, that she was afraid.
When Harry had told her what Slughorn did back when Tom Riddle was a student, she wanted to be angry. But she could not be because there was something about that boy that made you want to stare, to listen, to tell.
Most of the people in the world are just people and when someone comes along that is really special, you know that they are destined for great things.
Destiny, fate, and providence. Hermione Granger did not believe in any of these things. If she were to be truly honest, she did not even completely believe in Harry's prophecy. How could anyone, let alone Trelawney, predict what would happen years into the future? And yet it seems as if something in the universe wanted her to follow this path, to bring back Tom Riddle.
She sighed. Soul mates, she thought angrily as she pushed herself back from her desk, I'm supposed to above that poppycock.
On the way to dinner, she realized what she needed to do before she could face the man who would become Lord Voldemort - who she needed to speak to.
I'm going to determine my own future and no one else, not Tom Riddle, not fate, not even Dumbledore is going to do it for me, she decided as she walked into the Hall.
---
Hermione asked Ginny to her room after dinner was over. Something about her expression must have made Ginny accept immediately.
It was not the first time Ginny had visited Hermione in her room and she sat herself down on the bed and looked at her friend. "Is something wrong Hermione?"
Hermione just pointed to the two books on the desk.
Ginny stiffened almost immediately.
Hermione sighed and brought the books over. "I know you don't like diaries in the first place Gin, but this is really the worst possible diary there could be."
"What do you mean?" the other girl asked as she ran her fingers over the bound book without actually touching it.
"Well, Dumbledore is…insane and he wants me to," Hermione could not even get out the words without wanting to laugh hysterically, "find-Tom-Riddle-and-put-him-back-in-that-book." She had strung the last part of the sentence together but apparently Ginny was a good listener because she jumped like a live wire.
Ginny threw herself away from the two books and stood up. She turned to Hermione with an outraged expression. "WHAT? You can't be serious! That's crazy! Insane!"
"I know! I know Ginny!" Hermione put her hands on Ginny's shoulders and led her to the desk chair, sitting the younger girl down with difficulty.
"It's crazy Hermione…" Ginny said again, with less anger.
"I know! This is not my idea. Believe me, if I thought that we were well on our way to getting Voldemort before…" Hermione trailed off, frowning when Ginny did not show any reaction to You-Know-Who's real name.
"Graduation," the red-head murmured numbly.
"And now I need you to help me." Hermione sat herself on the foot of her bed and looked at Ginny, who seemed to be going through some sort of shock.
"You're going to do it?" Ginny's eyes were so pained and worried that Hermione winced.
"Yes, with your help." Hermione saw the flicker of alarm that crossed Ginny's face at that statement. "Not to talk to him or interact with him, I assure you. But I need to know what he's like and how to deal with him. He's so dangerous and you know more about him than anybody."
Ginny reluctantly stood back up and walked over. Hermione tossed both books over the side of the bed and onto the ground so the younger girl could sit beside her.
"You-Kn…Lord Voldemort," Ginny shuddered as she spoke the name, "is just a child throwing a tantrum. We fear him only because of the raw power he holds and the people who follow him."
Hermione put her arm around the younger girl as Ginny paused and swallowed.
"Tom Riddle is not Lord Voldemort. He's a schemer, a manipulator who'll size you up and tell you exactly what you want to hear. He'll attack you from the side so you won't even see it coming." Ginny had never sounded this broken in all the time Hermione's known her.
"Ginny," Hermione said, almost regretting her decision to talk to the younger girl.
"No, I want to tell you. You have to know. He's patient you see, and he'll wait until you believe that he's everything you want and that's when he'll use your trust to destroy you." Ginny's expression was dazed, as if she were watching a memory take place. "All I can tell you is that you must never trust his words."
Hermione frowned at Ginny's statement. She knew of course, but hearing someone else say it made it more ominous and real. "Thanks, Ginny." She gave her another squeeze.
Ginny closed her eyes for a moment and then stood up. "I think I want to be alone for a while," she said quietly.
"Ginny, wait." Hermione's words halted the other girl as she reached the portrait. "If you tell me I can't do this, I won't."
"I don't know if you can." The youngest Weasley turned around. "I have this theory – the people who are least able to deal with really smart people are people who are really smart themselves."
"You don't think I'll be able to handle Riddle."
"No." Ginny paused before meeting Hermione's eyes. "And I don't think he'll be able to handle you either. He can destroy you Hermione; never forget that and you might have a fighting chance."
Hermione pondered that as Ginny disappeared out into the hallway. Her gaze shifted back to the journal. One thing is for sure, she thought to herself, I can't let Tom Riddle get the upper hand at any point in time.
Now that she had an idea as to what she might do, she went hunting for help.
---
Hermione stopped Draco as he was heading to his final class of the day and pulled him aside.
"What can I do for you, my fellow partner-in-crime?" he asked, grinning as her jaw dropped.
"What's wrong with you?" She thwapped him on the arm.
"Oh please, no one's listening to me, they're all just watching us for sexual tension." He smirked at a lower year student passing by.
"I have to get to class so I don't have time to listen to you stand here pretending to be funny. Can you meet me on the quidditch pitch at midnight?"
"Sounds exciting. Should I bring my own sacrificial goat or will they be provided?"
She stared at him for a second. "What kind of sick meetings do you have with people in the middle of the night?" She regretted saying that the second it came out of her mouth.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Draco flirtatious grin did not completely disguise his satisfaction at her walking into that one.
Hermione sighed. "No perverse rituals Draco, I just want to talk privately."
"And we can't do that in the school?" He raised an eyebrow.
"You never know who might be lurking around," she said.
"Under an invisibility cloak perhaps?"
"Got you often enough," she said. His answering frown was so funny that she could not help winking as she walked past him towards Transfiguration. She had almost rounded the corner when she heard him call her name.
"No Granger," he said loudly enough for everyone in the area to hear, "I will not meet you for a clandestine rendezvous in the dungeons tonight!"
Everyone in the hallway missed a step and froze. First years to seventh years stared between the two. Someone snickered.
Hermione turned and gawked at him. Her wand came up almost of its own volition.
"You're pretty enough but much too violent for me," he yelled as he ducked behind some students and down a side passage.
She stood, wand pointed at the spot he had occupied, and glared for a good minute. People started moving again but mostly away from her. One second year made a one-eighty turn right in front of her. Students that had to pass her did so reluctantly and hugging the walls.
"I'm going to get him for that," she said finally to no one in particular. She shook her head and made her way to class.
---
She was sure that Draco would be coming by broom but she had no desire to hone her abysmal flying skills in the middle of the night. She ended up borrowing Harry's cloak while he was at dinner so that she would not have to follow the forest to stay hidden.
She hoped that he had not planned any adventures himself for tonight. Both she and Ron had leave to borrow Harry's stuff whenever but she would have a hard time explaining to her best friend without telling some sort of lie, and she hated lying to Harry.
Hermione walked to the middle of the quidditch pitch before dropping her bag and the cloak beside her. It was a little eerie to be here without people in the stands or zooming overhead but it did provide a certain amount of privacy. Even if someone were skulking around the stands, they would not be able to see what she was doing very clearly or hear their conversation without coming onto the field itself.
She raised her wand when she saw the cloaked figure fly in against the dimly lit sky. Only when Draco was a few meters away and pushed back his hood did she lower it again.
"Fancy seeing you in a place like this," Draco said with a grin as he landed in front of her.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Okay, we're in the middle of the pitch in the middle of the night, can we save the chitchat for prefect meetings or something?"
"Your wish is my command." Draco made an elegant though exaggerated bow. Hermione smacked him.
"I want to ask you about Dumbledore's plan – you know, Tom Riddle?"
"I vaguely seem to recall hearing something about that. But what could you possibly need from me when you have an oh-so-special, spiritual connection with Riddle yourself?"
Hermione glared and raised her wand again. Draco quickly pushed her wrist aside.
"Sorry, go ahead," he said, raising his arms in surrender.
"I'm trying to figure out my approach."
"Your approach?"
"You know – a strategy to trick him into doing what I want."
"There's nothing better than a Gryffindor trying to be a Slytherin, except maybe a Gryffindor trying to be a better one than the heir of Slytherin." Draco rolled his eyes.
"Okay, why don't you do it then? You can talk to the child of evil and be friends with him and I'll stand and watch and make inappropriate jokes."
Draco laughed. "Alright, alright, let me hear this grand plan."
"Well I was thinking," she said slowly, grateful he seemed to be listening seriously, "Tom Riddle likes to be in control and get his way. Maybe I could pretend to go along with him, you know, play dark."
Draco doubled over from laughing.
"What?" she asked.
He had to reign in his mirth before he could speak. "I think you could no more pretend to be dark than I can pretend to be a house-elf."
Hermione frowned at him. "You're probably right about that, after all, house-elves are such noble, honest and hardworking creatures."
"Don't get your knickers in a knot." He rolled his eyes. "I'm just saying that you might want to seriously consider plan B."
"Well plan B was just to be as abrasive as I possibly can."
"So you mean be yourself?"
Hermione glared at him.
"Because I'm not sure that even Tom Riddle Jr. deserves as cruel a fate as that," Draco continued.
"He's used to getting his way and if I just never let him gain any momentum, it might throw him off enough…" she trailed off as Draco rolled his eyes again.
"What a typically Gryffindor mentally – with him or against him."
"And what do you suggest oh brilliant and devious Slytherin?" she asked, getting cross at the mocking look on his face.
"He expects you to be a Gryffindor. If you acted like a Slytherin, he would be on guard for anything you might do. If you acted like a Gryffindor, and thought a little like a Slytherin, you might have a chance of outwitting him should it come to that."
Hermione mulled that over quickly. "You know," she said with a small smile, "you're a lot smarter than you look."
"Now that's not cool Granger," Draco said, clearly taken aback, "say what you want about my intelligence but leave my looks alone."
Hermione laughed and knelt to open her bag, pulling candles and charms out.
Draco muttered a curse and backed up a few steps. "You said no perverse rituals!" he accused.
"I lied."
"Was that why we had to come out here?"
"We probably could've just talked in the Room of Requirement otherwise. This ritual needs to be under the evening sky because there's some sort of connection to starlight."
"Right." Draco smacked his palm against his forehead. Then his curiosity got the better of him. "Why starlight?"
"I think it's because this process plays on the idea of the unlimited and in the night sky we not only get the light of one sun but of infinitely many suns, corresponding to the infinitely many parts Tom Riddle's soul is in out here."
"And we can't keep him that way?"
"Nope." Hermione shook her head, not any happier about this than he was.
"I always knew you would be the death of me Hermione Granger."
"Relax you doofus; I just need you to keep guard."
"Do I look like some kind of lackey?"
"Stop whining and just do it," she snapped, sitting cross-legged and setting up the candles and talismans. She lit the candles and set the journal she had bought in the middle. Hermione closed her eyes.
It was a very small, personal ritual that required someone very close to the subject. She figured that she was about as close as it gets, all things considered, unless Lord Voldemort was willing to come and lend them a hand.
She chanted the incantation, feeling the air shift around her. At the last line she saw the candles go out beyond her eyelids and heard a soft whoosh.
She opened her eyes and saw Draco hovering over her, light coming from his raised wand. His was not the only one.
Thousands or maybe even millions of little shimmering sparkles emerged out of the air around the book and formed a small, luminous cloud. As she watched, they started swirling around the book, now floating right in front of her, starting slow and going faster and faster before all condensing into the journal.
The little book dropped into her lap and glowed for a second before returning to the way it was. She held her wand over it.
"Lumos," she said, inspecting the journal, looking for any difference. She flipped through the pages and even turned it upside down.
"So um, was that it?" Draco walked up but stopped a little ways away. He seemed reluctant to get too close.
"Don't look at me."
"Why not? You're his soul mate."
"Stop saying that!" She pointed her wand towards him and he blinked a little at the light.
"Maybe you should write in it?" he asked hesitantly. "That's what Ginny Weasley did before it, well, almost killed her, but she was eleven. I'm sure you'll be fine."
Hermione glared at him as she searched her robes for a quill. She pulled one out from an inside pocket.
"Turn around!" she said, standing up with the book and her wand in her other hand.
"What?"
"Turn around so I can write on your back."
Draco stared at her. "Are you bloody serious?"
"Just do it!"
"You're doing this to get me back for that clandestine rendezvous thing aren't you?" he grumbled as he reluctantly turned around and offered her his back.
"Nah, you have something else coming for that," she said negligently as she took her quill and wrote 'Hello' on the first page. The words sunk into the parchment but nothing happened.
Her wand illuminated the pages of the small book but she could not see any indication that Riddle was in it.
"Nothing's happening," she said with a puzzled frown. "Maybe it didn't work."
"Oh darn!"
Hermione rolled her eyes as Draco turned around. "I guess I'll have to read more about it in the morning – figure out what I did wrong."
"Don't take it too hard, not everyone can follow instructions in a book."
"Don't you have goats to go slaughter or something?"
"Oh will you look at the time!" Draco made an exaggerated show of hastily gathering his broom and mounting it.
She had to laugh. "By all means fly away and leave a girl here to trudge back to school alone."
"Oh please," Draco said with a grin as he took off the ground, "something is far more likely to get me than you."
She avoided all the patrols and Filch on her way back to her room effortlessly. She was almost sure she could do it with her eyes closed after years of scampering around the dark with her two best friends.
She could not say honestly that she were very disappointed in not having returned Tom Riddle's spirit to the diary. She would try again of course, for the safety of the graduating students and probably most of the Wizarding World might depend on it, but if it does not work then they will simply have to find another way.
Entering her room, she could not help breathe out of sign of relief. She put the books back on her desk and got ready for bed quickly. Her bed looked more inviting than usual this evening and she very happily settled herself in.
It felt as if her eyes had just closed before her body was righted into a sitting position. She opened her eyes and looked into the piercing gaze of dark, searching eyes. She vaguely registered that she was once again sitting at her favorite table in the empty Hogwart's library across from the most hated and feared man in the Wizarding World.
Once again, he had entered her dreams. Drat, she thought resignedly.
"Hello muggleborn."
She studied him for a few seconds before nodding. "Hi Tom." She did not think he looked very much different than when she last saw him in her dreams. Perhaps he looked a little taller back then but he was still immaculately groomed and dressed in his uniform.
"Congratulations on becoming Head Girl," he said, pointing his chin towards her badge.
"But not really, right?" she asked icily, smiling at his blatant lie.
He coolly raised an eyebrow.
"After all, mudbloods are not even fit to clean the school, let alone take the highest student post." Words that might have caused her pain in the past she found she could speak calmly now.
"Making your accomplishment all the more impressive."
"Or even more of an outrage."
They stared at each other. The lines had been drawn and both were waiting to see if the other would blink.
Finally he smiled. It was a charming smile but she could see the ambivalence behind it. "I guess I owe you my gratitude for rescuing me from oblivion."
"You owe Dumbledore your gratitude," she said, leaning back into her chair. "If it had been my choice you would have been sent further in instead of being pulled out."
"I am grateful nonetheless," he replied easily. She might have missed the flicker of annoyance in his eyes had she not been looking for it.
She barked out a laugh. "You're lucky you're handsome and charming."
"Excuse me?" he asked, slightly irritated though still in control.
"You're a very bad liar. You know I have all the power in this situation and you despise me for it. And you're also definitely not grateful," she said, laughing with a joy she did not feel.
The annoyance on his face grew.
"Have you even been grateful to anyone in your life?"
With almost no effort the calm mask fell smoothly back over his face. "You may take my gratitude however you wish. I am sure a Gryffindor," he said the name of her house with distaste, "would have no desire to believe a Slytherin in any case."
"With reason."
There was another long silence. She could see him pondering his next point of attack and she decided to speak first.
"It will be no use you know," she said firmly. "You cannot trick me or persuade me into thinking that you are anything besides what you are. I am not Ginny Weasley and I am not twelve." She met his eyes with a glare.
Tom's thin smile was unnerving. "Then I may as well speak frankly. I assume that Dumbledore did not just invite me back to chat with you. Might I inquire as to what exactly you want from me?"
Hermione had not decided what to tell him until the second he asked the question. She had been toying with the idea of telling him the truth but his clear sharp eyes made that seem like a very bad idea.
"We are now in a position to kill Voldemort. We want to know where Lord Voldemort is hiding and we thought you might be willing to volunteer that information." She folded her hands on the table and resisted the urge to tee-pee them like some sort of evil genius.
"And what makes you think that even if I knew where Lord Voldemort was hiding that I would tell you?" His smiled at her as if she amused him.
Hermione returned his smile. "Nothing. Like I said, it's not my idea. I'm perfectly happy to send you back into the void."
"You can't kill him," he said, shaking his head.
"Because of the six Horcruxes?"
Now he looked more than a little disconcerted.
"Yours is the just first we've destroyed."
"I don't believe you."
Hermione met his disbelief with continued calmness. "I don't have to prove anything to you. In fact, I don't have to do anything I don't want to. I can destroy the book I put you in the second I wake up if I choose to."
Now he leaned back and studied her. "I suppose you will do exactly that if I do not tell you the right answer? Surely you do not expect me to automatically know where my future counterpart would be."
"Your present counterpart," she corrected. "Welcome to 1997. And no, I don't expect you to just know. You are more than welcome to supply me with guesses over time. If you manage to help us kill Lord Voldemort, we will leave you alone to maybe regain your body again. However, if at any point I believe that you are of no use to us or if you are no longer helping us, I have discretion to destroy you for good."
His face darkened as she spoke. "How am I supposed to get my body back while stuck in a book?"
She shrugged. "That's not my problem."
"I see," he said, his eyes wandering to the window. "Will you allow me to think on your proposal?"
"You have one day," she said.
His eyes glittered as they turned back on her and he gave her a critical once-over. "You've grown muggleborn."
Hermione straightened up. "Oh and there's one more condition. You will no longer address me as some kind of thing. I am Hermione Granger and I am the Head Girl of Hogwarts. You are a shadow from the past. If you do not treat me with the respect owed to me, I shall end you."
Her eyes met his over the table and held them.
"As you say…Hermione," he said, nodding the tension away smoothly. "The observation still stands that you are no longer the girl you were."
"I have your war to thank for that," she said coldly.
"You're welcome." He sounded so serious that Hermione did not think he even caught the sarcasm.
"Think about our offer in whatever place you have to think about things. I shall have your answer tomorrow." She tried not to wince as she pinched herself hard in the thigh – it might make her exit far less impressive.
She was rather surprised when she opened her eyes and the sun was shining into her room. It felt like she had not had any sleep and she did not like the feeling at all. Sighing, she got up. It seems like she would have to settle for a cold shower this morning instead of a night of rest.
---
Draco took one look at her drawn face and the bags beneath her eyes during their spare period and dragged her off. He put one hand behind her back and guided her through the halls of the school and up various flights of stairs. They were almost at the Room of Requirement when he stopped beside a window as something caught his eye.
"I can't believe they're practicing quidditch. Half our grade might not survive graduation and they're practicing quidditch," Draco said with disgust, looking out at the Gryffindor team. "You don't see me practicing quidditch do you?"
"Well as I recall," she said tiredly, "you weren't very good at it."
"I thank you on behalf of my ego Granger."
She snorted. "Oh please. I'm your ego's best friend."
Draco looked at her and rolled his eyes. "Come along," he said as he continued them down the hall towards the Room of Requirement. He walked in front of it and called a simple room with cream walls and a dark green carpet. There were two large armchairs in front of a fire and he led her to one, pulling her bag from her shoulder and dropping it on the floor. She set down the textbook she had been carrying as well on one of the arms of her chair before dropping herself down. He sat down as well.
She leaned back and luxuriated in the feeling of just relaxing. She might have fallen asleep if Draco had not decided it necessary to converse.
"Any luck on the Dark Lord front?"
"Define luck."
"Good luck."
"Then no. He's definitely back, definitely in that book and definitely hijacking my dreams so that I can't actually sleep."
Concern flittered across Draco's face.
"I told him that we already destroyed the Horcruxes and are just trying to get Voldemort's location from him," Hermione went on.
"How is that going to help us? We know exactly where Voldemort is."
"Yeah, shacking up with his Death Eaters at your house."
Draco scowled darkly. "If he touches my stuff…"
"Oh shush. The point is, I don't think he'd help us if he knew what we were trying to do; in fact he would probably be trying to think of a way to stop us."
"I wouldn't put that past him."
"I figure if I can just talk to him a little, I might get an idea of where he'd put the Horcruxes. Harry said that he's made them with sentimental objects and put them in places that mean something to him – the diary in your father's care and the ring in his mother's house."
"And the other four?" Draco asked thoughtfully.
"Well Nagini is probably one and she's probably sleeping on your bed right now." Hermione smiled at Draco's grimace. "That leaves three and I can't imagine that at least one of them wouldn't be in Hogwarts somewhere."
"Hogwarts meant that much to him?"
"He's a lot like Harry, in some ways," Hermione said with a frown, "if you ever get a chance, you should ask Harry about the places he considers home."
"So by that logic one of the others should be in the Weasley shack?"
Hermione glared at him. "Don't call it that. And of course not."
"Let us suppose that there is a Horcrux in Hogwarts somewhere. How exactly are we supposed to find it? Organize a school-wide treasure hunt? First one to find a piece of Lord Voldemort's soul gets two hundred points for their house!"
"We don't even know what it is that we're looking for so that would not be a good plan, not that it would be anyways." Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Hmm…stuff that belonged to the Founders. It's a good thing this school isn't roughly the same age as all the stuff they owned. Oh wait."
"So it's not going to be easy. But Harry said that we're most likely looking for a locket, a cup or something of either Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's – most likely the former; Gryffindor didn't have many heirlooms and they are safely in Hogwarts, un-desecrated."
"It's still a very large school."
"But not every place will mean something to him. That's why I need your help Draco."
"A momentous honor, I assure you. What can Draco Malfoy do for you today?" Draco's wry smile belied his sarcasm.
"You have access to the Slytherin common room, not to mention you're now living in the same room that Riddle did in his last year."
"That's an exciting thought about my bedroom that I hadn't considered before. Thank you Granger."
She ignored him. "If you could do a search of your room and maybe the Slytherin common room, that'd be great."
"What exactly will I be looking for?"
"Anything that doesn't seem like it belongs."
"Crabbe and Goyle don't belong," Draco pointed out. "Slytherin would roll over in his grave if he saw the two of them."
"Thing, Draco. That's about as much as we can do until I figure out what other places Voldemort might revere enough to hide something. Harry's working on a clue as to the location of the Slytherin Locket he got with Dumbledore at the end of last year. Also Dumbledore is still making frequent trips out looking for all this stuff and organizing some kind of defense for Graduation I'd imagine."
"You know this all would be a lot more exciting if the conclusion to us failing isn't a slow and horrible death."
Hermione gave him a look. "Anyways, if we can't make any headway by the end of the Christmas Holidays with what I can glean from Riddle, I might as well just ask him. I don't think it'll help but by that point…"
"We're probably screwed already," the blond finished. "Well, I guess I'm going to be pulling up some floorboards tonight."
"Oh Draco," she said, remembering suddenly, "I've been meaning to ask you; is your house giving you a hard time because of the whole…" she trailed off, not knowing how to describe it.
Draco just shrugged. "I'm still only friends with about half of Slytherin – the other half now of course. The daughters of Death Eaters won't sleep with me anymore so that's a bit of a loss."
Hermione blinked at him.
"They're the fun ones in bed," he added for clarification.
She threw her textbook at him. "Idiot," she muttered.
Draco caught the book before it could damage his nose and graciously leaned over and put it back.
She yawned and gathered her things, resisting the desire to just stay and sleep. "I need to go study before last period, and finish my transfiguration essay. I've been a little preoccupied this last week and I'm falling behind." She stood up.
Draco leaned back and studied her. "You look dead on your feet Granger."
"Well Tom bloody Riddle did not let me get any real sleep last night and I'm exhausted."
"Either pick up some coffee from the kitchens on your way to the library or get a pillow from your room. Otherwise you'll probably end up drooling on Pince's precious books and it could get embarrassing."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Coffee, noted." She barely smothered another yawn as she made to leave the room. She turned and frowned at her counterpart. "Can you take my rounds for this evening? I'm pretty tired and I don't think I'll be any good after dinner."
"What will you give me in return?" He gave her an exaggerated leer.
"Respect."
He seemed to ponder that for a few moments. "Alright then. I suppose I may as well have some of that from someone."
---
She could barely keep her eyes opened at dinner that evening and wanted nothing more than to get back to her room and sleep – real sleep in blissful oblivion.
Harry and Ron tried a few times to draw her into conversation but she could not contribute much as most of her mental power was devoted towards not falling face forward into her soup.
"With classes and studying for NEWTs and all that Head Girl stuff, you must be going crazy," Harry finally said.
"I'm doing okay actually." She tried to give Harry a reassuring smile.
"Right. And I'm a Blast-Ended Skrewt."
"Best looking one of the bunch," Ron said between bites from across the table, "though you know, not by much."
Hermione laughed as Harry launched his rebuttal in the form of peas off his spoon.
"Let's all play nice children," Nearly Headless Nick said as he floated down the aisle. He absently pulled off his head with one hand and scratched at the stump under it with the other. A few of the first years nearby made gagging noises.
"Is something wrong?" Harry asked him.
"What? Oh no, I am just waiting for a letter from Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore. I sent my one-hundred-and-fourteenth petition to join the Headless Hunt three weeks ago."
"Do you think that they will let you this time?" Ron asked.
This question turned out to be a mistake as Nick decided to give them a point by point argument as to why a ghost head attached to a ghost body by a quarter inch of ghost skin could still be potentially used in a headless hunt.
Hermione managed to listen for two minutes before she keeled over. It was only Harry's quick seeker reflexes at both grabbing her arm and pushing her soup away that saved her from a gross and humiliating situation.
"I'm going to bed," she told her best friends as she stood up. She did not think she could get more food down anyways and her mind was too mushy for studying.
They exchanged a slightly worried look at which she rolled her eyes.
"Look, I'm fine. I just need a good night's sleep."
She trudged upstairs and to her room. As she settled down, she wondered what the chances were of getting actual sleep tonight.
Apparently it was not good as she almost instantly woke into the sunset as seen from the Astronomy Tower.
Tom was leaning against the railing looking out into the fiery evening sky.
Hermione sighed and joined him. For this to work she had to get into his mind and that meant talking to him.
"Hermione."
"Tom."
Their tones were not cordial but at least they were civil.
"Well?" she asked, not bothering to phrase the question.
"There are any number of places Lord Voldemort could be hiding," he said without looking at her.
"Name one." She was so tired and she did not want to do this now.
"The orphanage where I grew up is my best guess. I believe it was going to be closed down not long after I left for my last year."
Hermione thought about that. It was plausible if the orphanage had in fact been abandoned. Voldemort might deplore the place, but he also stayed at his father's home for a while during fourth year. However, Tom Riddle being Tom Riddle, she did not think that he would just tell her something that could be true. "We'll look into it."
He said nothing in response and she briefly wondered if she might be able to get some actual sleep tonight if she could end this early enough. Her hopes were dashed when he spoke again.
"Have you ever wished that the world could be better?"
She had to laugh at the irony of who exactly was asking her that question. "Every single day," she says.
"I could put you in a position where you can do something about it." There was something seductive about his confidence that she could not help but smile.
"And how that would you do that?"
Tom turned and looked at her with a twisted smile. "Guess."
"What makes you think that Lord Voldemort would accept the muggleborn best friend of Harry Potter as a follower?"
"Lieutenant."
Now Hermione was really surprised. "Yeah right." She turned sideways on the rail and looked up to him.
His eyes searched her face speculatively. "Quality is a trait that must never be underestimated," he said.
She snorted. "If you say so," she said, still not believing him.
Tom shrugged in response. "I could tell you what to say to guarantee my counterpart's acceptance."
"So you want me to go join Lord Voldemort and take over the world?" she asked, bemused. Idly she wondered if this was just his way of flattering her to get inside her head.
"Would that truly be so bad?" he asked with passion she never expected to hear in his voice. "Think of what you could accomplish."
"Accomplish. At the expense of what? Anyone who got in your way?"
"Weaklings…"
"People!" she snapped.
He blew out a tuff of air and turned back out towards the open sky. The sun had almost set but there was still a beautiful orange glow tinting the view.
"Why?" she asked, not taking her eyes off of him.
"Why what?"
"Why should I follow you? Why are you able to lead the Wizarding World better than anybody else?"
He turned again and blinked at her.
"What? You just asked me to help you achieve world domination; certainly I should be allowed to ask for your qualifications." Hermione was tired and irritable and she just wanted to sleep but something compelled her to continue the conversation.
"My qualifications…" he repeated incredulously. "I'm the smartest and most powerful wizard to ever come through Hogwarts!"
"Certainly the most modest," she said as she pondered his argument. Intelligent and strong would certainly be an improvement on Fudge and Scrimgeour. "Your treatment of those that can not defend themselves leaves much to be desired."
"Holding every squib's hand is to the detriment of our kind," Tom said in a very matter-of-fact tone. "Those that cannot keep up shall be left behind."
"Left behind for the lions," she said quietly. Hermione felt a vague sense of worry, even in this dreamscape. It truly worried her that at some point in the past, Lord Voldemort believed that his cause was righteous.
"If that is what it takes."
"And what shall you do if I go and join the Dark Lord?" she asked.
"I can find a way to regain my body even without Lord Voldemort." His eyes glittered and sent a chill down her spine.
"Perhaps I should just send you a first year to charm and save you the dilemma of finding one yourself?" She could not keep the venom from her voice.
"If it's not too much trouble," he said with another twisted smile.
Hermione felt her face freeze. The slow, simmering anger she had felt at each loss of life over the past few years boiled over a little. "I am going to make one thing very, very clear Tom Marvolo Riddle," she hissed softly. "I am Head Girl in this school and every student in it is my charge. Just because you did not appreciate the duty when it had been your turn does not mean that I shall not do mine. If you harm one hair on any student in any year or house in this school, I shall rip your book apart page by page with your own Basilisk's fangs."
His eyes had hardened. "Do not presume to tell me what my duty is."
"You killed a student you were supposed to be protecting."
"I was protecting them," he snapped, voice rising.
"From what? Life?"
"From being miserable excuses of wizards and witches. For letting down their names and heritages!"
Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "Then Myrtle's crime was what?"
"She was crying in a bathroom like some sort of weak sniveling mouse!"
"PEOPLE CRY IN BATHROOMS!" she yelled. She controlled herself with difficulty before she continued. "Afterwards, they move on and become stronger for it. It's no reason to be stabbed in the back by a boy you thought you could trust."
Tom sneered. "Slytherin would not have wanted her in his school."
"And we must do everything that Salazar Slytherin, disappeared and dead for a millennium, wants, mustn't we?" she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I suppose you've never cried, in a bathroom or otherwise?"
He looked away for a second. "Lord Voldemort does not cry."
Hermione decided not call him on semantics. For a moment, she could not help feeling unbelievable pity for the way he saw the world. There was a hint of doubt in his eyes that made her even angrier. He was not completely certain and he still tore the Wizarding World apart for his beliefs.
"You think that is because he is so strong that he has no reason to," she said quietly, "but the rest of us know better. Lord Voldemort does not cry because he cannot comprehend any of the reasons to cry. He simply does not understand the feeling."
Tom did not answer.
"And neither do you." She turned and sat, back to the railing. Then, because she could not help herself, she started laughing.
After a half a minute he made a noise of irritation and crouched down beside her. "And may I ask, what could possibly be humorous about this?"
She took one look at his face and her dying laughter returned. It was so close to a sob that she could not have said for sure that she was not crying. She finally shook her head. "It's so hilariously tragic that the one person who would do anything to live forever doesn't even understand what it means to live."
"And what, pray tell, does it mean to live?"
"When you understand…if you understand someday, you won't have to ask."
His face was unreadable.
Hermione could not help just staring at him. He was close enough to touch and the curls on his head looked so touchable that she could not help wondering what they would feel like. He looked almost human. Almost.
Tom's dark eyes stared back.
"What happened to the girl whose greatest dream was to discover and create magic?"
"She saw it used to maim, torture, and kill people," she said, closing her eyes as she realized that the person responsible was not a meter from her. "You taught me that magic is just as horrifying as everything else…and I hate you for it," she added matter-of-factly.
He laughed, settling himself down properly. "Why are you so angry?" he asked curiously.
"Excuse me?" she said, incredulous that he would ask such a question.
"The strong have been taking power over the weak for many millennia – Dark Wizards are a natural part of our history," he said, "and yet you seem to take my rise to power personally." He raised an eyebrow in question.
She thought about it. To some extent, he was right. While the rest of the wizards and witches she knew were shifting between scared, resigned and horrified, both she and Harry were angry more often than not. "This world – this is what I've dreamed of all my life. It's a place where things can really happen, where the impossible can be possible. I guess I just always thought that life would be better here than in the world I left."
He was silent for a few minutes. Finally he just said, "Sacrifices are needed to make the Wizarding World stronger."
"I guess I just don't think that you have the right to make that choice for everyone in it," she replied softly.
"If not me then who?"
She wanted to say that everyone should have a choice, and perhaps everyone should, but Hermione knew enough about people to know that most of them made bad choices. Perhaps that's why Tom Riddle felt that it was almost his responsibility to decide for other people.
"I don't know," she said finally, "but when all but a handful of people are terrified of hearing your name, I think you're doing it wrong. The Wizarding World is definitely not stronger for having known you. "
Finally her exhaustion became impossible to ignore. Hermione rubbed her temples and looked at Tom who was just sitting on the floor studying her. "I should go," she said simply. "I would appreciate these nighttime visits to stop until I have something in regards to your…tip."
"As you wish," Tom said, raising an eyebrow and making a slight mocking half-bow from where he sat.
Hermione stood and looked down at him. "I wish I could say that you were everything that's wrong with the world, but I can't – everything's wrong with the world. But your way of fixing it is just making things worse." She took a deep breath. "I will make the world better or die trying, without your assistance." she added firmly.
He leaned back and gave her another undecipherable look.
She put arms behind her back and used one hand to pinch the skin on the back of the other.
She woke once again to sunlight and once again she felt as if she had gotten no sleep whatsoever. She wanted to cry as she looked at the clock and saw that there was not even going to be time to have breakfast. Rolling out of bed with a thud, she took the offending journal and threw it across the room. It hit the opposite wall and fell to the floor.
---
A/N: I'm fairly fond of this chapter. It might not be the most elegantly written but it does provide a nice platform to move forward – both for the "plot" and the couple. I was going to put some more wrangling between the pair but they both wanted to just talk more. Hermione was too tired to tango but there will be more of that when she gets some sleep.
Please review if you like it, or even if you have a complaint. This is my first real attempt at writing so I check reviews all the time. I'm trying to get better every chapter; if something starts working for you, I'd love to hear about it.
Also I am looking for a volunteer beta reader. My chapters are basically 6-8k words long and I'm mostly looking for someone who'll catch typos and such though comments would be appreciated. If you might have an hour or two a week for that, please let me know.
Next chapter's out by Friday night with any luck. It'll feature excitement and some Tom being magically awesome. The cuteness will come but with a couple like this rushing it would feel kind of OOC. And as he becomes more person-ey, there will be parts of the story from his perspective.
This is a 20 chapter story with a prologue, an epilogue and an interlude or two. So it's not going to drag on forever. =)
EDIT: Gah, these chapters keep getting longer and more ambitious. I'm now predicting a Saturday or Sunday posting. Please keep reviewing. I'm getting a little worn out with all the writing - I wish I could just read. The reviews really make me feel better.