I am glad you all enjoyed the last chapter. As promised, I am trying to fit in this story in between my university courses and assignments and exams, so I hope you all continue to leave your feedback, and I really am so happy you love dark Hermione with an equally dark Tom Riddle as much as I do.
Chapter 5:
It was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, and Hermione found that she needed a drink, away from the prowling eyes of students and professors alike. With her black coat wrapped around her slim and lean body, she trudged through the snow, ignoring the eyes of some of her students, and even some of their greetings, she was in no mood to communicate with any sort of life form today, unless they wished to be hexed into the next century.
Her leather boots were getting soaked by the snow, but the heating charm she had cast on herself prior to leaving the castle didn't allow her to feel the cool liquid edging up her stockings and freezing her bloody legs off.
Arriving at the Hogshead, she quickly ordered a Firewhiskey and took a seat at the back of the rather empty pub, where no one would see her, or approach her. Her hood was up, covering her face from any passerby, and her hands were covered in black leather gloves, shielding them from the biting cool air.
Sipping on her drink, her body instantly warmed with the familiar feeling of alcohol entering her system, and sending a buzz throughout her entire bloodstream. She was humming in pleasure at the thought of finally relaxing, however thoughts of the Boggart class, was something that couldn't quite leave her mind.
That Hermione that she saw both confused and intrigued her, and she found that she could not comprehend how someone could be covered in all those runes and not be convulsing on the floor from the sheer power of them. With her hands still wrapped around her drink, she heard the Hogshead door open, and once she saw the rather annoyingly familiar white-blonde hair of a certain Slytherin, she quickly cast a disillusionment charm on herself, and watched as five other Slytherin's joined him. One of them being Tom Riddle, the blighter.
She wanted to get up and follow them, however luck was on her side, and they found themselves a table directly next to hers, obviously their choice of seating in the very back of the pub, one that wasn't popular amongst most students of Hogwarts, was suspicious in itself, but because Hermione knew, oh-so-well, what this meeting was going to probably be about, she couldn't find it in herself to be shocked, and with such a strong disillusionment charm, even the rather intelligent (she says unwillingly and grudgingly) Tom Riddle wouldn't be able to detect her.
"My Lord, I've managed to convince some of the younger Slytherin's, fifth years of your cause, and they seem well-interested in it all. They could be easily manipulated and persuaded to do your bidding." Malfoy began the conversation amongst the six of the snakes seated.
Hermione caught sight of Nott, Mulciber Sr., Avery Sr., and Flint Sr. She almost wanted to snort at the very predictable choice of followers, but kept her snide comments to herself as she continued to observe the group, and the rather malicious and pleased glint that flashed in the obsidian eyes of Riddle.
"Very good Malfoy, excellent in fact. What are their names?" Malfoy was absolutely preening under the praise of his Dark Lord and Hermione wanted to smack the fucking idiot for being so in-love with a manic man.
"I've managed to talk to around four of them so far, Rowle's younger brother, Agnus, and his best friend, that Black boy, Asterion, are very keen on your ideas and are rather willing to do whatever you want them to, however they of course do not know that it is you, per say, they just know that there is a lord that they are intended to follow. I thought that you might personally like to introduce yourself, once they deemed themselves worthy. As for the other two, one would be the rather excitable Estella Travers, and Alec Rosier. All very old, pureblooded family names, and all very excited, especially the Travers girl, she seems extra dangerous." Malfoy gave Riddle the run-down on his assignment and Riddle placed his folded hands on top of the table, leaning forward with a rather wide, but unfriendly smile plastered on his face.
"Excellent." And Hermione swore that she heard a hiss when he said that word, as if he just morphed into that bloody Basilisk he has locked beneath the girl's lavatory.
Malfoy couldn't help but beam as the others informed Riddle of their own assignments, one of which, to her dismay and absolute anger, was to follow her around.
Excuse me?
She was about ready to pull her wand out and slit the spawn of Satan's throat, but held herself back yet again to hear what he had to bloody say about her, and why the fuck he had her followed?
"Mulciber and Avery, you aren't aware of this, since you aren't in defense class with us, but let me tell you of Hermione Granger, and her beautiful Boggart. You should've seen it, that thing came before her like a shadow of death, rising from some grave, covered in such dark runes and it told her that it was within her, which I can only assume means that she has darkness manifesting within her. Could you imagine all the wonderful things we could accomplish with her by our side, covering for us, assisting us, teaching us dark spells, which I am fully aware she probably has memorized and practiced. I want to know who, in the name of Merlin, she is and why she'd shown up out of nowhere, with such a clear dislike towards me." Riddle seems to be spilling his guts, being very unrealistically stupid, how could he not check his surroundings before blurting his confessions!
This isn't the Voldemort she knew, he was still a child, and at times she seemed to forget that. He still had those adolescent tendencies to brag and show off, and be a pain in the arse.
"We have our eyes on her My Lord, however we haven't seen her around Hogsmeade, so I can only assume she's returned to the castle. I don't particularly imagine that she enjoys the cold, or anything that could be remotely nice. She's a raving bitch." Nott spoke, and Hermione's eyes became black with rage, her fingers digging into her palms, drawing blood and her lips curling into a distinct snarl, but they couldn't see her.
She was sure to use Nott as the guinea pig in her next lesson, the little shite thought he could go off talking about her, calling her a bitch, making his friends laugh at his expense. Even Riddle allowed himself to smirk at the rude comment.
They still didn't bloody respect her. She would not tolerate this. She will make them pay, peel the fucking flesh of their bones, and drain them of their magic, she would let them see that Hermione Granger wasn't just some bloody joke. But first, she would terrorize them with her slow and harsh words, make them sit on the edge of their seats.
In fact, she may just start now.
Quietly and discreetly getting out of her seat, she cast a Muffiato around herself, and walked out the door of the Hogshead, behind another man who was exiting, before removing the disillusionment charm and walking back in, making sure to make a grand entrance, by slamming the door behind her, and throwing the hood of her cloak of her head, before shaking that mane of dark caramel curls off her face.
Slowly removing each glove of her hands, she could sense it, even hear how the six boys who were once mocking her on the other side of the pub instantly quieted when they realized that a professor they feared greatly, aside from one slithering snake, had just entered their sacred little meeting place.
Ordering her Firewhiskey, yet again, she grabbed the drink and downed completely before ordering another, and downing that one just as quickly before whirling around in her bar stool and facing the six boys, who were so blatantly staring at her, mouths open, and she could've sworn she saw drool leave the inside of Malfoy's mouth and dribble down his chin.
She gave a small little smirk, before grabbing a third Firewhiskey and making her way towards them.
"Good afternoon gentleman, and what may I ask, are six fine young men, students of Hogwarts more specifically, doing in a place like the Hogshead. I would've assumed you'd be gallivanting into the Three Broomsticks, sharing a butterbeer, exchanging gossip or whatever teenagers do these days." She spoke briskly, taking a large but elegant sip of her Firewhiskey, the alcohol already making her mind fuzzy and her body alight with fire, but she was still coherent enough to make the fuckers shake in their seats.
They all looked at one another, first mistake, that makes them look like they were up to something.
"Hello Professor, we just wanted to get away from the crowds, talk quietly without any distractions or interruptions." Riddle spoke smoothly, his words so stupidly placed, he basically told her that they were talking about something private, something they couldn't discuss in a more social place, mistake two right there, you toad of a boy.
"Ah, and what might be so important that you couldn't have discussed it in the Three Broomsticks. Unless it's about your assignments for my class, which is due tomorrow, by the way, then I find that there is absolutely nothing else you would be talking about." She had him by the balls, and she could see that his eyes were flaring with unexpressed rage but she couldn't give a flying shit, and knocked back the rest of her drink.
"Either way, I could care less. Get those assignments done boys, and enjoy the rest of your Hogsmeade trip." Before quickly pulling her gloves on, pulling her hood up and spinning around quickly, making them catch a whiff of her perfume and that distinct scent that was so her, and Riddle couldn't help but wonder if that dark Professor Granger with the runes painted and engraved so elegantly on her body was underneath all that clothing, and a small burn of desire flared in his chest, but he quickly put it out.
He wasn't remotely attracted to that bitch of a professor, he couldn't find her charming even if he was whacked on the head repeatedly.
"Let's go, meeting over, same time next week, Room of Requirement." And he, alongside the other five Slytherin's made their way out of the small pub, their heads down and their bodies relaxed as to not draw any attention to them, and Tom Riddle couldn't help but watch the black figure of Hermione Granger trudge up towards the castle, the dark magic around her almost static.