Disclaimer in Chapter One.
Author's note: Another chapter. I know I was a bit slow with that one. Well, there was a family crisis. On top of that my professor, who's supposed to be some kind of mentor, hates me …or he just doesn't give a shit. I'm not sure which one would be worse. Anyway, chapter's finally finished. That's something at least ^^
Because a lot of reviewers asked me if Harry and Dumbledore are going to be in this story: Harry won't appear at all. Hope you're not disappointed. But there will be a lot of other canon characters. And for Dumbledore: Well, he's kinda dead. He was killed in that duel against Grindelwald. After that Grindelwald took over and everything went downhill. As a result Muggleborns are enslaved.
A shout-out to all you reviewers: You are the best! I hope you know that. It does keep me going! Thank you!
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Chapter Twelve: Wild Winds
Riddle took a sip from his tea while he mentally went over the prefect meeting he had appointed for later this day. It was going to be tedious. While being Head Boy certainly had its advantages, the chores that came with the job were equally irritating. Riddle secretly wished he could just go back to bed as an annoying voice interrupted his thoughts,
"So, how'd you meet her?"
Riddle took another sip from his tea, before he turned his eyes on the speaker. Dolohov grinned at him, his eyebrows raised. The other Slytherins around them literally leaned in to get snippets of this conversation. Riddle unhurriedly put his cup of tea down before he let his calm gaze rest on Dolohov.
"Who?" he asked indifferently.
"Hogwarts' newest mystery, of course." The sleazy smirk on Dolohov's face widened. "Hermione Rookwood."
Oh, her. Riddle threw a look at the Gryffindor table. It was relatively empty. Gryffindors were known to be notoriously late risers. Quickly his eyes fell on Hermione. The girl sat alone, head bent over her plate, and obviously too scared to make eye contact with anyone. Riddle sighed inwardly. Well, he probably should be grateful that the Mudblood didn't try to serve the others at her table.
"Riddle, Riddle." Dolohov shook his head in mock exasperation. "You gotta stop taking all the good ones. Soon only Hufflepuffs will be left for poor guys like me."
Riddle promptly narrowed his eyes, irritated by the other's inaneness.
"I have to admit," Draco Malfoy's snobbish voice butted in. "For a Gryffindor, Rookwood really is quite the looker."
Riddle cocked an eyebrow as he glanced at Malfoy. The blond's grey eyes interestedly scanned the Gryffindor in question.
"So what is it? Pleasure or business?" Dolohov abandoned all traces of playfulness, his tone now calculating.
Riddle lazily leaned back in his seat and allowed his lips to curl up into a smirk while his frosty blue eyes slowly wandered over his Mudblood.
"Both, Dolohov," Riddle snickered darkly. "Always both."
There was not even a hint of surprise on Dolohov's face.
"What about Amy Belby then?" Regulus piped in.
Riddle furrowed his brow at the scrawny boy. Regulus Black. He still couldn't believe that the pathetic boy was Bellatrix' cousin. Riddle smirked sadistically as Regulus winced under his scrutiny. How had that poor excuse for a wizard managed to end up in Slytherin? Probably his family name, he decided maliciously.
"Amy Belby?" Riddle supplied evilly. "Was a nice shag."
The Slytherins, seated around him, snickered and Riddle almost rolled his eyes. Really? What did they think he was? Of course he had never touched the mousy Ravenclaw. He had standards after all. The Founders' book had been all he had ever wanted from the worthless girl.
"And Rookwood?" Goyle asked, leering dirtily at the Gryffindor table. "I bet she's a good fuck."
At the notion Riddle's magic flared dangerously. He kept it in check but there was definitely anger building up in him. Riddle turned to Goyle and eyed the boy icily.
"That, Mr Goyle, is none of your business."
Riddle's voice was quite, almost drowned by the loud chatter in the Great Hall, still the sharp edge hidden underneath made everybody around him stiffen uncomfortably. Goyle nodded fearfully, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. Riddle threw one last menacing glare at the boy, before he grabbed his black messenger bag and strolled to the Great Hall's exit. Classes were to begin shortly and he hated being late. Riddle spotted Hermione standing by the doors, looking quite lost.
"Hermione," he greeted as he reached her.
She jumped, not having noticed his approach. Hastily she whirled around to him. A bit of her nervousness seemed to drop from her as she recognized him. Riddle felt strangely satisfied as he saw a tentative smile on her lips.
"Mas- Tom," Hermione whispered in greeting.
Ignoring her almost slip-up, Riddle chastised her sternly, "I'm pretty sure you should already be on your way to Ancient Runes."
"Y- yes, I know," she quickly assured. "I'm sorry."
He rolled his eyes. "Stop apologizing for everything."
Hermione only nodded at him, now clearly avoiding his gaze. Riddle narrowed his eyes at her. She seemed to be rather jumpy, scared even.
"What's wrong?" he harshly demanded to know.
Hermione flinched at his sharp tone of voice but then raised her eyes at him.
"Nothing. Really," she said weakly and attempted a smile. "I'm fine."
What a pathetic lie. Riddle inwardly shook his head at her. He glanced at her hands which nervously twisted the strap of her bag, obviously trying to hide how shaky they were.
"What is wrong?" Riddle repeated sternly.
Hermione worried her lip as she peered up at him. Just as she opened her mouth to reply, a group of third years passed by, chatting noisily. Immediately Hermione's mouth clapped shut and she eyed the third years apprehensively.
"Okay," Riddle said slowly. He grabbed her by her arm and ordered, "Follow me. I'll bring you to your classroom."
Hermione nodded and mumbled an embarrassed, "Thank you."
Head bent, the little Mudblood walked beside him as he led her through Hogwarts' corridors.
"So? No other Gryffindor taking advanced Ancient Runes?" Riddle inquired, scornful undercurrent in his voice.
Her dark-brown eyes peered up at him. Then she quickly shook her head and again avoided his gaze. Riddle supressed a sigh and asked irritably,
"What's bothering you so much?"
The girl didn't look up at him but he noticed how she stepped closer to him. Finally she whispered,
"They are going to notice."
Riddle arched an eyebrow. "Notice what?"
Again her eyes flashed at him, swimming with insecurity, and she disclosed in a hushed voice,
"It's so obvious I don't belong. They'll notice and then… and then…"
Hermione nestled against him, grabbing his arm with both her hands. She hid her face in his shoulder and said shakily,
"They'll catch me and sentence me to death."
Riddle stopped walking and let his blue eyes wander over the trembling girl. He was surprised that he didn't feel disgusted by her display of weakness. And it wasn't entirely unpleasant to have her small body pressed against his. He raised a hand and carded his fingers through her hair.
"They won't," Riddle said confidently.
Hermione grabbed him even tighter. He felt her shaking her head against his shoulder.
"I'll mess up… they'll see my mark…"
Riddle snickered as he heard the panic slowly twisting around her voice. Her hands still clasped his arm tightly. He bent down to her and was immediately hit by the sweet scent of coconut coming from her hair. A smirk was on his lips as he wondered where exactly she had stolen that shampoo from because he had certainly not bought it for her. Then he hissed in her ear, harshness ridging his steely tone,
"You belong to me now."
Riddle peeled her hands away from him and held her by the shoulders at arm's length. His eyes cruelly bored into her brown ones as he warned her, cold authority in his voice,
"And I do not tolerate failures."
Most people would have squirmed under his gaze, but not Hermione. She just stared back at him with big eyes. She even seemed to draw confidence from what had been meant as a subtle threat. A small smile was on her face and she nodded at him. Riddle was slightly distracted by that curl of her lips and decided to close the topic. He grabbed her hand and continued to lead her to her classroom. After a few steps Hermione asked tentatively,
"Can't you come with me to Ancient Runes?"
Riddle smirked at the hope in her eyes. That must have been the first time that someone, who had taken a peek behind his many masks, wanted him close. Well, aside from Bellatrix, but the witch didn't count because, frankly, she was insane.
"It's a Gryffindor – Ravenclaw class," Riddle lectured Hermione. "If you had listened to me and let the Sorting Hat put you in Slytherin, you wouldn't have this problem now."
Now the girl actually scowled at him, Riddle realized in amusement.
"It wasn't my fault," she grumbled. "The hat said I wouldn't fit into Slytherin."
"Pff, not able to convince a shabby old hat? It only proves that you lack in cunning," scoffed Riddle, smirking at her. "What have I been thinking? You could have never survived in Slytherin."
Hermione huffed at him and lectured snappishly, "I'll have you know Gryffindor is a fine house. Your description was a bit biased, wasn't it?"
Riddle's eyes widened in mock hurt and he asked mordantly, "Are you accusing me of being prejudiced?"
"No," the Mudblood said earnestly. "You're one of the least prejudiced wizards I've met so far."
Riddle cocked an eyebrow and commented wryly, "With that attitude you should have ended up in Hufflepuff."
"Actually," said Hermione contemplatively. "The hat considered putting me into Hufflepuff."
He raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "Really?"
As she nodded importantly, Riddle couldn't help but snicker. Hermione scowled at him reproachfully. At least the nervousness had left her. It wouldn't do for her to be her normal submissive Mudblood self. Although he liked it – Riddle smirked evilly – her timidness would only draw unwanted attention. Riddle put his hand on the small of Hermione's back and shoved her over to her classroom. A bunch of Ravenclaws, noses in their books, already waited in front of the door for the Ancient Runes professor.
"Don't embarrass me," Riddle warned Hermione.
†
Cautiously Hermione sat down at one of the tables. For a moment she dared not breathe, fearing that someone would start yelling at her and demand to know what she did in a classroom. Nothing happened. The Ravenclaws had all settled down, talking among themselves. No-one took offence with Hermione's presence.
I'm sitting in a classroom!
A lopsided grin hung at Hermione's lips as the teacher, Professor Wenlock, entered the room. A welcoming smile on her face, the slightly chubby woman beamed at her class. Her hair was put up in a rather messy bun and was almost as white as the witch's robes she wore. Hermione instantly liked the professor. The woman reminded her strongly of Maggie, the cook at Malfoy manor.
"It's good to see you all back," Professor Wenlock said happily.
Her gaze wandered over the class of Ravenclaws until it got stuck on Hermione's golden and red trimmed robes.
"Oh, what do I see?" the professor exclaimed merrily. "A new student. You must be Ms Hermione Rookwood."
Now that the focus of attention rested fully on her, Hermione's tenseness returned full force, making her slightly nauseous.
"Y- yes, Professor," she mumbled shyly.
Wenlock happily clapped her hands. "Good, good. It's always nice to meet new faces. I hope you feel right at home here at Hogwarts."
With that the professor commenced with her class. Hermione listened attentively as Wenlock lectured about the distribution of the runic alphabet during the Migration Period. The professor ended her talk as she waved her wand and a verse, written in runes, appeared on the black board.
"Try translating this protection spell," Wenlock encouraged. "I know it's difficult as we haven't yet covered some of those runes. Just see how far you can get."
Now and then consulting her textbook, Hermione worked on the translation. It wasn't as difficult as she had thought after Wenlock's words. After all, Hermione had read almost all the books about runes in the Malfoys' library. So she was able to make quick work.
It only took her half an hour to finish her translation. Hermione scanned the class and realized that the other students were still working. Suspiciously Hermione stared down at her parchment. Maybe she had made a mistake? Otherwise she couldn't have been finished before the others.
"Are you stuck, Ms Rookwood?" inquired a kind voice.
Startled, Hermione looked up. Professor Wenlock had stepped over to her.
"No, professor," Hermione replied softly. "I'm finished."
"Indeed?" Wenlock raised her eyebrows.
She reached for Hermione's parchment and scanned the translation. Nervously worrying her bottom lip, Hermione watched the professor. Her translation was probably incorrect. Trepidation clenched her heart. Hopefully she wasn't going to fail this class… What if she wasn't good enough for any of the classes? After all, Hermione never went to school. What if she failed one class after the other? Riddle would surely pull her out of school. And then? What would she do then? Hermione's breathing was shallow with panic as she already saw herself being thrown away by Riddle.
"Ms Rookwood," the professor's voice penetrated Hermione's erratic thoughts.
She fearfully raised her face and looked up at the white-haired woman. To Hermione's surprise she found a wide smile on Wenlock's face. The professor positively beamed down at her.
"That is a flawless translation. I am impressed. Take ten points for Gryffindor."
"Thank you, Professor," stuttered Hermione, surprised by the outcome.
"Would you like to go to the black board and share your work?" Wenlock questioned kindly.
An hour later, Hermione left the Ancient Runes classroom with a happy smile on her face. With a skip in her step she walked down a corridor. Her next class was Herbology and she somehow had to find her way to the greenhouses. Hermione reached for her robe pocket and retrieved a metallic potion flask. She shuddered as she gulped down a mouthful of Polyjuice Potion. As she stored the flask away, her fingers skimmed her wand. Hermione pulled it. A big smile curled her mouth. The chestnut wand lay smoothly in her hand as if it had always belonged there.
Still grinning widely, Hermione hurried down a hallway and rounded a corner. She didn't want to be late for her next class. The silvery ghost of a beautiful woman floated in the next corridor. Hermione couldn't help but stare. The woman's straight hair was incredibly long and reached her waist. Her ankle-length dress flowed like molten silver over her slim body. The ghost's lifeless eyes skimmed over Hermione, no reaction on her fine aristocratic features. Then her gaze dropped from Hermione's face to the wand in her hand. The ghost's eerie eyes were fixed on the wand and suddenly a wave of pure hatred erupted on her beautiful face.
"What is that?" the dead woman yelled, anger twisting her melodious voice. "Where did you get that?"
Hermione stumbled a step away from the irate woman, now holding her wand tighter.
"I- I found it…" she defended.
The ghost didn't seem to listen, her wrath concentrated on the wand in Hermione's hand. The ghost's eyes burned with merciless fury as she scanned the shaky Hermione.
"You found it?" the woman whispered, her voice trembling with rage. "You miserable little- Despicable! Who are you?"
Hermione took another step back, eyeing the corridor for any escape routes as she hesitantly replied,
"I'm Hermione Rookwood."
"Rookwood?" the infuriated ghost snarled, her hands balled into fists as if she wished to put them around Hermione's neck.
"Rookwood," the woman whispered, now eerily quiet.
Her eyes were again pinned to Hermione's wand. Then, without another word, the dead woman dived through Hermione's body. She gasped as the ghost passed her. It felt like she had been doused in a bucket of ice water. The ghost disappeared through the solid stone wall. Hermione stared at the spot, unsettled.
"Hey, Hermione," a voice called her.
Startled, she whirled around and saw Ron, Dean and Seamus walking towards her, smiling at her. As the boys reached her, Seamus raised his eyebrows in question and commented,
"Are you alright? You look like you've just seen a ghost."
Hermione felt too shaky to appreciate the irony. "I'm fine."
"Okay," said Ron hesitantly. Then he smiled at her. "Do you wanna walk with us to Herbology?"
"Um… yes," whispered Hermione. "Sure."
As she walked with the boys, her heart still raced away in her chest. What had the ghost wanted from her? The woman had been eerily familiar, but Hermione couldn't remember where she had seen her face before. She decidedly shook her head. It probably was nothing. It wasn't the first time people had yelled at her for no reason. Hermione glanced up at Ron.
"I didn't see you at breakfast."
"Yeah." Ron shrugged, grinning at her. "I slept in. Free period."
Dean eyed Hermione suspiciously before he exclaimed, "Why were you up, Hermione? Don't tell me you take Ancient Runes."
Hermione blinked up at him and said hesitantly, "I do, actually."
Dean grabbed his chest, a dramatic look on his face, as he declared, "The horror. Stuck in Ancient Runes."
"With nothing but a bunch of know-it-alls for company." Ron nodded solemnly.
Then a grin split his face and he wrapped a playful arm around Hermione's shoulders.
"Whyever would you take Ancient Runes?" he questioned. "On a Monday morning, it's the worst that can happen."
Being surrounded by three wizards was a bit intimidating, but now Hermione had to say something.
"Ancient Runes is a wonderful subject," she informed Ron in quite the bossy tone. "How can you miss out on that and sleep in?"
She reached for her bag and pulled out the notes she had taken from Professor Wenlock's lecture.
"Look, Ron," Hermione said importantly and shoved the parchment under his nose. "Look at these runes. It all fits together. Can't you see what you could do with this knowledge?"
Ron furrowed his brow as he blinked, bleary-eyed, down at Hermione's parchment while she stared at him expectantly. After a while he said slowly,
"No. Makes no sense to me."
Ron handed the parchment back to her. Hermione huffed at his lack of understanding while a big grin appeared on Seamus' face.
"You know, Hermione," he pointed out. "It suddenly turns out that you are a know-it-all yourself."
She narrowed her eyes at his smiling face and said waspishly, "It's not too late. I can talk with Professor Wenlock. I'm sure she'll take you guys in."
Simultaneously the three shook their heads.
"No need for that."
"Don't bother yourself."
†
Professor Beery, the Herbology teacher, placed a pot on the work bench in front of his class. Dark green vines grew from the pot. Moving like the arms of an octopus, the plant's vines angrily reached out for the professor.
"Who can tell me what this is?" Beery asked, while trying to avoid the tendrils.
Hermione didn't even have to reflect the question. Her arm immediately shot into the air. Neither a Hufflepuff nor another Gryffindor wanted to answer. Beery smiled at Hermione gratefully.
"Ah, our new student," he said approvingly. "Let's see what you know, Ms Rookwood."
"It's Devil's Snare, professor," Hermione readily answered.
"That is correct," Beery praised. "Five points to Gryffindor."
A blush hit Hermione. Ron, who had up till now doodled on his parchment, leaned closer to her and encouraged,
"Keep going, Hermione. We want to win the House Cup this year." He paused and a teasing grin grew on his face. "By the way, Seamus was right. You are a nerd."
Hermione tried to suppress a smile and nudged her elbow into his rips. "Am not."
At that moment, Beery asked another question and once again Hermione's hand shot up in the air. Ron's grin widened and he said smugly,
"I rest my case."
"Don't distract her," Dean admonished his friend. Then he chuckled, "She's our only hope to get any points."
After Hermione gained Gryffindor another five points, Beery instructed them to get their pots with Devil's Snare and prune the vines. Hermione rummaged through her bag to get her equipment and slipped into the dragon hide gloves Riddle had given her. Seamus raised his eyebrows as he eyed her gloves.
"Aren't they a bit too large for you?"
Indeed the gloves were a few sizes too big. But as Hermione didn't have her own pair, she supposed they just would have to do.
"Yeah." She shrugged. "They are actually Tom's."
"Riddle's?" Ron asked while he fought with the Devil's Snare.
"Yes," Hermione replied. "I kinda… forgot mine at home."
Ron finally got a grip on the tendril and used the clippers to cut off the tip. He reached for the next vine while commenting snidely,
"Riddle lent you something out of the kindness of his heart?" He snorted. "He really needs to watch out or he'll ruin his reputation."
Hermione creased her brow. This was the second time someone had pointed out Riddle's questionable reputation.
"Why do you dislike Tom?" Hermione asked cautiously.
Ron glanced at her searchingly. "That's because he's t-"
He was interrupted as Dean cleared his throat. Ron's eyes shortly snapped to his friend. Then he looked back at Hermione and smiled reassuringly.
"It's because he's in Slytherin. Gryffindors and Slytherins don't like each other that much."
"Oh." Hermione could sense that there was more. "So, is it a problem that he's my-" Master? "-boyfriend?"
"No. Don't worry." Ron quickly shook his head. "You wouldn't be the first to fa- …er… that is to say… we are really glad to have you in Gryffindor."
"Smooth, Ron," Dean pointed out dryly. "Very smooth."
"Still," Seamus said, grinning at Hermione. "We are glad to have you."
†
It wasn't much later that Hermione was on her way back from the greenhouses to the castle, a throng of Gryffindors around her. Seamus walked beside her, nursing a cut in his right hand where the Devil's Snare had managed to hit him.
"Should have worn your gloves," Ron commented good-naturedly.
Seamus only glowered at him and grumbled, "I left them in the dorm."
Hermione eyed the angry gash on his hand. "You should put some ointment on that cut." Her servant mode kicked in and she offered readily, "I could fetch it for you."
"Nah, don't worry," said Seamus. "It's just a small cut. Nothing compared to last month as Jimmy Peaks hurled a Bludger at my head during Quidditch training."
"Oh, come on," jeered a Gryffindor girl walking behind them.
Hermione remembered her name to be Demelza Robins. The blonde girl playfully slapped Seamus' arm and said,
"Jimmy didn't do it on purpose. You flew right into that Bludger."
With that she kicked off a whole discussion about Quidditch tactics. Hermione wasn't really listening but just followed her house mates as they entered the castle via a side entrance. The corridors were crowded with students on their way to the Great Hall for lunch. As she walked through the many hallways, Hermione wondered if she would ever manage to find her way around here. She just wanted to ask Ron if someone had ever tried to draw a map of Hogwarts, as she spotted a group of people standing secluded in a dark corner. She noticed how the other students gave them a wide berth. Now and then nervous looks were thrown their way and the other students whispered in hushed voices. As Hermione almost passed that suspicious group she spotted Riddle among them. Draco was there as well and – Hermione shuddered – Bellatrix Black. She didn't recognize the other three boys but had to admit they all looked rather dark and sinister. Hermione hesitated shortly, but then sauntered over to them.
"Hermione? What are you doing?" Ron's nervous voice drifted after her.
The other Gryffindors eyed her, slightly worried. Hermione smiled at them and gestured for them to go on without her. Then she stepped over to Riddle. He hadn't yet noticed her, immersed in a conversation with a tall black-haired guy. Bellatrix, though, wasn't so oblivious and sneered,
"What do you want here?"
Hermione felt uncomfortable in the other girl's presence. Even worse, now the others were staring at her, too. She looked at Bellatrix and stuttered,
"I- I wanted to talk with Tom."
Immediately the expression on Bellatrix' pretty face grew dark. Her heavy-lidded eyes were narrowed to dangerous slits and she took a step towards Hermione.
"'Tom'?" Bellatrix hisses angrily. "How dare you call him 'Tom'?"
"Uh-oh," the tall dark-haired wizard snickered. "Bella's on the warpath. Beware."
Bellatrix growled furiously and pulled her wand. Sinister green sparks flew from her wand's tip as she snarled,
"Keep out of this Dolohov. Or you are the next one!"
Dolohov raised his hands in clemency, although the smirk on his face was far from being apologetic. Growling darkly, Bellatrix returned her attention to Hermione. Slowly the witch raised her wand, murderous intent madly glinting in her eyes. Fear instantly mounted up in Hermione as she remembered the last time Bellatrix had cursed her. Before the witch could do any harm, Riddle's calm voice ordered,
"Stop it, Bellatrix."
A look of pure loathing crossed Bellatrix face and she glowered at Hermione. As she turned to Riddle, the furious expression did not drop from her face. Instead Bellatrix' dark eyes glared at Riddle mutinously. Her magic bristled around her, uncontrolled. The wizard made no move to pull his own wand. He just observed Bellatrix, unperturbed, his face schooled into a blank mask. As Riddle didn't react at all, she finally hissed,
"Like I give a fuck!"
Without sparing Hermione another glance Bellatrix stomped down the corridor, her furious magic still raging around her. Dolohov ran a hand through his black hair and commented,
"She's got one nasty temper."
"A little sunshine, to be sure," replied Draco dryly.
Riddle was completely unaffected by the whole incident and instead asked Hermione in his silky voice,
"What did you want from me, Hermione?"
Hermione threw a nervous glance at him and replied, "Er… Nothing really. I guess I better leave you alone."
A smirk pulled at the corners of Riddle's mouth. He reached for her hand before she could escape.
"No need," he said smoothly. "I'll accompany you to the Great Hall."
Hermione shyly peered up at him and nodded. Without another word to his friends Riddle left with Hermione. As he led her through the corridors, Hermione noticed the other students staring at them. Feeling uncomfortable, she grabbed Riddle's hand tighter.
"So?" Riddle said conversationally. "How was your first day so far?"
Hermione looked up at him. He smiled at her, seemingly not at all fazed by the nosy stares of the other students.
"Ancient Runes wasn't so bad after all," she told him. "Turns out I already learned the runes Professor Wenlock wants to cover this semester." Hermione grinned up at Riddle. "Did you know we get points when we do something right?"
Riddle chuckled. "Yes, I know."
"The professor awarded me ten points for Gryffindor," Hermione continued proudly.
Riddle nodded in amusement while he pulled Hermione in the Entrance Hall and towards the Great Hall. The other students still ogled at the pair but Hermione didn't even notice anymore.
"During Herbology I also got some points," she told Riddle cheerfully. "Apparently the points are for some kind of House Cup."
Riddle tugged Hermione into the Great Hall and steered her towards the Gryffindor table.
"I see," he said, a smirk stretching his lips. "So you had a nice day?"
Hermione nodded enthusiastically as he stopped directly in front of her house table. Riddle raised his hand and gently cupped her cheek. Then, for every Gryffindor to see, he placed a soft kiss on her lips. Before Riddle bent up he whispered,
"Did you remember to take your potion?"
"Yes," Hermione mumbled while fighting against her suddenly weak knees.
Satisfied, Riddle threw a disdainful look at the Gryffindors sitting at their table before he left Hermione. The moment he was gone, excited whispers broke out and Hermione finally realized that everybody had seen her interaction with Riddle. Ducking her head, she spotted a free seat beside Ron and hurried over to him. Parvati, sitting at Ron's other side, commented,
"Wow. I've actually never seen Riddle showing such public displays of affection."
"You really are Riddle's girlfriend." Lavender chirped and eyed Hermione nosily.
Another heat wave hit her face and Hermione just nodded. Before Lavender could squeal, a red-headed girl, sitting next to Dean, said,
"My condolences."
"Ginny!" Lavender shrieked, shocked. "How can you say that?"
The petite redhead shrugged nonchalantly. Then she winked at Hermione mischievously.
"Riddle's a creepy bastard, that's why," she placidly explained, provoking another shriek from Lavender.
The redhead's gaze wandered back to Hermione and she threw her an apologetic smile.
"Sorry 'bout that," she said. "But I'm just no fan of Riddle …actually since first year I hate his guts."
The redhead leaned a bit over the table and offered Hermione her hand.
"I'm Ginny. Ginny Weasley. Sixth year and sister of that guy." She gestured at Ron.
"And," Dean interjected, proud smile on his face. "My girlfriend."
"Yeah, yeah." Ginny rolled her eyes but grinned.
Hermione shook her hand. "It's nice to m-"
"Don't tell me you're still angry with Riddle," Lavender cut over Hermione.
Immediately Ginny crunched up her pretty face and said crossly, "You bet I am. The bastard cursed me."
Lavender snorted at that, "Get over it. Riddle didn't do it on purpose."
Ginny narrowed her eyes at Lavender, annoyance hovering around her petite frame.
"I know the git did it on purpose. Just a little longer and his curse would have sucked all my magic from me."
"Come on, Ginny." Lavender waved Ginny's argument away with a lazy hand. "Don't you think you are a bit resentful here?"
Before Ginny could reply, Ron interjected angrily, "How can you even say that? My sister could've died."
Lavender raised her eyebrows disbelievingly at Ron. "Riddle didn't do it on purpose. He even apologized. He was a second year back then. How'd he even be able to cast magic like that? It was an accident."
Both Weasleys and Dean glowered at her darkly, probably deciding which curse they should throw at the girl. Parvati piped in ominously,
"Well, Riddle is rather adept with curses. Don't forget that…"
{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}
Once again his Mudblood was surrounded by those imbeciles. Irritation forcefully burned up in Riddle and already affected his magic. Standing in the corridor in front of the potions classroom, Hermione was surrounded by Gryffindors. Male Gryffindors, actually. The Weasley redhead stood way too close. He talked animatedly and Hermione had nothing better to do than to encourage him by laughing at his stupid story.
While ignoring me!
Riddle's dark magic raged inside him and he wished he could raise his wand and sent a curse at Weasley …and maybe one at the Mudblood. Otherwise she would never learn. Unfortunately the corridor was crowded with people. Riddle angrily curled his hands into fists and went for another course of action. After all, he was her Master. It didn't take much to violently tug at the bond that chained the Mudblood to him.
A sadistic smile curled Riddle's mouth as he watched Hermione wince, a hand flying half-way to her left forearm. She wisely stopped the movement but now looked up. Her brown eyes locked with Riddle's and he felt satisfied to see them dulled with pain.
†
Hermione felt her Dark Mark still stinging painfully. That and the fierce glare Riddle sent her was enough to understand. Quickly she excused herself and left her house mates to walk over to Riddle. With trepidation she noticed that he stood with a group of Slytherins. Bellatrix and Draco were among them. After their encounter earlier this day, Hermione really didn't want to be anywhere near Bellatrix. Feeling rather uncomfortable Hermione stepped over to Riddle. There was a satisfied smirk on his face as he scanned her.
"Hermione," he greeted smugly.
"Tom."
Hermione stood beside Riddle and shuffled nervously as Bellatrix' heavy-lidded eyes wandered over her. Strangely enough, not even a hint of the previous anger was on Bellatrix' face anymore. After a moment of silently scanning Hermione, the witch threw her a grin. Lazily she leaned over to Hermione and tucked at a strand of her curly hair. Then she said,
"Your hair is very glossy."
Nothing else. Bellatrix cackled, twisted mirth in her eyes, then she turned on the spot and skipped over to a group of Slytherin girls. The black haired guy – Dolohov, Hermione remembered – shrugged his shoulders. Then he just stated,
"Bipolar, that one."
He sent Hermione a dazzling smile and said, "Dolohov, by the way. Antonin Dolohov."
"Nice to meet you," Hermione replied. "I'm Hermione Rookwood."
His smile widened, making him look quite handsome.
"It really is a pleasure," he declared, winking at her attractively. "We've all been dying to finally meet the woman who managed to steal Tom's heart."
Hermione blinked in surprise and stole a glance at Riddle. He didn't react to Dolohov's antics at all. Like so often his face was an unreadable mask. Dolohov smirked as he saw the blush on Hermione's face.
"So, let's see," he said. "You've already met Bellatrix. Now this-" He gestured a brawny guy who eyed Hermione through beady eyes. "-is Gregory Goyle."
Goyle didn't react at all but just vacantly stared down at Hermione. Dolohov ignored him and continued chattily, "It's a pity Evan is not here. He really wanted to meet you. Oh, and of course, this fellow here is Regulus Black."
Hermione's gaze fell on a lanky boy with short brown hair. He was rather small, barely two inches taller than her. He smiled at her shyly and inclined his head. Dolohov chuckled and nudged the last one in the group, Draco.
"I almost forgot you. How could I?" Dolohov needled, something dark lurking behind his friendly smile.
Draco glared at Dolohov. Hermione tensed as she saw familiar anger burning in his grey eyes. She really didn't want to associate with Draco at all. His stormy grey eyes left Dolohov and came to rest on her. Hermione felt the need to shy away from him. She was even more startled as suddenly a charming smile appeared on Draco's face.
"I'm Draco Malfoy," the blond said, a seductive tinge in his voice.
For a second, Hermione didn't react at all. A sharp stab of Riddle's finger in her side brought her out of her stupor. Hermione forced a smile on her face and looked up at Draco instead of cowering before him.
"It's- it's nice to meet you."
Draco took her hand and placed a light kiss on her knuckles, making chills run down Hermione spine. His grey eyes were uncommonly soft as he smiled at her.
"A pleasure," Draco confirmed silkily. "Hermione."
That smile on his face surely was unnerving. Back in Malfoy manor Draco had never looked at her in such a way. Hermione felt quite insecure in the Slytherin's presence. She didn't even notice how she reached for Riddle and tightly grabbed his hand.
†
"-but don't use too much of the lacewing flies. They cause blathering and, if used in quite the excessive amount, are toxic. Best avoid that by adding only the-"
Riddle again dropped out of Slughorn's lecture. His gaze left the walrus-like professor and travelled to his seat neighbour. Riddle smirked as he found the Mudblood bent over her parchment and scribbling away. He had made sure that Hermione sat on the Slytherin side of the classroom, much to her house mates' chagrin. Especially Weasley threw him angry glares. Riddle sighed in annoyance. He should have punished Hermione for not ending up in Slytherin like he had ordered her. This was troublesome.
"Now who can tell me the difference between a Confusing Concoction and the Befuddlement Draught?" Slughorn's booming voice echoed through the classroom.
Riddle almost groaned at the impossibly easy question. How utterly boring. But as always, no-one of his useless classmates knew the answer. Riddle lazily raised his hand. A stupid smile stretched Slughorn's face, then he said, as expected,
"Ms Rookwood?"
Riddle tensed, surprise hitting him like a brick wall. That was not expected. Carefully schooling his features he glanced at Hermione. She smiled at the professor politely and recited,
"While the two potions both affect the state of mind, the Confusing Concoction only causes a mild daze while the Befuddlement Draught is more potent. Consuming it results in reckless and even dangerous behaviour."
Riddle couldn't help but stare at his Mudblood. Her eyes glinted and a faint blush appeared on her cheeks as Slughorn kept praising her. Well, he had known that, for a Mudblood ,she was uncommonly intelligent, Riddle thought as he stiltedly smoothed down his silver-green tie. This was no surprise.
"Let's see," Slughorn said mirthfully, pathetically thrilled that someone other than Riddle had answered his question. "Brewing the Befuddlement Draught, what would happen if one forgot to add the required boomslang skin?"
Okay, Riddle had to admit that was a slightly harder question. Still no problem for him, of course. But he sincerely doubted that anyo-
Riddle narrowed his eyes as, once again, the Mudblood eagerly raised her hand …even before him. He was hit by an irrational rush of anger.
"The boomslang skin's toxins act as a narcotic, lowering the inhibition level," the Mudblood explained. "Without it, the potion wouldn't be strong enough to cause the change in behaviour."
"Exactly right, Ms Rookwood," Slughorn cried happily. "Wonderful. Take another five points."
He clapped his hands together, now beaming at Hermione. Riddle felt like cursing that silly smile off the professor. As if that question had been so difficult to answer. Really? Five points?
†
Hermione felt really happy and relieved. She had been rather afraid of Potions. Of course she had read lots of books and had some theoretical knowledge about potions but she seriously lacked skill in the practical department. Slughorn seemed to like her though and Riddle was her potions partner, so she really didn't need to worry. Hermione smiled widely as she packed away her quill and parchment so they could start brewing the Befuddlement Draught.
"Go, get the ingredients," a cold voice snapped at her.
Hermione tensed and looked up. Riddle glared at her, angry frown on his face. Why was he suddenly so mad?
"Yes, Tom."
Hermione hastily stood to fetch the required ingredients. Riddle's mood hadn't lifted at all as she returned to their table.
"You work on the boomslang skin," he ordered her gruffly.
Hermione nodded at him. Her stomach knotted painfully as Riddle then just ignored her. She reached for a silver knife. Her brow was furrowed with concentration as Hermione tried to cut the skin. This was much trickier than the potion books had suggested and she was having trouble.
"Watch what you are doing," Riddle reprimanded her sharply.
Hermione looked up from her mutilated boomslang skin. Riddle's frosty blue eyes wandered disapprovingly over the silver knife in her hand.
"You are ruining it," he accused.
Hermione bit her lip and cast her eyes down. Her hand clenched nervously around the knife.
"I'm sorry, Mas- Tom," she whispered shakily.
She jumped slightly as he sent her a glare and snarled scathingly, "Just continue your work."
Shakily Hermione resumed cutting the boomslang skin. She could feel Riddle's unforgiving gaze burn into her as she clumsily used the silver knife. She had managed to cut off a rather ragged piece of snakeskin as Riddle hissed, danger lurking in his voice,
"Hermione, are you trying to annoy me?"
"No," she quickly denied. "It's just that I-" She cautiously peered up at his angry face and confessed, "I never had… well… the opportunity to brew any potion before."
Riddle's eyes widened and he arched his eyebrows in surprise. Realization dawned on him as his starkly blue eyes wandered over her.
"This is your first ever potion?"
Hermione nodded, embarrassed. Riddle stared at her. By now the anger had completely left his face and he merely studied her. After a moment he sighed and took the silver knife from her. Then he reached for the boomslang skin. Holding the skin he began to cut off very thin slips.
"See?" Riddle explained patiently. "They all need to be of equal size otherwise their potency will reduce."
Hermione nodded and accepted the knife from him so she could try it. After that potions turned out to be quite interesting.
{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}
It had been a long first day, Hermione decided as she followed Riddle to the Heads common room. Classes had been fun and Hermione really liked it in Gryffindor, but she felt incredibly tired. They reached the sixth floor and Riddle sauntered down a deserted corridor. He stopped in front of a statue of a centaur.
"Conexus," Riddle gave the password.
The centaur flexed her legs before she sprang out of the way, revealing the entrance to the Heads' common room. Riddle entered and Hermione quickly scurried after him. A breath of relief left her as the door closed behind her and they were alone. Finally, she didn't need to pretend any longer.
"You are going to stay here until curfew," Riddle informed her curtly. "I'll bring you back to Gryffindor tower where you will go straight to your dorm."
Hermione nodded absently while she eyed the Heads' common room. It was a spacious room. An armchair and a small bookshelf stood in one corner, two flights of stairs lead up to what was probably the Heads' dorms and a large window showed a fantastic view down on the Great Hall and Hogwarts' grounds beyond. A couch and side table stood invitingly right in front of the huge fireplace. The room was quite cosy. It actually looked quite similar to the Gryffindor common room, although the Heads' common room displayed none of the four houses' colour scheme.
Hermione tentatively walked over to the sitting area. Riddle already sat on the couch and apparently went over his notes from today's classes. Hermione didn't sit down beside him. She wasn't sure how to behave now that they were alone. So she stood beside the sofa, bowing her head, and whispered,
"How can I be of service, Master?"
"It's 'Tom'," Riddle corrected dryly without looking up.
"Of course, Tom," she quickly agreed.
Riddle sighed and finally looked up from his essay. His face was blank, indifference mirrored in his eyes as he scanned Hermione. Then he ordered exasperatedly,
"Sit down."
Gladly Hermione obeyed and sank down on the sofa. Between classes and meeting all those new people, she hadn't realised how incredibly exhausting it was to play the role of the Pureblood. It was a relief to be alone with Riddle. Around him she didn't have to act and lie.
Hermione glanced at Riddle. He was still not paying her any mind. Ever so slowly she skidded closer to him. She now sat so close to the wizard that her thigh was pressed against his. Any closer and she would end up in Riddle's lap. Finally he looked at her. A knowing smirk twisted up his mouth as his frosty eyes wandered over her form.
"So, do you already miss Penny?"
Hermione peered up at his penetrating eyes. She hesitated shortly. Hogwarts was intimidating, but did she miss being Penny, servant to the Malfoy family? Quickly Hermione shook her head. The smirk on Riddle's face widened. He raised his arm, wrapped it around Hermione's shoulders and pulled her into his side.
"I don't miss her either," murmured Riddle.
He returned to his notes and went over them while his hand absently stroked through Hermione's hair. Although she probably shouldn't, Hermione enjoyed his warm body beside her. Involuntarily she leaned into Riddle's hold and snuggled against his side, feeling quite secure.
"Thank you," Hermione whispered, barely audible.
"Hm?" Riddle arched a curious eyebrow.
Hermione daringly draped an arm around Riddle and pressed herself tighter against him. Peering up at his deep blue eyes, she said softly,
"Thank you for… you know, allowing me to attend school."
An insidious smirk slid on Riddle's face. His eyes slowly crept over her, dark amusement flittering through them.
"You are welcome," Riddle finally said, smugness dripping from his lips. "I guess you owe me now."
"Eh…"
Hermione didn't know what to say. Riddle didn't expect a reply anyway. He leant down to her and confidently pressed his lips over her own. Once again Hermione's doubts were drowned by a pleasant tingle that started in her stomach and quickly spread through her whole body. Riddle's lips on her own felt incredibly good. Hermione knew she shouldn't be enjoying this. His kiss was demanding, brooking no resistance, as he deepened it. Still, Hermione sighed softly as his tongue rubbed against hers dominantly.
As Riddle finally released her, she felt ruffled and unsure of the whole situation. Her heart thundered merrily away in her chest, missing a few beats as she stared up into those starkly blue eyes. The superior smile was back on Riddle's face. He again tugged Hermione into his side and settled back against the couch.
"I forgot to mention," Riddle said smoothly, seemingly unaffected by their previous actions. "I want you to join one of the clubs."
Hermione, still feeling unbalanced, creased her forehead and looked up at him.
"I thought I wasn't allowed to join clubs," she breathed shakily.
He smirked down at her. "This one is an exception."
"Oh. Okay. Which one?"
She studied Riddle's handsome face in suspicion and dearly hoped he wouldn't expect her to join the Quidditch team. Although Ron had tried to convince Hermione that Quidditch was the best game in the world she, frankly, couldn't share his enthusiasm. Quidditch sounded like a sure way to get a broken bone. And Hermione had had enough of that in her life.
"You are going to join DADA," Riddle ordered, smug smile in place.
"DADA?" mumbled Hermione, trying to remember that particular club. Nothing came to mind. "What's that?"
If anything the smirk on Riddle's face widened as he explained, "Duelling And Dark Arts. It's a club open for sixth and seventh years only."
"A duelling club…" Hermione mused. She glanced at Riddle. "You think that's a good idea?"
He narrowed his eyes at her and asked sharply, "You doubt me?"
Quickly Hermione shook her head. "No. It's just that…" She avoided his stormy gaze and whispered, "I don't think I'm good enough. I mean, if it's only open for sixth years and up… technically I'm a first year…"
Riddle snorted disdainfully. "I'm pretty sure you can keep up."
Hermione looked up at him sceptically. "Do you remember when we were in Albania and you allowed me to have my wand for the first time?"
As he nodded, Hermione confessed timidly, "That was actually… I mean- that was the first time I ever duelled with anyone. Joining a duelling club might be too much…"
Riddle sighed and shook his head at her indulgently. "Hermione, believe me when I say all the other students are inapt morons. I should know. I had to spend more than six years of classes with them." Rather patronizingly he continued, "You are going to be perfectly fine in DADA. I'm sure you'll do well."
A small smile blossomed on Hermione's face as she heard those encouraging words. It was a shame that Riddle didn't stop there but continued, threat unmistakably wrapped around his light voice,
"And if not, I'm going to be very angry with you, Hermione."
{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}
'The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me
And I cannot, cannot go.'
- Emily Jane Brontë (*1818 †1848)