Relatela, 4 days running...only possible because I've got a good bit down and I'd like to catch up to my writing pace. Eventually it will slow down.
Kate Elizabeth Black, I didn't keep you waiting too long!
lalyta8, be sure to let me know what you think here.
Atlantean Diva, our dear Tom has many more tricks up his sleeve...as does Hermione! Perhaps antagonist was a bad choice of words, but I do believe you will see how that could apply as the story develops. She is a great foil for him. More on that later.
Grace Hearford, welcome aboard! Thanks for the compliments! I try to include detail and to make the supplemental characters rich enough to stand on their own and be engaging. Glad you like them thus far. Sometimes the details I use will reward digging-for example, spells of my own making I try to create from Latin, or I will try to use real references to actual artifacts, etc.
Ok, so as I said above, I've got a good swathe of this story already written, which is what is allowing the rapid posts. When I eventually catch up to my writing, it will probably be weekly posts? It depends on the level of crazy in work, but I try not to leave things longer than a week. Sometimes it is more frequent. However, I have a LOT already down...just not all sequential. Thus I can't really give you an estimate of when we will "catch up". How far ahead am I? Well, I have 80k words...yeah, I write fast if the story has really gotten my attention...and believe me, Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger, and the rest of the crew I've assembled on this little gem have REALLY gotten my attention! It's also great stress relief so I am letting it roll, roll, roll! I keep telling myself to slow down on the posts, but then you all review and I think to myself, "awww, they're WAITING" and then I post again. I will not PROMISE to continue posting so quickly because I don't want anyone disappointed. NO PROMISES and don't get mad at me when it slows down.
Right, let's get to it-what happens now? Read and review, please, I beg! Thanks!
Of the three members of the 'Golden Trio', Hermione was the only natural Occlumens, according to Professor Snape. Here, however, her mental shield was hastily constructed and Tom was able to swish through, zooming in on one of her earliest memories of Hogwarts. She was crying in the girls' toilet in her black robes, just before the mountain troll had gotten in. She regrouped quickly and pushed him away mentally, and he saw the layout of her dorm room instead as she brushed her hair. Hermione gasped as he pushed further, seeing her as she walked the path to Hogsmeade, Ron and Harry alongside her. Her fingers curled around the end of her wand, and she gave him a mental and physical push, casting a wordless Obliviate as she did so. Tom was too quick for her, though, deflecting it and holding his hands up, his wand easily held in his hand.
"I don't want to hex you, Hermione," he said, his tone reasonable even if his eyes hinted at further dark deeds. "Put your wand down. I merely want to…talk."
"You just tried to use Legilimency on me," Hermione said, her breathing faster, her wand still aimed at him. "You'll pardon me for finding your request a bit laughable."
"And you are a decent Occlumens, Hermione Girard. Tell me, how is it that a teenage girl has found it necessary to learn that particular art? It's not covered as a subject at any magical school." Tom was attempting to distract her, but Hermione was having none of it.
"What do you want from me?" she demanded, her wand still at the ready. She didn't know how she would fare if it came down to a duel, but based on his lightning-quick response, she was not inclined to think too highly of herself. The fact that he hadn't even bothered to raise his own wand told her he didn't view her as a threat.
"You are very mysterious, Hermione. No one knows much about you, although the Headmaster was kind enough to explain that an unfortunate accident has befallen your parents, and that you are in some way related to Professor Dumbledore. As for the rest, however…I wanted to know the circumstances behind your arrival. You have some peculiar habits that intrigue me. Tell me, do you always sleep with your wand underneath your pillow?"
Hermione paled but recovered quickly, her eyes wary. "How do you know that?"
Tom sidled closer, certain now from her body language that she would not risk a duel with him. He complimented her intelligence, for she was right—she would not win, and he would be seriously displeased. "I know everything that goes on in my school, Miss Girard. You would be wise to remember that. Now, what hex did you try to throw at me? I'm quite impressed by your wordless casting."
"You deflected it. Does it really matter?" Hermione asked, slowly lowering her wand when Tom made a show of tucking his wand back into his pocket. He was once again the perfect Head Boy, his hair only slightly ruffled from the wind.
"I suppose not," he agreed amiably. Mentally he resolved to wriggle that particular memory out of her at a later date, but first he would parse what he had seen in private and dissect it. She had some familiarity with Hogwarts before attending here as a student, then, but that could be easily attributed to Dumbledore. It was unexpected that she was a good Occlumens, but it had been a bit of a gamble to try it anyway. He was confident he would be able to smooth her ruffled feathers. "Shall we continue?"
His easy gesture with his arm in the direction of Hogsmeade did not fool her. Hermione would be on her guard for the rest of the walk, and she would be sure they walked back with others. At least in the village he could try nothing too untoward, and she fell into step beside him. How long had that taken? Ten minutes? It seemed unreal, as if the gauzy filter of the '40s had been ripped away from her. She had shoved the nastiness of her own time from her mind, allowing the simpler concerns of this generation to sway her from the truth of the evil boy beside her. She resolved to not allow herself the luxury of denial again. For now, she had to make it through the rest of the afternoon, unless she was prepared to go to Dumbledore immediately. Clearly Tom Riddle wasn't as accomplished a Legilimens now as he was in the future, and she would remain on her guard around him. Weighing her options as they walked, Hermione felt the best option was to allow him to think she wasn't too bothered, then think seriously later as to whether she needed to talk to Professor Dumbledore.
"Where do you want to go?" Tom asked as they entered the village, the presence of other students and people causing some of the tension to drain from Hermione's shoulders.
"I need to buy some more clothing," Hermione said, "And I want to purchase some books."
"This way then," Tom said, taking her arm in his, a slight downturn of his brow sufficient to send two of her housemates packing when they began to approach them. He stopped at the entrance to Madame Tweaks' Robes and Sundries, and followed her in.
"If you'll excuse me," Hermione said politely but firmly, and made her way toward the witches' section of the shop. A slight quirk at the corner of his mouth demonstrated his amusement, and Tom turned to look at the dress robes in the mens' section. It wasn't as if he could afford them, yet, but it was wise to keep up on the latest mens' styles. It wouldn't do to appear twee when he graduated.
Hermione was aware of Tom's eyes flicking toward her occasionally, so she picked out a few more blouses and jumpers quickly, and two skirts in grey and navy which would suffice for parties if necessary. Her eye caught on a party dress, but she wasn't sure she wanted to splurge on such a frivolous item, and she still had to buy dress shoes and a pair of heels.
"Oh, you should try that on, dear," the sales witch said, flicking her wand at the dress form and pressing Hermione toward the dressing rooms. "It's on sale. I'm afraid the color is a bit difficult for most witches."
It was a very dark purple, the full skirt overlaid with diaphanous tulle, the bodice embroidered with black flowers, with three quarter length sleeves and a scooped neckline that showed off her collarbones and a hint of cleavage. She had to admit it looked well on her, but she really had no need of such a dress.
"Oh, I don't think I could…" Hermione began, but the sales witch shushed her.
"Don't think I haven't heard the rumors about the Head Boy's interest in you! Oh yes, you should take this, Miss Girard—save it for a special occasion, dearie!"
Hermione heard Tom calling her name, and just wanted to get out of the gown before he came back toward the dressing area. "Yes, fine, I'll take it."
"Excellent!" The witch pointed her wand at Hermione and reclothed her, leaving the cardigan off. Her blouse was a pretty apricot color, which set off her skin tone. It had been tailored with a small ruffle on the yoke and pocket, the collar's tips softened into a curve.
"There you are. Ready to move on?" Tom asked as Hermione exited the changing room, and Hermione nodded in the affirmative, glad that the sales witch had taken all of her purchases to the counter.
"I just have to pay for my things, be right out."
Tom went outside the shop to wait, and Hermione joined him a few minutes later, a small bag of shrunk purchases on her wrist.
"Get everything you need?"
"Yes, except for shoes. I think it will have to wait for another day, though, as there wasn't anything suitable there."
"I can well believe it. Usually there are a few field trips to Diagon Alley closer to the holidays, I would look there," he suggested, drawing to a stop at the door to a used bookshop that hadn't been there in Hermione's day. "This is one of my favorite bookshops. Will it do?"
Hermione thought she saw a hint of mischief in his eyes, but he held the door open, as if challenging her to go in.
"I don't see why not," Hermione replied. It was just a bookshop, after all.
Tom disappeared into the depths of the tiny store once she was perusing the volumes, apparently satisfied that she wasn't going anywhere without him. Hermione lost track of him, although she kept an ear out for his return. The books at the front of the shop were decidedly boring, full of biographies and other dribble. The middle sections were more promising, with tomes on magical theory and experiments. Hermione set aside two books to purchase, sending them to the counter with a wave of her wand. They were in fairly good nick and weren't too expensive. She made her way to the rear of the store, and now she could appreciate why it was one of Tom Riddle's favorites. There were Dark Arts books back here, and Tom was pleasantly ensconced in a plain chair, reading one with avid interest.
"Having fun?" Hermione asked pointedly, flicking her wand to silence a book that was idling out from the shelf toward her. "These are very Dark books, Riddle."
He noted her use of his last name, a clear sign of her disapproval. He leisurely stood up, his height intimidating her a bit as he intended. He was a full seven inches taller than the petite witch, a position that suited his purposes.
"Don't tell me that you're one of those who believe there are actual differences in magic," he said condescendingly, and Hermione bristled at that.
"No, but I do know that intent matters when casting spells, and these are hardly innocuous!" Hermione said, studying a shelf and grabbing a title. "Inferi and Other Creatures of the Night: How to Create and Control their Darkness," she read, then snapped the book back in its place. "That's hardly the stuff a wizard should want to know. And wasn't that on Professor Cavallo's list of banned books?"
"Unless the wizard wants to be prepared to deal with anything that may come his way," Tom replied matter of factly, ignoring her reference to the book's banned state. He could tell she was irritated by the flash in her eyes, but she tamped it down immediately. Why did she do that, he wondered? Part of it was probably his reputation, but Hermione was hardly the type of witch to not stand up for her opinions, from what he had seen of her thus far. He looked at her and smirked when the slim volume that had moved toward her earlier began to creep forth again and she froze it with a wandless and wordless charm. Impressive.
"Hmmm. Interesting how that book likes you, Hermione," Tom said, placing his own book back on the shelf and reaching over her shoulder for the one that had moved toward her. "Blood Magic Most Potente…how fascinating."
Tom's hand unfroze the book, but it didn't seem so interested in him, almost quivering away from his touch. He lightly stroked the spine, but all of his attention was fixed firmly on Hermione. "Why would that be, I wonder?"
"I haven't the foggiest notion," Hermione replied, suppressing a shiver as Tom deftly removed the book from the shelf.
"I think I'll take it…I'm sure it's bound to be enlightening," he said, flicking it to the counter at the front of the shop, where it landed with a dull shriek. "Ready then?"
Hermione paid for her purchases and Tom paid for his, accepting a bag as the book would not take kindly to being shrunk. He offered to buy her a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, turning to greet some of his fellow Slytherins carelessly before she could reply.
"Hello Abraxas, Evan," Tom said. "Allow to introduce my companion, Miss Hermione Girard. This is Abraxas Malfoy and Evan Rosier."
Hermione would have recognized Abraxas Malfoy without the introduction, as his patrician nose and white blond hair instantly reminded her of Draco. His hair was cut short like his grandson's, although he had a larger frame. Evan Rosier was a mystery to her, but then again she didn't make it a habit to be familiar with all Death Eaters, and there was little doubt these two were probably part of Tom's nascent forerunner group, the Knights of Walpurgis.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Hermione said coolly, earning her a cool stare in return from Malfoy. Rosier seemed to take it in stride and said, "Pleased to meet you, Miss Girard. It's been quite some time since Riddle has had a little friendly competition in class."
Tom laughed, but it appeared to Hermione that he didn't appreciate Rosier's insight. "We were just going to the Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer before it's time to head back. Care to join us?"
"I have to collect Druella first," Abraxas said, then made a stiff little bow as he excused himself. Once they were settled in a large enough booth at the pub, Rosier got the Butterbeers while Tom chatted with Hermione about the books she had purchased. She was reluctant to make idle chitchat, but he soon drew her into an argument about Arithmancy theory.
"It's simple. Combining the matrices with the lunar phases allows you to fine tune the predictive power of the equation," Hermione said, but Tom Riddle merely raised an eyebrow.
"And it introduces the variability of the earth's progression around the sun, which in turn brings in the complicating effects of comets and passing asteroids. So you add multiple layers of equations for an increase in predictive power of roughly 0.2 times the original equation. I'll pass," Tom said scornfully.
"I can't say that I've ever found combinations of Astronomy and Arithmancy to be particularly helpful," Hermione admitted, "But I was intrigued by the discussion of using seasonal star maps to enhance the equations."
"I'm betting it's a load of rubbish," Tom said. "You'd have better luck with Divination."
"I'll take Astronomy over Divination any day. That is the real rubbish," Hermione retorted, and drew back when Rosier plonked Butterbeers down in front of them both. She hadn't realized she had leaned forward like that to argue with Riddle. He sat back as well, easily including Rosier in their conversation. Hermione let them bicker, noticing that no one approached their table without implicit permission from Tom. He didn't even notice it, subtle expressions on his face easily saying it for him. Another shiver crawled down her spine. The authority sat easily on him, and she had already had a taste of his reflexes. She began to be nervous about the walk back, and excused herself to go to the toilets as Abraxas arrived with his girlfriend.
"Having a good time with Riddle, Hermione?" Her roommate Sophie was in the bathroom touching up her powder, meeting Hermione's eyes in the mirror. "He keeps interesting company, don't you think?"
"Er, yes. Actually I'm a bit tired and think I might head back soon…I don't suppose you're going to head back yourself?"
Sophie finished using her compact and slipped it into her pocket, then straightened. "If you skulk off on Tom Riddle, he will never forgive you. He's terribly gifted, if a bit cold—I'd be happy to have his interest, were I you. I wouldn't leave unless I was dragged off."
That is precisely what I am afraid of, Hermione thought to herself, but said nothing. A group of Slytherin girls entered the restroom and Hermione hastily finished drying her hands with a quick charm, following her dorm mate out. She was well and truly stuck, as clearly Sophie was not going to help her at all in her attempt to end her "date" early.
"Another?" Tom asked when she returned, gesturing to her half-empty drink.
"No thank you," Hermione said, attempting to turn her attention to what Abraxas was saying to Druella.
"I'm quite certain that the marriage contract will be arriving any day now," Abraxas said, then rolled his eyes at Rosier behind her back. Hermione studied the witch's face while Tom obliquely studied hers. Hermione could perceive no distinguishing features similar to Lucius in her face, and sincerely doubted Abraxas was planning to marry her.
"What, pray tell, is crawling through your mind at this minute?" Tom said quietly in her ear as he reached forward to get his Butterbeer and drain the last of it.
"Wouldn't you like to know…," Hermione muttered to herself, and Tom grinned.
"Yes, I would. It seems to me you disapprove of Miss Yaxley." Tom's voice was low, but the witch in question heard her name and her head swiveled toward Hermione, not Tom.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware we were extending pity visits to Ravenclaw's orphans now."
The girl's sharp features looked ugly with the sneer on her face, but Hermione was well prepared for this kind of bitchiness. She simply smiled sweetly and replied, "I think you have that backwards. This is a Ravenclaw pity party, and I invited all of you."
Abraxas scowled at her and Evan, after a horrified second, burst out laughing. Tom coolly stood and said, "Well, I think it's time we headed back, Miss Girard. Abraxas, Evan, Dru."
Yet again Hermione found herself walking alone with Tom Riddle, although with clumps of students straggling back ahead of them and behind them, Hermione was fairly certain he wouldn't attempt anything again. Nonetheless, his silence was unnerving, and Hermione found herself searching about for a topic of conversation while keeping her Occlumency the strongest she could manage. She decided to go for the obvious, weighing his likely response against the safety of the busy path.
"Why have you taught yourself Legilimency?" Hermione asked after a group of Hufflepuffs passed them, darting nervous glances at Riddle as they did so.
"What makes you think I taught myself?" Tom asked. "Perhaps my father taught me. Did your father teach you Occlumency?"
Hermione realized she had to be careful, but she wasn't going to let him choose the subject, and this was interesting enough that hopefully he would want to talk about it instead of talking about her. It was also a clever way of hinting that she was not really bothered by his behavior earlier, which would hopefully ensure her safety for the remainder of the walk.
"It's not exactly the sort of thing that is commonly taught by parents to their children," she observed neutrally.
"Yet you learned Occlumency somewhere," he replied, goading her just a bit. He suspected the reason why she had learned it, but he wanted to hear it from her own lips.
"I am from France, site of Grindelwald's atrocious attacks. You don't know who to trust these days…it's only common sense to learn how to Occlude if you can," she said, and Tom slid a glance at her.
"Vous n'avez pas d'accent. Je trouve cela plutôt étrange."
Hermione's heart rate sped up a bit to hear the French slipping elegantly from his mouth. "Qu'est qui est étrange à ce sujet? Ma mère était anglaise. Elle a fait en sorte que je puisses parler anglais parfaitement."
Her accent was only passable, and Hermione prayed that Tom wouldn't pick up on that. How could he have? He had lived his whole life in that orphanage, a fact which, Hermione reminded herself, he had not made her aware of. But if she ever let that slip, she could say that Dumbledore had told her.
"You are quite the mass of contradictions, Hermione. Kind of like a puzzle, waiting for me to solve. Did you know that I saw you the night you arrived? I left the Great Hall during the feast, and there you were, crumpled in a bloody heap on the floor leading to the courtyard, Headmaster Dippet hurrying to help you."
Tom had slowed in his walking until he had almost stopped, and Hermione had unconsciously done the same. He halted as he spoke, and Hermione realized the path behind them was clear. He bent his head down to speak softly into her ear, his breath warm against her chilled flesh. "What were you running from, Hermione? And don't try to tell me it was an accident, your arrival here. You had been cursed almost to death…what happened to you?"
Hermione was sure he could hear her heart, it was beating so rapidly in her chest, the nervous thrum practically a drumline. She had her Occlumency walls up tight, and she refused to look at him, clutching her wand in her pocket instead. She answered slowly, "It was Grindelwald's forces, all right? It was the worst thing I've ever seen. I thought I was going to die, and some of my friends did die. I don't want to talk about it ever again with you, is that clear?"
At this she raised her head and finally met Riddle's eyes. She could tell that he was excited, although he hid it very well. "Ah, but I do want to talk about it, Hermione. I want to find out exactly who cursed you and why. Why would a teenage girl be cursed so viciously instead of merely killed? You are holding something back from me, and I am going to find out what it is."
"I'll never talk to you about this again," Hermione said vehemently, and Tom noticed a group of students approaching again from Hogsmeade, pulling her quite suddenly next to him with his arm around her shoulder and resuming their walk toward the castle that now loomed quite close. To the group behind, it would seem that Tom Riddle had decided he quite liked Hermione Girard indeed, as they looked quite cozy from a distance.
"Oh, I think you will. I am quite interested to learn what Grindelwald does, and you are the closest person I have met who has witnessed a full-fledged attack."
"What, so you can learn from his mistakes?" Hermione asked bitterly before she thought the better of it, and Tom turned her quickly into a nook of the castle wall, then leaned in toward her in an intimidating fashion. Hermione realized the instant she said it what a mistake it was to let her temper get the better of her, and the flare of anger in his eyes was ample warning of the dangers of his attention.
"What has your relative told you about me?" he demanded. "I think you'll find I can be very persuasive, Hermione. I suggest you comply, or I'll consider less orthodox paths."
"It's none of your business," Hermione said, and she saw his jaw tighten, his hand slipping to his wand.
"What are you two about?" came the gruff shout of Professor Beery. He was obviously heading back from the greenhouses, being covered in a yellow slime and dirt mixture, and he looked quite irritated.
"Just spending a few extra minutes with my girl before dinnertime," Tom called out, grabbing Hermione's hand before she could voice any objection.
"Well, enough of that now! Go in and get dressed for dinner. Miss Girard, after you," the professor groused, and Hermione silently thanked the stars for the manners of the '40s, as her Head of House was clearly going to escort her to Ravenclaw Tower, dismissing Tom Riddle in the process.
"Thank you for such a diverting afternoon, Hermione," Tom said, and Hermione turned her head away from him quite pointedly. She heard his footsteps as he departed, and then she fell into step beside Professor Beery.
"Now, don't punish him too hard if he was trying to take liberties, Miss Girard. I remember what it was like to be a young lad," Professor Beery said next to her, clearly heartened by the imminent prospect of a hot shower and hearty meal. Hermione had no intention of discussing Tom Riddle and his carefully crafted lying appearances, as it would only further his aims. Instead she fixed her attention on Professor Beery, who was looking at the departing Head Boy.
"Spinning Snapdragons, sir?" Hermione asked as she eyed the goop on his robes. It was too clear to be Tarantaculas, she had decided. Her Head of House grinned, returning his attention to her.
"The very ones, Miss Girard, and the devil they are to milk!"
"But it is a very good Potions ingredient nonetheless," Hermione said with a smile, and her professor felt so charitable toward his newest student that he showed her a secret passageway to Ravenclaw Tower that she had never seen before, even on the Marauder's Map.
"Now, Miss Girard, mum's the word on that," he said, then gave her a brisk nod as he strode off toward his own quarters.
"Thank you Professor!" she called after him, then answered the eagle knocker's riddle, her mind already parsing her afternoon spent in decidedly mixed and dangerous company.
At dinner, Hermione spent the entire time ignoring the whispers and snickers about her supposed date with Tom Riddle. She tried to talk as normal with Phineas and Olivia, but her roommate was intent on prying all the details of how Tom had conducted himself, which led Hermione to nearly scream with frustration. She was consequently eager to escape the common room early, the relative privacy of the bathroom and a long soak in the tub the perfect opportunity to contemplate her situation.
Tom Riddle had her wrong, but he was clearly intent on breaking into her memories of the battle that had seen her sent drenched in blood back to this time. This was something Hermione could not allow, and she had to work out a way to a) avoid him, and b) discourage him from his objective in some manner. Frowning, she realized she would have to talk to Professor Dumbledore. The professor had made it clear that he didn't want to hear about the future for fear of biasing his behavior, but Hermione needed some context for Tom Riddle's behavior. It was possible that Dumbledore might have a suggestion for how to discourage his interest that wouldn't require her to divulge anything that she knew about his future. Resolved, she went to bed early and fell into a troubled sleep, her dreams disturbed by visions of dark eyes and phantom pain in her shoulder.