Good evening again wonderful readers. Thanks to all the new followers & faves, and all of the wonderful reviewers out there!
Relatela, Tom is not the kind to forgive and forget...he will get his own back eventually, hehe.
Atlantean Diva, I love your description of Tom as a teen...that is exactly how I see him. I have to tell you LV, when he comes into the picture, is going to be quite fun too, for a whole host of different reasons.
Grace Hearford, yes I did intend to keep you on pins and needles.
I know you are all keen to find out how that Christmas party goes, but we aren't quite there yet. I've replied to most reviews by PM, so, enjoy!
"Good morning."
Hermione turned from the breakfast table to face the Head Boy, fully attired in his student robes, gleaming badge on his chest. He had his bag slung across his shoulder, and his tone was its usual measured cadence, yet the expression in his eyes eloquently conveyed that he was well aware of her maneuvering regarding his trip to the dragon preserve with Dumbledore.
"Hello," was all the greeting Hermione managed, whatever else she had been about to say dying in her throat when she read that message in his gaze.
"Professor Slughorn had me brew the base last night with the fresh dragon's blood, so we will be brewing the potion in class today."
"Thank you for telling me," Hermione replied, her mind whirring as she added up the hours required to brew the base. He must have been up until nearly midnight, and missed dinner too. A little worm of guilt began to gnaw at her a tiny bit. "I would have helped."
"It was unnecessary. I will see you in class." Tom moved off, satisfied with the flicker of guilt across Hermione's face. It was only the first salvo in their new, quieter battle, but it had gone in his favor. The fact that her blatantly eavesdropping roommates would praise his selflessness to her over the remainder of breakfast was just an added bonus.
Hermione did have to listen to her roommates' prattle about Tom Riddle, perfect boy, but soon enough she was able to escape to the relative quiet of Magical Theory and then Transfiguration. The fact that Tom ignored her utterly did not go without notice by herself and others, but Hermione refused to dwell on it.
Before she knew it Hermione found herself in the Potions classroom that afternoon, brewing the agreed upon recipe for the Angel's Trumpet potion alongside Tom Riddle. They had silently divided the steps evenly and while Hermione was glad that Tom seemed content enough to let her do her own work without any commentary, she wondered at his relative silence. Did it mean he was mad, or was he simply ignoring her? He was the primary brewer, partly because he was faster at putting in ingredients, and partly because with the table being so tall it was easier for him to stir. This arrangement suited Hermione, however, as she felt herself to be slightly more finicky about chopped ingredients, wanting the most consistent sizing possible.
Finally they had added the last ingredient, and Tom finished the final clockwise stir, sliding his stirring rod out of the potion slowly. The Angel's Trumpet potion was a vivid yellow in color, the recipe they had agreed on producing a pleasant scent that was almost incense-like.
"Excellent, you pair!" Slughorn complimented, putting his fingers into his vest pockets. "Well, it would be a terrible shame to let such a marvelous potion go to waste. You two remain after class—we'll take it up to the top of the clock tower, and then we shall see, hmmm?"
"Yes, sir," Tom said, his polite mask concealing any feelings he had concerning Hermione's little engineered punishment. Hermione was nervous, wondering what it meant that he hadn't mentioned it once throughout their brewing, and even now was remaining silent instead of whispering jabs at her.
"Our next partners assignment will be handed out next week. I expect we will resume our Wednesday afternoon research?" Tom said, interrupting her thoughts.
"I suppose so," Hermione said, because she couldn't think of any reason not to do it. As the year progressed the assignments would get more complicated, and it would require more and more time spent with her partner in Potions and DADA both. Add in that they were due to head into the Forbidden Forest for the first of their field trials in DADA a week from Friday, and Hermione was intimidated by Tom's broodiness. She had no idea how to handle a potentially pissed off nascent Dark Lord.
As the class ended, Tom and Hermione brought their potion to Slughorn's desk, who made quick work of locking and warding the classroom before leading them all the way up to the clock tower. Slughorn was positively cheery despite the cold wind and rain that was pelting them.
"Now, I know that you will have read what this potion does by now, but reading about it is not quite the same thing as experiencing it. Tom, if you please?"
Tom levitated the potion with his wand, then with a quick thrust he sent it skyward, allowing Hermione to break the flask. As the potion dissipated into the air, a series of colored clouds formed in the shape of a long, narrow horn, shaded like a sunset. A low, melodious tone sounded, echoing throughout the valley of Hogwarts.
"Beautiful, isn't it? Nothing quite as attention-getting as the Angel's Trumpet," Slughorn said fondly. Hermione would have appreciated the sight more, if she hadn't stolen a glance at Tom Riddle and seen the expression on his face. Somehow she knew this potion was the start of the Dark Mark, the wind cutting through the tower causing the notes of the Angel's Trumpet to warp like a harsh echo of how Tom Riddle would distort magic to his own ends.
"It's lovely," Hermione said truthfully, as Tom remained silent. Finally the sound dissipated, and Slughorn turned to troop back down the stairs.
"See you in class!" Slughorn said with a cheerful wave, and Hermione took the opportunity to preempt any mention of the dragon preserve trip.
"Thank you again for getting the fresh dragon's blood," Hermione said, casting a quick look at Tom's profile. His jaw could have been etched in granite, his face expressionless as he spoke.
"I thank you for the opportunity to spend more time with Professor Dumbledore. As you know, we get along so famously."
The sharp edge of his comments simultaneously stung and hardened Hermione's resolve to stand up to him. "I wouldn't have suggested it if it weren't a good idea for the potion, as well as your ego. You may be very good with magic, Tom Riddle, but you are terrible with people! If you want to keep me as your potions partner or DADA partner, you are going to have to treat me as an equal, and not a lackey."
He turned to face her fully at that. "And if I did so, would you be amenable to my suggestions? Because I can think of a few ideas of my own regarding your performance in DADA. If you want me to take you as an equal, you'd better be prepared to take equal measure of whatever you want to try to dish out to me."
There was an underlying threat, of that there was no question, but Hermione was not insensible of the compliment he paid her in even considering her opinion. And he did not respond well to weakness. She had to fight him for every inch of ground, and fight she would. She deliberately moved closer to him so they were standing toe to toe, raising her gaze defiantly to meet his.
"I can take whatever suggestions you make, Tom Riddle, but if you think to command me, think again. Are we clear?"
A glimmer of amusement lit his eyes. "Perfectly."
"I believe you're in my seat."
The wealth of nuance which Tom Riddle infused into that simple statement was truly impressive, and yet the way Herecles Potter completely ignored it was even more impressive.
"Oh, sorry Riddle. Hermione is just helping me with my Herbology." The Gryffindor was slouched inelegantly across his chair, and it was obvious to Tom that he wasn't paying attention to what Hermione was trying to teach him. It being the middle of the week, the library was dotted with a mix of houses, and Tom noticed that Hermione's roommates, Longbottom, and Augusta Donaghy were seated a table away, all stealing furtive glances at the unfolding drama.
"Hermione and I have an appointment to go over our strategy for the first DADA trial this week," Tom said, his gaze darting to meet Hermione's. She was half apologetic and half defiant, so he continued, "You remember that I can't do it later, Hermione."
Hermione knew nothing of the sort, but he could conceivably have some Head Boy duties. Equally, he could be meeting his lackeys. She frowned. "This won't take long, Tom. Either wait or we can discuss it before class on Friday."
Tom had no intentions of leaving Hermione alone with Herecles Potter. It was a happy coincidence that he had made the arrangement to meet Hermione about the DADA trial, otherwise he would have had to invent some excuse when Evan had informed him that Potter had ingratiated himself to her in the library.
"I'll just wait, then."
Tom took his time arranging his DADA text and notes on the table, shamelessly eavesdropping on Hermione's quiet instruction to Herecles. She was trying to teach him about the aquaculture set up required for gillyweed and other aquatic herbs, but Potter seemed incapable of grasping the finer points of salt balance and appropriate flora and fauna to ensure a healthy growth. After she repeated the species of water snail for the tank for the third time, Tom lazily remarked,
"Perhaps Mr. Potter would be better served to brave the Merpeople to fetch his own gillyweed, since the finer points of growing his own seem to be escaping him."
"That's not helpful," Hermione whispered, darting a look at the cranky librarian before returning her gaze to Tom.
"Neither is it helpful to repeat the same information three times in the hope that he will retain it any better," Tom said pointedly.
"Repetition is a tried and true method of learning!" Hermione replied in a slightly louder tone of voice, which caused Mr. Ziebler to flick his wand at them, the silent shower of sparks a reminder to be quiet in the library. Herecles, with an ill-suppressed grin, sat back in his chair.
"I'm sure I'll get it eventually," Herecles said good-naturedly. "Hermione is very patient with me."
The contrast between her lack of patience with Tom and inferred abundance toward Herecles could not have been starker.
"How are you even planning to remember this, anyhow? You aren't even taking notes," Tom observed coldly.
Hermione had wondered the same thing, but had not felt it polite to mention it. Of course she wouldn't say anything about it now that Tom had pointed it out, but she was beginning to feel just the slightest bit like a chew toy between two dogs.
"It just comes to me when I need it," Herecles shrugged. "Notes aren't much help."
Hermione turned on him at this. "But how do you know if you've learned anything?"
"I just know it or I don't when I take the test."
This sort of ambivalent attitude could not have been better designed to provoke her, but she couldn't say a word in front of Tom Riddle. Inwardly Hermione fumed, but replied flatly, "Well, I don't see how such a method could work, but it is your grade, after all."
At this point Abraxas Malfoy strolled up and helped himself to the chair on the other side of Tom with a cool nod to the Head Boy.
"Miss Girard. Potter."
Hermione could see that the Malfoy sneer was virtually unchanged over two generations, as Abraxas sounded just like Draco when he greeted Harry. Lips thinned, Hermione returned her attention to her Herbology notes, and asked Herecles, "Was there anything else about the aquatic herbs you were struggling with?"
Abraxas Malfoy fixed his supercilious gaze on Hermione. "Not helping him with his homework are you, Miss Girard? Mr. Potter here is well known for running through pretty girls who can help him in particular classes. I would have thought you too smart to fall for his particular charm."
Hermione returned his insolent stare with a cold one of her own. "I find it valuable to help others who ask, Mr. Malfoy, but I do thank you for your pressing concern about my tutoring."
Herecles sat up and folded his hands on the table, not bothering to look at Malfoy as he tossed out his own reply. "That's a bit rich coming from you, Malfoy. You can't get any girls to study with you after that incident with Myrtle Jameson and Olive Hornby."
Hermione knew this was a low blow, but she shouldn't know about it and so she kept quite still as both boys suddenly stood up. Their aggressive posture drew the attention of the hawkish librarian, who came over and ordered them both out with a stern warning that brawling would not be tolerated in the library.
"Sorry," Herecles mouthed to Hermione before he sauntered out, followed by Abraxas, who had grabbed his bag from the chair before allowing Mr. Ziebler to escort him to the doors.
"Well, that was amusing," Tom said coolly. "What interesting company you keep, Hermione."
"Indeed."
Somehow she couldn't bring herself to ask about the DADA trial, and Tom was in no mood to bring up the subject. They worked side by side in silence on different assignments until Tom flicked his things away to his bag and stood. This was a pointless waste of his time, and he was in no mood to offer corrections about her sloppy spell casting.
"I have a prefect meeting. I will see you in DADA tomorrow."
Hermione nodded and briefly met his eyes before he left. She told herself sternly that she was not disappointed about the silent outcome of their study session. It didn't matter to her if he didn't like her helping Herecles. She got up and moved to the next table, receiving only a raised eyebrow from Olivia and a cool glance from Sophie before they resumed their own work. She felt the warm flush of blood to her cheeks at the realization that they had taken in the whole sorry spectacle, and doubled over her parchment, her quill scratching the surface with a bit more force than necessary.
Tom found Abraxas waiting in a slouch beside the library doors. He kept walking and Abraxas fell into step alongside him.
"Mr. Potter's broom is a Comet 180, is it not? Mr. MacNair's uncle works for Comet. Send him to my room after dinner."
Abraxas stole a glance at the Head Boy's granite expression.
"It will be done."
"Had a fight with Tom lately?" Phineas asked, noticing that the Head Boy was strangely absent from Hermione's side as they headed toward Arithmancy the next morning.
"Why does everyone assume we are dating?" Hermione complained. "He just happens to be my partner in two classes and is in two others with me, and he is keen to keep his place at the head of the class."
"No need to be touchy about it," Phineas said. "Frankly I think you have a good influence on him—he seems more human with you."
You have no idea, Hermione reflected. "What about Augusta? Are you taking her on the next Hogsmeade trip?"
"Hey," Olivia said as she joined them. "Are you ready for DADA tomorrow?"
"Don't ask," Hermione groaned, and Phineas raised an eyebrow at her.
"Please. If anyone will pass the trial with flying colors, it's you and Riddle. Anything that gets past you will be shut down cold by his lightning fast wand."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence in my abilities," Hermione groused, and Olivia laughed.
"I think you just don't like knowing that he's better than you at a subject," she teased, and Hermione shook her head.
"That is absolutely not it," she denied, and her friends exchanged a glance.
"Whatever makes you feel better, Hermione," Phineas said, and Hermione's lips compressed into a thin line. She wished she could throw it all to hell and tell them what she knew about Tom Riddle, but she didn't dare. It was bad enough that he had done what he had already, she didn't need to screw the timeline up further by dragging more innocent people into her mess.
"Ready?" Tom asked, his wand out as they surveyed the forest.
"As ready as I'll ever be," Hermione said. After the abortive study session in the library, Tom had been busy with arranging the holiday schedule for the prefects as well as his regular coursework. As a result, his promise to tutor her in DADA had not begun before the first trial. Hermione reminded herself of all the different creatures and spells she had faced, and had convinced herself that she did not need Tom's help or approval for her performance today. She would be just fine on her own.
The trials were arranged in sections of the Forbidden Forest which had been cleared of all but the creatures that Professor Merrythought had chosen for the first trial. Even though the professor was somewhere above them on a broom, the dense tree cover of the forest meant that she wouldn't see anything until the spells started flying, so the students had to be at least mildly competent or they could be in danger. This was the reason that the DADA classes only did trials during their seventh year, when presumably they had acquired ample sufficiencies to sustain them through the first part of any encounter with the Dark Arts.
"I wonder what she has in store for us," Hermione said. She had seen Gibbon after a Hippogriff had gotten a piece of him, and it hadn't been pretty. Apparently the forerunners of the Death Eaters were just as arrogant as their successors.
"Not a Hippogriff, I can tell you that," Tom said. "She will have picked something…challenging." His tone indicated he was alert, his eyes and ears scanning the undergrowth.
"Great," Hermione muttered as Tom said, "Shhh!", hearing something coming their way. Something…large, and moving fast. Both of them pointed their wands in the direction of the noise, but before whatever it was could make its way toward them, there was the sound of something else crashing through the trees, then a loud bang and scuffling sounds.
"I suspect our trial just got a bit more complex," Tom said as growls and shrieks filled the air.
"Is that a…?" Hermione began, and Tom finished, "A graphorn," as the beast broke into their clearing.
"And a mountain troll," Hermione said, eyeing the large, scarred troll currently mounted on the back of the graphorn. "I HATE trolls."
The troll had spotted them, and the graphorn was careening wildly, trying to get the troll off its back.
"Stupefy!" Hermione said, throwing the first spell.
"That won't work on the graphorn!" Tom shouted, dodging the troll's club while Hermione ran away from the graphorn's head, which it was swinging wildly in the hope of making contact with something.
"I know, but it would work on the troll!" she shouted back, tossing off stunners, slicing hexes, and petrifying spells with a rapidity that Tom had certainly never seen from her in the classroom. He was a bit preoccupied, however, with the sharp horns of the graphorn, which were aiming relentlessly at him now that Hermione had managed to get around to the back of the beast. The troll twisted on top of the graphorn's hump, swinging his club fiercely right at the witch.
"Reducto!" Tom said harshly, causing the club to explode in a thousand splinters, eliciting a roar from the troll and a howl of pain from the graphorn, one of whose eyes was pierced by one of the splinters.
"Obscuro!" Hermione hit the graphorn squarely and temporarily blindfolded it, causing it to stumble wildly, still trying to buck the troll off its back. By sheer luck the troll's swinging hands made contact with Tom, sending him flying across the clearing. Hermione's view of him was blocked by the graphorn, whose wild contortions had loosened the blindfold. It fixed its eye on her and charged with a wild shriek, lowering its head with its horns pointed right for her.
"Ferrumino!" she cried, pointing her wand at its left front foot. The four thumbs made solid contact with the ground and remained there, the beast's forward momentum carrying it forward as Hermione dashed out of the way. The graphorn's horns buried themselves in the dirt as it flipped over from the force of its momentum with a bellow of pain, throwing the troll off its back at last, right in Hermione's direction.
The troll roared as it rolled off the graphorn, and Tom saw in slow motion as the creature's torn fingernails stretched toward what was his, the witch who was right in front of the troll's hands as its roll thudded to a halt. Suddenly Hermione was eleven again, petrified from fear as a fifteen foot troll rolled right at her.
"Incendio!" Tom shouted, flames erupting violently from his wand and encircling the troll before it could grab Hermione. The creature screamed in agony as Tom controlled the flames rigidly so Hermione would not be burnt. He moved them to the left, giving the troll room to roll away from her and away from the burning flames he wielded with wicked alacrity.
"Petrificus Totalis!" Professor Merrythought's spell hitting the screaming troll was enough to snap Hermione out of it, her next spell binding the graphorn quite thoroughly as their professor brought her broom to a screeching halt in the clearing. Tom ceased casting just as Hermione threw herself into his arms, her own encircling him with a fervent hug.
"Thank you," she said against his chest, and for the first time in his life Tom Riddle felt himself to be the recipient of pure gratitude. His arms clumsily surrounded her, the novel sensation of feeling stunned making him highly uncomfortable.
"Well done! You were only meant to have the graphorn!" Professor Merrythought said with irritation as Professor Dumbledore landed beside her, stepping from his broom with ease. Hermione hadn't heard from anyone that he was also serving as a referee for the trials, so to see him from her vantage point within Tom Riddle's arms was a bit of a shock to her system.
"Are you all right, Hermione?" he asked, his expression saying clearly that he was taking in the way she was hugging the Head Boy. She let go of Tom, his arms falling away from her instantly in response.
"Yes, I'm fine," she said, darting a glance at Professor Merrythought, but not wanting to look at the dark boy she had just been embracing. "I just…hate trolls."
"So you said," Tom commented drily, his usual arrogance a convenient mask as his mind tumbled about over the feeling of Hermione's arms around him, how honestly grateful she was for keeping that troll away from her.
"One of your classmates dissolved the magical barriers between the three trial areas, and the troll got away from them. Unfortunately, we were unable to perceive exactly where it had gone with all of the noise from the trials," Professor Dumbledore said as he circled the injured and bound graphorn, taking in its foot fixed firmly to the forest floor. "Permanent sticking charm?" he asked, and Hermione nodded.
"I knew it worked on dragon skin and since graphorn skin has similar magical properties it seemed a likely choice."
"Brilliant," Professor Merrythought said admiringly, then turned her praise to Tom. "And your control of Incendio is unparalleled, Mr. Riddle! Extremely well done, both of you! Outstanding performance, especially under trying circumstances."
Tom looked at the paralyzed troll, whose stupid eyes were fixed on them both, the stench from its burnt flesh causing his nose to twitch. "May we go, then?" he asked, taking Hermione's hand before she could scoot away from him. Professor Dumbledore noticed the act but said nothing, and Professor Merrythought nodded briskly.
"You may apparate back to the gates. 'O's for both of you," she said as she mounted her broom again.
"And I'm sure Professor Slughorn will extend his thanks for the potions ingredients," Professor Dumbledore said with a nod to the graphorn's horns.
"May we receive the proceeds from those?" Hermione asked boldly. She knew Tom didn't have much money, and it was the least she could do.
"I don't see why not, Miss Girard," Dumbledore said thoughtfully.
"Thank you, sir," she said, then Tom winked them both away.