Good evening wonderful readers. I had not intended to leave you waiting so long for this next chapter, but real life and adulthood are sometimes awfully demanding and this past week and a bit has been all that and more. Suffice it to say that a hospital and major surgery were involved for a close family member, and that plus the end of term stressed me out enough that I really could not focus on writing or editing at all. Everyone is doing well now, thank God, but it was one of those things that are not included in the brochure of adulthood, if you know what I mean! You know we are all so excited to grow up, and the longer I'm an adult the more I think, "this isn't all as it was advertised", hehe.

Well I don't want to keep you waiting any longer. Relatela, thanks for the awesome review. I've sent PMs to the rest of you. One further note: the historical reference is accurate, and dates to 1940. It always struck me as an interesting real detail that had some fascinating implications for the world of Tom Riddle. As always, thank you to JKR for the wonderful Harry Potter universe. Thanks for reading!

"What are you going to buy for Tom?" Sophie asked loftily as they browsed through Flourish & Botts in Diagon Alley. It was the day before the term ended for Christmas holidays, and in resignation of the students' complete inattention, the professors had completed term exams early and allowed the final day for the seventh years' trip to Diagon Alley and general merriment among the younger classes.

"I'm not sure," Hermione hedged. There was nothing here that was appropriate for him, that was for sure. He would probably like a dark book from that bookshop in Hogsmeade, but Hermione had no intention of buying him anything like that. She was still of two minds as to whether she was going to buy him anything at all, frankly. She felt like she was being consumed by Tom Riddle, and it was making her consider increasingly desperate ideas, including but not limited to running away. She had discarded it instantly as impractical and impossible to carry out, but Tom had not let up on his attentions. She saw him daily now outside of classes, his presence enough to deter most from even speaking to her.

"What do you suppose he's getting you?" Olivia asked, sending a book she was purchasing for her father to the counter.

"I don't expect him to get me anything," Hermione said honestly, sliding a book back into place on the shelf.

"You're his girlfriend. Of course he's going to get you something," Sophie said.

"Maybe," she said, ignoring the chatter of her roommates as they exited the store into the winter cold.

Hermione had stopped denying that she was Tom's girlfriend after that heated snog session following Slughorn's Christmas party. It seemed rather pointless, although she had resolved never to let it happen again. He infringed too much on her thoughts, her mind alternating between fear of what he actually knew about her and surprise that he was (apparently) interested in her. She felt like a mouse being toyed with at times, but then there were flashes of humanity still in him and Hermione did not know what to make of that. It was much simpler when he was a clear-cut enemy, when he wasn't someone who defended her from a troll or gave her teasing pointers about magical theory and spell casting, or argued with her as if he was actually taking in what she was saying. Or kissed like a rake out of a romance novel.

"Let's go down Knockturn Alley. There are some more interesting shops down there," Sophie suggested. Hermione didn't know how to respond—did Knockturn not have its dire reputation in this era, or was Sophie being indiscreet? She shot a look at Olivia, who seemed torn about the idea.

"Isn't that a dangerous neighborhood?" Hermione ventured cautiously, but Sophie dismissed the concern with a wave of her hand.

"It may have deteriorated over the past few years, but it's not dangerous. Besides, there are some antique shops with interesting artifacts. You might have better luck finding something for Tom…and it's not as if you're likely to find anything in Hogsmeade at this late date!"

"Where are the professors?" Hermione asked uneasily, looking for Professor Beery, or, failing that, Professor Merrythought.

"Probably shopping too! Come on, you two, or are you going to waste the whole day?" Sophie said, grabbing their arms and dragging them toward the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Hermione repeated, but then they were in the narrow passthrough and she shut up so as not to draw notice to themselves. At least they all had their hoods up, but the snow that was drifting down and served as a partial curtain also gave whatever unsavory folk who might be lurking equal cover. Hermione hurried past an offshoot of the alley, its dark mouth promising all sorts of untidy ends.

"Let's try here," Sophie suggested, and Hermione nearly groaned when she saw which shop it was. Borgin & Burke's. Of course.

"Excuse me," Sophie called loudly, attracting the attention of the shopkeeper.

"She should have been in Slytherin," Hermione hissed to Olivia, who nodded affirmatively in reply. A pasty older wizard came forward, his smile far more sinister than it should have been since he was missing nearly all of his teeth.

"And how can I help such dewy-eyed young ladies?" he said, eyeing them up as if they were candy.

"My friend is shopping for a very particular wizard, with particular tastes. Perhaps you might be able to make a suggestion regarding a gift?"

Hermione gave Sophie credit, she did the arch brow and supercilious manner with the best of them. However, she felt incredibly uneasy, and her hand slipped to her pocket to get a good grip on her wand.

"I'm sure the young lady could find something suitable in this case…rather interesting artifacts, particularly these…" The wizard removed a tray containing rings, and Hermione didn't need her wand to feel the malevolence rolling off some of the pieces.

"I think not. Good day sir," Hermione said grabbing hold of her roommates and moving swiftly toward the door. Unfortunately, two older wizards entered the shop at the same time, and in an instant Hermione knew that this meant trouble.

"Good afternoon, Caractacus," the larger of the two called, his attention firmly fixed on the three girls. "Just browsing today."

The shopkeeper returned to the back of his shop, clearly leaving them to fend for themselves, which was precisely what this frequent customer wanted. He cocked his head to the side and fixed his attention on Olivia, who visibly shrank under his scrutiny. "Now, what would you three poppets be doing here, all alone?"

"We were just leaving," Hermione said firmly. "Excuse us. I'm sure the rest of our party is waiting for us."

"Oh, there's no one out there waiting for you three," the other wizard said, a nasty inflection to his tone. "I doubt they'll even notice you're gone for a few hours yet…"

The larger wizard reminded Hermione uncomfortably of Thorfinn Rowle, both in looks and brutish manners.

"Excuse us," Hermione insisted, and made to push Sophie past the wizard. His hand shot out and he grabbed Sophie's arm, eliciting a shriek from Olivia and a drawn wand from Hermione.

"Unhand my friend. Now." Hermione's eyes were steely, and the shorter wizard laughed, keeping his grip on Sophie, while the larger wizard coolly appraised her as Olivia's eyes roamed toward the door, her fingers finally moving in the direction they should have gone from the start, toward the wand in her pocket.

"You need a lesson in how to be put in your place," the wizard said, throwing a wandless hex toward Olivia, which Hermione blocked. The other wizard was trying to sidle off with Sophie, but Hermione fixed him in place with a sticking charm, mentally willing the girl to Fight Back, damn it! Sophie started struggling with the wizard, unable to reach her wand in her pocket, and Hermione began trading curses with the other one, who had a nasty leer on his face. Olivia's attempts to help were less than helpful, dueling being less than her forte. In fact she was such a hindrance that Hermione was actually glad when she fell down due to a langlock curse.

"You are no match for me." The man was confident, but she'd be damned if she just let them be bullied and kidnapped for Godric knew what ends.

"And you, sir, are no match for me."

The voice was low and sibilant, an echo from the future. A flash of red light hit the brute as he was turning, a furious Tom standing elegantly behind the figure now writhing on the floor of the shop. Whatever curse Tom had used to take down the wizard was brutally effective, his scream cut off by a silently cast Silencio from a single additional flick of Tom's wand. The other man broke off his struggles with Sophie and dashed out the door. Tom eyed his retreat disinterestedly. "I suspect Rosier will be happy to have something else to do. Ladies, please allow me to escort you back to a more salubrious shopping area."

Hermione heard her roommates' effusive thanks to Tom, but he only had eyes for her. He was spitting mad, and she had little doubt she would get more than an earful from him. Abraxas Malfoy and Granthus Gibbon were waiting outside, and courteously gave their escort to Sophie and Olivia, who were prattling about their near miss with death, and extolling the further virtues of the Head Boy.

"What in the bloody fuck were you doing in that shop?" Tom hissed angrily, his posture rigidly controlled in marked contrast to the roil of anger inside him. When Rosier had summoned him about the girls' Knockturn Alley excursion, he had been peeved—but to find them in Borgin & Burke's, of all shops! He pulled Hermione aside near the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, the only semi-private area available to give her the bollocking she deserved.

"Sophie suggested it. It was about a present for you, ironically—I told her it was a bad idea, but she insisted, dragged us over there…and in the shop the items were definitely not anything I would buy, I don't give a damn how Dark you are I'm not buying that sort of thing for you…"

She was babbling, and Tom hated that, so he silenced her in the most expedient manner given their public setting, kissing her brutally hard.

"Shut up," he said when he finally relented, his forehead pressed against hers. "Which shopkeeper helped you?"

Hermione had a very bad feeling about this, but one look at his eyes told her that it was a non-negotiable point. "I don't know his name. He was older, with white hair. Missing all his teeth."

"That would be Burke," Tom said through clenched teeth, then he forcibly relaxed his jaw. "Well, currently he faces the unenviable task of dealing with a wizard afflicted with the transmogrifian curse in the doorway of his shop. Come along."

He grabbed her unresisting arm and pulled her through the Leaky Cauldron, heading for the Muggle exit.

"But…Dumbledore…" Hermione said in a voice that was barely a whisper, still in shock. That curse meant a torturous death. She didn't know if any way to reverse it even existed. Tom Riddle had essentially just murdered a man, for her. He had stopped an attacker the most expedient way he knew how—he had simply killed him. For HER. Hermione felt her legs go weak, had to work to keep herself moving forward, caught in an unbelievable position.

"In case you hadn't noticed, Dumbledore is not here! Did you think Dippet would be inclined to forgive you three for getting involved in an altercation in Knockturn Alley on the eve of Christmas break?" Tom hissed as he pulled her out of the pub, wordlessly transfiguring their capes into something more passably Muggle. "You'd have been lucky to not be expelled, your so-called relation to Dumbledore notwithstanding! At least there is one person at Hogwarts concerned about protecting you!"

He spat out the name 'Dumbledore' with such vehemence that, if words were curses, the person he was referring to would have doubled over in pain. Hermione didn't get the chance to reply because he was dragging her along at such a great pace that she was having trouble catching her breath.

"Tom, please! Stop! Where are you taking me?" she got out hurriedly.

"To see something that will open your eyes," he said harshly, practically running through side streets and alleys with a haste that would have caused them to bump into people if he hadn't cast a Muggle repelling charm on them both.

"I don't understand," Hermione said. "They will notice we are gone—"

"This won't take long," he said, finally letting go of her hand and stopping suddenly, causing Hermione to nearly bump into him. "Tell me what you see, Hermione. Now."

Hermione looked around and saw only rubble. There were brick walls that were half-standing, haphazard piles of bricks and mortar with blackened scorch marks on them. She was still short of breath, but the look on Tom Riddle's face stole her breath away again. He looked furious as he surveyed the devastation.

"Well?" he demanded angrily, and Hermione turned to face him.

"I see rubble," she said, wrapping her arms around herself.

"This is where I used to live," he said coldly, pointing to a large pile of rubble. "It was obliterated three years ago in the Christmas Firestorm—part of the Blitz. I was here to see it."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. She had not known this—no one knew this, she was sure. "But…weren't you at the school?"

Tom's eyes narrowed. "Didn't your relative mention it when he was telling tales about me? I grew up in that orphanage, and I had to return to it every summer and winter break, thanks to your marvelous Professor Dumbledore."

He drew closer to her and Hermione knew he was still angry about Knockturn Alley, which reminded her of what he had just done. She couldn't think through the events fast enough as he continued to speak, his eyes narrowing. "You think me ignorant of the Muggle world? I know it far better than you, my girl. I see the fruits every time I am forced back to it by that benevolent soul. I saw firsthand as people burned that night and buildings tumbled down, Muggles running everywhere to avoid the death that was falling from the sky."

"The Blitz was terrible," Hermione whispered, and Tom pushed her against a tumbled down wall, his hand firm on her upper arm, holding her against it easily.

"You know nothing of it! You tell me: how kind is your Dumbledore, to send me back here every year without fail while the Muggles try to obliterate each other? There weren't any wards on this building, Hermione. No protections for underage wizards like myself. Go ahead, ask me. I can see the question in your eyes—ask!"

Hermione didn't want to ask. She didn't want to know if any of the children in the orphanage had died. The answer was written already in the blaze of anger in his eyes. Tom remembered every detail of that night: the screams, the smells; the instinctive control of the fire that allowed him egress, his magic once again his salvation.

"What do you really know about this nasty Muggle war, Hermione? Have you ever seen the fruits of the Muggles' struggles up close as I have? No. Have you seen the stump of an arm left to the Muggle who used to be your roommate? Heard the wheeze of lungs damaged by mustard gas, then forced twenty years later to struggle for breath in thick, rolling smoke? You think Dumbledore so great, so mighty, so trustworthy? You are dangerously naïve, despite your intelligence, and you are out of your depth if you seek to play in the deep, dark waters between myself and that wizard. I know you keep speaking to him, that he keeps up his gentle interrogations of you in the hope that he will trap me somehow. And you had the gall to lecture me on what wizarding society owes magical children!" Tom paused, his face a wreath of anger as he fought to get himself under control again. Finally he seemed to calm slightly, and continued, "I caution you now, and only once, witch—don't play with things you don't understand."

"I understand enough!" Hermione retorted despite his closeness. "I understand that you have ulterior motivations concerning me, that you are seeking to use me somehow for your own ends. I understand that everyone is too scared of you to stand up to you, and I am truly sorry for your upbringing—but you don't want or need my pity. What can I say to you other than war is a terrible, hateful thing? What do you think I should do, trust you? You yourself told me that trust is for fools! And you would ask me to throw away the only person who has treated me respectfully, who has some idea of what I have been through!"

"I know what you've been through, Hermione," Tom said harshly. "I know exactly what sorts of things you have been through, little witch. You are a fighter, like me. You will never roll over and take what someone tries to impose on you, be it a nasty label or something you perceive to be unjust. You will fight until your last breath, and even then you won't give up. You are exactly like me."

"I am not like you," Hermione replied shakily, feeling the immense waves of magic rolling off of both of them, feeding off of each other's heightened emotions.

"Keep lying to yourself if it gives you comfort," Tom said coldly, then roughly pulled her away from the wall. "We have to get back so I can finish cleaning up your little mess."

"Tom…" Hermione began, but he was in no mood to listen to her. He pulled her back to the Leaky Cauldron with the same reckless speed, their cloaks resuming their normal appearance as they passed through the brick wall. Hermione was once again breathless from his pace, her mind tumbling over itself.

"Tom, please! Tell me you didn't kill that man," she whispered with a low tone, but Tom had found what he was looking for and ignored her quiet query. MacNair came over instantly and Tom thrust Hermione toward him. "Take her shopping," he said sarcastically. "Don't let her out of your sight."

MacNair nodded, taking her arm curtly and dragging her down the alley before she could protest.

"Let go of me!" Hermione insisted, shaking off Abelard MacNair's hold. "Where is he going?" Hermione asked, turning her head to see Riddle being swallowed up by a sea of people.

"I reckon if he wanted you to know that he'd have told you," MacNair said brusquely. "What stores have you NOT been in yet?"

Hermione wanted very much to tell MacNair that he could go fuck himself, but that would hardly be characteristic behavior for a girl of this decade, and she would certainly hear about that from Tom as well.

"This one," she said wildly, careening into the closest shop. MacNair rolled his eyes at her, but stood at the doorway and let her go further in. All Hermione wanted was some breathing room and time to process the massive revelations that Tom had just given her. Abelard MacNair wasn't exactly her favorite person to have in company, either. He was a thug, plain and simple, but an intelligent one and so of course Tom would pick him for his little nascent Death Eaters. Nascent Death Eaters!

Hermione banged her head on the closest surface, which happened to be a cage. She heard a harsh chattering noise, then felt a hair being pulled from her head.

"Ow!" she said to the bird, a large magpie which was looking at her as if she had it coming, her curly hair still in its beak.

"Are you interested in getting that bird, miss? He's a troublemaker, too intelligent for his own good, but with patience he could be quite a good pet," the clerk said. Inspiration struck and Hermione eyed the bird thoughtfully.

"How much is he?" Hermione asked, then handed over the necessary coins. "What is his name?"

"That's up to you, miss. Good luck."

Hermione took the cage firmly in hand, then looked toward the entrance. The shop was busy with parents buying their children owls, and MacNair was having trouble moving through the shop in order to keep an eye on her.

"Is there a back room that can be used for apparating?" Hermione asked, determined to retrieve some of her independence. She would not be babysat by the likes of Abelard MacNair!

"Oh yes, right through that gray door," the clerk said, turning to another customer.

Hermione made her way swiftly through, ignoring the bird's chattering. Resolved, she closed the door and turned, taking herself and the magpie directly to the gates of Hogwarts. Take that and stuff it, Tom Riddle! she thought as Professor Slughorn ticked her name off the charmed list.

"Have a good time shopping?" he called after her.

"The usual," Hermione called back, hurrying to the Owlery to deposit the magpie. Once there, she addressed the bird sternly, her wand at the ready.

"Right, I've decided your name is Ovid. Now I'm not going to be your owner, I don't think, but you'd better stay put or this charm I'm casting on you will make you a very unhappy bird. You'll be fed here, and I'll check on you each day until it's time to meet your new owner. Are we clear?"

The magpie cocked its head to the side, which Hermione took as affirmation, and then cast the charm before she opened the cage door and let the magpie out. The bird seemed to be staying put, so she went back down the steep stairs, eager to escape to Ravenclaw Tower and remain there for the rest of the day. She had no wish to encounter Tom and whatever further chastisement he doubtless wished to give her.

Unfortunately for Hermione, her roommates only wanted to recount how protective Tom was, and blather about what they had bought when they appeared in their room an hour later with all their packages. Hermione ignored their questions about how Tom had treated her in the aftermath, quickly realizing that they had no idea that she hadn't spent the remainder of the afternoon in the Head Boy's company. She pled a headache to escape dinner, her mind spinning over the disastrous events of Knockturn Alley and Muggle London. By the time she fell into an exhausted sleep, she was no closer to an answer as to what to do.

Tom Riddle was furious when he discovered that MacNair had lost Hermione. Because he was Head Boy, he was able to find out quite quickly that she had been checked off back at Hogwarts, but he was livid that doing so was necessary. MacNair was in for a severe beating, his temper at high tide. All the students were leaving the next day, but his followers reported faithfully to the Room of Requirement, and Tom mercilessly punished Abelard MacNair until he was quite certain it would take all of the break for him to recover properly. He dismissed them all impatiently, choosing to leave Hermione for later. He was still quite angry, and had not decided how to deal with the two wizards yet. Until that was sorted, he would not feel he could properly put the incident behind him.

He let himself out of the castle under a strong disillusionment charm. The only solution for this towering rage was a bit of bloodletting, and that was best found in the Forbidden Forest.