Part VI
Happy Christmas. The words bled onto the page in Nyx's familiar hand as Tom laid on his four-poster.
Thank you, Dove, he wrote back. And how is your February afternoon treating you?
As well as can be expected, I suppose. Malfoy caused Ronald to curse himself this morning. He kept the spell from ricocheting onto me though.
Did he now? Tom eyed his left curtain, though it was drawn, and pondered the Malfoy in the next bed over. How kind of him.
I don't understand why he seems to be looking out for me.
Tom could only assume that Abraxas would remain loyal to him. Which meant his grandson would be a viable ally for Hermione. Give the boy a chance. You could use some of your own kind on your side.
That would be a bit obvious, don't you think?
He snorted softly. To another Slytherin maybe. Either way, do you really care?
Draco's grandfather knows you.
Tom smirked in triumph. So his name is Draco now?
You said to give him a chance. We study in the library some nights.
I see. He spoke to you about Abraxas then?
I assume that's who he meant.
Brax is a prick, but an influential and, apparently, a more loyal that I had assumed prick. I would say the same goes for his grandson.
I'm sure he's properly terrified into submission.
Exposure to one of her own was making her cheeky. He didn't mind. As he should be.
You're mental, Ares.
He narrowed his eyes at the pseudonym. It was getting old. Plus he'd nearly slipped and called her by her actual name more than once. They knew one another well enough by now, surely.
Tom, he wrote before he changed his mind.
What?
My name, Dove. It's Tom. Tom Riddle.
He tapped his fingers impatiently against the leather of his diary while he waited for her response.
Hermione Granger. eventually appeared in smooth blue cursive and he smiled.
She was in classes according to his calculations. A quick glance at his copy of her timetable told him she'd just entered a double potions period with her seemingly bipolar dungeon bat of a professor. Her should-be head of house.
Tom had gotten a few new journals in his last Hogsmeade trip. None of them had his name printed on the back like his diary did, but that was hardly a concern. He charmed each one so that only he could read their contents and added 'Snape' to the dark blue journal where he kept a list of things and people to look out for in the future.
He pondered Abraxas and Draco Malfoy, Hermione's secret friend. She truly did need to be resorted, but seemed set upon keeping up the façade of her housing. Tom already had the loyalties of the current scion to the House of Malfoy, which he could use to his advantage when time caught up with itself. If he cultivated this Severus fellow as well, he could build Hermione a foundation of people in Slytherin so her transition into 'enemy territory' would be less jarring. She couldn't stay in Gryffindor forever. She'd go mad eventually.
Still, if he played within the bulk of societies rules he wouldn't be able to become the all-powerful immortal sorcerer he so desired to be. He wanted to crush that nosy bastard Dumbledore and deny him his chances of happiness, just as Tom had been denied his at every turn where the dotty Transfiguration professor was concerned.
Blue ink began to bleed onto the pages of his diary again, and Tom smiled to himself before he spelled the message so the words wouldn't fade until he felt like acknowledging them.
Dumbledore couldn't take her from him, at least.
Hermione was the eldest in her year with her September birthday. She would be seventeen at the dawn of her sixth year, and eighteen at the dawn of her seventh. If his calculations were correct, then he would be finishing his seventh year during the beginning of the second term of hers. At the same time in her timeline, he would have recently turned seventy.
He frowned. Seventy was much too old to be in cohorts with an eighteen-year-old version of Hermione, especially if times continued to move in the progressive fashion they were now. But if Tom could stop his body from aging, then those years would be insignificant.
Assuming his predictions in Divination this week had meant what he interpreted them too, the currently thirteen-year-old witch in question would grow to be his equal, his better in some ways, even.
Dumbledore seemed to think Tom was a monster in every sense of the word. Whether the elements of truth in that observation rendered Tom truly incapable of caring for others, Tom couldn't say. Most people bored him too quickly to even consider giving a damn about them. But he was fretting over Dove's future without even realizing she'd become something of a priority in his mind. She was someone worth expending mental energy on. He was already guessing if the note waiting for him was another report on the sudden change in behavior expressed by her Potion's professor, or maybe he was back to tormenting the clever little witch.
Tom couldn't be entirely incapable of some degree of affection, given the circumstances. Which would make Dumbledore, unsurprisingly, wrong about him.
He might not give the time of day to whatever worthless sods crossed his path, but he could find the company of a frizzy-haired second year enjoyable. And she already considered him a mentor of sorts, a role he wasn't shying away from. She was a quick study. It entertained him to teach her.
Tom shook his head to clear it, trying to prevent his thoughts from spiraling any further than they already had. Remembering his diary and the note waiting for him there, he finally decided to flip it open.
Professor Snape asked me to stay after class…
He frowned at the words. Time moved so quickly for her, at least from his perspective. He was surprised her double period was already over.
He was acting strange, or at least I thought so, perhaps he's always civil with the Slytherins…
Snape knew the truth, then, Tom decided. Which meant he'd successfully built her foundation in the future, didn't it?
He… she stopped writing for a moment, presumably to organize her thoughts. He told me that I've been chosen to be sponsored by the head of the board of governors. Sponsored, Tom! My books, robes, any additional supplies, paid for in full! I'll even receive a monthly allowance next year for trips to Hogsmeade! And additional tutoring if my end of terms are as impressive as last years!
He picked up his quill while gears turned in his mind. He was very pleased for his little Dove, and proud of her for being recognized for her achievements, but suspicion was making the back of his neck itch.
Who's head of the board? he asked.
She didn't reply for several minutes. I'm not sure…
Tom's frown returned.
Snape said he knew about my sorting though…told me to come to him if I ever decided I wanted to switch houses...
Propping himself up on his free elbow, Tom used the hand he was leaning against to rub at the prickling sensation on his neck. After a moment he gave up on the futile effort and penned his reply. I wouldn't fret, my Dove. Just keep your wits sharp and eyes open.
Like a Slytherin, she wrote.
He smirked. A quick study, as always. Precisely.
A/N: Happy Friday, loves!