Venenum
By Koryander
Chapter 10. Micrurus - Nowhere.
After he finished cleaning - something he did cursing her mentally all the time - Tom curiously looked around, trying to figure out where he was and to see what Granger had. The first thing he did was look at the books about the magic she had. He realized that she wasn't obsessed with just one theme, in other words, there were several books about various spells and potions.
Frankly, Granger has vast knowledge. He admits to himself grudgingly. But what surprised him most was that she was reading about advanced magic, far ahead of Hogwart's fifth and sixth grades. Well, he can't judge her, given the fact that when he was in second grade, he already read and practiced magic of sixth and seventh grade, but this behavior is not common. But what is common when it comes about Granger?
He looks at a slightly misplaced book as if recently placed on the shelf. Magic and Time, he reads, but doesn't touch.
Tom walks, his long, pale fingers making a smooth path across the table where the cauldron and potion pots were. He makes a mental note, looking with interest at everything he could, yet he doesn't touch anything. Granger seems too organized to notice if something was out of place.
He goes into the small room with a two-seater sofa, a shag rug with a coffee table and an armchair. He doesn't have to walk far to go to the kitchen, there is also a small dining table. This all seems very lonely to him, so he asks himself a question: Where are Granger's parents?
Tom has decided, he needs some answers and he will get from Granger. He looks to the right where the light comes in and finally decides to go out to talk to Granger. The first thing he does when he leaves is stumble. And guess what? This is not common for him. Tom Riddle always had great posture and balance, however, he wasn't prepared to step on the soft sand when he left. Tom quickly redid his composure, now looking back and forth, not expecting to see the beach landscape. He looks left and then right, noting the length of the beach and the foliage that indicated he was far from civilization. Or at least, far from industrial civilization.
His eyes finally fall on the small figure sitting on the flatter sand, facing the sea, watching the sun. Granger. He walks over to her.
Hermione had to move away from Riddle's presence to get her thoughts in order. She didn't know how she should act now that she helped Riddle and brought him to the island, to her refuge. One thing is to be in his presence while he was still unconscious, but now he is lucid and awake. Hermione knows she won't escape Riddle's questions, he is very observant, she just needs to keep the same line of reasoning and keep a safe distance with the 'walls of protection' erected against him.
"Where are we?"
Speaking of the devil, she thought.
Riddle had stopped right beside her, she looked to right, expecting to find his face, but all she saw was the pelvis area and his legs. She blushed at the sight and his closeness to her, Hermione looked up to find Riddle staring at her from above, his hands in his pants pockets. She blinked a few times.
"Where are we?" He repeated.
Tom looked at her, watching the way she was sitting, hugging her legs and the wand in one hand. Her cheeks were rosier than he remembered and he looked toward the sea and the sun she was staring at. T here is the reason. Now things were making more sense.
She got up to face him.
"Nowhere." She answered simply, Tom narrowed his eyes at her answer.
"I'm not kidding, Granger. Where are we? "
"Nowhere," Hermione replied again, raising both eyebrows as she explained to him.
"Can you answer the question?" His tone increased slightly due to the frustration he was beginning to feel.
"We're, literally, Nowhere." She raised her voice a little, gesturing around. "It's an island."
Tom narrowed his eyes again at her, doubting the credibility of the words coming out of her mouth.
"We are on a small, really small, island that is surrounded by the Atlantic Ocean somewhere near Europe. Apparating without knowing or seeing the chosen destination is really difficult. Naming the place you want to go makes it easier for the wizard or witch to remember the place. When I first came to the island, I had only imagined a secluded place that was close to the sea and well, here we are. So I named the island." Hermione explained.
"You mean to tell me that you named the island 'Nowhere,' Granger?" Tom asked skeptically and Hermione shrugged. "Such a lack of creativity." He continued and it was Hermione's turn to narrow her eyes at him.
Tom Riddle made a mental note. She knows how to apparate.
He sighed and rolled his eyes as she began to speak, trying to justify herself and explaining that it was not a lack of creativity.
Sure she's from Gryffindor, she's always trying to make a point.
Tom scratches his ear with his little finger, trying to tell her that he doesn't give a shit about her explanation, that she's talking too much and that her words make him bored at best. But a sound that shouldn't be in this heavenly environment catch Tom's attention. He stared in alarm at the horizon of the beach.
"Shut up." He orders Hermione.
Hermione is about to answer, her tongue itching to say no one tells her to shut up when she hears the sound too. She stops, looking in the same direction that Riddle is looking, hearing the sound approach. Hermione steps forward.
"Granger." Tom calls her, recognizing the kind of sound that was coming their way.
"Shut up." It's her turn to order.
Riddle takes her wrist with an iron grip, but not in a way that hurts her. It is at that moment that the owners of that noise appear. Warplanes, they were the Luftwaffe, the German Air Force, passing right now over their heads.
Riddle's hand goes from her wrist to her arm, holding tightly while keeping his eyes trained on the planes until they disappear on the horizon again.
"They ignored us," he muttered.
"Not interested, basically because they couldn't see the island."
"What did you do?" Tom asked, his head gesturing at her wand.
"I put on protections," she replied. "Repello Muggletum is one of them."
"What is the extent of the spell?" He asked curiously.
"The whole island?" She arched an eyebrow.
"Fascinating." Tom complimented. Hermione was surprised by the compliment, her eyebrows went to the limit and her mouth formed a small 'O'. Realizing what he had done, Tom soon corrected himself. "Don't be so happy, Granger. I just hope you didn't put us on a war route. "
He seems particularly troubled and walks toward the tent as if he already owns that island.
In the tent, there is an awkward silence as Hermione sets the dinner table. Riddle is sitting in the far armchair of the room, quiet and unmoving, his legs crossed male, looking curiously around, sometimes looking at her in a very fleeting way.
Yeah, certainly very lonely. Tom notices. He is waiting for the right moment to start questioning her, to know how far what she says is true, where the lies are. There is something wrong with this situation, he is sure of it. So, he manipulates Hermione in a way that she doesn't realize is under his domain, namely: Silence.
People are uncomfortable when they are in an environment with someone else who is silent. People feel the need to establish a conversation, something to build empathy, very long periods of silence bother them. Tom waits patiently for the perfect opportunity to begin to reach his goal.
"What do you think?" She asked softly.
This is a perfect time, he smiled to himself.
"About?" He replies.
"The airplanes. This is the first time I've seen them pass through the island. "
"For more accurate information, we'd have to go to Muggle civilization." Tom shrugs.
"Do you think something happened?"
"Something's always happening," He continued. "Muggles are at war."
"It's not much different, isn't it?" Hermione muttered. "The Muggle War and the Grindelwald War."
"I don't know." Tom looked at her. "I've never been in a war." There was malice behind his words, judging the truth of the facts that Hermione had told everyone else.
"No." She looked down, her gaze thoughtful and sad. "It's not very different."
And it wasn't very different. The Grindelwald War, the Muggle War, the Voldemort War all had incredible and sad similarities.
"The soldiers were knocking from door to door in each orphanage, looking for young boys old enough to enlist" Tom admitted, drawing Hermione's gaze to him.
"And what did you do?" She asked curiously.
"I'm not old enough-" He didn't seem to care about her curiosity. "- yet." Tom finished the sentence.
"You don't want to enlist, do you?" Hermione deciphered.
"It's definitely something I have very little interest in."
They sat at the table after Hermione set the plates, sitting facing each other. Hermione silently keeps her eyes on her plate.
"I need the knife," Tom says suddenly. Hermione's gaze goes to the fork he holds. She hesitates, unsure that it would be wise to tell him where the knives were.
"Or you could lend me your wand for me to do a simple cutting spell," Tom suggests, raising one eyebrow, the upper corner of his mouth slightly raised with a mini smile.
Hermione stops, holding her cutlery, and she swallows hard.
"They're in the first drawer in the kitchen." She responds quickly.
Tom gets up from the table and she hears a little laugh from him, it doesn't take long for him to come back and sit in his place again. He cuts the meat off his plate, looking straight at her.
"You're afraid of me." Tom states.
Hermione debated internally what she should say.
"It's not fear; it's caution." She doesn't deny it but also gives a more appropriate name for her attitude. "We have a history of interactions that is, to say the least, interesting."
They eat in silence for a few more minutes before Tom asks:
"Where does the food come from?"
"Hm…" Hermione finished chewing before answering. "I apparate, buy what I need and come back."
"You know how to apparate," Tom says. "I thought we'd learn that skill this new year at Hogwarts."
Hermione has trouble swallowing and almost choked, and coughed a few times before drinking the glass of water offered by Tom. She makes a noise in her throat and takes a deep breath.
"I learned."
"Don't we need a License to Apparate? If not, isn't it breaking the law? " Tom raises an eyebrow, bringing a piece of meat to his mouth with the aid of his fork. "How curious." He smiled.
Hermione understood the intentions behind his words.
"I learned from someone in the -"
"war in France." He concluded the sentence for her. She looked at him, realizing then how much she had already used this excuse.
"Yeah, that's right." She held herself back. "This person told me that if I didn't have a means of escape that was fast enough if things got too hard, then I could die. That's why this person taught me." Hermione lied, the words flowing like water and she was impressed with herself.
"France, isn't it?" Tom put the cutlery on the plate. "You have no accent."
Hermione blinked, politely wiping the corner of her mouth with her napkin.
"Accent?" She questioned.
"Well, if you came from France, fought in the war in France and studied at Beauxbatons, your English should be - if only a little - affected." He concluded. "But you're very English, to be honest."
"That's because I'm English ."
"Oh. So please clarify the events. I'm afraid that I'm a little confused." Tom leaned against the table, being drawn toward Hermione. "Where are your parents, Granger?"
Tom watches her gaze fall, the slight intake of air she takes and how she clasps her hands in her lap. He doesn't need an audible answer, he already knows what the answer is. Death.
"Far more than enough that I may never see them again." Her voice wavered at her mysterious words.
"If you're English, why did you go to Beauxbatons?" He asks.
"I didn't attend."
"No?"
"No." She replies. "That's why I don't have a French accent. I went to Ilvermorny. "
"The American school? " Tom frowned in confusion. Hermione watches into his eyes, trying to connect all the pieces of the story she was telling. "Why? Why not go to Hogwarts from the start? "
Oh, Merlin, this story is getting worse and worse, Hermione thinks.
"I don't know. I just choose one of the schools, I think." She shrugged. "I was born in England, just like my parents and I chose to go to Ilvermorny, I studied for a few years there, my parents moved to France, Grindelwald happened, I went to their aid, they left, I fought the war against Grindelwald, I asked Professor Dumbledore's help and here I am." Hermione lied, that was the most lies she said in a minute.
"Where does Dumbledore fit into all this?" Tom asked, tilting his head to the side, his piercing gaze still on Hermione.
"Dumbledore is a longtime friend. A kind of godfather, that would be a better way of describing it." She licks her lips.
Tom squinted, and the mention of Dumbledore's name lovingly coming out of her mouth leaves a small spark of anger in him.
"Does he know I'm here?" He asked. "With you?"
Why did he want to know about that? Hermione wondered. Would it be wise to tell him the truth? Say no one knows the location of the island? That nobody knows their whereabouts?
"I doubt that very much," Hermione replied, watching his reaction, noting how he relaxed - almost imperceptibly - at her words and how the scowl on his face melted away. "You really don't like him, do you?"
Tom paused for a moment, looking back at her.
"There's nothing to like."
"Why? He's a good man, a good teacher, a good person. "
Tom snorted at her comment.
"He's as bad as Azkaban's worst prisoner. Dumbledore is so afraid. A coward, that's what he is. The neutrality and impartiality he seeks so much will be his ruin. "
" That's not true." She contradicts Tom.
"It's true and you can't deny it. If you think he's so good, why didn't you tell him about our relationship at Hogwarts? I mean, before I put the curse on your tongue. Do you think he didn't know something was wrong? That he didn't notice? He may not know what it is, but he knows that something is going on. In the Ministry, everyone gossips about what the Mighty Wizard will do, yet he hides. What a coward. "
"That's very Gryffindor coming from you ." Hermione narrows her eyes and hears a low, hoarse laugh from Tom.
"It's not me he's embarrassing. It's you and your House. "
She stared at him, only then noticing the mischievous glint in his eyes.
"You are teasing me" Hermione muttered, earning a sideways smile and a raised eyebrow from Tom "If this was a provocation, then tell the truth: Why you don't like Dumbledore?"
"More than half of what I said it's true. He is an old fool and coward and I don't think he deserves the title he has. That's why. "
"You hate him because you disregard him? There has to be more." She frowned in confusion. If there's one thing she learned about Riddle is that he was a complex person.
"If is true, why don't you find out then?" Tom challenged her, his green eyes sparkling.
Hermione stared at him, her gaze didn't waver, and she sat up straighter.
"I-I think ... I think you hate him because he knows about the orphanage and the things that happen there, but he did nothing to change that." Hermione looked down after seeing the expression on a white tone.
Some seconds passed, but it seemed like hours, when she looked up at him, Hermione found him staring at her, the shadow of a smile wanting to appear and a mischievous look staring at her.
"Um… what do we have here? A smart girl." Tom's long, pale index finger lightly tapped Hermione's nose. The action made Hermione freeze in shock and surprise. Tom didn't deny it, yet he didn't claim that what she said was correct.
Before they could continue, Nix made a noise, demanding that Hermione allow him to hunt.
"What is it?" Tom asked.
"It's Nix. He wants to hunt." She replied, going to Nix's cage and freeing him to fly.
Tom watched Hermione's owl fly out into the night sky.
"Did you name him 'Nix?'"
"Yes, because Nyx was—" Hermione couldn't finish speaking because Tom already knew the answer.
"The protector of wizards and witches. Yeah, I already know." He answered. "But is this serious, Granger? Nix? For a male owl?" Tom raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You have a bad taste for names."
That night Hermione showed Tom where the bathroom was and handed him a new change of clothes that belonged to Harry, to make him more comfortable when he went to sleep. She waited for him patiently, avoiding thinking about what she was doing all the time. When not confronting him, it was much easier to question her actions.
When he came out of the bathroom through the steam, Tom was shirtless, wearing only his pants and holding the towel around his neck. She was there, waiting for him, ready and with her wand, the bandages, and ointment in hand. She looked him up and down and then gestured for him to sit in front of her. Tom walked slowly to her and sat on the stool she indicated. She repeated the procedures she had done this morning, adjusting his bandages well. As soon as she was done she got up with a sigh coming from her lips.
"You should dry your hair well. You just got out of a fever." Hermione scolded him gently. She didn't know why she was saying that. It's not like he could die.
Tom Riddle looked at her, putting on the shirt she had offered while still sitting. He is trying to figure out what she gets by doing all this and watches with interest as she goes from attack mode to defence mode and then to kindness in minutes. The meaning of the word strange is too little to describe what Granger is. However, he thinks this is only part of her personality. Curiously, she was afraid of him and yet here she was worried about his health. I can almost laugh.
She stops for a moment, the wand in her hand, she whispers a spell and he feels his hair dry. Magic is amazing.
Granger smiles softly at him, a polite and restrained smile.
"While you were in the bathroom, I prepared a dorm for you." Hermione said, Tom got up and followed her closely. She opened the door to a small but decent room with a bed with blankets and pillows. Beside the bed, a small table with a lamp. It wasn't much, but it was cosy and enough. It didn't look like she was expecting company on her stay on this island.
He nodded, entered the room, looking around. Tom turned to her, she was standing in the doorway.
"Well, I think it's a good night then." Hermione turned and closed the door.
After doing her nightly routine, Hermione was lying on her bed in her room with her wand under the pillow. She was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, her hands on the blankets with her thumbs repeatedly tapping against each other. She was nervous and would probably have trouble sleeping tonight. Yeah, it would really be hard to have a peaceful sleep, especially when the Dark Lord was a few feet from her, conscious and regaining his strength. Hermione was really trying not to think about their conversation, but it was inevitable. Talking to Tom Riddle is one of the things she never thought would do. She tried to take her compassion out of the game and focus on the logical part. Maybe if she lived with him, and analyzed him well, she could understand him. Decipher it. And maybe when she returned to the time she belonged, she could foresee his actions and then help everyone.
She was asleep after a few hours awake. It was the relaxing first part of sleep, her chest rising and falling with each breath she took, and at that moment, the locket that was in her neck began to pop out from under her t-shirt. Even though still trapped around Hermione's neck, the locket levitated, and the Parseltongue whispers began again. The green details - very similar to the colour of the Slytherin House - of the medallion seemed to glow.
Hermione woke up, sleepily blinked a few times to adjust her view and was startled to see the locket levitating, the only thing keeping the locket from going was the cord that held it around her neck. In one swift motion, she held the locket in one hand and lifted her chest to look around. Everything, exactly everything, was levitating.
Hermione got up, took her wand and left the room. The other environments also had the objects levitating. Not even Nix, inside his cage, could escape. She went straight to Riddle's room, as she opened the door, she found the blankets, lamp and everything else floating, just the bed and Riddle that remained where they should be.
Magic.
She looked at him, noticing that he was still unconscious, asleep. Hermione slowly approached him, not realizing that her presence made the floating objects return to the place they should never have left.
She raised a hand toward Riddle, and when he spoke a few words in Parseltongue, she stopped instantly. Hermione didn't understand what he was saying, but judging by the scowl he was making, Riddle might very well be having a nightmare. She waited for a moment, their breathing the only sound in the room, trying to figure out what might disturb the Dark Lord's sleep. The answer was simple: many things.
Who knows what Riddle saw or did? Maybe this was a form of punishment, never having a peaceful sleep.
When he scowled and whispered something else, she decided it was time to wake him up.
"Riddle?" She called him quietly.
Before Hermione could touch him, Riddle's hand caught Hermione's wrist and his green eyes widened in shock, which soon turned to anger and caution.
"What are you doing?" He asked accusingly.
Surprised, Hermione tried to pull her arm from his grip, but Riddle wouldn't allow it. She sighed.
"You were having a nightmare, I think ..." She said passively. Someone had to be the logical person in this situation. He stared at her for a few seconds, looking her up and down warily, before letting her arm go. He sat up, leaning his upper body against the wood of the bed and Hermione sat on the edge of the bed.
"Are you okay? Feeling a fever?" She asked and before he could answer, she put her hand on his forehead, brushing his hair back to measure the temperature. "Um ... no."
He swallowed.
"I'm fine, Granger," Tom answered quickly and remove her hand from his forehead. The constant contact with her, made him feel weird with feelings he didn't recognize, so, he avoided it.
Hermione didn't force him.
"You don't always have to be defensive," She said.
"Look who's talking." Tom snorted.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.
"I am trying to raise the white flag. If we're living together, I think the least is that we don't always have to keep an eye on our backs. What I mean is that I've had countless opportunities to hurt you, and yet I chose not to. You don't see? I don't want to create enmity with you. I don't want to be your enemy." She said. At least not in this time.
To her surprise, he said:
"Very well. I won't pretend to you, I haven't done it before, let alone do it now. You saw what you saw, you know what I am and what I am capable of. Maybe your unwillingness to be my enemy is the best thing you ever did. "
She growled at him.
"No threats."
He gave a little laugh.
"And what fun would it be?"
A minute of silence passed longer than it should. Hermione hesitantly looked at Riddle and found him staring at her intently, as if he'd never stopped staring at her. He folded his arms in front of his body.
"Tell me what you want to tell me." Tom rolled his eyes.
"Do you want to talk about it?" She tried, speaking softly for fear of his reaction. It was understood that she was referring to his dream.
"No." He didn't even seem to think about Hermione's proposal. Who would say? Granger as my private psychologist.
Tom watched her slight tremor with the raw tone of his voice. For some reason unknown to him - which he was unwilling to give meaning - Tom made a sound in his throat before redeeming himself for his brutality.
"No. Because I don't remember." He tried to make his voice softer. No one bites the hand that feeds it.
Hermione nodded and didn't try anymore, but a minute of awkward silence came and she was more than willing to get out of that awkward situation when Riddle said:
"My magic reacts to you. Why?" He asked.
"What?" She turned her face toward him in one swift movement, her expression a slight confusion.
"Do you think I didn't notice? Now? Tonight? Just like the time I touch you at Hogwarts? My magic reacts to something in you and I want to know why."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Hermione quickly denied even to her own credibility.
In one swift motion, Riddle advances on her, his pale long-fingered hand reaching behind Hermione's neck, his fingers circling perfectly. Treacherously, the Time-Turner betrays Hermione when the skin of Riddle's fingers touches the steel of the cord. The Time-Turner seems to heat, and a charge of energy goes through both. It's not Hermione specifically that Tom's magic reacts to, it's the Time-Turner, just as she reacts. And apparently when she, him and the Time-Turner get in touch ... Boom! It happens.
They gasped, letting out their breath. Riddle was very close to Hermione, his face only inches from her face. She could feel his breath caressing her skin, both caught in each other's eyes. Tom smiled. It wasn't a smile of happiness, not a polite smile, it was a smile that showed his confidence or the sense of power he was feeling, and it made Hermione's eyes widen wildly at that realization.
"That's what I'm talking about." He told her, his eyebrows lowered, matching his piercing gaze. "What's this?" His gaze went from Hermione's face to her neck, where he saw a part of the steel cord.
Hermione turned away from him at once, removing his hand from her neck.
"What's this?" He demanded.
"It's a necklace." She answered and Tom narrowed his eyes.
"It's not an ordinary necklace."
"It's a magic necklace."
"Tell me what the necklace does and why my magic reacts to it." He ordered.
Hermione frowned, outraged at his demand.
"It's a magic necklace that's what it is."
"Granger." His tone was a warning.
"I don't have to tell you anything! If you want to know about the necklace, then why not tell me about your ring?" Hermione said, playing with the one thing she knew would make the young Dark Lord back off, and she wasn't wrong. As soon as Tom heard the word 'ring', he backed away, hugging his hand to his chest. "Do you think I didn't feel the magic?" She continued.
Hermione watched as Riddle clenched his right hand into a fist and his left hand covered his right hand, denying her the sight of the ring.
He looked at her and licked his lips to moisten.
"Very well, we'll keep our secrets for now."
Hermione jumped to her feet.
"I don't care about your secrets, so I don't think you will know about mine. I didn't even care what you did. It was you who dragged me into the Room of Requirement! "
" What? What did you say? " He asked.
"That I don't want to know about your secrets?" She wondered at the sudden change in his tone.
"No. In the end. You said 'Room of Requirement. How do you know the name of this room, Granger?" He rose from the bed slowly, Hermione's gaze widening as she realized her mistake and even more as she watched Riddle get up from the bed.
"Never mind." She turned and started walking toward her room. Tom followed her closely, the sound of their heavy footsteps echoing.
"Granger, get back here!" He ordered, pointing to the floor like she was a pet.
They were on opposite sides, Hermione entered her room and turned to face Tom.
"Good night!" She slammed the door in his face. She heard him practically growl on the other side of the door, his footsteps and how he slammed his bedroom door too. Hermione let out a sigh of relief.
o0o
Tom awakens after a turbulent night with thoughts of Granger. After that heated discussion, of course, the little witch would stay in his system, taking away his peace.
He gets out of bed and as much as he tries to ignore it, he makes his bed. It is a custom that was learned at the orphanage. All children must make their beds.
Tom opens the bedroom door, he was prepared for the confrontation. All weapons raised. But all he finds is silence. He goes to the kitchen and is surprised to find breakfast for him. Tom is tempted to refuse the food, his pride is speaking louder, however, he knows that food is a source of energy and if she decides to kick him out of the island, this will be the last decent meal he will have when he returns to the orphanage.
He sits at the table and waits for her for five minutes, hoping she will join him, but the answer is obvious. After he finishes eating and cleaning what has to be cleaned, he does his morning routine. There are clothes waiting for him in the bathroom. Tom narrows his eyes, but he finds himself unable to refuse. When he came out of the bathroom, she is waiting for him in the living room.
"Good morning." Hermione is polite.
"Good morning." He replies.
She gestures for him to sit on the stool in front of her, Tom does what she asked. He looks at nothing, much more focused on the soft touch she makes on his back. It's very different from the burning side of her personality that confronted him every time.
"You're bipolar," Tom said suddenly.
"What?" She paused for a moment.
"You're probably bipolar," He explained. "Your changes in emotions and actions are constant."
She snorted.
"I'm not bipolar." She denied. "But my 'constant changes of emotions' are greatly influenced by your attitudes."
"My bad," Tom replied, not really apologizing. He could hear her little laugh as if she knew he would never apologize and he found himself joining her.
Hermione was silent, she concluded that her work was done. Riddle's back was smooth and uninjured, except for a small line that resembled the whiplash injuries Riddle received. These small lines looked old and healed and were at the base of Riddle's back, she probably didn't notice them because she was so focused on his larger wounds.
She found herself tracing the path of the wounds with her fingers and felt Riddle stiffen in her hand.
He sighed, forcing himself to relax.
"I hadn't seen these."She murmured, very kind and soft.
"Once for never again," Tom said.
"Hm?" She looked over his shoulder, trying to see his face, but he was staring at the rug.
"Once for never again" he repeated. "Once caught never again," he explained.
Hermione knew that there was more. She wondered if he would react brutally if she asked, but she didn't hold back.
"What happened?"
He mused, took a while for him to respond, probably wondering if he would give her another part of the story of his miserable life. - The life he will change. Because one thing is he sure: One day he will be on top.
"I was a kid," Tom replied. "I wanted candy. I went into the hidden pantry, grabbed some candy and went to my dorm, Billy Stubbs busted me, Mrs. Cole came along with Mr. Wool and I was punished. First was my hand, so that I would learn never to steal. I healed my hand because it was unacceptable to have such a visible reminder. But, I leave the mark on my back for me to remember that it was once for never again."
It was then that little Tom Riddle rebellion began. After a few more events, little Tom began to become cold and calculating. He took the other children's things for the simple pleasure of doing and not getting caught, of seeing their frightened expressions. Definitely once for never again.
Hermione listened attentively and silently, with her wand and ointment, she did magic. A few seconds later she got up and took a mirror with both hands.
"Well, why don't you see for yourself?" She suggested.
Tom got up slowly, he took his full height and looked over his shoulder at his reflection in the mirror. His back was smooth as it always should have been. His ivory skin was perfect and as healthy as it could be in its hue.
All the wounds were gone, all the wounds had healed. She had healed everything.
Tom's eyes go from his reflection to her. He looks at her intensely and sees her in a new light, one that he may have denied at first. She is valuable. He will give her the benefit of the doubt, and more patience and he will listen to what she has to say. She is smart and talented. He will give her two favours. Rewards for what she did for him. She gave him a place to be, and protection and took care of his health, even after all. She also took him out of the miserable boring orphanage. Much more than others have given him.
Tom completely turned his body toward her.
"When we get back to Hogwarts, I'll take the curse I put on you." He speaks suddenly, never saying this is a form of thanks.
Hermione blinked, surprised that this subject had come up. She opens and closes her mouth like a fish, not knowing what to say.
"That would be really nice," she replies, almost wanting to smile.
Tom walks slowly towards her, Hermione tries to look anywhere but at him, he's still shirtless and she has to admit to herself that Riddle makes her disconcerted and embarrassed. She can't stop the slight flush that starts on her cheeks. Without realizing it, she holds the mirror, trying to put a barrier between him and her. She can tell that he seems to be at least amused by her attitude.
Tom's confidence returns as he looks at her flushed cheeks. Somehow she is not immune to him.
"So…?" He makes his voice sound purposefully low. "Do you want to tell me about this necklace you wear?"
"Do you want to tell me what this ring is?" Hermione arched an eyebrow. Riddle snorted and retracts a step, Hermione smiled inwardly at herself.
She walks away, putting the mirror in place, watching Tom put on his men's tank top and then put on his shirt. When he is done, Tom looks at her, tilting his head to the side, his gaze intense. Suddenly he closes his eyes and smiles without showing his teeth. Hermione swallows, watching his expression. Whatever thought he was having, she only knows one thing:
It all started from now.