Author's Note:

Thanks for all the favs, follows and reviews! There are now two guest reviews that specifically used the word 'refreshing'. Which is weird because I don't think my work is that unique. Now, it makes me almost afraid to ask (but I'm too curious not to). Just how bad were some of the fics where Hermione gets thrown into the past and meets Tom Riddle that you've seen recently?

'-

08 Agreements: Trust or Lack Thereof II

Hermione meets an overzealous prefect. Tripping a Trap. There are two particularly dedicated defence enthusiasts. Tom has a little post-op meeting.

'-

There was something rather bizarre in having Tom Riddle escort her around Hogwarts.

It was particularly pronounced when he steered her towards the quidditch benches (he had just given her a brief tour of the quidditch pitch), not that either of them cared about which house or houses were currently using the pitch to practice. They weren't sitting among empty benches to make it obvious that they weren't there to watch, but they were not close enough to the rowdy crowd of (mostly) wizards watching that Tom had to introduce her to anyone. She had to admire his social finesse—he gauged the right distance perfectly. From the green-and-silver scarves, she figured that it was the Slytherin team that had the pitch right now. The rowdiness and the yells about scores so far didn't sound as if they were talking about the Slytherin team at all, though—it sounded as if they were talking about an actual, proper game that was ongoing somewhere.

Somebody probably carried a portable Wireless, she thought.

Tom took a moment off somewhere. When he returned, he came with two waffle-bowls containing a slice of banded ice cream cake and handed one to her. He didn't say a word on just how he procured them.

"Eat."

"Um, what?"

"I saw you ate ice cream more than once in the infirmary, so I'm certain you're not averse to it."

"Well, no, but…"

His reply was blunt. "You were starting to mope again. It's rather tiring."

"I wasn't moping!" she insisted, but she did start spooning the ice cream with another wedge of ingeniously-shaped waffle that functioned as edible spoon.

"I don't need to start worrying that you'd be tempted jumping from balconies and open windows once we start going around the towers."

"How nice of you to worry!" Hermione jabbed back, all saccharine sweetness and annoyance.

"If you wish to do that, do it when I'm far away from you," he said easily. "That way I won't be on the list of suspects."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She should've guessed.

The vanilla, chocolate, pistachio and cherry flavoured ice creams were delicious. The colourful stripes were also cheery to see, improving her mood slightly.

"Ha, ha. I'm not suicidal, Riddle," she grumped even as she spooned more ice cream. "Just morose."

The brunette mused that she really shouldn't be surprised that the wizarding world was more cosmopolitan than the non-magical one. When continental travel is just a matter of throwing green powder into the fireplace and stepping in, migration becomes that much easier too. Some enterprising wizard or witch from Italy had probably started spreading the classic Neapolitan ice cream to Britain. The surprised and happy noises she made was enough to make him send the occasional weird look, which she couldn't care less about. He was right, ice cream was a good idea.

Tom had asked about more mundane things that she'd 'seen' in the future, and their conversation was a lot more casual from that point.

("Did the wizarding world ever become less fanatical about this stupid broom sport?"
Hermione grinned. "Quidditch? Guess again. You should see the international attendance for the last World Cup I remember."
"Oh for Merlin's sake." He cursed and she snorted a laughter at his annoyance, but it was good-natured. She could sympathise, really.)

She supposed it was only natural to be curious about the future, but he didn't even start asking about how she fought his mad future self. It was rather unnerving as she couldn't help wonder where all these questions were leading to. Did he really needed to know of all the shops she'd seen in Diagon Alley? Or if the Ministry of Magic was still located in the same place? It was only that her curiosity overpowered her vexation that she followed all his seemingly unrelated questions.

There was a reason to his randomness, she was sure. It's just that she couldn't see it yet.

The wind that blew still had vestigial summer warmth, but the strength of her shivers surprised her. Hermione chalked it up to her reduced constitution, but even the knowledge didn't affect her body's drive to keep warm as she rubbed her elbows.

What she hadn't expected was the casual way he draped his jacket over her shoulders. It was still warm from his body heat—the satin lining sliding smoothly over her skin, the shadow of an embrace. She caught a hint of oak with the faint traces of his cologne. The next thing Hermione did was to pinch the bridge of her nose before she started taking a deeper breath trying to identify the scents (and was that really the only thing she was doing?)

Hermione held back the urge to bang her head on the nearest bench because she wasn't prepared for a second puberty and the distraction (headache, definitely headache) that it would bring. At all.

When the brunette turned to him, she was still rubbing her forehead.

"What's this for?" She shrugged awkwardly to refer to the article of clothing currently on her.

"You need it more than I do."

Her glare only amused him. It wasn't the answer she was looking for and she had a feeling that he was too good at giving answers that were not. She was not childish enough to toss it back in his direction in a fit of pique—she wouldn't pretend she was in the best of health yet. She really should've remembered to wear the serge jacket Nurse Edelstein found in the lost and found section and had refitted for her, given that a tour of the entire Hogwarts couldn't possibly stay completely indoors. Hermione couldn't tell whether the heat on her face was embarrassment or irritation.

Probably both.

Her unamused expression met his. They might have stayed like that for a while if there hadn't been a ruckus among the quidditch audience not far from them. Voices were being raised. Hermione saw the way heads turned in the crowd, the movement focused in a particular direction—some unwanted visitors, she suspected. Some had started to break away. A few others, she saw, headed in their direction. Tom sighed as he stood up.

"Excuse me for a while. If I don't see to them right now, they'd disturb our peace unnecessarily."

"Of course." She nodded.

What else would she say? It wasn't as if she was looking forward to having the rest of Hogwarts intrude on her when she was still recovering. Staying low suited her right now.

The brunette witch was unsurprised by the way the wizards seemed glad to see Tom as he met them halfway. Two had started speaking over each other. The third shushed them after a while and took over telling what their problem was. She might not be able to hear their words at this distance, but she could see their body language. All of them looked up at him, the tableau reminiscent of petitioners before their king in medieval paintings. Each was hanging on to his reply.

When Tom walked in the direction of the commotion, they all unconsciously fell in line behind him.

She did not have much time to muse on just what sort of influence he had when she heard footsteps approaching her from the other direction. The wizard didn't falter when he saw her staring, he only nodded and quickened his steps. Even for a young man, he seemed rather gaunt. Add his solemn expression on top of that and he could easily pass as someone older. His Ravenclaw scarf told her of his House affiliation.

"Hello." Hermione randomly greeted him.

He introduced himself at a rather hurried pace after he gave an obligatory apology for intruding. His name was Jan Verrault and he was a sixth-year prefect. He had guessed that she was the new transfer student, even if he hadn't known her exact name until she told him.

"We don't have enough time," he said, voice heavy with portents. "We can talk further someplace else, but it's more important to leave right now."

"I'm sorry?" she blurted.

He sat some distance away from her and leaned forward.

"Come with me. The wizard you're with is not who he seems."

Hermione snorted, but managed to bite her lip before she said anything too incriminating. No shit, Sherlock. She decided to ignore the weird invitation and focus on the second part. "You're talking about Tom Riddle, right?"

"Yes." He had a most forbidding frown, especially when it didn't seem like she was going to budge anytime soon. Add his rather beak-like nose, and he gave the impression of a disagreeable vulture.

"I'll be fine. I know more about him than most people." she replied.

That only seemed to frustrate the other prefect further as he sent furtive glances in the direction of the large group of Slytherins not far from them, which seemed to still be in the middle of some sort of argument. His prefect pin gleamed under the sun from the lapels of his jacket.

"He's not—he fools everyone with how he looks. Don't get taken by his charm." His words were tinged with frustration.

Hermione sighed. "Tom Riddle is not exactly the nicest person around. I know that. It doesn't mean he's not competent—believe me, I was surprised about that too."

Jan Verrault relented when she shook her head yet again at his offer to take her away from here. He started to speak up.

"I first found traces of his crimes when he was in his first year and I have not given up trying to find enough evidence to bring him to task to the headmaster. If only you've heard about the things that he'd done…he should've been expelled. But he's always been one step ahead of me."

Well, that was a rather unusual degree of dedication, she thought.

"Sooner or later, he'll harm you." Verrault said.

She couldn't help but chuckle even as she slipped her arms into Tom's jacket to wear it properly. She might as well. "Oh, that's merely one possibility out of many, Mr. Verrault. I did tell him that if he ever truly tries to kill me, I'll kill him. I can take him out even if it would cost me my own life, and I know he's starting to get a feel for the extent of my abilities to understand this. He loves living more than I do, so it's not as if he'd try that out anytime soon."

"As you can see, I'm as safe as anyone can be in these times of war." Hermione finished with an upbeat note.

Whatever he had thought she would say, it was clear that it was not that. He'd started a sentence only halfway before abandoning it altogether, and then settling back to staring at her yet again.

"He threatened to kill you?" he asked, frowning. "We'll have to report this to the headmaster."

She shook her head. "That wouldn't do. I threatened to kill him too, so we're actually even right now."

"You're only defending yourself—"

Hermione couldn't help her bark of laughter. Did he just skipped over the part of where she was sure she could take Tom out at the cost of her own life? "And he's also only defending himself. It's a chicken and egg problem. If you see a threat, would you stand by and let it loom over you, or would you move first and try to confront it before it did? Wouldn't that also be self-defence, in a way?"

Her question confounded him because he hadn't expected it. Hermione's wand was in her hand with the lightest flick. She tapped his neck with it in a second and smiled, before slipping it back to its holster.

"There. As you can see, I could've blasted you apart in that moment. Not that I will, just that I can. Tom can't understand my restraint at the beginning, so all he could see is a threat."

She had a feeling that Verrault might have expected to find a damsel in distress only to find a tiger.

"We're currently working to an understanding, Tom and I." Hermione said. "Thank you for the warning, but you truly don't need to worry about me."

Verrault still seemed dissatisfied.

"He's not a good man."

"I don't need him to be good. I just need him to not be evil." she replied, pragmatic.

"You don't know what he's done. You can't possibly be thinking of joining his side—"

"I am my own side." Hermione snapped.

Whatever his reply was, she never heard it, because a smooth voice pulled both of their attention away.

"Now, now, Verrault, what did you say to bother the lady so?"

She saw Verrault tensing, his entire body preparing for a confrontation. Tom had walked back unnoticed in the middle of their intense exchange. He dropped himself to sit on Hermione's left, all solicitousness when he turned to her.

"Are you alright?"

"I was just telling him that I'm fine. We're fine."

"We're fine?"

Hermione shrugged. "Oh, you know. You've threatened my life and I've threatened yours. We're even. It's really no big deal at this point. Verrault is too worried about nothing."

Amusement lit his eyes as he gazed at Verrault and then back at her again with interest.

"You were correcting his mistaken assumptions, I assume?" Tom asked.

"Of course, since he misunderstood the situation." The brunette said this while meeting the eyes of the other Ravenclaw, who was now clenching his jaw because he had to tolerate the presence of someone he probably considered as an outright blackguard. Hermione couldn't even blame his discomfort because it wasn't as if she thought he was wrong.

She sighed. "Would it help if I assure you that I'm always ready to hear any of your concerns later? You can find me and we can talk about it and I'll listen and assuage your worries the best I can."

He was still entirely too serious and wary that one might suspect that she'd just informed him of some death in the family than actually trying to make him feel better. Verrault shook his head.

"It would not really matter. You would have fallen under his influence by then."

Hermione huffed and gazed heavenward. And here she thought that the only 'good' person she needed to worry about was Dumbledore! "I am my own side."

"Perhaps we need to clarify something." Tom suddenly spoke up.

She hadn't managed to reply in response to that when she saw that his wand had dropped into his hand, his gaze gleaming with intent. Hermione didn't even need to think before hers was in her grasp. In the next second, he'd pointed his wand at her abdomen while hers was at his throat.

"As you can see, Verrault, she is not the slightest bit unaware. I think we're both agreed that Hermione doesn't need to be saved from anything, don't you think? She can make up her own mind about keeping my company."

Hermione turned her head slightly to be able to see the other Ravenclaw, but not so much that she lost sight of Tom—not when he had a wand out and aimed at her. The Slytherin did more or less the same thing. Verrault, she found, had only managed to procure his own wand some three seconds later than either of them, his eyes wide. Tom pulled his wand away and slipped it back down his sleeve (and into what she suspected was the holster there). Hermione did the same a moment later.

When Tom offered his hand at her, a charming smile on his face, Hermione couldn't help but stare with a strange sense of displacement, as if she had woken up and found herself in an alien world.

In a way, that was true. She ended up placing her hand in his all the same after that incongruous moment, reminding herself that this was a different time and place. She'd given all the explanations she could give to the Ravenclaw prefect, hadn't she? What else could be said for now?

"If you'll excuse us, Hermione still has several other places to see, as I am currently her guide to Hogwarts. See you later, Verrault." He bid the other prefect goodbye with a friendly greeting. She would not be surprised if he did it on purpose, for it only caused the other prefect's expression to harden, as if carved from granite. Verrault's reply was gruff.

"Riddle."

"See you later, Verrault." Hermione said, more restrained since she had things on her mind to distract her.

"You too, Curie."

It was only some distance away, when they've both returned to the corridors of Hogwarts that she wasn't so deep in thought anymore.

"You're not worried?" she asked him. Indeed, he seemed to be in good humour.

"Of what?"

"That I actually told him about how things stand between us?"

"Not at all. That was actually wonderful. Who would believe it if he told anyone? Threats of murder, really? They would've thought him to be overstating the problem. Most would take it to mean that we've had our disagreements and we've worked on it."

"Which is not even wrong, in a way," her reply was dry. "Though I think the phrase 'we're working on it' is more accurate."

Hermione thought she'd glimpsed a smile from Tom out of all things, but perhaps she was imagining things. His expression was as calm and level as ever, even if his lightened mood is clear.

"Who is he, anyway?" She couldn't help but ask.

"A wizard of a very suspicious nature, who had been skulking in my shadow since I was in first year. I could mention it when he was around, I suppose, but I'm considerate enough not to embarrass him in front of someone he was trying to befriend." Tom said.

She couldn't help but look at him askance. "You? Considerate?"

"Oh, believe me, I was being nice. Back when I was a first-year, he declared loudly that I've killed someone based on just his own suspicion—there wasn't even a dead body. He seems to think that we live in a gothic novel."

Hermione let out a short, surprised laughter that discomfited her. "Oh, that's not nice."

Tom smirked. "Yet I'm not the one laughing at him just now. Admittedly, he does not let his imagination run away with him to that extent these days."

She could feel her cheeks colouring and had no words to reply except to swat his arm at that.

They made the rounds to several corridors and classes. The brunette had no idea how he always knew a sitting place nearby whenever he thought she was starting to noticeably slow down (and she didn't even notice her own fatigue that much). He could always find a place to sit, whether from the repurposed landing of some old servant stairway, an unoccupied and unlocked classroom, an open balcony with wooden seats or even the single rare and unexpected sitting room. His only answer was that it always pays to explore Hogwarts in your spare time.

One of these rarely-explored nooks even had a pretty rococo sofa whose pink-and-gold upholstery seems as bright as if they'd just been changed yesterday. She chalked it up to very regular application of preservation charms and dropped onto its plush surface with a contented sigh. Hermione leaned back without much thought of how messy her curls would be if there were trapped between the sofa's back and her head. Tom sat next to her—not close enough to crowd her, and not farther enough for her to easily ignore his presence.

She suspected that the latter was more of her problem than his, to be honest.

"I was surprised that you didn't befriend Verrault immediately." he said.

"I would have liked that. As you can see, the one who had a problem with that is him, not me."

She could feel his gaze on her but she didn't turn around, content to stare on the large painting of a hunt across the hallway. The people were drawn at a distance and were small because of that, but she could almost hear the faint baying of the dogs that the people were trying to restrain even now.

"He could be a useful ally to you," Tom made a casual comment.

"Really?" She was doubtful on that point.

"I don't think I know anyone else from any house that is as determined to find evidence of my misconduct than him. He might be able to tell you about things I would be reluctant to tell."

Hermione did turn to him then. Tom was down to his shirt now since she was wearing his jacket. She couldn't recall when was the last time she saw someone out of their Hogwarts uniform and wearing a tie when they weren't preparing for a job interview. Yet it still suited him just fine. She remembered just now that even Jan Verrault wore a jacket that matched his trousers when he was out of his Hogwarts uniform. It's a different time, Hermione.

"If I wanted to know you better, I'm sure you could tell me about anything I wanted to know better than someone else."

"You do realise that my account would put myself in the best light, don't you?" His question was wry. She was surprised that he had that much self-awareness.

It still disturbed her that there were noticeable differences between him and Voldemort.

Hermione shrugged after she'd gotten over her surprise. "We all think the best of ourselves—it's only human to do so. That's just something I need to keep in mind at all times and adjust for."

Quietness fell over them; it was surprisingly not awkward and no one felt the urge to fill it with excessive words. If either of them noticed that it had none of the tension of their earlier argument in the library, neither said anything until Hermione felt she was ready to move again. Tom promptly stood up at her slightest movement to help her up.

(That she felt very flattered about it told her that, even if she can't remember any of them, none of her boyfriends were ever this attentive).

'-

Hermione would be the first to say of how her years in Hogwarts taught her that all but the largest of the school's corridors and stairways shifted according to the castle's whim. That was why the more inquisitive Ravenclaws had devised a chart that determined where any corridor or stairs were according to the phases of the moon and other weird details, and these notes had been passed down to generations, with modifications and errata added as necessary*.

(*one such example can be found on the notes for the Northeast Spiral Stairs; changes follow schedule except on night with blue moon. Then, it would be close to where the Central Stairway is located**
**Except if it looks like it's blue and made of Gorgonzola cheese. Use the position farthest from its predicted one in this case).

Predictably, most of the Gryffindors and a good half of the Hufflepuffs never considered it necessary to know the movements in such detail. As long as you know four ways to get to any particular place, you'll get there. You just have to adjust according to which corridors and stairs were near to you at any given time.

Hermione would admit that even then, she didn't expect to turn around a corner and find herself in a rather good simulation of a jungle. The muggy and warm air wrapped her face like a wet towel. The sound of insects filled the air while trees with creepers and vines could be seen to their right and left. The hair at the back of her neck stood.

"Um." she said. She closed her mouth before she said how she expected this corridor to lead to the transfiguration classes' corridor and it certainly doesn't have indoor trees.

Tom tackled her down and rolled them to the side; instead of stone floor, her back fell against soft earth. The spot that they've been standing on before sprung upwards, and Hermione saw a net closing up. It wasn't easy to spot with all the grass and fallen leaves covering it. When projectiles seem to come from her right, she rolled them over yet again and sent two Blasting Curse in retaliation, the explosive fireballs singed trees and burned leaves where it passes.

The brunette yelped and ducked when the first fireball swallowed an oncoming projectile and exploded. It didn't take long for her to notice that it only splattered paint all over them as she sat up, and when some of it had dripped into her mouth, she noticed it was jam.

"Why cranberry?" She asked no one in particular, though Tom was looking at her peculiarly, even as he sat up. "Why not raspberry? I like raspberries."

"Not that I mind where we are, but are we truly going to have this conversation here?"

His left hand was holding her elbow, but she merely raised an eyebrow at him. Hermione didn't think that one spot in the jungle corridor was going to be any different than any other until she heard footsteps approaching them. Her wand arm whipped out against the new threat—Tom leaned back fast enough to avoid getting jabbed in the eye with her wand.

A redheaded wizard lifted both of his hands to show that he was unarmed, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

"Peace, lady! You've proven yourself well enough with the speed of your defence."

"Hullo, Riddle." Another redhead walked up few steps behind the first while looking around at their jam-spattered surroundings. "If we could trouble you to move from your very comfortable position, could you tell us how you noticed the net? We've gotten four people before you already—you're the first we've missed."

She noticed that they were twins as the stepped closer, their clothes identical even up to their bright red waistcoats. It was the brothers' highly interested looks sent in their direction that made her realise she'd been sitting on Tom's lap for a while, or that even if his expression was as placid as ever, he was not entirely unaffected. Hermione stood up as fast as she could without making it seem that she was hurriedly scrambling away. Tom stood up at a more leisurely pace and she made a point of not meeting his side glance.

"Ah, good morning Prewett, and Prewett." He nodded to both of them in turn. "Allow me to introduce Hermione Curie, fifth-year transfer to Hogwarts and Ravenclaw. Hermione, this is Paul and Peter Prewett, sixth-year Gryffindors."

The first twin (Paul?) accepted her proffered hand. To her surprise, he bowed over it instead of shaking it, a chagrined expression on his face. His brother followed suit quickly.

"Just when we found someone good at duelling and you're not in Gryffindor!"

"Ah, sorry." She rubbed the back of her neck only to wince when her left hand came out with more jam. Tom cast a cleaning charm over her that she noticed wasn't Scourgify—it was something more obscure. On the plus side, it didn't dry her hair excessively and cause it to frizz.

"Never mind my brother. We're simply too glad that at least someone's going to pull the standards of practical Defence class up." Peter added.

He shot a look at Tom as he said this. Tom, for his part, looked too innocent to be true.

"I have no idea what you mean." the Slytherin said.

"The first and only time you got caught in one of our obstacle courses, you didn't even get hit!" the other twin (Paul?) complained.

"The fact that I have to clean jam off my robes spoke differently."

"Merely excess splatter," he dismissed Tom's statement as his attention returned to Hermione in mock whisper. "Imagine our disappointment when we heard from Merrythought that he never duelled seriously in class. Never."

"Riddle? A mere dilettante? Say it ain't so!" Peter looked appropriately horrified.

Paul shook his head sombrely. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, brother, but 'tis true. Even our famously serious and scholarly student sought not to show the mediocre what superior spellwork and situational awareness in Defence Arts look like!"

His twin sighed. "As always, it comes down to us again to enlighten the masses, doesn't it?"

"But we will prevail!"

As Paul raised one fist with determination into the air, like a man challenging the gods with his determination, Tom cleared his throat before Hermione could think about doing the same. And here she was wondering if she could slowly back away…

"Now, if you defence fanatics are done with the histrionics, we'll just be on our way." Tom said dryly.

Paul stood up straight and nodded to them as if he hadn't just pulled weird faces a moment ago.

"Very well. It's good to meet you, Curie."

"Um, likewise?" Hermione answered, still slightly confused.

"Oh, and make sure you get him to fight you! And then tell us how it goes! Nobody has challenged Riddle enough for him to take it seriously that we don't have enough records on his abilities."

A quick glance in Tom's direction and the supreme blandness of his gaze told her that he clearly preferred it that way.

The other twin cleared his throat. "Now, about that net trap, Riddle…"

"Your jam bombs fired too soon." Tom answered.

"Too soon?"

"I could hear it launching from your mini-trebuchets. I was avoiding that, not the net itself." He clarified as he finished cleaning himself and then offering his arm to Hermione once more. She took it gingerly, still staring at the twins in thought as Peter cursed and had already gone back to the net (to lower it back down, she suspected, and perhaps adjust whatever needed to be adjusted at the mini-trebuchets to stop launching too soon).

"Isn't the caretaker going to complain about your…" she vaguely gestured to the impromptu jungle in the middle of the corridor.

"Castle improvements?" Peter asked as he brightened, cheeks ruddy with good health perhaps a little too much vim.

"Mess." Tom answered.

"Then it's a good thing that we got Iggy to play distraction on the other side of the castle, isn't it?" He said this with a wide grin promising such mischief that anyone who loved order and regularity would run and duck for cover at this point.

"That must be some favour," Tom mused.

"Indeed." His blue eyes twinkled but he said nothing more.

"See you, Prewett."

"Why don't you join our duelling club, Curie?" Peter asked even as she walked away.

"I don't think Hermione has that much free time with nine advanced classes on schedule." Tom replied without looking back.

"I'll just see how my class schedule goes for now." Hermione hollered as she waved at him.

As Tom followed a particular path among the bushes and undergrowth, avoiding traps that she didn't always notice, she could hear Peter's complaints in the background of how nine classes weren't humanly possible to follow, what with the schedule only allowing five or six at the maximum. They both ducked as a swinging log made its way over their head.

"That wasn't so bad," Hermione murmured as Tom helped her up, ignoring his flat look at that statement. "Are your year mates always this weird?"

His reply was discreet. "The Prewett twins? They are always, hmm, so dedicated in improving the duelling skills of their peers by providing unexpected challenges."

"They enjoy trapping unsuspecting passers-by, you mean?" she asked dryly.

"Hermione, I find it hard to believe that you would think so ill of such civic-minded and volunteering wizards!" he reproached.

She stared at him for three full seconds before bursting into laughter. His increasingly fake-sounding coughs that followed didn't fool her the least.

It was with this odd camaraderie that they continued the last leg of the tour, albeit still faintly smelling of cranberries.

"You pushed me out of the way." Tom noted as he'd finished showing her the transfiguration classrooms, particularly the one they'd be using this year.

"Excuse me?"

"When one of the Prewetts' jam bombs came. You pushed me out of the way."

"You did it first." Hermione shrugged, before she realised what it meant and stared at him oddly. "Anyway, is it so odd for you? That's what having a friend and partner is about, you know? To have someone watch your back for you as you watch theirs."

She had been wandering around, familiarising herself with this place that was familiar and at the same time not, that she hadn't noticed that Tom had stood still.

"A friend and a partner, is it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as her hands trailed over desks whose surfaces have been worn smooth by countless hands through the centuries. "I did say that before, didn't I? I'm not taking it back, in case that's what you're worried about."

The next time she placed her hand in his, he kissed the back of it first before placing it over his arm and he ignored the exasperated sound she made at it.

'-

Melchior Nott has a good instinct for when discretion is the better part of valour. It was why when Tom sent him to find some of his peers, he knew that avoiding Abraxas Malfoy's exuberant joy or Vespasian Starkey's loud determination might be preferred. He found Gallus Rosier (whose preferred spot in the face of any conflict or battle can be described succinctly as 'right behind that elephant-sized boulder'), and the pale and reserved Pendleton.

This was why when Tom had just finished eating lunch with Hermione in the infirmary, the three of them were waiting for him in the library's studying area once again. The Slytherins may be out of their Hogwarts uniform right now, but under their robes, they were still immaculately dressed in suit jackets and ties. They stood up the moment he entered, and only sat down again after they'd exchanged vague greetings and Tom had taken his seat.

He stared at the Nott heir for a few seconds, watching Melchior's fingers unconsciously tapping on the table as they waited. Tom allowed them to see his small smile.

"Good work, gentlemen."

Melchior let out a relieved sigh while Gallus dropped his face into his hands, chuckling as the tension flowed out of him. Pendleton blinked slowly before he nodded his thanks.

"The Prewetts were booby-trapping the corridor leading to the transfigurations classrooms, then?" Gallus asked first. He disliked pressure the most among the Knights.

"You know they are. I would have given you a different answer if you had been wrong about the location of their current ambush area." Tom replied. Gallus cleared his throat at that and lowered his head even as he fidgeted in his seat.

"I hope Verrault didn't give you enough trouble…" Pendleton said. His concern was warranted, as he was the one who made sure he was overheard when he was talking about Tom's plans today near one of Verrault's friends.

"No, not at all. You know that I consider him a nuisance at most." Tom answered.

"He's still not someone I want to take up my time during weekends," Melchior said. He nodded to acknowledge the other Slytherin's point.

"Yes. Yet his presence is still, shall we say, necessary."

This time, even the contentedly neutral Pendleton gave him a disbelieving look. It was Tom's turn to chuckle.

"No, really. You know what they say, don't you? A friend in need is a friend indeed."

None of the Walpurgis Knights seemed to have any idea what Tom was about. Of course, Gallus had long resigned himself to hearing things that went completely over his head when he was in Tom's vicinity. Melchior was clearly biting back his own questions with barely held-back frustration and impatience. Pendleton was as accepting of his liege lord's quirks as usual.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out sooner or later if you have but half a mind put to it." Tom added. He was being truthful as he said this because he had not hidden the fact that he spent more than half the day with Hermione Curie.

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End Notes:

List of Stuff One Might Try to Look Up:

Trebuchet: (medieval warfare) A siege engine in general use in pre-gunpowder era, back in the time when huddling behind a castle or the fortified walls of a city worked to keep you safe and hostile armies at bay. When people say 'trebuchet', they usually refer to the counterweight trebuchet. This is basically a lever with a long arm on one side with a sling at the end, and a short one that holds the counterweight on the other. When the counterweight swung loose, the long arm would slingshot a boulder or large rock in the direction of the enemy.

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Additional Notes:

Melchior Nott (OC): Fifth-year Slytherin, an important Knight of Walpurgis. His family is part of the Sacred 28. He shares three classes with Tom; Advanced Potions, ADADA and Advanced Charms. 'Melchior' comes from Semitic roots that meant 'king city'. This is the name of one of the Magi or three kings that were said to have visited the newborn Jesus). He must exist in canon in some form as either the grandfather or father of Theodore Nott in Harry's generation.

Pragmatically, he decides that to side with Tom Riddle early on is better than to be trampled later on when Tom has gained all the power he wishes on his side and has taken the wizarding world by storm. Melchior thus enters his alliance with Tom with eyes wide open.

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On Hogwarts' class, schedule and related addendum (just skip if you don't really care about or notice these details):

On class schedule: I had to make up some sort of schedule for Hermione's class. So, there are four classes in a day, two before lunch, and two after lunch. That makes for 20 class slots from Monday to Friday, but this doesn't include astronomy's slots, which is anywhere during the night (depending on the position of the celestial object about to be observed), though I suppose Astronomy also has the occasional daytime classes too. So, including Astronomy's unusual timeslots, you have 20-24 slots available for the average student. The average subject takes up 3 class slots in a week. Advanced classes take 4 slots (alright, the one bonus slot is mostly used for extra practise and/or final project consultation, so it's relatively miss-able compared to the other three).

Hermione's class load of nine advanced classes takes up a total of 36 class slots a week. This meant around 2/3 of her classes are always clashing against one another. Hence why she's given leave to attend all classes a third of the time. The only other alternative is to give her a time turner. She might be a genius, but her biggest secret as to why she could take this sort of load (plus reading, plus homework, plus final assignment, etc), is because she's taken around three quarters of these classes before. They're not exactly new material to her. There. In case anyone protests that it's not realistic—I'll have you know, I made her schedule out in a spreadsheet in Excel for consistency. Tom's schedule at seven advanced classes (he doesn't take Advanced Herbology or Advanced Care of Magical Creatures) takes up 28 slots.

(Yes, I know I have too much time on my hands to even come up with this in the first place).

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