Author's Note:
Thanks for all the reviews and feedback, guys! I can easily update somewhat regularly for now since they inspire me.
Random:
Me: *Picking up one brother's phone* Huh, cats. Why does he have to use pics of his cats as wallpaper? At least I used some landscape. Nice and neutral.
Also me: *Scrolls through phone picture folder trying to find one particular pic*. Argh. Where is it? Can't find it among photos of the cat.
*Facepalm*
'-
31 Traces
A controlled fall. Hermione is at the infirmary. Tom visits. Chats. Tom's last Advanced DADA class of Friday. The Ravenclaw Adil Shafiq gets cornered by Tom Riddle.
'-
As Hermione fell, the larger part of her was taken over by her reflex of what to do in an uncontrolled fall—try to control it. This was done by tucking her head in and ensuring she was rolling forward. Well, rolling down was a lot bumpier than rolling on a flat plane, and a hell lot more painful, but at least she could be sure that the Aurors' aikido sensei was going to be proud of her reflex.
Ouch. OW. Argh. Bugger. Shit. FUCK! Yikes. Urk. SHIT! Ow OWOWOW!
Hermione banged her elbows at least twice, scratched various parts of her and certainly bruised her shoulders who was taking the brunt of the impact that would've been taken by her head. She was pretty sure her back was black and blue from getting bounced off the stairs. Her head was spinning by the time she reached the landing at the bottom of the stairs (thank goodness there was a landing on every floor). She took her wand out and ran a diagnostic spell by reflex. No broken or cracked bones. Good. It was annoying that she still hadn't had enough calcium yet, though. She tested her ankles and only found a minor sprain. A minor healing spell took care of that. Mobility was important.
Secondly, she was lucky her bag fell when she was first pushed—she wouldn't have been able to roll properly if any part of her was entangled. Admittedly, she'd had lightened her bag that it wouldn't be a deadweight, but getting tied up would still be a concern. A flash of vanity made her cast a spell to tidy her mass of hair and ran a hand through the loose curls falling beyond her shoulders. She might be bruised, but she wasn't going to have a bird's nest on top of her head.
The third thing that crossed her mind was, Tom is going to kill somebody.
A groan escaped her. Hermione didn't need him on the warpath and casting Cruciatus left and right, even if she thought the idiots probably could use a lesson in how it felt. It would certainly make them less impulsive the next time around, and maybe they'd learn how to not anger the wrong witch or wizard. But no. Dumbledore's suspicions were just going to flame into full-blown paranoia if he did, and she'd rather not antagonise the transfiguration professor and wizarding powerhouse on the side of 'good' unnecessarily.
And because casting Cruciatus is wrong! She slapped her forehead. She was starting to think a little too like Tom. A reminder every so often wouldn't be amiss.
Hermione settled for climbing up the stairs first to retrieve her bag. She figured the three idiots were too shocked with what one of them did that they wouldn't hang around. If they did? Well, Hermione wasn't going to be nice with the spells she can cast, that's for sure. She trudged up the stairs, wincing every time she pulled another muscle or used parts of her that would rather not be used. She can really sympathise with little Adrian Smith right now.
Her guess was correct. They'd scattered. Her bag was on the second step down from the top and she picked it up.
It would be better if Tom heard about it directly from her than from anyone else, because she was sure it was going to sound worse than it actually is. But if he saw her with the bruises, well…
Cruciatus. There would be lots of Cruciatus all the way and maybe someone would end up dead.
Right, bad idea. Infirmary it is, then. Nurse Edelstein can get a full account of the bruises and then heal it up. And then I can send news that I'm in the infirmary.
'-
Maggie Edelstein would rant, rave, and even curse, but she was a professional. She cast healing spells after healing spells while at the same time keeping up a running commentary for her preliminary report with a dicta-quill. Maggie was going to insist on Hermione giving her the name of the three Slytherin witches, but she was stubborn.
"Just write it down that anyone can ask me personally if they want to know. I can't tell you. If there's a record of it somewhere, there's a chance that Tom is going to get his hands on it, and then someone's going to get hurt." The brunette said.
Maggie raised her eyebrows but did not express disbelief. Well, that was new, Hermione thought. Most adults she knew didn't seem to seriously consider Tom Riddle as a threat. She wondered what Maggie had seen that she'd accepted it without comment.
"You can just tell me and I'll keep it. I won't write it down." The nurse said.
"How good are you at occlumency?" Hermione asked.
"All medical personnel have some basic competence at it to preserve patient confidentiality. It's no good keeping secrets if our minds can be scanned easily by any random passer-by, right?"
The nurse's smile faded when she saw that the Ravenclaw student only shook her head. "Not enough. I know you're past the basics, but you need to already have a solid mental foyer or welcoming area to distract visitors and fill it with basic mental constructs scattered around. Enough to hold back and raise the alarm for you. This is at the very least. Anything weaker than that and you wouldn't even notice that he's already rifling through your memories."
Nurse Edelstein's laugh was awkward and thin. "Riddle?"
"He's an accomplished legilimens, Nurse Edelstein. I'd know, because he did try to prod my mental defences and failed once. I'm rather proud of my occlumency skills." She answered. "I managed to counter-attack and we ended up just kicking each other out of our respective minds."
"No, I mean…he'd just…randomly go through other people's thoughts? Like that?"
Hermione could see that the nurse was moving towards dismay and she moved to assure the nurse.
"No, he doesn't actually make it a habit. It's too much of a bother, to be honest." Not unless he was interrogating someone or trying to pry a secret, I think. But that was nothing that Maggie needed to know. "It's just that in this case, he'd go all 'the ends justify the means' because he wants to find the culprits so bloody much."
She took a deep sigh.
"Look, I'm doing damage control right now, alright? I know he'd be annoyed that I didn't go directly to him when I was hurt, but if I did that and then he saw the bruises, someone's going to die."
Hermione said it in a mater-of-fact way, without dramatics of exaggeration. Yet from the weight of Nurse Edelstein's expression, the nurse took it seriously.
"He's actually rather scary, isn't he? And here I thought you said he wasn't your beau," Maggie said in a half-joke.
"Well, he wasn't back then." Hermione muttered.
The nurse gaped. "Hermione! Are you saying—?"
"I thought I might as well since we're going to work together so much." The brunette said.
Maggie Edelstein narrowed her eyes at Hermione. "That doesn't sound very romantic. It doesn't even sound as if you're even interested in a relationship at all."
Hermione huffed. "Yet it's true. I just try not to think about him too much at the time being, alright? Tom gives me a headache. He's going to end up as one of the masters of the universe and I'd probably need to keep an eye on him on his entire life to make sure he doesn't start doing anything too questionable, but otherwise, he'll be a productive and upstanding member of society."
The ironic twist to her lips probably didn't help matters. The brunette ignored the baffled look that the nurse was currently sporting. She rolled her eyes and spoke up again.
"Fine, he's also very clever and he's good looking. It's really no hardship at all to be with him. Now, does that satisfy your curiosity already? Can we get a move on?"
Maggie Edelstein sighed and rubbed her temples. It was clear that she wasn't sure what to think about the most recent development.
"So, now that you know about his tendencies, I'll keep the names to myself, thank you. It's enough that I know who they are. Now, how are we going to send a message to Tom right now so he doesn't hear it from the rumours and assume the worst?"
'-
Nurse Edelstein managed to get one of the house elfs to drop a message to one Hattie Perks that a certain Hermione Curie was looking for her in the infirmary. Hattie stood up from her seat at the Ravenclaw House table and almost ran all the way up, while Nurse Edelstein asked the returning house elf about what they're cooking for lunch today (she and Hermione was going to end up having lunch in the infirmary, after all).
Hermione recognised the house elf as Pinny. She had met her in the kitchen first, and Pinny was also the one who brought her the cakes for yesterday's tea. Her colourful apron made out of various tea cosies that its surface looked quilted. The brunette cheerfully greeted the house elf.
"Pinny! It's funny to see you here now."
"Pinny serves Missus Hermione. Pinny is of course here." The house elf insisted.
Well, that was awkward, Hermione talked to the elf, determined to find out what she liked (Hermione wanted to be able to give the house elfs something even if they don't care for money right now). When Hattie arrived, breathless with enthusiasm and her light brown hair flying behind her, Nurse Edelstein had to ask her to take a breath and slow down. She was a weird mix of excited and terrified when she saw the fifth-year witch on one of the beds and she practically bounced all the way there.
"Hermione! What happened? Are you alright?"
Hermione reflexively cast a spell to put the first-year's wavy hair in better order. "Calm down. Yes, I'm alright now. It's just that Nurse Edelstein doesn't want to let go of me yet. 'For observation' she says. I just think she's lonely."
"I'm not lonely," Maggie Edelstein insisted.
"Anyway," Hermione said. "I just wanted you to pass on a message to Tom at the Slytherin table. Just tell him that I had an accident but I'm fine. You've seen me awake and chatting, and in fact, I'm currently waiting for lunch with Nurse Edelstein right now, and that he doesn't need to worry. Now, can you repeat that?"
Hattie nodded. "You have an accident and you're at the infirmary, but you're fine now. You're also asking him not to worry?"
"Yes, that's about it." Hermione said with a smile. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I can't imagine anyone else I can get that wouldn't make a big fuss about it and would make Tom worry even more."
Hattie huffed with pride. "See? I knew he was your beau even before both of you knew it."
Hermione grinned, too amused. "Well, I suppose you do. Thanks for your help, Hattie."
"You're welcome, Hermione. It's no trouble at all."
And with that, the first-year was off. In the end, Hermione didn't want to imagine what sort of gruesome accident Lakshmi might accidentally (or not-so-accidentally) infer she was suffering from if the dark-haired witch was the one delivering the message. Eugenie would also be too genuinely concerned that it might give a similarly worrying image, while an impersonal note also fails to deliver emotion and intonation, leaving too much room for misinterpretation. Now, Hermione simply hoped that her guess was right and that Hattie's optimism would shine through in her delivery.
'-
Apparently, even Hattie was not enough to sway Tom Riddle. It was either that, or he was the world's most negative pessimist. It was only some ten minutes later when she saw the infirmary door open and his gaze unerringly found hers on the infirmary bed she'd begun to think as 'hers'.
"Hi,' she waved a hand at him when he had reached the bottom of her bed.
Tom didn't say anything, only walking up to her side. His left hand holding the side of her face with a gentleness that she still found surprising when coming from him. She was distracted by his stormy blue eyes before she realised he was casting several spells with his right hand. The first, she noticed, was actually the diagnostic spell she had taught him.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"That was the first thing I checked, Tom. No broken or fractured bones. We've gotten the bumps and bruises as well. It's just that Nurse Edelstein is paranoid and she wants me to stay longer for observation. Seriously, I can just walk out right now—"
"Don't you dare!" Maggie Edelstein's voice came up from the other side of the infirmary.
"No need to worry, Madam Edelstein. I won't let her," Tom coolly replied, his expression implacable.
"Thank you, Mr. Riddle."
"Spoilsport, both of you," Hermione replied, and was soundly ignored by both. She pouted.
Tom leaned forward and kissed her; she found the sharp edge of his emotions to be a familiar taste than threatening. He held her tighter than she'd expected, but instead of uncomfortable, the honesty in his grip only made her own thoughts stutter. It was his frank concern and unrepentant anger fuelling his desperation that made her melt towards him, to seek him out and try to soothe him as she ran her hands through his hair. She was fine, really. She was alright now. Though all these kisses were wonderful and she was happy enough to continue them.
"Well, if I had any doubts at all that he was your beau, I don't have them now." Nurse Edelstein's voice broke through the haze clouding Hermione's mind.
Even though they separated, Tom easily slid his arm around her back. Hermione might be blushing, but she was also grinning.
"Which part of 'it's no hardship at all to be with him' was ambiguous, really?" She wryly asked.
Tom himself was unfazed at having been caught red-handed snogging in the infirmary, by the Head Nurse. "Yes, Madame Edelstein? Is there something we can help you with?"
Maggie Edelstein stared at them for five seconds. They simply stared back.
The nurse sighed. "You two are not cute at all. Why can't you be one of those adorable, loving couples that's gives joy and happiness even to the people watching?"
There was a slight crease at Tom's brow. "Excuse me?"
"Oh, don't mind her, Tom. I think we just broke her rose-coloured view of the world." Hermione remarked. "I'm sorry Nurse Edelstein, but I suppose we're just of the practical sort, really."
"What happened to Hermione?" Tom asked, cutting straight through the chatter (that he saw no point to).
"She fell down a flight of stairs. She's fine now." Maggie said. "There really is no terrible wounds or hideous injuries. I'm afraid if you're looking for drama, you'd be sorely disappointed. I'll let her go this evening, just to be sure, but she's more or less fine—"
"And I've said that myself!" Hermione interjected.
"—so, I suppose I can let you continue your visit as long as you're discreet, Mr. Riddle." The nurse finished.
"Of course. Thank you, Madame Edelstein."
With some more dissatisfied mumbling about kids who grew up too fast and can't even enjoy life, the gleam of Nurse Edelstein's copper head walked away from them and back to the infirmary office. Tom turned to Hermione again.
"What happened?" He asked.
"I fell down a flight of stairs." She said. Which, of course, did not satisfy Tom at all.
"I've seen you move in Advanced Defence, Hermione. It's your precise awareness of your surroundings that allowed you to utilise them so well in your attacks." He watched her carefully as he spoke. "I find it hard to believe that you've failed to realise that you were near a flight of stairs."
"Well, it did happen, my falling down the stairs, I mean."
"Hermione."
Tom tipped her chin up so she couldn't avoid his gaze. He didn't even have to try legilimency (which would only piss her off and gain him nothing); he was content with merely trying to read her face. Hermione bit her lip because she knew in her gut feeling she was going to lose. His voice was deceptively polite, his hand caressing her cheek.
"Who was it?"
"Tom…"
He stepped away, his attention was sharply focused on her the way the alpha wolf of the pack waited for a challenger to flinch first. Fortunately, she was rather good at holding her own.
"Give me their names, Hermione." He ordered.
"Why are you saying they?"
"It couldn't have been just one person to have caught you off guard." He answered. A small smile that wasn't quite friendly rose on his face. "I was right, wasn't I?"
Hermione sighed. She knew she wouldn't be able to hide it from him; she was always too open in her expressions. Even Maggie Edelstein knew that she couldn't have fallen on her own in the first ten seconds—though admittedly, she was experienced at reading trauma wounds too.
"Let me handle them," she finally said.
"Hermione—"
"They crossed me, and they're mine to teach a lesson to. I'll admit, I'll probably take some time to come up with something suitable that I still can live with, but I can do it. We don't need you to go all 'burn their fields and salt their earth' that would get all the wrong kinds of attention, Tom. De-escalation is a thing."
De-escalation was also one of The Met's 21st century policing principles that Hermione was too happy to study about and help Susan Bones devise a custom manual on it for the Aurors. Being part of Her Majesty's Government meant that there are now (gasp!) ISO standards they have to fulfil. Along with other bureaucratic hoop-jumping.
Tom was certainly not on board with the de-escalation plan. His approach was closer to a mafia don's.
"They hurt you. They have to pay."
His voice was soft, but the coldness in it was reaching liquid nitrogen levels. His eyes? His eyes were closer to a pair black holes. Hermione shivered. Whether it was purely on a psychological level, or if he was collecting large amounts of magic around his aura that just grates on the nerves, she didn't know. It did not discomfit her, though, because she knew he was furious on her behalf.
"Oh, Tom…" Hermione sighed.
Was that fondness in her voice again? It was. Dammit. She cursed herself for somehow already not seeing him as this horrible, terrible faceless threat looming over wizarding Britain. He still could be a threat and he could easily be terrible, but she'd realised now that he's the last thing from out-of-control. He did say he can compromise.
"Are you planning on going straight to class after this, or were you going to skip at least one to accompany me?" She asked.
Her sudden change of topics didn't startle him.
"I might not mind missing the next class." He stated.
"You're going to miss the first class of double Advanced Defence, really?" She was rather surprised. "That's certainly going to be a stain on your perfect student image, isn't it?"
Tom shrugged. "It's just one class, Hermione. I'm sure worrying over you in the infirmary is an acceptable excuse. They'll be sympathetic to my concerns about your injury. After all, no one is aware how serious or light it is right now."
His answer was still calculating and absolutely unromantic. Yet she had a slight smile on her face as she shifted to the farther side of the bed and patted the spot next to hers. "Leave your shoes on the floor, then. I really don't like dirt on the bed sheets."
He observed her curiously for a few seconds before he did sit on the bed and pulled his shoes off. He leaned back against the pillow propped in front of the brass rails next to her. She drew her knees up and leaned them against his thigh, tucking herself by his side. The brunette rested her head on his shoulder and she could feel his arm going around her. She caught a whiff of the faint scent of oak and something else that was his cologne.
"You were going to find them and cast the Cruciatus Curse on them, weren't you?" Hermione asked.
She could feel him shift slightly, probably to turn and look at her face. She was still calm and she knew her tone reflected that, so she merely waited.
"It had crossed my mind." He admitted.
It was probably the closest he'd say in a place that wasn't private. "Maybe you'd go and find a few of your friends and ensure you all have good alibis before and after the event. That's rather important."
"You've thought about this." Tom remarked.
"Mmm, yes. I've been thinking about it for a while. The thing is, it didn't matter that you didn't do it. Even if someone experiences genuine accident, as long as the person has some record of conflict with you, it can be read as the effects of hidden interference by a suspicious mind. We both know that you already have someone highly suspicious of you."
They didn't need to name any names—both of them knew it was Dumbledore.
"Now, common knowledge says that the Cruciatus is the easiest and most painful torture spells that can be used, and that is why it's one of the Unforgivables."
"It truly is the easiest to use." Tom said.
"Oh, I have no doubt," Hermione said, easily slipping into her academic mode that she didn't stop to wonder too long about what sort of testing Tom had done to be able to say that. "And considering that not many pain-inflicting spells affect the whole body, it doesn't have many competitions. Add the sophistication that had gone to its construction, well…it's an excellent creation of a master and at the same time a terrible thing."
"But?" He asked.
Hermione balked. "But? Why should there be a 'but'?"
He sounded amused now. "I am recognising your pattern, Hermione. I'm sure you're trying to dissuade me from something yet again."
The witch huffed. "Well, you know that I think the Cruciatus is a barbaric instrument, but I'm sure you already know that and don't need me to spell it out to you."
"That is where you're interesting. You do not go into the tedium of using morality as a crutch and excuse, though you clearly have them and passionately follow them."
He didn't react to her audible snort and a mumbled, 'what use is it if you don't even care about them?'
"When you present me your arguments, you chose to use reason and logic. Sometimes, you also include the not-very-common, common sense. You can clearly argue about them instead of simply taking the moral high ground and assume that it gives you the right to order other people around."
Tom was absent-mindedly stroking her hair. Hermione was not made for idle stillness either, as she had decided to begin a thorough examination of his blazer pockets for anything interesting. Sadly, he did not even have a single caramel or chocolate square there.
"Well, you see, the Cruciatus might not leave a physical wound, but it does not mean it didn't leave a physical trace." She insisted.
"All that pain? That's the curse overloading and inflicting waves of pain on the peripheral nerves of the victim. The nerves become activated, swamped with stimuli. It's important to remember that pain isn't processed in one direction, just from the ends of the peripheral nerves and travel all the way up to the brain. Pardon for my exaggeration, but the actively screaming nerves also releases neurotransmitters of their own to induce the circulatory system to widen their vessels, their pipes. This leaks even more stuff around the area that contributes to the inflammation and sensitivity to more pain."
"It creates a negative feedback loop too. That inflammation? That soup of alarm chemicals? It's detectable in the blood."
Hermione took a deep breath. "If you know what to test, you can prove the use of a torture spell. Test it on various parts of the body and you can prove that a body-wide torture spell is used. Even if you can't conclusively prove the curse used is the Cruciatus, it doesn't matter. All the other body-wide torture spells are also banned under different Ministry edicts or Wizengamot act—whatever spell used, it already meant a dark, forbidden curse is used."
She shook her head, her shaking curls drawing his attention for more than a moment.
"You can't use Cruciatus casually, Tom. It's not as undetectable as some people think, especially to people trained to look for it. I suppose that's what I was trying to say."
The fact that the spell to detect it technically wouldn't be invented in two more decades or more was something she'd conveniently not mentioned, even as she sent up a silent apology to the mediwitch for (most probably) introducing it sooner or later herself. Hermione could not in good conscience not spread the knowledge to the wider wizarding world. It was too useful not to.
They didn't say anything for a while. The quiet of the infirmary was oddly comfortable instead of eerie or strange.
"What's your plan, then?" He asked.
She paused, not quite understanding his question. Hermione could vaguely feel his hand on her far shoulder toying with her hair. Her confusion must have lasted more than a few seconds since he ended up tapping the tip of her nose.
"My plan?"
"You said that they're yours. That implies you have a plan in place to teach them a lesson."
Hermione scrunched up her nose in annoyance. "I'm making one. I'm trying to think of all the ways to make it humiliating without being harmful."
To her surprise, he laughed. She pulled away slightly to see his expression.
"What?"
"Hermione. I can already predict that your attackers are significantly pureblooded. With their pride in their ancestry and their insistence on holding their name to honourable standards…do you think you would not harm them if you humiliate them? To dishonour them is to bring them pain. It is a way to harm them. There is no humiliation that is harmless to their status and position."
"…for they cannot bear to be laughed at," Hermione murmured. She settled back against his solid frame while she lost herself in thought.
"Why, yes, that is one important idea. If you choose to humiliate them, and if you can pull a grand jest, I suppose I can spare them from the Cruciatus."
"Does it have to be a grand one?" She asked.
"Nothing less will do."
"What does that mean? That you'll track them down yourself otherwise?"
"Yes."
"But…you're going to get suspected and—"
"I'll come up with something else other than the Cruciatus. Really, Hermione, you're not the only one who can be creative." He commented wryly.
She huffed. He just had to add more work on her plate, didn't he? The brunette resigned herself to wasting some brainpower on the three idiots, but she supposed she can put that off for later. Right now, something else was on her mind.
"Tom? Cases like Hattie and Adrian's…they're not really rare at Hogwarts, are they? It wasn't a matter of coincidence that I saw them. Well, it was a coincidence that I encountered them rather than some other kids, but sooner or later, I was going to see something like it, don't I? Because the ostracising and the jeering is more commonplace than I'd like."
His fingers paused at the nape of her neck, raising the fine hairs there and she held back a shiver.
"If we're speaking of things you liked, Hermione, there are many things in Hogwarts that you do not like." Tom said, his voice low.
"I was afraid of that."
"Yet previous generations of Hogwarts students had survived through it all the same. I presume that generations of future Hogwarts student would manage."
Hermione bit her lip in thought, her forehead creasing. She had even stopped trying to find something interesting in Tom's pockets, ignoring his perplexed expression at her diligence in searching for who-knows-what (conclusion: he's an annoying neat freak on that front).
"…you're planning something, aren't you?" Tom finally asked.
Wait, was that the first hint of apprehension in his voice? Nah, it couldn't be, Hermione thought. He was annoyingly unmoved most of the time.
"It all comes down to being a muggleborn, isn't it?" She asked back.
"Not quite a surprise considering the recent news." He answered. "Besides, muggles are violent.
Yes, but it wasn't supposed to be normal. All the low-level bitterness didn't have to be normal, Hermione thought. They could change it. She groaned when she realised what his last sentence was.
"Do you want to have that discussion about muggle violence now? We can have it now since we both have the free time."
His shrug was noncommittal.
"You're well aware of the excesses of this war, or even the last Great War. I'd hardly think that if Grindelwald didn't interfere, they wouldn't have happened at all." He opened his position.
"Of course not," she agreed. "The situation was already an unstable powder keg waiting for a spark, with the Versailles Treaty not exactly made in good faith. Not that I think anyone has had any experience in making international treaties in good faith yet, at this stage of international relations and diplomacy. It's just…the size of the war is a matter of numbers. When you're a society that numbers in the tens and hundreds of millions, of course your wars are going to follow that scale in destruction."
It was clearly just a matter of demographics, in her perspective.
"When you're a society that's only, what, hundreds of thousands? Well, there's a limit to the scale of destruction you can wreak, right? I think tens of millions of wizards and witches could inflict comparable damage, if not more."
She'd noticed that Tom had just paused.
"Tens and hundreds of million?" His voice was all too even when he asked her.
"Well, yes. Britain's population in 1941 is around 38 million people according to the census that year. France has 41 million people according to their last census in 1931, while Germany has almost 80 million people before the war." Hermione answered, slightly amused. She'd realised then that most people in the wizarding world probably had no idea just how many muggles exist compared to them.
"How did you even know those numbers?" Tom asked.
She rolled her eyes. "We had a similar talk before, remember? When you were asking me about what sort of futures I've seen as well as future wars? I thought I might as well check out some muggle almanacs or some such from the library before we have yet another conversation about it."
His reply was a non-committal hum.
"This certainly puts the scale of the non-magical wars into perspective. And oh, don't let me get started on the United States. They're practically half a continent on their own. Their population is immense. They're certainly in the hundreds million range."
They did not exactly chat about anything more substantial than that afterwards, but Hermione thought it was a good start to increase awareness of the non-magical world's scale.
'-
They still managed to catch up with the last class of day, Advanced DADA, because Hermione didn't believe in missing class for no good reason. Even Nurse Edelstein was worn down by her insistence.
"Look, I'm really fine." She insisted to Tom. "If you must know, I'm just as annoyed with myself because I was careless with the idiots."
"Careless?" Tom watched her.
"Careless." She said, exhaling in a huff. "I showed them my back. I wouldn't do that again, you know?"
"I was right. You were caught off-guard." He said with a knowing tone. Hermione didn't dignify that with an answer.
It was certainly very noticeable to everyone that Tom and Hermione had both missed the ADADA class after lunch. A few students had heard Hermione passing the explanation from Nurse Edelstein to Professor Merrythought as well as Tom's explanation that Hermione fell down some stairs. More than one student observed that his expression was unexpectedly, scarily cold. At least a quarter of the class instantly figured out that Hermione's 'accident' wasn't precisely one.
This included Adil Shafiq and the newly-transferred-to-the-Advanced-class Julia Goldstein, who immediately asked Hermione if she was alright (Rajesh Setalvad was more interested in challenging yet another person to a duel). The brunette rolled her eyes and assured them that she was fine. She missed the looks exchanged between her House mates and Tom, though. Shafiq, seemed particularly contemplative. Something in his expression made Tom sought to talk with him some distance away from Hermione and Julia.
"So, what did I miss?" Hermione asked the other brunette.
Julia shook her head. "Nothing you'd consider important, I'm sure. The previous class is mostly theory. You know, the things to keep in mind when you're fighting in someone's manor, unknown ruins, that sort of stuffs. I'm sure you're here for the practicals though—if so, you came at the right time."
"Ah," Hermione nodded with understanding. "Yes, I've gone through the material. It's not a problem at all."
Tom was still talking with Shafiq, both wizards looking particularly serious. What on earth could they be chatting about? She was pretty sure they weren't close friends—Shafiq called him Riddle, and Tom also called him Shafiq. For some reason, it didn't seem like something he was going to tell her, though. Her curiosity was prickling.
'-
After seeing Tom and Hermione's previous fight, along with Hermione's duels with Nott, Malfoy and several other classmates in the previous class, Professor Merrythought considered her to be in fine control of herself and approved her to join the class' more general duels. Tom raised his hand before they were sent off to start choosing partners and duelling.
"Professor Merrythought?"
"Yes, Tom?"
"What's the purpose of this duelling session?" He asked.
The silver-haired witch stared at him oddly. "Why, to practise, of course."
"Yes, but is it to practise one's nerves in a duel and a fight, to be prepared to win or lose, or is it to practise slinging spells? If I use my full speed and readiness, it may unnerve many and eliminate them within the first ten seconds and they'd get a feel of what a real duel would be like. Yet they wouldn't get enough practise slinging spells that way," Tom pointed out the two possibilities with all the thoughtfulness of a considerate student towards his classmate.
Galatea Merrythought was an experienced duellist too, and she wasn't blind to the extent of skill that Tom displayed in his fight against Hermione. She didn't miss his ambition and drive, though she also appreciated his usually more laid-back approach to duelling. This was because he never minded to take the time to inform his defeated opponents where they were weak at the end of the duel—it was almost as comprehensive as her own comments. He really was a blessing for any teacher to have in their class.
Merrythought grinned. "Feeling a little competitive today, Tom?"
Not that she minded if he were to occasionally flash his fangs further. His smile was a little tight.
"I feel the need to burn off some edge. I'm afraid I don't have enough patience right now for casual duelling."
So, he considered most of his duels casual, eh? The teacher thought with interest. She nodded to him.
"Go ahead, Tom."
She mused over the matter for another moment. "Do you think you'd rather have warned them of your different approach right now, or not?" She asked.
"Well, Professor, awareness of your surroundings and your enemy is a skill that one should acquire, isn't it?" Tom asked, his dark blue eyes was particularly unreadable. His usually pleasant smile had a challenging tilt to it. Merrythought was aware of what Hermione's short stay in the infirmary implied and how it relates to Tom's irritation.
The professor laughed. "Oh, alright. You've made a good point, Mr. Riddle. Go ahead and give the class a challenge, then."
"Thank you, Professor."
"Oh, no, thank you. I'll just be around, enjoying the show."
When Tom Riddle walked into the duelling arena of the class, his steps were not the walk of a confident wizard that she'd come to recognise as his usual gait. Now, he stalked forward, his body language the dominating one of a predator. If she wasn't mistaken, she was sure she could already feel the slight magical static around him when they chatted. It was the hallmark of powerful wizards and witches gathering magic into their aura as they prepared for battle.
Merrythought wondered how fast the rest of her students was going to notice the difference.
The first person that Tom challenged, a Gryffindor, was out by Tom's eighth spell. If Tom didn't quickly flick up a cushioning charm, he'd have crashed right into one of the tables. The second one, a Hufflepuff, looked like he dearly wished could say no but couldn't find the word within the time frame and ended up saying yes anyway. Tom's fourth spell was an Expelliarmus, his fifth summoned the wizard's wand to his own hand easily. After that, the students who are weaker in duels stayed well enough away from him. Abraxas did volunteer not long after that. He actually held up for a respectable length of time before he ended up falling. One other student was felled by a stray spell from that duel, but Merrythought was not sympathetic, as situational awareness was also one of the things she deemed important.
That was when Rajesh Setalvad had just finished his rather intense duel with House mate Augusta Delagardie and made a straight line towards Tom Riddle.
"I'd like to challenge you to a fight, Riddle." He said.
"A fight?"
Grey eyes met blue. "Yes, a fight. A duel wouldn't show your true potential, and I'm afraid I'm also personally disadvantaged at duels."
"Not that I disagree with you there, Setalvad, but you are aware that other students are also duelling in this class right now, yes?" Tom's question was polite, but his smile had a hint of canines in it.
"That only means that they'd best get out of our way if they knew what's good for them."
Tom made a considerate effort to look around their surroundings. Several people who'd just finished their duel duly moved to the other parts of the class that did not contain either Tom or Rajesh. A few were still duelling nearby, but considering they were not low-level duellers, they probably could handle themselves (Julia Goldstein was up against Augusta Delagardie while Hufflepuff's Helene Girard was duelling Ravenclaw's Ignatius Tuft).
"Well, it seems that we have the needed space, Mr. Setalvad."
"Indeed, Mr. Riddle."
They went through the salutes and bow quickly and before long they were slinging spells at breakneck speed. Tom certainly cast faster, as he had managed to silence the majority of his spells, but Setalvad was no slouch with silent shield spells and to manoeuvre around it to send attacks. The back-and-forth seemed to have gone on a long time but might only have been a few minutes. At one point, Tom cast Oleumenti on the floor and Rajesh slipped on the new layer of oil.
The Gryffindor managed to raise a shield quickly enough as Tom's Confringo arrived in a blast of fireball; it exploded and took down his shield. Tom lost sight of him due to the explosion that he'd almost missed the two tables and a chair that Rajesh threw his way. He dodged. At some point, his opponent had cast Aguamenti on the floor, but Tom barely even skidded. His single slip didn't affect his casting speed or accuracy.
Rajesh sent two cutting charms and they went through at opposite sides, one slashing his left forearm; behind them, a student yelped as they ducked one of the spells and yet another table that Tom destroyed mid-air with a Reducto. The exchange of spells continued, with the Gryffindor impressively not missing his aim when he slipped and forced himself to leap to a spot with better cover—he had slowed down and his speed made him easy prey to Tom's intense barrage of spells.
He managed to send a Catherine wheel towards Tom, but the Slytherin cut right through its flames with a fire whip in return. Tom slipped twice but avoided the worst of several spells. He frowned at his unsteady step. Something was off but he didn't have time to check.
Not long after that, Rajesh gamely admitted his defeat. Tom approached him curiously.
"You were still capable of fighting me, why surrender now?" He asked.
Setalvad's smile was rueful, but it was lit with a self-awareness that not many his age had. He did not seem to realise the two cuts he was sporting, one at his temple, nor did he seem at all fazed by his loss or surrender. "Oh, certainly. I'm sure I can hold up for another five minutes too. But I saw after a while that you have noticeably more power in your spells than I do, and more than twice my casting speed. A mastery of shield spells wasn't going to bring me victory."
Tom nodded. "That was quick realisation."
"One cannot retreat to fight another day without realising the limits of one's abilities." He took a deep breath and said something that was probably not easy for him.
"Thank you for the good fight, Riddle."
"Certainly. You put up a good defence, too."
They shook hands, and when Tom turned around, more students conveniently found a good reason to immediately be somewhere else.
It was Hermione who first approached him because she noticed that his step was uneven and she sent one of her rather specific healing spells his way.
"What was that for?" He asked.
"Jelly-legs jinx. It came up on my spell-damage diagnostic. It's rather different than the usual, though, I wonder why…doesn't even seem to be that good," Hermione mused.
Tom chuckled at that but didn't explain further.
Setalvad had managed to put in a partial jelly-leg jinx. Most would think of it as a bad spell, as it barely altered the victim. Why he thought of making that modification, many people had no clue. Tom, however, had to commend him on the idea. After all, it was harder to notice.
"Did you feel better after all those duels?" Hermione asked, one eyebrow raised.
"It was a nice practice," Tom answered, staring. She looked alive, magic probably still running in her veins. Her cheeks were rosy and he thought he'd never seen anyone with a more attractive vitality as she did, flush with the fire of her battles and life itself.
He noticed that Gallus Rosier was ambling along some distance behind her and he hid his smirk. Most people wouldn't even think he was following her, but Tom knew better. If Gallus knew anything, it was to honestly gauge power and to align himself accordingly.
'-
Tom was trying to distract her from something. Hermione wasn't having that.
"But?" She prompted.
He did not immediately answer, seemingly considering something in his mind.
"But it doesn't compare to fighting you."
He did not avoid glancing at her with shyness or feigned reluctance. He simply stared, and the intensity of his gaze caused an unexpected warmth to spread over her cheeks along with an almost fierce feeling to fight singing in her blood. She could almost see the answering call in his in the way he subtly turned with her every step, never breaking their eye contact, their bodies attuned to each other.
"Um, right. Unfortunately, I don't think Professor Merrythought is prepared for us to destroy the class again. And I'm sure I'll just escalate in destruction." Hermione said.
"Really?" He took a step forward.
"Well, I'd have to use different methods and techniques now if I want to keep my edge, right? But that also mean that the destruction could easily be worse than last time, though." She said. "I'd hate to lose just because I was uncreative."
"I'm sure you could be very…creative." His voice was low and soft, and she'd inadvertently leaned forward to listen better. Unfortunately, it meant that she was distracted by his smirk.
Just when she was sure he was losing the thread of the conversation too, Tom stepped back. He almost looked regretful.
"Once more into the breach, then? It's back into the more routine duels, I'm afraid." He said, still not looking away.
Hermione released the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.
"Right! Back to other duels."
What was that?
'-
"Give me your arm, Shafiq."
Adil Shafiq stared uncertainly at Tom Riddle. He'd just been completely wiped by the Slytherin in their duel. The fact that Riddle's expression was his usual placid one throughout the whole encounter didn't make him feel better. Riddle was just…too unaffected. Not even when Shafiq's spell hit him did he show much emotion—that last one, he'd accidentally used a not-quite-light cutting spell, but the prefect shrugged it off. It actually reminded him of the horror story Julia told him once, about the time one of her cousins had to fight a runaway golem, relentless and unyielding…
"Shafiq?" Riddle raised one well-formed eyebrow, watching him oddly.
"I'm fine."
"You slipped and knocked your arm against the tables, and then the chair legs." He dryly replied.
Adil felt himself wincing just from the recollection. Riddle took his other elbow and hauled him up before he even realised what was happening. "If you'll just roll your sleeves up, I can cast Episkey on them. Any deeper bruise might require something stronger, but I'm sure Hermione can cover that later."
Ah, so that's what he was trying to do.
"Um, you don't need to do that."
"I know," Riddle replied, amused. "I wanted to. Now, are you going to let me do this the easy way, or the hard way?"
Adil was already taking his blazer off by some survival instinct before he realised it.
He knew Riddle was joking, and that he really would be healing him instead of hurting, for Suleiman's sake. Yet something had always made him tread carefully around the Slytherin prefect, and it was recently getting worse. If Riddle had been polite and well-mannered though generally opaque before, the more forceful undercurrent to his personality had been surfacing more often lately.
"Don't take this the wrong way, Riddle, but you're bloody terrifying to fight against today." The words had come out before he even realised it.
To his surprise, Riddle chuckled. "I know. You know exactly why that is."
The Ravenclaw nodded. He did. He'd never thought he'd ever found something relatable about the unnaturally perfect student in front of him, but Riddle's protectiveness over Hermione was that factor. The recent transfer was someone he'd found to be a genuinely good person.
"I saw her move against you. I can't imagine her being that clumsy with some stairs."
The Slytherin nodded. "So, what do you know?"
Riddle's gaze was as cold as a snake's. Adil huffed as he looked away and avoided the uncomfortable eye contact. Not that he can draw back when the other wizard was holding his arm (to heal, Adil, just to heal, don't you bloody panic now). Sheesh, he should really tone that down. And people say he's not courting Hermione? Are they blind or just desperately wishing he's single? It's just a matter of time.
"It's like I told you earlier—I'm pretty sure it's not our House. The wizards have no reason to hate Hermione. Speaking of the witches, well, there's always the ones who're a bit slow in any place, but I know them. In Ravenclaw and our year, that person would be Olive Hornby and her clique, who're always thinking they could somehow get one up over Hermione." He ignored the derisive snort from Riddle at that thought. "Yes, exactly. She's delusional, but still petty and simple in methods."
He mused a little more, even exchanging his arm when Riddle gestured at his dominant hand. Well, who was he to stop the prefect from doing his good deed of the day? He certainly wasn't flexible enough to heal his right arm with his wand in his right hand.
"Delilah Fawley could be a bit of an envious witch, but she's nowhere near daring or crazy enough to attack someone directly—she talked my ear off about her annoying childhood friend who dares to try to upstage her. She's just an airhead, but she's not actually a bully. I don't even think Doris Crouch has enough, hmm, self-delusion to go that far even if she did have unnerving amounts of admiration for you."
He tapped the fingers of his left hand on the table. "Let's try someone from a different year, seventh-year, then. Perhaps…ah, Selwyn. Stephanie Selwyn might be an inveterate socialite and snob, and you can say what you want about the unfortunate nasal twang to her voice, but she still has some class to not self-sabotage like that."
If they were both from any other year, he might consider academic sabotage, but Hermione was just so far above all others that most don't bother. That was the general opinion of the scholarly ambitious people that he knew in Ravenclaw.
Adil shook his head. "I really can't recall anyone who would. I mean, give me a name, any name, and I'm sure I can tell you why it's not them. I'm sure I can give you information about other witches not of Ravenclaw too."
Riddle actually seemed…mildly impressed? That's new, Adil thought uncertainly. He wasn't sure whether this was good news or bad news for him.
"You seem to be surprisingly well-informed." The other wizard said.
He let out a dragged-out, exasperated sigh as he rubbed his face with his hands. He was so frustrated at the memory of his summer that he could almost scratch his eyeballs out even now.
"Look, if your mother pulled you to lunches, teas and dinners with her friends and their pureblood daughters, or if she forced you to attend all the blasted society parties, at some point you could recite their pedigree forwards and backwards. I certainly also remember their talents, their personality highlights, their general appearance—and damn it all to hell, I've even started to remember the size of some of the dowries! The whole bloody mating song-and-dance. My mother is taking over my brain!" Adil cursed.
It really was one of the noticeable downsides of being an heir from the Sacred 28. It was worse that his family was the main branch—and that two of their branch houses had just died out in some conflict in the Indian Empire. It made his mother more obsessed with marrying her children off quickly.
"Well, I appreciate your encyclopaedic knowledge of pureblood debutantes, Shafiq," Riddle replied in what he thought to be excessively good cheer, ignoring Shafiq's pitiful groan at that.
"I'll certainly get back at you if I have additional concerns I'd wish to clarify."
"Please, for the love of Merlin, don't," Adil desperately replied.
Tom Riddle only chuckled and patted him on his shoulder. The darkness in his eyes reminded Adil of the endless nothing between the stars.
Inwardly, he sighed. Dammit. Now, I'm definitely on Tom Riddle's 'list of useful people'.
He's never going to leave me alone, is he?
'-
.
.
.
End Notes:
List of Stuff One Might Try to Look Up:
The Met: The London Metropolitan Police Department.
'-
Additional Notes:
Masters of the Universe: Term first coined by Tom Wolfe in his 1987 novel The Bonfire of the Vanities to describe the powerful financiers of Wall Street. The phrase has cropped up in book titles more recently after the 2008 economic crisis started by the US' subprime mortgage crash, usually in books critical of the lack of restraint and/or regulation in high finance or neoliberal capitalism. Used to refer similarly powerful people now (with a heavy emphasis on the financial part most of the time, though sometimes for well-connected politicians too). Not that Hermione is aware how (subtly) anachronistic the term is or how other people might take a different meaning from it.
'-
Adil Shafiq (OC):
Fifth-year Ravenclaw. The classes that he shares with Hermione are Advanced Transfiguration, Advanced DADA, and Advanced Astronomy. The Shafiq family does exists in canon as one of the Sacred 28, though we don't seem to see their presence in Harry's generation. His first name 'Adil' means 'Just'. Some sixth sense of his is always warning him to be careful around Tom Riddle, even before he'd seen what Tom was like beyond the high-achieving student and perfect prefect. Clearly has good instincts.
'-