AN: Just wanted to say in case anyone asks, I have no set schedule for updates or anything, but I try to squeeze these babies out as fast as my little mushy brain can handle.

And so, the seduction begins.

I'll Let You In
Chapter Two: I Scream, You Scream
- : o : -

As she stewed and simmered back at her little apartment, she practiced intently with her wand, getting herself nicely acquainted as she made everything more clean and tidy. Everleigh hadn't been overly messy in her environment, but she certainly wasn't the Type A sort like Hermione.

She magically scoured and scrubbed the entire washroom, the toilet, the tub, and all, attempting to keep her nerves low but despite everything she did, couldn't keep her mind from her more complicated concerns.

Now, when it really mattered, she did not know how to approach the situation. She couldn't be certain, but perhaps, if she went to see Albus Dumbledore… maybe she could tell him what was going on. She could tell him that she had known the Headmaster Dumbledore of the future, knew the tragic fate of their kind and was somehow sent back to repair it. He could help her, she could tell him everything, couldn't she? Or, would that unwittingly cause a ripple effect that ended things worse than they were?

Nothing, nothing could be worse than what they went through in 1998.

Well, it could always be worse, couldn't it?

Maybe Dumbledore didn't need to know every excruciating detail, some information could lead to backfire.

Tom had murdered several people already… the wisest thing to have done would have been to turn him into the authorities, wouldn't it? And yet, she didn't think she'd be able to bring herself to do that. She'd need proof anyway, and proof she didn't have. Not yet.

She didn't know, she didn't know anything. Maybe it had been a bad idea to insert herself into his life, especially so quickly. She should have watched him from a distance, from the shadows. She should have disguised herself, should have operated more undercover.

She should have done a lot of things differently, but she'd already made part of the bed. Stumbling clumsily along, she'd somehow have to fix the other side.

Whatever the case may be, now that it was too late and they were already acquainted, something told her she was going to have to get Tom Riddle to trust her. Perhaps she could be a confidant of sorts? Not that she expected him to give up any real, valuable information of course, but maybe in due time. Though as it were, she knew all the valuable information, she just didn't know how to use it yet.

Still, going to go talk to him… it was worth a shot, wasn't it? It was the only shot she had, at the moment, unless she wanted to outright assassinate him.

Yet… despite the fact that he had murdered her in cold blood in a distant future, a different self, something inside of her was sure that maiming him here was not the answer.

And, humorously enough, he seemed… interested in her? He had come after her in the streets, hadn't he? He was definitely intrigued, maybe more suspicious than anything, though Eevie couldn't be sure his precise reasoning.

Somehow, she thought it might be more realistic of her if she did not go to see him. Not right away, at least. What would Everleigh St. Germain do, in this case? How would the witch, before Hermione Granger entered her body, handle this situation?

For one, the girl would have probably never even been on that side of town, just as was established in she and Tom's very first conversation – if one could have called that a conversation. It felt more like blindly falling into a hazing initiation in desperation to be welcomed into Greek Society.

Throwing herself to the wolves, or to the wolf, rather.

At the time, it had felt like that was where she was meant to be, the right thing to do but she still couldn't be sure why she ever thought so. It had not been a careful approach. She'd just sort of felt herself being spirited away, had found her feet right there in front of the shop and going inside.

The Hermione inside her would have been so much more prepared, would have premediated everything before going into the fold. It was like Everleigh was far more scatterbrained or something and on top of the inherent stress of her waking nightmare, it was making it so much more difficult to think rationally.

She had to make sure her next moves were more well-planned.

She reckoned she was supposed to get Tom Riddle to feel as if he could trust her, to get him to like her but just how much?

Just a little, or a lot?

And was he really going to fall for this? Was she really going to be able to fool one of the most powerful wizards of all time?

Hardly.

But she had no choice, no other clear way to go until she spoke to Dumbledore, and she didn't want to wait too long. She didn't want to represent herself as completely disinterested in Tom, did she?

She'd have to attempt to befriend the young Voldemort, for now.

Were she meant to show the remorseless boy how it felt to be genuinely cared about, as he'd never been? Everleigh herself, had been neglected and abused as a child, abandoned, very similar to what he went through, but unlike Tom, she had been very lucky with her adoptive family.

Tom had never really had anyone, not really, nobody except Nagini, his loyal python whom he'd had a lifetime companionship with ever since his youth at the orphanage – a relationship Everleigh wouldn't necessarily call healthy.

Ugh, she had forgotten about the dreaded Nagini. To Everleigh's knowledge, the serpent was not yet a horcrux, but of course was always still a threat.

Reticulating pythons aside, was Everleigh to, in an incredibly significant manner, show Tom compassion and truth, authentic kindness, perhaps… she gulped, love?

No, she couldn't be silly. That was silly.

So silly.

He was incapable of loving, wasn't he?

Yet, the notion lingered behind her tired, tear-filled eyes as she fell into bed much too early to sleep off her reeling mind, and her broken heart. Rest and solace, solace in Hermione's memories – that was what she needed and that is where she stayed for almost three days.

She just wasn't all there yet, desperately clinging to the tiny pieces of sanity she had left, holding onto her old life. It was selfish of her, to sit around without attempting to make any progress, but she just couldn't bring herself to.

Then, with the biting courage she used to be known for between the breathless sighs she was succumbing to more and more, Everleigh got ready for the day – but not before some solo Occlumency practice in front of the mirror. Yet the more tactics she tried on her own, the more she began to realize she would improve no further without some more hands on, in-person experience.

She was going to have to face him again eventually, but she still wasn't yet ready.

She might never feel ready, but she had to be brave. She had to be stronger, for Harry, for Ron, for all of them.

It was Saturday and her interview was on Monday. She was hardly too worried about her success over it, but there was a small part of her that didn't even want to go. That wasn't her life, that was Everleigh's, though she had to figure, Everleigh's life was now hers.

If she were spending up all her time at St. Mungo's, there would be little left to deal with the real problems. She still needed a job though. How were she going to continue paying for this flat if she didn't? It wasn't like she had a vault full of money at Gringotts, not that she'd checked.

Everleigh would go to her interview, but she wasn't making any promises on that front. She wasn't sure how helpful she'd actually be to her cause if she was stuck inside a hospital without the inner knowledge of the war to come. She could save lives, yes, but she would save even more lives remaining on the front lines, investigating.

That was what she was good at, er, what Hermione was good at. It almost felt as if she'd lost some of that spark and she didn't know how to get it back.

Before getting ready to leave, she sat down and began to write a letter to Dumbledore, requesting a meeting with him. She didn't just want to pop in announced, that would be rude. He didn't even know her yet.

She introduced herself on parchment, explaining very little but saying it was paramount that they meet – a matter of life or death, so to speak. She really hoped this wasn't a mistake, but who better to help her in her endeavor, than Albus Dumbledore, the only wizard Voldemort ever feared.

She sealed the letter and put on a knee length, navy blue pleated skirt with a tucked in white blouse. It was quite warm out that day, so she skipped the cloak and opted for a pair of smart Maryjane heels with some nylons. The fashion of this decade, she definitely didn't mind it. Hermione had always felt she'd been born in the wrong era.

The unruly mane sprouting from this head was actually ten times more manageable than before, and softer. She brushed and smoothed it out, happily plaiting the front of it away from her face and half up in a small bun behind her so she could see better and try to focus more properly. She was somewhat surprised Everleigh hadn't opted for a shorter, or medium length hairstyle, as was in trend during that time, but she quite liked her new, long locks. She had sported shorter hair her entire life and felt like embracing the change.

Now or later – she might as well rip the band-aid off, so to speak and go see him.

After she went to the owl post office to send her letter, she let her feet whisk her away again, returning to Borgin and Burke's and timidly stepping before the black brick townhome behind it.

She walked up the stairs to the door on the left, a flight or fight response kicking in. The knocker was an old, brassy gargoyle reminiscent creature. She took it in her hand and thrice knocked.

Everleigh stood there for a few minutes, but her confidence, if she had any at all to begin with, was drastically waning.

I might answer.

His surreptitious words echoed through her.

Second and third thoughts forced her back down the stairs, her brain swirling when finally Tom opened the door the wizard's way, using his wand and emerging into sight from the entryway.

"I really didn't think you'd come, Miss St. Germain." Yes he did.

There was a suspicious air about him as he locked the door behind him, taking a couple of steps down the stairs toward her. He was wearing black trousers and a white button up shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows. A few of the buttons at the top were undone, and Everleigh tried very hard not to gaze at the small tuft of manly hair just visible beneath his shirt. His clothes were awfully reminiscent of the school uniform, but she could tell it wasn't a standard Hogwarts outfit.

"Neither did I." She replied, earnest.

He loosened his collar even more as if suffocating and overheated, popping it up as he spoke, "It's a bit stuffy in there today. I'm in dire need to get out and about. Was on my way out the door regardless but, care to walk with me?"

"A-Alright," Eevie replied breathlessly, staring back at the brick house as they began walking away. A sense of deep foreboding washed over her. Was he hiding something inside? "Where were you headed?"

"Nowhere in particular."

"So, we'll just walk?"

"We'll just walk."

Everleigh shrugged, a little smirk on her lips to match his own as she scuttled into step beside him. "A leisurely stroll."

"Exactly."

Mere seconds later, "So." He began. "St. Germain."

"Yes?"

He snickered, "Any relation to the legendary count?"

Everleigh rolled her eyes. She had been wondering when someone was going to ask her that, if ever. "Yes, he's my great, great, great, great uncle. Still alive, you know. Showed me all his secrets."

"Oh?"

"Oh yes. I'll live forever now, thanks to him."

Despite him seemingly enjoying their banter, Tom didn't look impressed. She knew she'd hit a nerve with that little comment. He was obsessed with immortality, after all.

"Care to share?"

"Oh, I can't. I'll be disinherited from the family for spilling all the details."

"Pity, but I'm sure I'll get you to spill all your secrets to me, in time."

Everleigh's brows rose in surprise. "Oh ho, really now? I don't see that happening."

"You'll find I can be… very persuasive, actually."

"Mm. You must be, since I've actually come to talk to you."

"And how far did you have to walk?"

"Just on the other side of town, you know, the good side, the side I ought to stick to if I don't want to be robbed in broad daylight or to be asked questions from mysterious gentlemen, such as yourself."

"You really are persnickety,"

She blushed. "I – yes. You've got me there."

"It's… cute." Great fuck, Tom had never uttered the word 'cute' in his life, unless he was using it as an insult when telling people 'not to get cute' with their attitudes. It felt so strange on his tongue, and there were so many better options he could have said other than that. "Well, you know, endearing, rather."

She didn't answer right away, flustered and Tom gazed at her, perplexed. He was finding it difficult to push through her seemingly muddled and almost fevered mind – especially when she would hardly look him in the eyes.

"Uh, thanks, heh."

"You don't care for compliments?"

"I – don't know how you got that impression."

"Hmm…" he hummed. "You seem… uncomfortable. Do I make you uncomfortable, Miss St. Germain?"

Yes, you do.

"N-No, not uncomfortable, I'm just… out of my element, I suppose, and please, call me Everleigh, o-or Eevie, if you like. My closest call me Eevie,"

"Eevie," the name purred from his throat, and she watched as his eyes closed briefly. "And who are your closest?"

"Its… my Granny Annie. She's a lovely woman, living back home in Massachusetts. Her and her husband, Richard adopted me when I was nine, but he passed away recently and she's all I have now, really."

"But you left?"

"Well, yes."

They had finally reached Diagon Alley, Florean Fortescue's in their sights. "Care for an ice cream? Lines not long. It'll be my treat."

Everleigh's cheeks reddened further, but to be fair, she hadn't stopped blushing like a beet since they began their little stroll. "Okay."

She couldn't believe he was buying her ice cream. She told him, 'thank you' for her strawberry cone and as they sat down at a bench together to consume their treats, she felt as if this were a dream.

A very fucked up, adorable dream.

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to cry.

She desired to snog the ever living daylights out of him and his vanilla laden lips.

Wait, no. No, she didn't.

"I don't really like sweets," he said between licks. Her eyes couldn't help but watch as his pink tongue darted forward to taste and reel in the white cream, biting her lip as she glimpsed the coils of his arm holding the cone, the attractive veins spiderwebbing down his wrist.

There was no reason this boy should be this sexual without trying, should make her feel so sexual just because he existed.

Gods, she hoped he couldn't tell that she was checking him out, that she was totally turned on!

She had to say something, so she went for sarcasm, "You don't? Really? It was hard to tell with all that ice cream your devouring," but as soon as the words left her and his smirk deepened, she realized the innuendo.

"I've been known to… devour, from time to time."

Everleigh chose very much, to ignore that comment. "And, uh, ahem, what else have you been known to do?"

"What, besides work at the shop?"

For God's sake, get your mind out of the gutter, girl. "Yeah."

"Now you're asking me questions?"

"What? It's only fair, isn't it?"

"Nothing is fair in life, darling." He said cheekily, as if she were a child and he were the grown adult.

"Oh, I happen to be well aware."

"So little Miss Everleigh wants to know about me now," he said. "Hmm, what to tell."

She shrugged, aloof. She didn't want to pressure him. "Whatever you'd like to tell."

Tom studied her as he finished up the last bit of his cone. She really wasn't like anyone else he'd met so far, not like the other girls he'd 'courted'. None of them ever cared to ask him questions, preferring to talk about themselves and other menial, mundane things that didn't matter.

All those girls had cared about was getting him in their bed, using him as he used them, and if that hadn't been the case, they had attempted to get him to fall in love with them, begging him to make commitments.

The latter would never, ever work. Tom was immune to such vile things like love. He had yet to be proven it even existed.

Tom had been having an impromptu meeting with a few of his lesser compatriots before this. It hadn't been a super important gathering, at least not for him, and when he'd realized it was Everleigh rapping the door he'd told his mates to wait several minutes to scatter. None of them had asked why, for at this point, most of them knew not to question him.

Obviously, Tom wouldn't want a potential sexual interest to know what he truly got up to in his time, unless of course, he deemed her worthy of joining his cause.

It was an unlikely, but somewhat appealing idea. It was unfortunate she did not know her true parentage, unfortunate that he couldn't tell if she were bred from muggle filth or purity. It was likely to drive him mad, not knowing, but not enough yet, to sway his interest.

Everleigh had a hard time waiting for him to give her an answer as he stared at her, to give her something, anything. "You… went to Hogwarts, yes? Well, what house were you sorted into?"

Tom grinned deviously, leaning leisurely onto the bench, "Go on then, give it a guess."

"Hmm…" she gave him a good look up and down, pretending to scrutinize him. "I'm thinking… Slytherin?"

His eyes widened briefly, a small smile. "Well, look at you. Very clever. What gave me away?"

She giggled, "Oh, I don't know. Everything about you seems… serpent-like."

"I take that as a great compliment, you do realize, and without a doubt, I'm more serpent-like than you could ever know."

Everleigh begged to differ. She knew, alright.

He continued, "So, you know a lot about the houses, and about Hogwarts, then?"

"I – I – " she stuttered. "Yes, I guess you could say that." She quickly finished up the rest of her ice cream, swiping her hands of any remaining debris. "I guess you could say I've really thrown myself into my… education, to find out everything I can about our world. So yes, I know a lot of… things."

"That's good," he breathed, his hands laced over his stomach. He was ever cool and casual. "Very good. I myself, was Head Boy, you know. 'Was even awarded a Medal of Merit."

He sure loved to brag if given the chance, didn't he? "Wow, that's amazing. Congratulations. And did you just graduate?"

"Yes."

"So did I."

"And? What's Ilvermorny like, Mount Greylock? I heard its quite lovely but…"

"But what?"

"But nothing compares to Hogwarts, of course."

Eevie rolled her eyes, "Of course." Tom stood, ready to continue their walk and she followed. "Ilvermorny is lovely, but I would really love to see Hogwarts soon. I was definitely thinking of doing so, at some point. I really wanted to see for myself the wonderful library. I've heard its positively gargantuan and has texts you can't read anywhere else."

"You've heard correct. The library is singlehandedly the best part about Hogwarts," he stated, but in his mind he added the Chamber of Secrets, as well as the Room of Hidden Things to that list.

The Hermione inside reminisced on days past, pensive and somber. "Libraries, and… being surrounded by books, it's… my favorite place to be." She told him, tickled pink.

"Hmm, well. I see I've found a likeminded individual."

But just how likeminded, was the question? Would she ever consider laying down her life for him, becoming one of his own? She didn't seem Dark by nature, not by any means, yet still… he found he wanted her to be. The darkness would look good on her. Seemingly so innocent, so pure of heart. Tom couldn't help but want to taint her with his own black soul.

"Have you been yet to Flourish and Blotts?" He queried, briefly grazing his shoulder against her and the contact sent the butterflies in her belly aflutter.

"Oh yes, o-of course," she lied, though it wasn't really a lie. "One of the first places I stopped."

"Then surely you must have picked up a copy of the third edition of Ancient Mysteries of the Magical World," he stated. "It was just published the other week. I bought myself the hardback as soon as I could."

"I – no, no, not yet," she said sheepishly. When he gave her a questioning look, she added, "Unfortunately, I just haven't had the means to be able to splurge much."

"Mm, I see. And you were saying the other day you might be thinking about studying at the hospital?"

"I was thinking of it, yes, er, well, I had wanted to. I have an interview on Monday."

"What are you saying, that you might not want to study there after all? What changed?"

"I don't… know. I don't know, just… thinking through some things. I need a job, certainly, but I was hoping for maybe a bit more extra free time than what the hospital has to offer."

"That's understandable. If it were me, I wouldn't want a job that takes up so much of my time either."

"Thank you for the validation."

He snickered, itching the back of his thick hair. "So, should I try and guess what house you were sorted into?"

Everleigh smirked, "Yes, I think you should."

He tapped his chin with a long finger as if to ponder it over, but Everleigh could tell they knew exactly where this was going. "You're a scholar, but I wouldn't say you were the Horned-Serpent type,"

"Uh huh…"

"An adventurer, maybe… but a Thunderbird? I don't think so."

"Okay," the anticipation killed her, hitting her in the funny bone as she got chills of excitement. Conversing with Tom Riddle was a lot easier, and a lot more enjoyable than she could have ever thought possible, despite his arrogance and overly arousing demeanor.

"You're definitely a Pukwudgie."

She shook her head, chuckling, "Gee, how could you have ever guessed? What, with me coming to study as a healer, and all."

Hermione could have fit into any one of the houses at Ilvermorny, but Everleigh had the passion for healing that Hermione didn't – not that Hermione hadn't enjoyed helping others in that way. Hermione's passions had laid elsewhere, and if anything she was a warrior, through and through. It was why she'd been sorted into Gryffindor, a lion at heart, and why there was a good chance she'd have been sorted into Wampus.

Soon they were rounding a corner, and Eevie realized they were headed back into the direction of Tom's townhome. She prepared to say her goodbye, feeling a bit relieved that she'd have a break from him to reassess what just happened, to cool her rising body heat with an ice cold shower.

To maybe take most of her clothes off and get into her bed, and…

They remained mostly silent for the rest of the walk's duration, simply finding joy in each other's company. His energy, his aura however dark, actually felt so soothing, so comforting – like a warm weighted blanket on an ice cold winter eve.

It was tortuous. She hated him.

She hated him.

Didn't she?

With one glance, one little smirk, he could make her forget in an instant, just who he was and what he'd done.

They reached the black brick house and idled by the stairs, at the corner.

He leaned a long arm over the wall above her head, his tall frame sensually looming near. His fingers fidgeted the large black and bronze ring between them, licking his lips in consideration. "I have to admit, I… wouldn't mind allowing you my time again."

"You must be a very busy man."

He smirked knowingly, as if he understood the punchline to a joke she had yet to get – but she knew.

"I have a couple deliveries to make on Tuesday, for work. It's not going to be a big epic journey. I was just going to floo there, but if you'd like to come with me, I could… show you around Hogsmeade Valley. That's where I have to go," Tom's brow was arched flirtatiously, his voice so light and coy. "I… think I could do worse for company." Everleigh bit back a smile. Damn him. "We could even stop by the castle – there's plenty to do and see on the grounds. Maybe even the library if you feel up to it."

Her face lit up with excitement, though a bit nauseated at the outrageous notion that Tom Riddle himself would be giving her a tour of her favorite place in the world, a place she'd have to pretend to be seeing for the first time!

"I'd just love that," she breathed and Tom exhaled through his nose, his lazy stare roving the atmosphere of her petite form. His free hand reached up as if to graze her shoulder, her arm but teased her, his long fingers floating and whisking just above. She shivered internally, her knees subtly wobbling and Tom swelled proudly. He could tell she was already swooning, and it made her want to slap him, she felt suddenly enraged.

"Meet me at the shop a quarter to eleven, yeah?"

"Yeah," she mumbled, reflexively covering her face, her eyes.

"Great. See you then, Eevie."

She stared after him indignantly as he waltzed up the stairs to his door. So, he was already calling her 'Eevie' now, eh? That was reserved for her closest family and friends!

Well, she had told him it'd be alright.

Ugh, the way he spoke, everything he said, his silky, somewhat breathy, confident voice… she simultaneously loved it and loathed it.

Everleigh was finding it exceedingly difficult to differentiate this indelibly alluring wizard with the ugly reptilian maniac of the future. On one hand, she absolutely, a billion times over, loathed Lord Voldemort, yet on the other, she… she…

She really, really liked young and handsome Tom Riddle.

This was not good. Oh fuck, was this not good.

And they were going on a bloody date, it seemed!

What the hell was she doing? This wasn't progress, this was, this was…

This was the downfall of wizarding kind. She was going to let them down, she was going to fail, all because of how beautiful and sexy the Dark Lord was as a young man.

No, no. It would be alright. Eventually, because eventually he would slip up.

Eventually, Tom would make a mistake, would do another terrible thing he couldn't take back. Everleigh was going to have to be there to figure it out, to prevent every tragedy she could. She reckoned that at one point soon, she might even have to follow him, track him, hide, and disguise herself.

If she were ever caught though, Tom would never forgive her, might torture her for all the information she had and she truly doubted, despite their camaraderie and obvious attraction, that he would show her any mercy.

She hoped Dumbledore didn't get back to her until after Tuesday, and she definitely hoped they didn't run into the man while out and about. Perhaps it might be a good idea, to try to tell Tom she would go to the library on a different day, without him, so that she had a good excuse for when she went to speak with Albus.

Oh yes, she was probably done for, and though she was nervous, so damnably nervous for Tuesday, there was no denying the pure excitement and arousal smoldering within.

- : o : -

AN: friends, I genuinely have no idea what I'm doing lol just bear with me for the sake of sexy times haha thank you so much for reading so far, your comments and kudos make my day! Peace and blessings to all :o)