authorsnote: yas I know it is late, this story is proving far longer and more complicated than I'd planned. will the day come where I can write a short multi-fic? perhaps one day, but not today!
anywho do enjoy, lemme know what you think - the use.
songrecs: living proof - camila cabello
A musty smell hit her as soon as she opened the door and into the threshold of the house. She wrinkled her nose – sure she'd been expecting it to be a little … old, but as she stepped inside, she realised this cottage had not been kept in any kind of good state.
It was cold for one, no heating, and the windows were single glazed, she realised as she looked around the room (which had actually icicles hanging on the mantel piece) that warming charms would only get them so far.
It was also dirty, not in a slobbish, clothes on the floor, Harrys dirty socks and Rons shirts kind of way, but moss growing up the walls, leaves on the floor, hadn't been lived in since her Grandmother died kind of way.
It was going to take some work.
She glanced over at Riddle then and noticed oddly he didn't seem too fussed. She imagined his snobbish nose to upturn in disgust, and his perfect chin to tense at the very idea of having to live in squalor. But instead, he just seemed to be evaluating the place, as though it were a puzzle he needed to solve, or a house to fix-up she supposed.
She remembered then, his aristocratic accent and perfectly formed sneer were fake. He had grown up in squalor, perhaps worse than this, and so no wonder, after the orphanage Harry had described, that her Grandmothers messy but ultimately safe cottage didn't phase him so much.
She realised she couldn't let it phase her either. She had a very alive, very handsome, very confused but ultimately powerful Voldemort stood in her Grandmothers living room, he would no doubt soon get over that confusion and go straight into tearing up the world (or attempting to) as he had done before. She had to be very careful, and ready to handle anything.
So, for now, distracting him, and thus giving herself some time to think seemed the best option. She knew soon she'd have to find out how this had happened and what to do about it, but for now she needed just a second to think.
She knew she was still running on pure adrenaline after the battle, and if she stopped now she'd break into a weepy, exhausted mess on the floor.
Harry …
No, now is not the time to cry, or collapse, she can't afford it, not yet.
Clearly, she did not have time nor the safety to do that now, and so cleaning, making this place habitable … that seemed like the best option whilst she tried to work out her scattered head, whilst also trying not to break down over the death of her best friend.
So, with a small sigh she stepped forward and began to nose through the cupboards – nothing. She realises then they'll have to venture out at some point, at least once. They'll need food, blankets, candles, and the local muggle village should have at least one general store they can go to, surely? They'll have to go, and sooner rather than later.
She is at least thankful to feel her beaded bag at her hip, though it doesn't have everything she needs.
Magic may be amazing, but it does have its limits.
She looked over at Riddle then, and it tells her little, his expression can't be scrutinised. She considers herself a fairly decent judge of character, sure she is no Slytherin (she is sure those snakes can pick anyone apart and determine what they're thinking), but she can usually tell what is going on with someone by looking at them.
But not Tom Riddle.
He has made his way over to the fireplace, evidently following her lead for the moment. With a swish he conjures flames that crackle and add a nice warmth to the air (though the chill still persists). Wordless, practically wandless – for it had been the barest flick of his wand to conjure very nice flames. She suddenly feels quite inadequate, outmatched for once in her life. It is certainly a rare feeling, and not one she enjoys.
She scolds herself then, she should not be obsessing over how Tom Riddle is understandably better at magic than she is – even she can't deny that though she is the brightest witch of her generation, prodigy, he is beyond even that.
Still, she needs to focus on what is important – keeping Tom Riddle here.
She knows for now he has gone along with her because of how quickly everything has happened, how she has confused him, and yet she knows that won't keep him here long. As much as she despises the man (who is now looking out of the window, back to her), she remembers something Harry said to her about his first trip to Olivanders …
'Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember, I think we must expect great things from you Mr Potter … After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things – terrible yes, but great'
As much as she despises Tom Riddle she knows he is capable of greatness, and he won't sit by in her Grandmothers little cottage for long.
She needs to find a way to convince him to stay, she doesn't flatter herself that she can force him. Ideally a memory charm would work as she is adept at them, but again she is not so arrogant to think she could take him by surprise, nor that he couldn't best her. Hell, he had thrown her back her wand for a reason, even he knew she was no threat.
A cough jumped her out of her skin then, and she turned to look at the man, smirking, still in his old-fashioned school robes, not a hair out of place. Compared to her, blood and dirt and exhaustion, hmm best not to think about.
"Debating how to keep me here?" He spoke and again she wanted him to drop the accent, though she supposes he's probably faked it for so long it is now his accent. Ugh, that bothers her more than it should.
"Get out of my head" She hissed, she's never liked legilimency, and had never managed to master occlumency, never having the time, her one failing, one she realises she needs to rectify, and quickly.
Tom Riddle rolls his eyes then, "You are practically screaming your thoughts at me" He says with a smirk, one she wants to punch off his face, "I'm not even trying. Even looking at you it is obvious what you are thinking about. Biting your lip, that serious expression on your face"
She flushes then, and glares at him to which his smirk only widens, he kind of reminds her of a shark.
Predator to prey … that makes her shiver.
She drops her gaze then and takes a deep breath. Every fibre of her being despises the man opposite her, but she knows how she has to play this. She can't best him in a fight, she can't trap him, and from one intelligent person to another, she knows how to keep him here.
'Curiosity killed the cat Hermione…'
It wouldn't kill him, but it would find her enough time to.
"Look, I don't know how you are here, all I know is that it is safest for us both here" She says, "There is a war going on at the moment" She shakes her head then, "I don't even know where to begin…"
He raises an eyebrow then, and glances behind her before back to her face. His gaze is penetrating, as though he is looking into her soul, it makes her feel so incredibly uncomfortable, and possibly the most vulnerable she has ever felt.
"Explain then, from the start" He says, head slightly tilted, he is not the kind of man people say no to, that she can tell.
And so, it gives her some sense of satisfaction to do so.
"No" She shakes her head, "We need to get supplies, and then ward this place to the hilt before we figure out what is going on"
"Look, Hermione" Her name rolls off his tongue in a way that makes her shiver, and she hates herself for having any non-hateful reaction to him. "Tell me what I want to know, or I will make you tell me"
She has no doubt of that, she believes, no, she knows that Tom Riddle is not one to make idle threats.
"Short version?" She says, for she doesn't fancy being on the end of his wand, but she still injects enough venom in her voice that it doesn't feel like a total defeat, "It is 1998, you failed once to take over the world, and you just failed again, only the second time you were completely insane after making 7 horcruxes, all which were destroyed, and then you appeared"
His expression twitches for a minute and she can just make it out – he is uncomfortable with the knowledge he might ever lose, and she then feels a little smug. Good, she hopes he feels nervous and annoyed and angry and sad, she hopes he feels every negative emotion she has felt over the past hour and more.
"A longer version will have to wait for some supplies" She said, but she looks then and his expression is neutral again, and he has taken a step closer to her. Fuck.
"And why do you think I'll be staying here?" He asks, his voice a hint quieter which is terrifying. Yelling has never bothered her, she does a fair bit of it herself, Ron would yell when upset, Harry would erupt when stressed and even Ginny would scream when angry and she'd just roll her eyes and nod her head. But this? This quiet fury she can see Tom Riddle just barely covering up? That is much, much scarier.
It hits her then, as he takes another step closer, invading her personal space now, she is alone, in a cottage with Tom Riddle. Not the mad man Lord Voldemort who could be defeated through turning his actions back on him. She is with Tom Riddle, the unpredictable genius who would no doubt blast her out of the way before going back to world domination.
It dawns on her just how vulnerable she is, just how easily she could join Harry to wherever he is now, and she gulps audibly then.
Fuck, now is not the time to realise she is scared.
"Because, the war, I don't know the outcome, if your side won the new leader might not want you strolling back in. If my side did then they'll fire first ask questions later" She said, her mind whirling as she realises the lies she is making up to keep him here might actually be true.
"I'm not concerned by what lesser people may try to do to me" He scoffs, and she glares at him and takes her own step forward to meet him.
Sure, she is absolutely terrified, but she is also a Gryffindor, bravery is kind of a requirement.
"Well, since my best friend just killed the future version of you I wouldn't be so arrogant Riddle" She hisses, and even flinches then, expecting some kind of retaliation, a spell, a stinging hex, maybe even a jet of green light.
It is far worse when he smirks instead, that insufferable evil smirk that makes her feel like a bunny rabbit faced down by a wolf.
"Okay Granger" Again she shivers, and hates herself for it, "I'll stay whilst we figure out whats going on, for now"
She nods her head then, for it is better than nothing and lets out a barely audible sigh of relief.
Until she feels a yank at her waist, and suddenly Tom Riddle has her hand in his.
"What are you?" She near shrieks as one of his hands grips her waist, and the other twines his fingers through hers. "What are you doing?!"
"Just a precaution" He says, and she struggles against him as their twined hands begin to glow, first silver, then gold, and then the gold flares and settles over their hands, not a word spoken from him, his grip on her too tight for her to wiggle free.
He does release her when a gold kind of dust settles over their hands and she jumps backward, shoving away from him that even he stumbles a bit.
"What the hell was that?" She demands, her mind racing. That isn't a spell she recognises, and she feels the skin of her hand tingle a bit – or is she imagining it a bit? She also feels the spot at her waist where he grabbed burning, as though his touch had elicited flames. Her cheeks are burning as well, deep pink and flushed. What the hell was he doing?
She is so furious she thankfully doesn't think too much on her reaction to him… the racing of her heart, her pink cheeks, the burning to his touch…
"Well I think it is important we're both stuck here, together" He emphasises the last word, "Now if one of us tries to leave the other, at a certain distance we'll be apparated back"
She glares at him, for she hadn't planned to leave his side, she planned to keep her gaze on him constantly to make sure he couldn't return to whatever fighters he had left, but she hates the idea of being tied to him in some way, linked.
She does not want to have any kind of bond or tie to Tom Riddle.
And yet, it is done, and she glares at him again, "Don't do that again"
He rolls his eyes again, "Granger, you should know by now, I will do what I like" He smirks and waves his hand, extinguishing the flames he'd conjured, before holding his arm out to her. "Supplies then?" He asks, as though he hadn't just performed magic on her without her consent.
She is tempted to shove him out the way, but she finds herself taking his arm. She hates him of course but she hopes this will go easier if they are somewhat civil, she doubts she'll be fully capable of that, but she can try … for a little bit at least.
And so, she takes his arm and goes to step to the door and then she shoots her a glare, which chills her bones … and something else she ignores, ignores completely.
"Are you a muggle?" He asks, with a roll of his eyes.
She feels a little embarrassed then and concedes with a nod, he has her frazzled, rattled, and she glances down before she apparates them, his body tucked up against hers as they disappear.
He does make her feel confused, already, and she's barely been in his company an hour. She isn't used to having someone as intelligent as her in the room, and as they squeeze through space, she clinging onto his arm, she knows she'll have to watch herself.
'Don't play with the devil, he always cheats…'
She'll have to be careful, more so than ever.
soo thoughts?
short chapter yus, but that is the kind of way with this fic, and I know I need to update more frequently to make up for that I know! and I will, I promise.
anywho, do let me know what you thought, fav/follow for updates, and feel free to check out my other tomione WIP - 'paradox'
speak soon
