authorsnotes: ooof

this chapter took me a lil time to get right but I am very happy with where it ended up ... do read on.

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songrecs: teen idle - marina and the diamonds

'Time is what we want most,

but use the worst'

- William Penn

-x-

It took her hours to fall asleep, wracked with nerves, trembling in the middle of her bed, knees to her chest, curled into a little ball.

She had never felt so alone.

No Harry, no Ron, no Ginny, Luna, Neville, her parents, no one. She was alone here, in a different time, a different House, a different Hogwarts really, stuck even further in the past, a past where girls were home educated to find husbands, and the future Death Eaters had the run of the school, a past where Dumbledore wasn't in charge and she'd likely find no solace with other Gryffindor students, they'd hate her now.

Snobby, pureblood, Slytherin. That was what she was now, even if she knew the truth.

It was what she had to be, Hermione Dagworth-Granger, pureblood, aloof, schooling here after the tragic death of her parents. She'd need to be what the Gryffindors would think of her, one of them. She'd need to fly under the radar, do well enough in class to get by, but not well enough to draw attention from anyone, especially him.

She'd muddle through two years here, and then who knew? Stop Tom Riddle, return to her own time? The latter seemed the most unlikely, for what use would it be to get back to the 90's, only to crumble into dust? No, her focus should be on Riddle, stopping him, if she couldn't be with Harry and Ron, she could ensure them safe.

That focused her mind, a plan, a goal at least, and she managed to lie down, to curl into a ball but on her side, to try and force herself to sleep, to find some comfort in what she decided.

Stop Tom Riddle, that would be her focus, stop him, ensure her friends safety, even if she could never return to them.

It tasted bitter in her mouth, and yet what else would there be? Tears leaked from her eyes as she turned her face into the pillow, cast a quick silencing charm and let out a howl of despair.

Hermione Granger was alone, completely alone, tucked away in the Slytherin girls dormitory, in the wrong time, sobbing her heart out, not a person to see or hear. And that was how she fell asleep.

The next morning, she forced herself to get up, she had an appointment to keep after all.

A hot shower calmed her nerves a touch as she realised this was it, this was what she had to do; get on with her day, keep her head down and try not to catch Tom Riddle's attention.

After all she was planning to take him down, she didn't need his eye on her, curious about her background or magical abilities. No, best thing to do would to be completely boring, invisible, get along for two years and then take him down.

And so, she showered quickly, tried to tame her curls into some sort of submission (and failed), and tried not to cry as she got dressed, securing her Slytherin tie, it felt wrong, to be in green and silver, she was made for red and gold.

Well, Hermione Granger was made for red and gold, Hermione Dagworth-Granger was made for green and silver. That was the distinction she tried to think of.

She also tried to ignore that the Sorting Hat could see who she really was and had still decided on Slytherin.

A satchel had been left for her, not as nice as her own but functional. A stack of textbooks sat ontop of her trunk, and a schedule, today she had breakfast, the tour with Tom Riddle of all people from 9-10, and then Double Transfiguration till 12, lunch, Double Potions, Double Defence and then dinner. A packed day, which she was thankful for, hopefully a packed day would mean she had less time to dwell on her situation.

She packed her bag quickly, it was already 8:15, and she didn't want to be late. She packed her textbooks, parchment, quills, grabbed her wand, her cloak (which actually hit the floor and was tied with black ribbons), and made her way to the Common Room.

And this time it was far from empty.

There were little first years running under foot, second years trying to act cool but still so tiny, third years laughing on the sofas, fourth years gossiping near the door, fifth years with shiny prefect badges, smirking at one another, sixth years already up and studying, and the seventh years, moody, just a touch more sinister than the others.

It was like the Gryffindor common room in many ways, the same trends, same activities, and yet the 6th and 7th year Gryffindors didn't skulk about the way the Slytherins did, she heard the word mudblood which would never have been slung about so casually in the Gryffindor common room, if at all. Then there was the gender ratio, barely any girls to plenty of boys running around. It all just felt a little off, a product of both the time and the House.

The time she was now in, the House she was now part of.

She missed Gryffindor with an ache something fierce. She missed the squashy chairs, stuffing coming out at the ends, missed the roaring cheerful fire and the atmosphere of happiness. It had been her home, and now she was here, not only in a strange place but a strange time.

It just felt wrong.

She hurried through the Common Room, ignoring the looks she was getting; new students of her age didn't happen, never mind girls, thankfully none approached her and she made it through unimpeded.

She didn't see Riddle or his little gang, thankfully, though she knew she'd need to meet him soon. Her expression curled into a frown as she escaped the throng of Slytherin students; she supposed she was one now, though she'd always be a Gryffindor at heart.

By the time she reached the Great Hall she felt as though she had gone swimming, submerged under water where everything was distorted, and then emerged, water clinging to her lashes, everything a bit blurry and different.

Different - that was the word, and yet not by much, hence when she sat down at the Slytherin table (having veered last minute, almost on autopilot going to take her place at her old house), she helped herself to a small breakfast, ignored everyone around her and tried to process everything.

The school was much the same really, the same portraits, the same swinging staircases, the same feel of magic thrumming in the air that she wouldn't trade for the world. Everything looked the same and yet things felt different in too many ways to go unnoticed.

The students were of course different, no friendly faces to say hello to, the teachers different too, either new to her or younger versions of her professors. She was alone, a fish in a different sea, and she'd never felt so out of water.

The air was different too, the vibe completely off. Friendliness was clear between groups and yet there was more open hostility than even she'd experienced from Slytherins in her own time and that was saying something.

The air outside of the Slytherin common room, continued to reflect outside.

The world 'mudblood' was used in conversation, discussions about the 'muggle problem' she heard twice on her way down to the hall. Her green tie and jumper meant she was not the target of this prejudice for once and yet she could feel it. Could see few students with the awe on their faces that stamped you out as a muggleborn, no, everyone here had a nose in the air rather than looking up in delight.

The gender dynamic was unbalanced too. Less women by a lot, and she knew she was a rarity as a Slytherin female, it seemed Ravenclaw only had four female students, Hufflepuff the most, Gryffindor second. She'd heard a conversation or two about sisters and cousins who'd be educated at home and she'd had to stop herself from rolling her eyes - 'educated at home' I.e. 'meeting minimum Ministry standards to then be married off'; the thought made her feel sick.

The wizarding world had always been more backwards, stuck in the past in tradition and as conservative as they come, but here it was even more pronounced, a culture and time shock that she would need to get used to, but she knew would never wholly accept.

But as she dug into some oatmeal (for there was no granola or pancakes, her usual breakfast options, hell even the food was different) and an apple, she knew she didn't need to accept it, but to fit in, she'd sure need to seem to be accepting it.

After all she'd adopted a pureblood backstory to survive here, and no doubt that would open more doors when she began to contemplate a 'take down Voldemort' plan (it was far too soon and too mammoth a task to consider yet, she'd give herself at least a day), as being a pureblood always opened more doors, no matter what circle you ran in.

She pushed her food around her plate, not as hungry now, especially as she felt as though she had time travel jet lag. She knew it would pass, she'd fit in here, make plans for the future, maybe figure out a way to return home safely (though that seemed unlikely), and focus on bringing down Riddle before he could become Lord Voldemort.

That did cheer her a little bit; as hard as it would be she had a chance here. Logical as she was she knew the possibility of returning home was slim, and so instead she'd need to channel her energies another way, and what better way but to cut off the hydra before it could grow? Take Riddle out before he could cause so much hurt.

She quickly smothered a gasp as something came to her, clear and bright, as though her eyes had unbounded and she'd emerged fully from the deep of the water.

She could save Harry.

She could stop the murder of the Potters, give Harry the life he was always meant to have with his family. She bit down on her lip to stop tears at the thought - her best friend could be happy, truly happy, never to suffer the Dursley's or the tragedy of being stalked by prophecy or mad men. She could give that to him, even if it would change everything.

But she could do more to. Make sure Ron had his Uncles, Neville his parents alive and sane, could stop so much pain, so much hurt.

If it meant not returning home, but focusing her efforts here, allowing her mind to come to its (already reached really), logical conclusion that returning home was likely impossible she could focus on the important things.

Of wiping Riddle off the map before he could do any harm, before he could cause such pain, before he could hurt those she loved.

She finished her breakfast off then, feeling better than she had since this had happened. A purpose given to her, a focus and a worthy one.

She glanced up and looked down the Slytherin table to find Riddle sat with his friends, or cronies rather, talking, nursing a mug but no food and she felt a streak of vicious pleasure at the thought of stopping him, of never letting him harm those she loved, no matter the cost to her.

And when he glanced up and met her gaze with a smirk she didn't flinch, she only held his gaze for a moment, just a moment.

Hermione looked away first, determined still but reminding herself; this would not be easy.

Luckily, she'd always liked a challenge.

8:50am and she stood waiting in the common room, hoping he'd never show up.

She didn't want to deal with Riddle, she wanted to defeat him eventually yes, but she wanted nothing to do with him otherwise. She knew he wasn't the man who'd committed atrocities yet, and yet she knew his hands were hardly clean, running around with his little death eater cult, no doubt planning the atrocities he'd one day perform.

Unless she stopped him.

She knew her best bet her was to just keep her head down, perform slightly more mediocrely than she would normally, get through school and then start the real work. She couldn't draw attention to herself, not put herself on his radar.

Harry had told her a lot about Tom Riddle Jr as a student, more NEWTS than she was going for, an impeccable record, a fierce dueller and teachers pet, she was not so naive to think she could beat him, not yet at least, one day though.

And until that day she needed to not strike his attention. She had seen his smirk on that devastatingly handsome face, had seen the way his gaze cut into her as though searching her soul. She knew she wouldn't attract him with her looks, her hair to a frizz, her fingers ink stained, not for someone who had his pick likely, but she also didn't want to stir his interest with her magic either.

So, head down, questions to a minimum and get out of the tour as quickly as possible.

Though as he met her out front of the common room, very handsome (and yet very evil she reminded herself) and very self-assured, she only offered a polite smile and his meeting smirk near made her flinch. Easier said than done.

She knew what she needed to do but Hermione had never been a shrinking violet, never one to just take any insults or mocking lightly, she always fired back, always got riled up, and like a bull in a china shop would storm in – a Gryffindor trait and one she'd shared with Harry and Ron, they didn't take things lying down, they weren't little wallflowers who cowered away from big bad Slytherins.

She just wished she had the boys with her, that would make things much easier; though she tried to remind herself she had them in spirit, at her back like it was real, she knew if they knew where she was they'd be urging her on, supporting her, as they always did.

She'd do it for them, take down Riddle and his Death Eaters, she'd see them have better futures.

And with that she felt emboldened, and turned to Riddle, waiting for her politely, that mocking smirk still in place; one day she'd wipe that off his face, one day.

"Shall we start?" She asked, as before exaggerating her accent just a touch, she could see from his look he guessed as much, but didn't say anything, his accent was faked too after all.

"After you" He offered, hand out, and Hermione could see it then, see how people could fall for his act, he was handsome, polite, and yet she could see the mocking in his eyes, the curve of his smirk that was just a touch too arrogant, could she see it because she was looking for it? Or because he didn't bother to hide it in front of her?

She barely knew him, he barely knew her, and yet there was something there, some kind of tension, and they could both detect it.

"Sure" Shrinking violet! She tried to remind herself, but she knew she was fighting an uphill battle with that one.

"First we'll do the ground floor, and the grounds" He offered, "Then the main castle, though an hour is not nearly enough"

"No?" She asked; she'd never been much of an actress.

"No" He said, as they fell into a stride, side by side, his hands tucked behind his back, hers in front of her, already ink stained. "But we'll do our best"

"Totally" She said, and then tried not to cringe; she had to remind herself not just to act like a pureblood, but to speak like one, one from the 40's no less. She had a lot of learning to do.

"So, where did you say you were from?" He asked, polite tone, but there was a curiosity underneath that Hermione almost smiled at; that she recognised.

"I didn't" She said back, feeling if she couldn't pull off the wallflower act (which looked unlikely), she could go for aloof.

"Enlighten me then" He threw back, and she could see that Tom Riddle was not one to let things go, to her annoyance.

"I lived abroad with Mama and Papa, in France" She rattled off, she spoke French, and so that would keep her cover, "I was home-schooled" She said, not wanting to risk anyone checking home-records, "But they died, and their will sent me here, Papa knew and thought highly of Professor Dumbledore"

She could see Riddle's gaze darken a touch, but he covered it well, yes, he did not like Professor Dumbledore, there was no surprise there.

"And who were your parents?" He asked, and she fought the urge to tell the truth, to sneer at him that she was a muggleborn, and yet she knew she needed to be sensible here.

"Hector and Lyara Dagworth-Granger" She rattled off, not her parents, and her heart ached for her own, she'd left them behind too, but somehow that hurt less than leaving the boys, she loved her parents, but being a witch had seen some distance between them a long time ago, she still felt a horrible pang as she thought of them though.

"Impressive" Riddle said, and she nodded, they were indeed, well her fake Father was a celebrated potioneer, her fake Mother she wasn't sure, would need to research that she realised, in fact she knew she'd need to craft an entire backstory, to make sure she didn't trip up.

"What about you?" Why did she say that? Foolish! She knew she shouldn't bait him; she was trying to be quiet, head down!

Why was it her foil in life? Never able to resist a curiosity, or a chance to stick it to a prejudiced pureblood? Or halfblood in Riddles case she knew.

However, he didn't flinch, rattled off his lies just as well as she had hers, "I'm an orphan, my parents died when I was young"

"Pureblood?" She threw back, and again she scolded herself, not able to resist.

"Of course" He said immediately, and she could she'd caught him just a touch by surprise, she imagined not many people talked back to him.

"Not that it matters" She said the words before she could stop herself; fuck, she really needed to get better at this.

"Doesn't it?" Riddle said, eyebrow raised, though his lips had turned in a smirk again, "I don't think many people agree with you"

"Magical ability matters" Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, "I've seen purebloods who can barely find their own wand, and muggleborns who could outduel anyone they came up against" She sniffed, she had seen as much after all, and couldn't resist saying so, her blood fizzing a touch. She should have known she'd never be able to go along with the blood purity stuff, it wasn't in her nature.

"Hmmm" Riddle offered, "Not a popular view I'm afraid"

"What's yours?" She asked, turning to look at him properly, there was that smirk again.

"Muggles are inferior" He said, and she could see he believed that, bastard, "The rest? I go for the popular view"

"How original" She said crisply, and at that his smirk widened; huh, she hadn't expected him liking someone talking back to him, perhaps it was a novelty.

"You are quite something" He said, coming a stop, she did too, turning to face him, he was a good bit taller than her, her 5ft6 small to his, what? 6ft. It created a dominating effect, and she found herself touching her wand in her skirt pocket, which he saw and near laughed at.

"Don't worry, no duels today" He said, was he … was he teasing her? Her eyes widened a touch, this was bad, very bad, she did not want any of his attention, she planned to kill him eventually! What was he doing?

"Don't count on it" She shot back, and his grin widened, fuck.

"I mean… I wouldn't presume" She said, trying to go for the wallflower act, to which he rolled his eyes.

"That doesn't suit you" He said, turning to walk again, to which she found herself following, though he hadn't pointed out anything like a tour guide should, too immersed in their back and forth.

"What doesn't?" She asked.

"The whole nervous pureblood girl act, you can't pull it off" He said, almost laughing she could see.

"I can too!" She threw back, never one to want to lose, though even as she said it, she realised she had, especially as he laughed.

This was disconcerting, she'd expected a cold monster, a sociopath who glared and tortured her if she spoke flippantly. Instead, he was a teenage boy, handsome, charming, and yes she could see a dark glint in his eye that spoke to his ability to do terrible things, but he was not yet Lord Voldemort.

Now where the fuck did that leave her?

Nowhere different, she scolded herself; he would still become that, still held those awful views, and eventually she'd still take him down. But then, what did she do in the meantime? Avoiding him looked like the best option, considering her plan to be dull as dishwater had been hampered by her own bull-headed personality.

"You really can't" He said with a shake of his head, still smirking, "You're far too indignant to try and be nervous and sweet"

"I can be sweet" She mumbled in annoyance.

"That I'd like to see" He said, and she glared at him.

"Don't count on it" She shot back, and she found herself almost smiling too; this back and forth was rare, usually no one bothered arguing with her, convinced they'd lose, Riddle though? He didn't seem like the type to back down.

She liked that, she realised, but glared at herself, there was nothing to like about Tom Riddle. He may not be openly torturing and announcing his plans to be world leader, but he was still a sociopath, he just hid it well.

"Come then" He said, leading forward now, the actual tour still an obligation to both of them, not that she needed it of course, though she could hardly tell him that.

"By the way, if you're trying to convince everyone you are a snobby pureblood you should really up your disdain, your entire being screams mudblood" He said his eyes flashing, especially as the involuntary gasp left her lips, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I…" She began, glaring at him for the slur, but he shook his head, the dark glint she'd seen in his eyes then overtaking, and there was that cruel edge to the smirk, there was the potential Lord Voldemort, the one that got off on power, and the one she'd need to defeat, and would.

"Don't worry" He winked then, still holding onto his charm, and an awful part of her shivered at it, though not completely with fear, "Your secret is safe with me Hermione"

"I don't know what you're talking about" She was whispering now she realised, and he'd stepped closer, but she couldn't move, fuck, surely, she hadn't blown her story already, surely not, she felt a touch sick, for anyone to blow her cover … this was as bad as it could be.

"Oh, you do" He said with that awful cruel smile, "You can fool others, but not me, nice try though"

She glared then, feeling hostility was the best response, and like an idiot she had to fire back, didn't she?

Her entire being was screaming at her; don't do it Hermione, don't say it, don't say it.

And yet, like Harry would and Ron too, she charged in first, damn the consequences. She'd never been the most reckless, but Riddle's evil smirk, his entire smug persona, his cocked head, and the extra step he took toward her, crowding her space, it baited her too much.

Like a tamer wiggling a tasty snack at a lion, could one blame it for taking off the tamers hand in the process?

"You'll keep my secret?" She asked, though there was no pleading in her tone, even as he nodded, she didn't say thank you, just something far more stupid, "I'll keep yours"

"Mine?" He asked, and the mocking edge to him slipped just a touch, eyes darkening, another step forward, crowding her, she didn't step back though, as stubborn as he, stupid, but there it was, she'd be taking the hand and the arm.

"Yes" She said, her tone still a whisper, and her entire mind screamed at her; shut up, shut up, but the words were out before she could pause, tension crackling in the air, the two of them only inches apart, "Halfblood"

sooo thoughts?

hermione may have been resorted into slytherin, but our reckless bby still has that awful gryffindor reckless streak, and here we go...

I do hope you enjoy, and please do understand my characterisation of tom riddle will be just that - tom riddle, he's not yet voldemort, though hardly innocent either.

do lemme know watcha think, follow/fav etc

speak soon