authorsnotes: this needed to happen, chills as it gave me (good and bad)

do enjoy, leave a review if you can'

songrecs: should've said it - camila cabello

'Time waits for no one'

- Folklore (unknown)

-x-

Silence, utter silence, for a second, maybe more. Not a comfortable silence, not even tense, 'cut the air with a knife', no, something else, something that sizzles, or sinks perhaps like water rushing overhead dripping through a crack, ready to crash through and flood her lungs.

Like waiting for the other shoe to drop, or crash, like she knows something is coming, feels it, even feels the anxiety of it creep up her throat, feels the dreaded chill up her spine, but a second, just a second for the sinking feeling in her stomach to settle, to ruminate, to live.

And then.

His wand is at her throat, held steady in his hand, not a flicker, the other grabs her waist and slams her none too gentle against the wall before she can so much as flinch. As she scrambles for her wand, he has it in hand before she can blink.

He is fast, too fast, his reflexes almost remind her of Harry. She'd never have thought he'd do something so elementary as grab her but maybe it is the muggle in him, though she feels it would be unwise to point that out, considering what got her here.

With a maniacal, evil madman pressing a wand to her throat hard enough to bruise, a hand gripping at her waist, fingers digging in, pressing her to the wall outside a common room she knows is empty and will be, first lesson already started.

She's alone, and she's an idiot. What had compelled her to taunt him with information she shouldn't know is beyond her, perhaps she's mimicking Harry here, being so alone, his bravery, or Ron with his bluster. She feels another pang for them, but there's no time for that now.

There's only time for hopefully making it out of this alive, she wouldn't put it past Riddle to kill her for just knowing his heritage.

Heritage she again, shouldn't know, shouldn't have cause to. Fuck.

Yeap, definitely an idiot, brave, brash, stupid.

"What did you just say to me?" His tone sent a chill down her, dropping right into her heart, that was the tone of a villain if she'd ever heard one. All charm, all pretext was gone. He'd fooled most around him, teachers, and all, making them think he was a polite prodigy, charming and charismatic, it had taken her less than a week to get him to drop it around her.

She wasn't sure if that was the achievement, she thought it was, just stupid.

"You… you heard me" She spat back. Her shoulders shook a touch, and she wouldn't deny she was scared, her hands shaking, heart racing, but she was still a Gryffindor at heart, red and gold, her bravery was imprinted on her, on her heart, and it reared its head. "Let go of me"

"Explain" He said, tone cutting once more, and made no move to let her go, nor shift, nor anything, he had her pinned, and his wand was pressing hard into her skin, the way he had her, meant her arms were pinned to her side.

Trapped.

"Explain what?" She sneered, though the shaking in her voice slightly took away from the snark she was attempting. He even smirked at that; she was scared, and he knew it.

"I thought you'd deny it" She said with a smirk then, though again it was shaky, terrified? Yes. Ever one to back down? No.

"Hmm" His only acknowledgement he'd lost his cool she imagined.

It was so strange, seeing him piece it back together. Already he had regained the smoke and though he still held her tightly in place his fury had melted away to cockiness, confidence. No charm for her, still anger, simmering, but it was simmering, hiding underneath the layers he'd built to hide the evil that brewed within.

He wasn't quite Lord Voldemort yet no, but he was no innocent.

It was disconcerting, how easily he put the persona on, combined with how handsome he was (because no, she's not blind), it was scary how she could see people falling for this, the charm, the charisma, falling in line to it.

Though she'd never been one to follow.

He must truly be a sociopath she thought to herself, or maybe a psychopath? He seemed to have emotions, desires, anger, wants, needs, but the way he could act, lie, surely there had to be a hint of sociopathy?

She wasn't sure and she wasn't sure also why her mind was focusing on that, as he pressed his wand harder, eliciting a squeak of pain from her, like a little mouse, trapped in the jaws of a snake.

His eyes met hers, glaring in, and she felt that again, a snake staring her down, she was no lion here, just a little club, facing down a predator.

Predator, prey, she was under no illusions to which one she was in this situation.

"How do you know?" Clearly he felt her too clever to bother trying to deny it, she hated she felt a flutter of flattery at that, praise always swelled her heart (and ego), though she wouldn't allow herself to be taken in by Riddle like that, over her dead body.

"How did you?" Her tone had dropped to a whisper, and she knew to get out of this not maimed or as a corpse she needed to give something to get something, he'd already figured out her heritage, hence why she'd thrown his in his face, perhaps a mutual secret would keep her alive, it was likely her best bet.

"Easily" He said, cocky again, and the heat that stirred somewhere she ignored. She didn't like cocky boys (she told herself), but there was something about him that she'd be lying to say she could ignore.

Did ignore though … for now.

"Easily?" She sneered, more venom injected this time, after all she might make it out alive, might.

"Yes" He sneered back, and she flinched, still scared then, "You're entire being, your views, it all screams mudblood" Another flinch and he smirked; bastard, he had her, "You couldn't pull off the prissy pureblood act if you tried" He shook his head, and she noted the wand pressed to her throat eased just a touch, interesting, "You should have paraded as a half-blood"

She almost threw that back at him, but she felt reminding him of his own heritage again might walk back whatever little progress she'd made in 'not being killed yet'.

Yet.

"What about you?" He asked, eyebrow raised, "How did you know? Answer me"

"Don't demand" She mumbled, but she sighed too, of course she was going to answer, what choice did she have? She didn't like the idea of him extracting the information from her, that would likely be much worse.

"I just guessed" She said, lie of course but she could hardly tell the truth now could she?

A chill ran down her again, third in ten minutes being almost too much, but the quickening of her heart added to it. No, the thought of Tom Riddle, even as he was slightly less evil than Lord Voldemort, all the same, the thought of him knowing where she'd come from, what she knew … it was a terrifying thought.

"Liar" He threw back, quickly, glaring again now, "No one guesses that I've made sure of it"

"Maybe you're not a good an actor as you think" She said, but he rolled his eyes at that, he didn't believe her, and for good reason, he knew he was that good, so did she, and he knew, she knew. Fuck, this was confusing, and winding her down a path without an end.

She couldn't tell the truth, her initial lie had been easily pushed through, what next?

"Why should I tell you?" She asked, glaring now too, some of that Gryffindor courage coming back t her. Sure, she was still terrified, but she squared her shoulders, even as his wand dug in, she wasn't one to cower in fear, no, never.

"Because I'll get it out of you one way or another" He threatened, no pretend her, he'd dropped most of his guard, if anything it was scarier that way, "And you won't like the other ways"

"You can't kill me" Her voice shook, and his smirk only had her almost trying to step back, though she was pressed against the wall, his hand still pinning her.

Nowhere to go.

"Probably not" He admitted, and her eyebrows almost flew into her hair at that, "But I can make you wish you were dead"

"I'm tough" It felt like a stupid statement stood where they were, but she felt the need to say it.

"Not that tough" He almost spoke softly then, and that made her flinch away, that was scarier.

The many faces of Tom Riddle each showed another layer, what was the last one? Hermione did not want to know.

"I…" She stumbled then, end of the line, she knew she had to come up with something, but she'd never been that great a liar, never needing to lie very much in life. She spoke the truth and spoke it proudly, and so when it came to weaving an elaborate web (like she needed to do now), it was one of the very few things she fell flat in.

"Don't try and lie" He offered, almost like advice, "I'll see through it"

The stubborn streak in her reared, determine to prove him wrong, as she was so often motivated, he was so arrogant it made her want to punch him, forget her wand she wished she had a fist free.

"Your accent" She said, sneering now, one way to get her back up was to question her abilities, to doubt what she could do. She had spent years at Hogwarts proving purebloods wrong, sticking their prejudiced beliefs to them and proving she was as good as, no fuck that, better than them, she had thrived from being doubted, being the underdog, and it was no different here.

She felt some fury rise in her; she would not let Tom Riddle bully her, he was no Lord Voldemort yet, he was no evil, near mythical nightmare, he wasn't quite that powerful yet, and she wouldn't be cowed by him.

Hermione Granger was no coward, and she was more importantly not accepting of being told she couldn't do something.

"My accent?" He looked surprised then and she felt a streak of pleasure at knocking him back again (figuratively), she was full of surprises it seemed. "What do you mean?"

"Its fake" The key here was the lie mingled with some truth, which it was. She had noted his accent when she'd first met him, that it was just a bit too perfect, and she was thankful for her observation skills, perhaps they'd save her. "It is just a bit too good"

She knew she had a posh accent herself, a result of growing up firmly middle class in Surrey, and she had heard it, the lilt in his voice that said it was practiced, learned, not innate.

"Too good?" He seemed flabbergasted, point her, maybe that was the key to being believed.

"I could tell it was a bit practiced" She said with a shrug, though she winced as that dug the wand in.

And then strangely he lowered his wand, he didn't make to step back, still gripped her hip far too hard, but he lowered the weapon, clearly surprised. She still didn't manage to move, arms pinned, and besides he had her wand.

She was no fool here, he'd lowered his wand because having it pressed to her wasn't the threat.

He was.

"Really?" Shocked, and she near laughed, she'd surprised Lord Voldemort.

She shook her head at that, this time was strange and scrambling her head.

"But how did that tip you off?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, rapidly regaining his composure.

"Meet me a pureblood who is common" She said with a raised eyebrow, a slight annoyance in her tone. The Wizarding world had always been stacked against anyone not born into the upper echelons of society and at Tom's nod she realised he felt it a little too.

She hated to feel any kinship with Tom Riddle and yet for a second, she did. He too had been born into a world that ground people like her (muggle-born) and him (poor) down into the dust, or at least tried to, just to maintain the status quo.

Of course, he'd decided pretending to be part of the awful society for power was the answer, the wrong route she felt, but still for that second, brief instance of kinship their expressions matched in anger, even fury at how the Wizarding world was built.

"You're the first to figure it out" He admitted, and then he stepped back fully, crossing his arms, face a smooth expression again, ahh the little glimpses she'd had into Tom Riddle were gone, wiped clean, she wasn't sure whether to be relieved or annoyed.

She didn't question it was more annoyed (and curious, goddamn her) than the other.

"I'm honoured" She mocked, and he even laughed at that, charming again it seemed, and once more she saw how easy it would be to fall for.

Would, have she? Had she not known who he was? Had she still ended up in the past but hadn't matched him as Lord Voldemort? Would she have been lulled in by his charming smirk and intelligence?

She didn't want to answer that, though she already knew it.

"Let me be clear here" He said, "I could wipe your memory, but you might figure it out again, I could kill you but I fear Dumbledore would realise, I could torture you to make my point but you seem intelligent so I'll say this"

Even with him stepped back she didn't raise her hands. She could see her wand in his pocket, feel the bruise at her neck, again he didn't need to grab her to have the threat, it was there in the air.

"Tell anyone and it won't be anything so juvenile as me spreading your secret or anything like that" He paused then, took a step forward once more, crowding her, her glare her only defence, "Just know if you say a word to anyone, I'll bury you"

She forced a laugh, like a mocking snort, no real humour behind it, but at his glare she made herself nod. She hated to give in to him, in fact it made her feel sick, but she knew his threat wasn't empty, not empty at all.

"You might not like threatening me" She spat back, she couldn't just nod, couldn't. "It might bite you"

He laughed again but this time there was no humour, none, and his gaze met hers, hard, harsh, she didn't look away, though she wanted to, he seemed to like that.

He held her wand out to her then, the place she'd hold it facing her, handing her back her weapon, knowing if she tried to use it, he could take it again.

She hated it, the feeling of powerlessness, hated it.

"Now that I'd like to see" He said, smirking still, but it was cold, and though she forced herself to hold it together, and it was only when he turned away, tour abruptly over, only when he was gone from sight down the staircase, it was only then she allowed herself to shiver in response.

Clutching her wand in hand she shook, so that was Tom Riddle.

sooo thoughts?

tom is very scary, but he is many other things too

next we'll see more of the 1940's word, though hermione (and tom) will remain central

speak soon