authorsnote: poor hermione, girl ain't equipped to deal with this lol.

do enjoy, I'm enjoying writing this and mapping out all my crazy twists!

leave a review if you can!

songrecs: don't fear the reaper - denmark and winter

'Time takes it all,

whether you want it to or not'

- Stephen King

-x-

There was a good half an hour left of the tour, and Hermione felt in desperate need of gaining some equilibrium.

And she knew the best place to gain that.

The corridors were empty, and Hogwarts had barely changed since … the future (ugh that hurt her head, she remembered reading about paradoxes and the rules of time being 'worthy of study', but 'easily causing ones head to throb' and that sounded about right), and so she easily wove her way through the school, skipping a staircase or two, and then finally to a good place, her happy place.

The scent of books hit her as she stepped inside, and the smile that came to her features was genuine. Her first real smile since she'd spiralled back in time just two days earlier.

Two days? Goodness had it only been that long? It had felt like a week already, maybe more.

Though as she wove through the stacks, past the librarian (she felt a pang to no longer see the Hawkish Madam Prince glaring at everyone and anyone, another person gone), and to her own favourite spot tucked away she wondered if she'd make it a week.

Even as she sat down in her familiar seat, the chair a touch comfier, the table with a couple of less scratches but otherwise the same, she didn't feel the sense of relief she'd hoped for, she only felt her nerves tugging across her chest, stirring, and refusing to vacate.

Would she last a week?

She had been an idiot, a complete and utter idiot.

Hermione prided herself on her intelligence, no, more than that she marked her intelligence as her most important attribute. She knew she was pretty, more so as the years went by and she left the awkward stage of puberty, she was funny sometimes, kind now and then, and her second most valued trait was her loyalty, which she was fierce in, but her intelligence?

Her intelligence was what she breathed, tearing through books, wanting to know every fact, needing to devour every bit of information on a topic she passed. It was the thirst for knowledge that had never left her, the curiosity that burned in her heart.

But it was more than that too, it was what she used to stick it to the purebloods, as they sneered at her, doubted her, questioned her very existence. It was beating them all in class year after year, it was seeing Malfoy's face drop as he came second to her in another test, it was stomping past a sneering Pansy Parkinson knowing she'd beat her in every subject. It was her proof.

Her proof she belonged in this world, no matter what anyone had to say otherwise.

And yet, in one conversation trapped in the 1940's, in one key conversation with the psychopathic Dark Lord to be and she'd acted like a complete and utter moron.

What had she hoped to achieve in taunting him? She'd been rankled he'd discovered her secret, annoyed at how easily he'd seen past her (she briefly panicked he's used Legilimency, her Occlumency never the best, but no, if he had he'd have seen the truth as to why she knew his heritage), and had felt the need to go on the defensive.

One of her worst qualities to counter her best, alongside her stubbornness, narrow-mindedness, was her utter belief she was always right, and how much she despised being wrong, how it made her lash out and sneer herself. No, she'd allowed her need to know everything and be right in everything drive such a response to Tom Riddle.

Yes, she'd been an idiot. It would have been stupid to taunt anyone in this time she didn't know, but of course she'd gone for the man himself, Tom Riddle, soon to be Lord Voldemort (give or take a decade or two), and basically acted as though she had a death wish.

And yet, his reaction had been surprising.

Not the threats, the wand to her neck (she rubbed the spot now and is was sore but she felt an odd tingling too), but also his words as he'd left…

'Now that I'd like to see'.

He was intriguing, the banter back and forth (pre wand to the neck) had been like none she'd ever experienced. Out of her peers she'd never managed to debate with an intellectual equal, which she knew Riddle was, and she felt shame at her thrill as they'd bantered too and fro.

But then he'd been as she'd expected, and yet much more terrifying. As Lord Voldemort he'd been horrifying in a nightmare, horror movie kind of way (from the glimpses she'd seen as Harry had shown them), but as Tom Riddle? He was handsome, charming by all accounts and yet that was all a lie, a switch he flipped to be amenable to the real world, but seeing underneath that? Seeing how cold he'd become? And the way he'd spoken when he'd threatened her…

'I can make you wish you were dead' His eyes hard, cold.

'I'm tough' Her attempt at defiance as fear had pattered at her chest.

'Not that tough' The softening of his tone, more terrifying than any yelling or anger, she'd known he'd meant it.

It was terrifying.

And yet, there was an awful part of her, a horrible awful part of her she didn't want to confront, and yet was buried deep inside…

A part she'd always known existed but had never needed to confront. A part that spoke to something messed up with her, maybe with her pursuit of intelligence warping her mind. A part she wanted to pull out of her and destroy, and in equal measure study some more.

The part that saw Tom Riddle take her wand off her without effort, the part that saw the power crackle at his fingertips, and the part that was utterly and completely drawn to it.

And even the comfort of the library as she sunk down in her chair, even the comfiness of the leather chair, not nearly as worn and cracked, even the smell of the books around her couldn't offer any reprieve to that.

Was she a monster? She didn't think so, she'd just found herself (momentarily, just for a split second) attracted to one.

Fuck.

Twenty minutes later and she'd been forced to push aside her despair, store the attraction (fleeting as it was) to the mad man she hated on principle (and desired, fuck, fuck, fuck), somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, and head to class.

Her first class of the 1940's, and yet she knew would be far from her last.

She hadn't had the wherewithal to look at time travel books as she'd planned in the library, but she figured she could set aside an entire weekend to do so, what else did she have on? Nothing, and so that could wait (and was one area she wasn't desperate to study, knowing the answers would just be depressing). So no, this was her first bit of learning since arriving here, and as she had no idea how to get back yet (if ever), it was something she'd need to get used to.

Get used to and thrive in, more so than when she'd been back home, if she wanted to face Tom Riddle again.

Face him and not let him take her wand off her at least.

Because even more than the horrible flinching attraction (momentary as it was!) she'd felt to Riddle, worse had been the feeling of utter powerlessness as he'd snatched her wand out of her hand with all the effort of flicking his fingers. He'd left her defenceless, vulnerable, and feeling completely out of power herself.

Though Hermione knew what had been most messed up about that hadn't just been her fear at being disarmed, but also the awful (to go alongside many awful things she was feeling right now) fact she'd felt worse at him disarming her than she did her attraction for him.

Traitor, her mind screamed, alongside other things she ignored as she ran to class.

Double Transfiguration first thing, her timetable had said it would be Slytherins and Ravenclaws, and though she knew she should stay under the radar her natural desire to be the best was hard to fight, she would have too though.

Lest she draw Tom Riddle's attention further.

Though as she wove through the corridors, she got the sense she already had.

First to class she felt was the best way to go, and as soon as she arrived, she hurried inside, keen to avoid any chat in the corridor.

So far, she hadn't spoken to anyone other than Riddle (and look how well that had gone) and intended to avoid almost everyone. She had no intention of socialising with Slytherins, and though her cover was blown to Riddle, they clearly had a mutual destruction type thing going, and so she'd need to keep up the act with everyone else.

She felt exhausted already, and so didn't relish the idea.

"Miss Dagworth-Granger" Professor Dumbledore spoke warmly as she walked inside. She'd worried her sorting in Slytherin would affect his perception of her, but he smiled kindly as she sat down, right at the front as always, on the right side, her preferred seat before and now.

Though her smile dropped a touch (and had been near non-existent before) as she remembered there was no 'before' (the future technically, ugh, yes, her head did throb), just now and that made her heart sink.

"I have sorted your paperwork for the weekend, I'll have it sent to your dormitory with instructions on how to get to Diagon Alley, along with some funds" He said quickly, and before she could protest or ask any other questions, other students began to file in.

Students who all glanced at her as they did so but said nothing.

It was odd, being immune from mocking now she wore green and silver and paraded as a pureblood. She supposed she should be relieved, but if anything, she just felt dirty. She was muggle-born and proud! And yet here she had to hide.

Though, as she'd assumed she hadn't hidden well enough, not as everyone filed in, took their seats, and then someone stopped next to her. She didn't glance up, it was a full class clearly and so she didn't expect a lone desk.

Still, as the person dropped down next to her, book pulled out of his bag, wand in hand, she did not expect it to be Riddle himself sliding into his seat.

"What are you doing?" She near hissed, why was he sitting next to her?

"Hello to you too Hermione" Riddle said with a false smile, so good it was almost believable to her, almost, though she could hear an edge in his voice too.

Part of her wondered then if she hadn't known the truth about him, if she'd gone in blind, would she have fallen for it?

She didn't want to know.

"Why are you sitting next to me?" She asked, slightly calmer now, not trying to be outwardly hostile to someone so terrifying, though she refused to act scared, she was no coward.

After all, she was still a Gryffindor at heart and despite her new sorting always would be.

"Why wouldn't I?" He asked, eyebrow raised, mask in place, gone was the cold terrifying sociopath from earlier, though she could still see hints of his real self, how many could claim that?

It was likely a shortlist, which for good reason should worry her.

It did and didn't.

"Many reasons" She threw back immediately, it was still a couple of minutes until class and Professor Dumbledore was writing on the board, she wished he'd call for silence.

"Such as?" He asked then, throwing straight back to her, something she was not used to.

"My heritage" She whispered, he knew, she didn't intend for anyone else too, awful as it felt to fake her blood status, she wasn't so stupid to be righteous here, where being a muggle born could easily get you killed, "Our …conversation earlier"

"I found it thrilling" T…Riddle said, and then he turned to her, and the smirk that cut across his face was something romance authors would describe as dashing, and she knew, just knew her cheeks pinked slightly against her will, and his smirk only grew. "You are one of the few people not scared of me"

Bastard.

"I am" She said almost without thinking, what was wrong with her? "You're terrifying"

"Isn't that useful to know?" He said mockingly, it was odd, to see him act like a normal teenage boy, when really she'd had an idea in her head of him only being the psychopath she'd seen briefly and though was all he was, "But you still argue with me"

"It's my nature" She said begrudgingly, for it was really, her ever stubborn streak, she hoped in this time it didn't get her killed. "Yours too it seems" Why was she holding a conversation with him? She should have gone silent on principle.

God, her head had never felt so scrambled.

"Oh indeed" He said, smirking again, he even leaned in then, and she recoiled, though not far enough, as his breath brushed her face and her cheeks went pinker, "That makes it even better"

"Quiet please!" Professor Dumbledore called then, and Riddle turned back to the front with that smirk still intact, knowing he'd rattled her no doubt.

What was this? He was a psychopath! His charm was all faked, and yet she knew the truth, so why was he trying it with her? Why had his gaze been almost warm? Not comfy and cosy like Ron's, but intense, like it was flecked with fire.

What was going on?

She had no idea, and hated, even as the lesson started, how part of her wanted to find out.

Fuck.

What was wrong with her? Much it seemed.

sooo thoughts?

we will see more of hogwarts and slytherin next chapter but this was essential for setup.

also to make it clear hermione aint in love with tom or anything yet, girl is just on a WILD emotional rollercoaster ride and it has only been 2 days, hence poor hermione!

speak soon