"Journey's end in lover's meeting."
- William Shakespeare
Chapter Three: Red Throws
"That dress flatters you exceptionally well", the seamstress told Hermione who twirled in front of the mirror. That morning, she woke up feeling the most refreshed she had felt in years. She woke up several times out of habit, but once she realized there was no threat to her or around her, she immediately fell back asleep. She wore the same outfit she had bought yesterday even though it had gotten wrinkled from sleeping in it, but it was still better than her combat gear. The outfit she arrived in made her stick out like a sore thumb. Women in this era didn't wear combat boots and ripped black jeans covered in harnesses, she scoffed to herself.
After having gone to the salon that morning, she felt and looked like a new woman. She refused to get rid of her curls, but they now were smooth and curled nicely framing her face. The hair that hung like dry, dull hay around her face was now bouncy and luxurious feeling with a shine that could blind someone. The salon attempted to battle the circles that marred her skin under her eyes, but they couldn't even get rid of years of stress and battle, so they gave her a charmed coverup to place under her eyes to banish them that lasted days. Her cheeks now had the color of fresh roses, and her dried, crackled lips were now soft and plump. Looking at herself in the mirror now, she looked like the girl she was supposed to be if there was no war but magnified. And although Pureblood looked good on her, she could still see the emptiness behind her eyes, hoping no one else could.
Hermione was strategically picking clothes that all had long sleeves. Hair and makeup could be glamoured, but even her magical eye coverup makeup couldn't cover the grotesque 'Mudblood' scar that was forever etched into her arm. Needless to say, Pureblood did not have that word mudblood carved into their arms. The saleswoman kept trying to get her to wear the new style of halter tops, or short sleeve dresses and shirts, but Hermione refused, saying that she only preferred long sleeve. She could get away with some sheer fabric like chiffon sleeves on certain items, but every time she tried it on, she would run multiple lighting tests in the changing room before coming out, making sure that damn word couldn't be seen. With every double check, she cursed that bitch, Bellatrix Lestrange's, name. She knew the Black family in the future didn't view their defected family members in the future honorable, like Sirius and Regulus, and even later in her life, Narcissa, but Hermione really wished she could tell that family to be thankful for them. Because if it wasn't for the few that redeemed that family and people like Andromeda and even further down the line, Draco, she would abolish the entire family on site just so that woman, beast, could never exist.
The itch was so tempting though, and she could admit it to herself. Bellatrix wouldn't be born for another two years and how easy it could be to just murder a baby. It's not like just killing her would affect all of the other Blacks that were worthy of living and existing in the future. Hermione felt this voice in the back of her head that told her she should be disgusted with herself for even thinking about killing a baby, but that voice had been silenced for so long, it was barely a whisper now. You can't massacre Death Eaters and have a very loud conscious. But what did speak louder than her whisper was McGonagall's warning to her in her third year at Hogwarts.
"Bad things happen to wizards who meddle with time, Miss Granger."
And considering she had jumped 50 years into the past to kill the wizarding world's greatest Dark Wizard, she figured that was enough meddling to last anyone a lifetime. Draco and McGonagall didn't send her here to kill a baby and although she knew Draco would understand and probably encourage it, she would resist. She was here for one thing and one thing only.
Kill Voldemort.
It was the only thing she could think about it. Kill Voldemort, kill Tom Riddle. Kill him, kill him, kill him. She dreamt of it, imagining what he looked like now, getting close to him, earning his trust, and driving a knife through his skull, through his neck. Blasting his body apart with her magic, every ounce of anger for the loved ones that had died at his hands coming through her as she cast the Avada that would be heard throughout history. She couldn't save he lives her had already killed and is probably already in route to kill now, but she could save thousands in the future. Her family, her friends. Harry and Neville could have their parents and never know about the heartache and longing they had always felt.
"Would you like all of your selections sent to your address, Miss Vulpecula?" the saleswoman asked, as her staff members started folding all of her new dresses, blouses, and skirts into boxes.
"That would be lovely", Hermione smiled at her," But I would like to wear a new outfit out please."
She wore a black skirt out with a white flowing blouse that tied in a ribbon around her neck with a beautiful black robe over it that had a hood, but no sleeves so her white, billowy sleeves poked out. Her hair had been tied up into a bun that had some loose tendrils hanging around her face and out of the bun. She stalked up to the front counter to pay for all of the clothes and shoes she purchased and did her best not to look shocked at the total.
You're a rich pureblood. You can't act shocked about money.
"I do hope there is enough clothes for the rest of us", Hermione heard behind her as she tendered out with the witch. Turning, she saw a woman standing behind her dressed immaculately, her blonde shoulder length hair was pristine and had a slight wave to it. She was slender and wore a deep, green statin dress that flared around her knees. Pureblood.
Hermione thought she might have been snarky towards her, but the woman's smirk told her she was just joking.
"Yes, well", Hermione smiled at her," You know how it can be so tedious to get a new wardrobe when you move to a new area."
"Oh, I simply adore buying a new wardrobe", the woman smiled bigger at her," Where are you moving from dear?"
"America", Hermione replied, grasping her clutch in her hands, turning her full attention to the woman in front of her. She looked familiar to Hermione but couldn't quite place her yet as to whose grandmother this could be.
The woman's face frowned as she waved her hand away, like she was dusting the air," Ugh, wretched place. No wonder you left."
The woman extended her hand towards her," I'm Morgana Parkison."
Parkinson. Pansy's grandmother.
"A pleasure", Hermione smiled warmly at the woman," Hermione Vulpecula."
"Vulpecula?" Parkinson thought over," What an interesting last name. I don't recall it from this area."
"My family found wealth in America", she smiled back.
"Oh, how lovely for you", the woman smiled back," Say, I am having a get together at my place tomorrow evening and I would love to get to know you more. Say you'll come."
Money talks.
"That sounds wonderful", Hermione beamed at her. She knew that was a calculated move on Parkinson's part. Hermione reeked of wealth and the woman would have to be an idiot not to notice it. Draco told her before she left that all she needed was to display to the wizarding world's purebloods that she had money and that she was a pureblood and that's all it would take for them to open their arms to her. She thought that he could have been joking, but apparently he wasn't. The boy knew his pureblood social schemes.
"Let me have your address and I'll send an owl to you tonight with the address of my estate."
Hermione handed her a ripped piece of parchment from the counter and smiled at the woman," I was so hoping to make better friends here than in America, and it seems I have gotten my way."
Morgana Parkison beamed at the compliment Hermione had given her, feeding into Hermione's theory that purebloods just loved to have their egos fed and clasped Hermione's hand with her own," I think you will really enjoy tomorrow night's festivities. Until then, ta-ta!"
Parkison left her standing in the lobby and walked towards the back with a different saleswoman and seamstress, probably no doubt to buy clothes she didn't need. Hermione's heart swelled with happiness as she watched the woman's retreating back. The first move in her plan had taken place and it was so flawless and effortless, Hermione wasn't sure it happened. Her next move had to happen before the day was over. If Parkinson was having a social gathering, no doubt that the pureblood fineness would be there in attendance. And who was more wanted at a social gathering than the pureblood poster child, one Tom Riddle?
Raising her hood as she left the shop, the sun setting over Diagon Alley, she headed straight towards the Knockturn Alley entrance. As soon as she entered it, the corridor seemed to swallow what little sunlight was left of the day and plunged her into darkness, the only light provided by the dim lanterns hanging off of the stonewalls. She heard murmurs as she walked past creatures and shady people as she walked further into the dark alleyway, but she ignored them. They didn't even bother her. Knockturn Alley probably would have intimidated and scared her before the war, but now it's everyone in here that should be scared of her. If anyone touched her or threatened her, she would not hesitate to hex them. She wouldn't even be able to stop herself, it was a reaction at this point. The dim store stood in front of her, the crooked sign reading:
Borgin and Burkes
Slowly she opened the door and stepped inside, hearing the bell chime behind her. There was no one in the store with her, but she heard muffled voices coming from behind a curtain that led to the back area of the store. Lowering her hood, she let her eyes roam over the merchandise on the shelves but didn't let her eyes linger on anything for too long. Standing in a store of cursed and enchanted items, one couldn't be too careful.
Not that she was supposed to know that. She had never been here before or heard of this store as far as anyone was concerned.
"Excuse me, miss."
She turned and saw an older man with long brown hair, worn leather skin, and a yellow smile stand behind the counter.
"May I help you?"
"Um, I'm not sure", Hermione shrugged and slowly walked towards the counter," I recently just moved to the area and the witch who sold me my flat had your store listed on a list of furniture and merchandise items so I'm just looking at all of the stores."
"Oh, how splendid", he smiled, and Hermione almost gagged at how rotted his teeth looked," Where did you move here from?"
"I am coming back from being with my family in America. We made a small fortune and I wanted to move back to our Motherland", Hermione smiled at him, oversharing on purpose.
"Borgin!" she heard a rough voice call from the back. The man frowned and looked at the curtain.
"Just a moment, miss", he turned his attention back to her and smiled sickly," Don't leave just yet. I have matters to attend to. Let me grab our shop boy."
Hermione's heart immediately started to pound in her chest. This was it. She smiled kindly in return and turned her attention back to the merchandise on the shelf. She heard more mumbled voices coming from the back and heard a swish from the curtain behind her. Her hair on the back of her neck stood up and a chill ran through her. He was right behind her.
"What a peculiar shop to be listed on a furniture list", she heard a deep voice say behind her. She turned and there he was. She immediately cursed at Harry in her head.
Tom Riddle was not some tall, pale boy with black hair. He was handsome. Quite handsome, but she didn't give it away on her face. Although he was handsome on the outside, nothing would overpower the images in her head of dead bodies and all of her loved ones being massacred by his hand. Beautiful on the outside. Vile, and wretched on the inside.
He stood there, wearing a black suit, smiling at her. His black hair had a wave in it and was placed perfectly across his forehead. His back eyes were framed in black eyelashes, and his complexion was flawless with sharp cheekbones, and a strong jawline. His lips weren't full, but they weren't thin, and they were stretched into a smile revealing white straight teeth.
Well, fuck me…
"I am beginning to think so too", Hermione smiled back. She made sure to keep an innocent air about her," But who knows? Treasures can be found in the oddest places."
"I could not agree with you more. Tom Riddle at your service", he smirked at her," Is there something you are specifically looking for?"
Hermione shrugged and turned her attention back to the shelves, walking slowly around the shop," I'm not sure. I am new to the area and was handed a list of vendors to look at."
"May I see this list?"
Hermione handed him a piece of paper over her shoulder, not looking at him. He took it and she heard him unfold it. A moment later she heard him laugh, taking her completely by surprise.
Hearing Voldemort laugh would never have been on my bingo card she thought to herself.
She turned to see humor in his eyes as he smiled, folding the paper back up," I see our store got crossed off."
"Yes", she nodded, taking the paper back and placing it in her clutch," She said Knockturn Alley was full of dark creatures and wizards."
He seemed surprised at her blatant statement, but quickly recovered," There is truth to that statement. And you came down here anyways?"
"What's to be scared off?" Hermione smirked at him, looking up at his eyes. He was so damn tall. He could easily place his chin on top of her head. Not that she thought about it like that.
"My curiosity overpowered my self-preservation, I suppose", Hermione looked up at his eyes mischievously. Tom Riddle said nothing, his dark eyes gleaming wickedly in the candlelight in the store. She turned to keep perusing the shelves and smiled when she saw a plush, red throw hanging on the wall, walking over to feel it.
"A lack in your judgement, perhaps, coming down here by yourself", Tom eventually said, coming up behind her. She knew he was calculating every movement she was making and taking in every word she said.
"I trust my own judgement just fine", Hermione side-eyed him and let a little bit of the warrior in her spill out through her gaze, pinning him to his spot," I find that it's everyone else's judgement that tends to be wrong."
As quickly as she let her cold side out, she reeled it back in and immediately placed the mask of innocent, socialite Hermione in place," I love this throw."
Tom Riddle said nothing. He expressed nothing, keeping his face placid and emotionless.
"It's enchanted", Tom Riddle warned her, and her hand stopped before touching it. Her eyes wide with alarm as she looked at it, causing him to laugh at her.
"It's not a bad enchantment. It lowers people inhibitions", he told her walked towards it, rubbing it between his fingers. Eyeing him curiously, it didn't seem to have an effect on him, but she knew he was a powerful wizard. Perhaps he had no inhibitions to lower.
"How would that work?" Hermione looked with amusement at the throw," I can't just wrap it around people on the street."
His eyes darkened as he smirked down at her," It's usually when two people are in bed together who want their inhibitions lowered. Creates more of, uh- how would you say?"
He grabbed the fabric and slid it between his two hands," Carnal experience."
Hermione couldn't help the color that heated her cheeks as she dared to grab it and take it from his hands, clearing her throat," Seems if two people need a blanket to help them, they don't have a lot of chemistry to begin with."
When she touched it, she felt her cheeks flush more and quickly dropped it.
"But I'll take it", Hermione looked up at him and wished she had a camera to capture the shock that flashed across his face.
"Really?" he asked, trying to keep his face expressionless, but even he couldn't keep the shock off of his face before replacing it with his generic shop boy smile," I thought you just said –"
"I know what I said", Hermione gave him her best naïve smile," But you have been so kind to me and spending time walking me around the store, that I think I should at least purchase something."
He said nothing but eyeing her from the side as he placed black gloves on his hands, taking the throw down and folding it tightly before walking up to the counter. Hermione followed silently and watched as he wrapped it in brown paper before placing it in a bag.
"Are you bringing this home to someone?" he said abruptly, interrupting her thoughts, causing her to jump. He grinned, his black eyes dancing with amusement at her reaction.
"Uh- no", she shook her head," I didn't move here with anyone."
"Where did you move from?" he asked, not looking at her while writing in a ledger.
"I am from England and moved with my family to America for several years, but I missed home", she told him, watching his elegant handwriting scrawl across the paper.
"So, you moved here alone?" he lifted his eyes from the paper to look at her," You came here by yourself?"
She handed over the tendered amount to his outstretched hand, her fingers just grazing his palm. It was cold.
"Yes, I did. Just the other day actually", Hermione told him. She was oversharing on purpose but making sure not to give too much of her new story away.
"That can be pretty dangerous for a single, pretty, young witch", he daringly said. They made eye contact at his comment. Pretty. He called her pretty and she could feel both anger and embarrassment heat her cheeks. How dare he openly flirt with her when she was here to kill him. She grasped her bag from his hands and dared to meet his eyes that were dark and threatening to pull her in. He was grinning at her with a cocky smile that said he knew what he was doing.
"Maybe I am the danger."
I will kill you.
His eyes widened slightly, his cocky smile falling.
"You never told me your name", he said, no charm in his deep voice. He wanted information.
"I never said", Hermione smiled, turning her back and raising her hood," But perhaps if we run into each other again, you'll find out."
She turned to look at him before exiting the shop. He was standing behind the counter still, but his pale hands were clenched into fists against the counter, a frown on his face, and his eyes glaring through her. Hermione smiled warmly," Thanks for the shop tour, Mr. Riddle."
The bell chiming as the door shit behind her.
Hermione laid in her new bed, in her new bedroom, in her new silk nighty glaring at the red throw that hung on a sofa chair in her room. All of her new furniture was delivered, and she hadn't known a bed this comfortable and soft since her old childhood bedroom. Fluffy pillows surrounded her, and she sipped from her wine glass continuing to glare at the plush, red throw that stuck out in her room like a sore thumb. It reeked of him and when she dared touch it, she understood the enchantment. It made her whole body feel flush and made her want to touch everything soft. Her mind instantly flooded with dark, brooding eyes and a smile like a great white shark as her skin felt hot to the touch. She threw it with disgust on the sofa chair and hadn't touched it since, and never would again. She only bought it to seem enticing to Tom Riddle and she knew her plan worked. The look on his face when she left was proof of that. Gulping her wine down in one chug, she threw it at the blanket in a fit of rage. Missing, it shattered against the wall.
Her body was craving violence and an outlet for all of her rage, but she had to remain calm. Her time would come soon enough. She was going to take the pureblood socialites by storm and knew Tom Riddle would not be expecting to see the likes of her tomorrow evening.
Author's note: I have no idea if that's Pansy's real grandmother's name. I searched high and low for a Parkison family tree and that's what we're going with
xoxo
