The return to Hogwarts was especially welcome that year, as the remainder of the summer was depressing for Hermione. She had forced such a terrible experience on Tom, and though he assured her that he was fine, she sometimes saw him look thoughtful as he gazed into the distance and she worried he was thinking back to their experiences in Little Hangleton. She couldn't stand for him to dwell on those awful relations of his, so she would then engage him in talk about some book or other.

They arrived at the school on a Tuesday and thus began classes the following day. In her time at Hogwarts, this was much preferred over her earlier days when they had come to close to the weekend.

This year was especially important because it was the year of their OWLs and their last year before NEWTs preparation, as she reminded Tom no less than three times on the train. Moreover, they both had additional duties as newly minted Prefects, so they had less time to study.

"As soon as we have our timetables later this evening I will begin on a study schedule for us," she assured him.

He lifted a brow. "What makes you think we will get ours this evening?"

"We're Prefects," she stressed. "We get ours tonight and we hand them out in the morning,"

Tom nodded. He had almost forgotten about that.

"Anyway, it's time for our meeting. Gentlemen, we shall see you later." The other two occupants of their compartment, Black and Avery, nodded.

When they entered the compartment where the Prefect meeting took place, Hermione burst out laughing. "You're Head Boy?" She prodded Ignatius in the chest. "What fool decided that? Surely it wasn't Headmaster Dippet."

Ignatius brushed imaginary dust from his red badge and stood straighter. "I have it on good authority that Professor Dumbledore himself vouched for me."

"He's lost his marbles."

"Come here, you." Ignatius pulled her roughly into a hug. "I've have a mind to dock House points for that comment."

"If you would please sit, Granger." Hermione blushed as she heard a feminine voice speak. She hadn't even noticed the Head Girl, though Ludmilla Brown was admittedly easier to overpass than she thought someone in her position ought to be.

Ludmilla was a very studious girl highly respected by her fellow Ravenclaws. She was always at the top of her class, though she was nowhere near Hermione, and therefore Tom, if one were to compare her same years to theirs.

Ludmilla was already engaged to be married upon graduation, which Hermione understood was not uncommon among purebloods, but thought rather odd. Her fiance, Marcellus Rosier, had graduated a year previous. There was another Rosier in his third year at the moment, Marcellus' younger brother Edmund. Another Rosier, Druella, had been Sorted into Slytherin last year.

"Sorry," Hermione said and took a seat at the meeting table.

It was the only compartment fit for meetings and thus the place where Slughorn would have his little tete-a-tete immediately after. Hermione had been invited as an after thought to Tom, who was finally deemed old enough to join the Slug Club.

"Right, let's begin." Hermione had never heard Ignatius sound so serious in his life. "First off, here are the timetables." They were split by House and year. "Fifth year prefects will disseminate the first and second years; sixth will take third, fourth, and fifth, and seventh will take sixth and seventh—"

"Why the uneven distribution?" asked one of the newest Ravenclaw prefects.

Ludmilla answered. "Seventh years are taking their NEWTs and there are two fewer Prefects; fifth years are taking OWLs and are newer to the duties. Thus, the distribution of work will fall slightly more on the sixth years in other duties as well, while as Heads we also oversee detentions and any paperwork required of the student administration."

It made sense to Hermione; it must have made sense to the other Prefect as well, because she nodded.

"Now, we'll be assigning two patrols per night; Hogwarts staff take an additional third patrol after we finish," said Ignatius.

"These patrols are meant for just that— patrolling. Any misconduct risks revocation of your badge," Ludmilla said. "That goes for misconduct at any time, or if your grades slip past a certain point. That last is not meant as a punishment, but as a reminder that this is first and foremost about your education. Being a Prefect is a privilege."

The meeting was not the most exciting Hermione had ever attended, but she took notes as diligently as she did in any class and saw Tom note down a few things in his diary. She was proud of how often she saw him use her gift; he seemed to keep any important information inside it.

As the meeting drew to a close, she realized only about half to two-thirds of the Prefects left. All of the girls other than her were out the door, as went two of the Hufflepuff Prefects and one each of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Prefects, leaving her and the seventh year Anthony Davies.

Ignatius' brows rose when he saw her still sitting. "Hermione, don't tell me you've been invited to the Slug Club?"

She blushed deeply at the recognition.

"Of course, she has," said Tom. "Or at least to this little pre-emptive meeting. She is the brightest witch Hogwarts has seen since, perhaps, Helena Ravenclaw, if not Rowena Ravenclaw herself."

Davies scoffed. "That's a bold claim to make about a fifth year Gryffindor. She has yet to even take her OWLs."

"I would wager on her receiving straights Os," Tom added.

"Straight Os— in how many subjects exactly?" Davies asked.

"Ten," said Tom evenly. "Hermione and I are taking ten classes."

"Though I was considering taking the OWL for Muggle Studies as well," she said shyly.

Tom raised a brow. "Very well, eleven. Shall I take an additional subject to keep up? Which should I do? Divination?"

Hermione barked a laugh and then covered her mouth in embarrassment. "You can't get an O in Divination."

"Oh? I'll wager you on that." Tom smirked, then turned toward Davies. "What do you say?"

The latter's eyes narrowed. "Fine."

"I want in on this action," said Ignatius.

"You don't think she can do it?" Tom asked.

Iggy shook his head. "I know she can. Hermione's smarter than the lot of Ravenclaws put together. Gryffindor's Golden Girl, you heard it here first."

She hid her face in her hands. "You're absolutely ridiculous."

"Who is absolutely ridiculous, Miss Granger?" Leave it to Slughorn to enter when her face was crimson.

Tom was too glad to answer for her. "Prewitt and I just wagered Davies that Hermione will receive all Outstanding OWLS in eleven subjects."

"Oho, that is bold. What did you wager?" asked Slughorn as he peered around the room. Behind were a handful of other students invited to his little meeting. It wasn't officially the Slug Club, but more of a chance for him to look at new prospects.

They settled around the table and Hermione realized she was indeed the only girl invited. Not even the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain, Molly Everdeen, was present. It had almost been an upset that she wasn't Head Girl since she was also the seventh year Prefect.

Talk soon turned to what everyone did this summer and she and Tom kept to 'studying' as neither wanted to divulge their meeting with Tom's relations. It had been absolutely horrible and she hoped her friend forgot about it.

The meeting carried on so long they all rushed into their robes to prepare for Hogwarts, but that was the way Slughorn always was. "Oh, dear, we seem to have run out of time," he said, not even noticing the glazed eyes of his audience as he recounted a story of a summer long past.

"I'll pass you this week's study schedule in the morning," she told Tom before they parted ways in the Great Hall. They had their first patrols set already and would get weekly updates in September, then monthly schedules from thereon, but she could make a start.

She began to work on it at the table.

"What are you doing?" asked Ignatius, peering over her shoulder. "Are you seriously scheduling your study time? School doesn't even start until morning!"

"Yes, well, it will be a busy year," she defended herself. "I want to get a headstart on studying for the OWLs."

He wiped a hand across his face. "Merlin's beard. I have my NEWTs this year and I'm not even half so worried as you. Hermione, you could probably sit them all now and pass."

"And get straight Os?" she asked tartly.

He laughed. "Does it matter that much."

"For me? Yes." When he chuckled, she shook her head. "You don't understand. I'm muggleborn; if I want to standout in a good way, I have to be the best."

"Hermione, you are the best. No, I'm being serious. You could probably sit your NEWTs today and pass, as well. You're the most brilliant girl I know," he said.

Hermione sighed. "Girl. Do you know how difficult that is when I live in a world that wants me to be married before I'm twenty? I can't decide if the Wizarding world or the muggle one is worse. In the Wizarding world, girls get married the moment they're out of Hogwarts, but at least they seem able to work in government positions. In the muggle world, it would not be unusual to go into any line of work at least while the war's on, but if I get married, everything in my name will defer to my husband."

He frowned and ran a hand through his red hair. "That is pretty shit. I don't know what to tell you."

"So I will work hard ensure I can do anything I want because I will be too good an applicant to pass up otherwise," she said primly, holding her head high.

"I admire you for that," Ignatius said. "You're always so outspoken despite being a girl and muggleborn. I don't know anyone who's like you."

"I know," said Hermione. "I'm a bossy little know-it-all."

"Aren't you listening?" He tugged the end of her braid. "I think you're amazing. I think you could change the world. Wizarding, muggle, both if you want."

She blushed to her roots. "Thanks."

The first week was usually calm for Hermione. There wasn't too much homework and she was able to spend time in the library reading at her leisure. That was not the case this year.

Instead, the professors piled on essays in preparation for OWLs and Hermione had to schedule everything around Prefect duties, which involved getting cried on by homesick first years rather more than she thought.

At least her first patrol was with Ignatius. "We've paired every new Prefect with a seventh year this week," he said as they roved the first floor corridors. "We want to make the transition as smooth as possible."

Hermione nodded.

Their patrol was mostly quiet with the two of them discussing things here and there, but then Ignatius would fall oddly silent and look awkward, and Hermione wondered if he found it difficult to talk to her for so long.

They had been friends for years at this point, but their friendship was limited to a few letters throughout holidays, talks during meals, and an exchange here and there in the common room. Perhaps they weren't meant to have extended conversations.

She supposed it was possible friends were like that, with different types meeting different criteria. She wouldn't know, having only a handful (if one counted Alphard Black, James Avery, and Alanna Kinsley).

Nearing the end of their duties, Ignatius suddenly paused. "Say, Hermione."

"Yes?"

"I was thinking… the first Hogsmeade weekend won't be until late next month, but I thought I'd ask now and get it out of the way." He wrung his hands in front of him and she tipped her head, frowning. Did he want her among the chaperones or something? She would agree; it was a normal Prefect duty to help round up students toward the end of the day. "I was wondering if you'd go with me."

"Oh." She didn't know why he'd struggled so much. Hermione had gone with Tom and the other members of their study group so many times— and then it dawned on her that perhaps he'd meant just the two of them. "Oh."

"If you don't want to—"

"No, I mean, yes. Yes, I'd like that," she corrected and she wasn't sure which of them had cheeks the redder.

Hermione had never thought that Ignatius might have an interest in her. It was such a non-thought that it never occurred to her to see any such potential in him. Now, as they continued walking, she glanced askance at him.

He was handsome with hazel eyes and bright red hair, a modest dusting of freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He wasn't as tall as Tom, but just as wide-shouldered, and not short either. Moreover, he was both nice and intelligent, two important qualities. His marks weren't as high as hers, but no one's were barring Tom.

He was also athletic, and she couldn't deny that his strength was impressive. She had seen him fly a few times; he'd made her promise to come to at least one Quidditch game a year. He'd been a Beater since his second year.

Hermione found herself considering him, and her upcoming date more often than was necessary, and wondered if her one set of casual muggle clothing would still fit. After all, she tended to gain weight during the school year, what with the more plentiful portions. Especially as rationing became harder as the war went on.

"What are you thinking about so hard? Surely writing about the third goblin rebellion isn't that thought-provoking?"

She blushed a deep red and hunched in on herself. "Er, nothing, really."

It was stupid to lie to Tom. She knew that, yet she still did it. One of his delicately arched brows rose and he leaned in closer. "That was a lie."

"It's really not anything important," Hermione argued. "Nothing to worry about."

"And yet you are worrying." His eyes studied hers. "What does Prewitt have to do with it? Has our esteemed Head Boy asked you to take on additional duties?"

"No, nothing like that," she said.

"Hermione."

"Tom."

He sighed. "Tell me whatever it is. We both know I will find out eventually anyway."

"Have you been practicing Legilimancy, Tom?" she asked, voice low and eyes darting to watch the others. It seemed every Slytherin boy in their year was now a member of their little group.

He scoffed. "No more than usual."

"If you must know, he asked me out," she admitted at last; he was right that he would eventually find out since she kept no secrets from him.

"Asked you—" He stared into her eyes a moment longer. "Prewitt asked you to go to Hogsmeade with him?" he hissed. "You said no, of course."

"I said yes," she countered.

His eyes narrowed. "No. You're not going."

"Yes, I am!" she argued. "I said yes and I am."

"Of course, you're not," he said with another scoff.

"And why not?" she demanded.

As though it were the most obvious answer in the world, he said, "Because you're my friend."

"I'm Iggy's friend too," she replied.

"Yes, well, he wants to be more than a friend, doesn't he?"

"What's going on?" asked Alphard.

"It sounds like Granger is going to Hogsmeade with Prewitt," Avery answered.

Hermone glared at him. "Do not go spreading my business."

"Then find another place to discuss your business."

"That's a relationship destined for doom," said Malfoy.

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"Prewitt's of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. He won't marry one of yours," said Malfoy.

"Ignatius doesn't care about bloodstatus," she countered.

"Not for a shag," was the cool response.

Hermione's jaw fell and she stared at him as though he had grown a second head and spouted the crude words from there. Lestrange gave a laugh. Tom's eyes narrowed.

"No one will be shagging Hermione," Tom snapped. "Not Prewitt and not any of you."

"Does that include you, Riddle?"

Tom and Malfoy stared each other down for a moment, then Tom took a deep breath. "We shall speak about this later. In private."

The subject of Hermione with anyone else did not come up again for quite some time.

Contrary to what Tom Marvolo Riddle wished, Hermione did go to Hogsmeade with Ignatius. She spent all that morning fretting about the fit of her clothes, though they were in truth just fine. It was more that they stood out among traditional wizarding attire. Women did not wear trousers and the styles were so far from the old fashioned looks they favored that Hermione felt like an anachronism.

Well, she reminded herself, she was a feminist. She had decided on that long ago and she would stand by it regardless of which world she inhabited at the time.

"You look good, Hermione," Alanna told her. Arianna and Maryanne looked up from where they were conferring over lipstick colors. Neither had seen her dressed in anything other than her uniform.

"Wow, Hermione." Maryanne's family was known for being friendly with muggles, so she was more used to seeing women in trousers than most. "You arse looks fantastic."

"Is there a special occasion?" asked Arianna.

She blushed and picked at her sleeve. "Ignatius asked me to go to Hogsmeade with him."

The two girls on the bed instantly stood up. "You can't go with your hair like that," said Arianna. "Let me help. I have some potions that help with curls." She had curls herself and hers always looked lovely.

"Here, I think this color lipstick with compliment that blouse," said Maryanne. She held up a golden tube. "You'll need a nude eye though."

"It's just Hogsmeade," Hermione murmured, her cheeks flaring red.

Arianna shook her head. "It's a first date. And with Prewitt. You want to show him that you have more layers than the bookish Gryffindor. Make him want to work for it a little."

"Besides, it might make Riddle jealous if you're all dolled up." Maryanne was looking through her various powders and palettes. "Your skin is nice which is good, since none of us have your same complexion. I'm far too cool-pale and Arianna and Alanna are both darker complected than you. And…" Her eyes darted to the perfectly made-up bed of their other roommate who was only ever there to sleep.

"Why do I need make-up?" she asked.

"It's a date," said Arianna as she pulled Hermione toward a chair and slipped her curls over the back of it.

"And why would Tom be jealous?"

The other three girls exchanged long-suffering glances.

"You do know everyone is waiting for you to go steady?" Maryanne said at last.

Hermione frowned. "What? Why?"

"Because," said Arianna as she started to slip her hands through Hermione's curls, finger-combing the smoky brown locks, "you two are practically made for one another. You're always around each other, and you're the only person Tom is more than polite to."

"Though his manners really are lovely," said Maryanne dreamily.

"He's quite fit, too," added Alanna.

They sighed and burst into peals of girlish laughter while Hermione sat there, helpless and clueless. "He's- he's Tom."

"Well, yes, he's Tom to you," said Arianna. "To the rest of us he's that handsome, well-mannered Slytherin who makes the rest of them look just a touch less heinous."

"Even I'd go on a date with Riddle if he asked me," Maryanne admitted; the girl was Gryffindor through-and-though, as was her entire family as far as anyone could remember.

The girls continued to gossip as they got Hermione ready for her date; she was nearly dizzy as Molly painted her lips and Arianna finished with her hair. It was the most girl time she'd ever had, but it was pleasant, lighthearted. She wondered if this was why having girlfriends was considered a must and decided she must try being more friendly with the others in her dorm. They were clearly up for it.

"Thank you," she told them as she checked herself for the final time. Her hair was styled and she had a relatively light application of make-up on, but she almost felt like someone else altogether.

They all wished her luck and she stepped out of the dorm and down the stairs to the common room.

Ignatius was there waiting for her. He glanced up at the door opening and did a double take, then stood from his spot on one of the squishy red chairs. "Her-Hermione," he greeted, reaching out a hand. "You look lovely."

She wished she had foundation on to cover her blush. "Thank you, she said. And you look dashing yourself." He was in a red jumper over a white buttonup and black slacks, simple but nice. The deep color of the jumper managed not to clash with his hair somehow.

"Shall we?" He took her arm and Hermione tried to ignore the fact that every other person in the common room was staring at them.

"I don't think I've ever seen you out of uniform," he murmured as they passed into the castle proper.

"I don't actually own any other clothes," she admitted. "Just my Hogwarts uniform and the uniform for Wool's."

"Oh."

"Other than my Christmas jumpers. I have them all still," she told him and smiled brightly.

His cheeks colored brightly. "My mum asks me about you. Every year, I answer a slew of questions about this Hermione Granger I exchange presents with. I think she has it in my head that you and I are an item."

"Does she know I'm a muggleborn?" Hermione asked.

Ignatius paused and thought for a moment. "I'm not sure, to be honest. I've told her so much over the years that it's hard to remember what I have and haven't. If she doesn't know, it's not from withholding, but because it hasn't come up," he assured her. "You know I don't care."

"It's only that I heard your family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and I know some of them are, er, particular about blood status," she said.

He was quiet as they passed through the Entrance Hall and out onto the grounds. "I won't lie," he said at last. "Many in my family care about that sort of thing, but my mum isn't one of them, and you already know I don't. Muggleborn, halfblood, pureblood, we're all wizards— or witches. It might be harder to be with a muggle because, well, when exactly do you tell them you're magical anyway? But the only real difficulty once you're past that is dealing with the bigots who believe in pureblood superiority."

Hermione smiled shyly at the end of his short speech and squeezed his arm in appreciation. "I can't imagine being with a muggle either, and I daresay it would be easier for me than it is for you. At least I know what a telephone is."

"A what?" he deadpanned.

"It's a device for talking across long distances that muggles have invented," she explained.

"Like a Floo call?"

She laughed. "Well, yes, but you can't see the person, only hear their voice. It works like this…"

By the time they reached Hogsmeade, she was discussing the telegraph system with him.

"And they use beeps to communicate? What in Merlin's name is a beep?" he asked.

She tried to think of an explanation. "It's a mechanical sound that's almost like a bird whistle. It can be long or short, so letters are made out of combinations of beeps. The system of beeps for letters is called Morse Code."

"Morris' Code? It seems like a complicated way to communicate when sending an owl is easier," he said, leading her toward Honeydukes.

She clicked her tongue. "You can't send an owl overseas, but there is a cable running from Europe to the Americas."

"Really?" He looked suitably impressed by that.

Hermione nodded. "Some people can even call overseas, though I'm sure it's only the very powerful or the very rich."

"Call as in the talkie-phone?" he asked.

"The telephone, yes."

"Muggles are incredible." He shook his head again, then stepped aside to open the door. "After you, my lady."

Hermione laughed at his antics, but followed his lead into the shop only to take his arm again a second later. He then led her in a turn about the shop, the pair of them stopping whenever her eyes lingered on something. "Tooth-flossing Stringmints?" he asked.

Hermione blushed and gave a slight shrug. "My parents were firm on dental health. They almost went into dentistry." At the confusion written on his face, she explained, "It's like healers for your teeth."

"That's a profession? Blimey, muggles think of everything. I always thought you had nice teeth," he commented.

"Even though the front two are a little large?" she asked.

"Plenty of folks have large teeth; yours look nice and you have them all," he said.

She laughed at that, not noticing when he added the floss to the small basket in his opposite hand.

By the time they reached the till there were also Sugar Quills, Cauldron Cakes, Chocolate Frogs, and Fizzing Whizbees. He paid for the lot. "Can you put those in a separate bag?" He pointed to the Fizzing Whizbees. "Thank you."

Hermione waited politely and they left the shop to head to the Three Broomsticks. "Would you like a butterbeer?" Ignatius asked and she nodded politely, feeling in her pocket for her little bit of coinage. She didn't want to assume he was paying… But he brought back two pints and slid one over to her and she decided to get the next round.

"I know you like books. Do you have other hobbies?" he asked, leaning toward her at their hightop.

She blushed and pushed a loose curl behind her ear. "I don't really. The orphanage doesn't have much for us other than children's toys and old books."

"That sounds dreadful," Ignatius said.

She shrugged. "For many of the children, it's enough to have friends to play with. It was hard at times because I'd get lonely; but then it must've been harder for Tom before I came."

"How old were you? If you don't mind me asking," he added.

She gave a wry smile. "Not at all. I was seven, nearly eight. Back then, I had hobbies. My parents wanted me to try a bit of everything and see what I was good at, learn how to enjoy things."

"What kinds of things did you try?"

She hummed and thought. "I knitted a hat once. It was lumpy and horrible, but I was looking forward to trying to make more. We were going to drop them at a shelter." Hermione huffed a laugh at the irony. "They took me to plays and concerts that were more appropriate to my age, and encouraged me try music and drawing. I can't hold a note, haven't the ear for it, but I could draw just fine, especially plants and such."

He listened so actively, like everything she said was important. Hermione wasn't used to such attention except from Tom, and even then it wasn't all the time. Sometimes, Tom cared more about what he was doing or thinking than Hermione's words, but that was alright. She couldn't be the center of his life every moment of the day.

"What about you? Tell me about your life," she said.

"Well, you already know I've got an older brother, much older. What you don't know is that my father is trying to convince me to marry Lucretia Black."

Her eyes widened. She knew of Lucretia, a lovely enough girl, but rather cold and haughty. She couldn't see her genial friend with someone like that. "Why's that?"

"The Black family has status and the Prewitt family is not as prominent as it used to be." He shook his head. "My father might not care as much about blood as most of his ilk, but he does care about political power."

"What do you care about?"

He thought about it for a moment, stretching his shoulders and peering nowhere in particular. "Having a happy family, providing for them. I always wanted a family."

"Do you want several children?" She almost feared that he would be one of those men who preferred an exorbitantly large family with seven children or some such. She could never see herself doing that, not when she wanted to work.

Ignatius shrugged. "I don't think I'd mind, but I'd also be fine with two or three. It's the partner that's most important. I need to know who their mother will be before I can plan."

A wave of relief flushed through her. "Two or three isn't bad. I always wanted a sibling, maybe a sister."

"Younger or older?"

"Well, she'd have to have been younger, wouldn't she?" They laughed together and then she saw the joy filter from Ignatius' face. He glanced over her head and nodded in greeting. "Hullo, Riddle."

"Prewitt," Tom said icily. She turned to find those midnight blue eyes already on her.

"Tom," she said, a nervous smile flitting to her face. She wasn't certain why she was anxious, except that she knew Tom didn't approve of her outing with Ignatius. However, she didn't need his approval. "Are you enjoying your day?"

"I would, but you seem to have double-booked, or did you forget that we were supposed to study this afternoon?"

She blinked slowly; she had done no such thing. Of course, they had a weekly study session, even on Hogsmeade weekends, but members dropped in and out all the time. Why was it any different for her? "I don't believe so," Hermione said after a moment.

Tom's expression somehow cooled even further. "We talked about this," he murmured lowly, so that only she could hear.

"Tom…" she sighed. "I'm here with Ignatius right now."

"It's alright, Hermione," said the young man in question. "If you need to go—"

"I really don't," she assured him, but he was already standing. "I've enjoyed our time together immensely. I know how important studying is to you." He held out one of the bags from Honeyduke's. "Here."

"What, I couldn't—"

"I insist. I bought them for you."

She blushed deeply but took the bag. Before his hand moved away, it squeezed hers.

"I will see you later," he promised.

Hermione stared after him at a loss until Tom's hand came down on her shoulder. "What in Merlin's name was that?" he hissed into her ear.

Hermione rounded him, her finger prodding into his chest. "You listen to me, Tom Riddle. You have no right to tell me who I may or may not see in any fashion. I am old enough to decide that for myself."

"Hermione," he began, but she shook her head. "No, we will not discuss this here any further." She held her bag close and stalked out the pub with her head held high, uncaring that several students and a few teachers had been watching the interaction.

Tom easily caught up with her and offered his arm, but Hermione turned her head away, thus snubbing him. "You're angry with me," he said.

"Obviously."

The trip back to the castle was mostly Tom deep in thought and Hermione glaring out at the landscape surrounding. She couldn't believe the audacity of her friend. He knew basic manners and she had told him he had a date. Surely, he had realized she was not under his control? She was an autonomous being capable of making her own decisions. Moreover, Tom knew how logical Hermione was and how she would weigh her decisions. Did he not trust her?

But no, Tom Riddle wouldn't call her a friend if he didn't trust her to be able to choose the right path. Would he?

Hermione almost stumbled over the dirt path at the thought and Tom caught her with ease. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They continued walking.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Tom?" she answered.

"Why did you agree to go on a date with Prewitt?" He sounded genuinely curious, like he could not possibly fathom why a girl might be interested in a handsome, athletic, intelligent man.

Hermione laughed. "I thought it might be nice."

"Nice," he repeated. "What about Prewitt appeals to you so? His looks? His personality?"

"All of it, I suppose," she answered honestly. "He's a handsome bloke and he'd kind; he's always helped me when I needed it. He's funny and I enjoy his company."

"But you prefer mine," Tom said swiftly. "I'm your best friend, after all."

"One can like people in different ways." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, I would call you my best friend, but that doesn't mean you somehow displace Ignatius."

"If you had to choose—"

"Is that what this is about?" Hermione stopped, hands on her hips. "Ignatius would never make me choose."

Tom's eyes shone with something she had seen many times before, when they got their Hogwarts letters, when he placed the shining green pin on his lapel. When she handed him books as a child.

It was avarice and now he looked at her that way. "Would you truly make me choose between you, Tom?" she asked, her voice low and sad.

Tom stepped close and stroked along her cheek. "Hermione, you are the only person dear to me on this earth. If you chose someone over me, I'm not sure I could bear it."

"What if I get married someday? Will you see that as choosing someone else?" she wondered. His jaw firmed and his eyes narrowed. "You said our friendship was based on what I can give you. What is it you want, Tom?"

"You said you care about me," he retorted. "I want you to prove it."