Chapter Text
Hermione could not get away fast enough, she realized. Her eyes started to itch and glass over, glistening though she’d tried her hardest not to cry. The fact that Tom had thrown the killing curse at her hurt, especially as she knew Diary Tom would never have even thought to do such a thing.
The boy she had crossed time for, the boy whose handwriting she knew more intimately than her own, had lifted his wand and pointed death at her without hesitation. She found the nearest girls room, thankfully, without being seen. When she came into the bathroom, she ran towards the first empty stall she saw. She slid down the closed door, knees pulled in, while her hands braced uselessly against her skirt. The horror of the green light that had narrowly missed her remained at the forefront of her mind.
His eyes had been cold. It was not the distant amusement that had always seemed to lurk behind Diary Tom’s eye, but instead a piercing gaze that regarded her as a target and an obstacle to be removed. She had brushed the errant strand of hair from his forehead without a second thought in the hallway. It had felt natural at the time, automatic almost, though his reaction had been anything but.
Diary Tom had told her that she was the only mind that could match his, and that her courage had fascinated him. She had believed him then, and she still wanted to believe him now. Hermione knew this Tom would be different, but she really hadn’t expected the killing curse. It unnerved her, that someone she’d come to love could so callously snuff out her life.
After a while, when her breathing quieted to sniffles, Hermione pushed herself upright and brushed the dust from her skirt with quick movements. Her fingers itched for the familiar weight of the Diary, though she knew it to be no more. Hermione dragged a sleeve across her cheeks, annoyed with the dampness she found there. Tears would not help, they never had.
She replayed the last few hours in her mind, sifting through them as she recounted her mistakes. She realized quickly enough that her misstep had been assuming that affection would not affect him. If she wanted to get close enough to dismantle the monstrosities he had not yet created, she would need a different strategy. She had loved the mind in the diary, and had cared for the boy who met her at the Yule Ball and called her little witch with that sexy, old time drawl of his. Those experiences were real.
Hermione knew her objective had not changed, that the end goal remained the same. Tom Riddle needed to be prevented from making Horcruxes, from splitting himself and turning into the creature that had looked at her in the Ministry and called to her in that raspy voice. He was dangerous, but he was still only sixteen. Somewhere behind the cruelty, there had to be a part of him that could be redirected, as evidenced by Diary Tom, the part of his soul capable of love.
She was not sure whether that hope made her brave or simply foolish. She wondered now if that had simply been naivety, the optimism of a girl who had not yet had a Killing Curse flung in her direction by someone she liked and wanted viscerally. Someone she loved, if she were honest with herself.
She had envisioned a future that should never have existed. She envisioned a future filled with shared research projects, arguments over Magical and Muggle theories, and perhaps holidays spent away, building something resembling a life. Diary Tom had leaned into that fantasy and Hermione had only wanted it more.
He had agreed to talk of a little curly haired child tucked between them on a sofa, with his eyes and her stubbornness. The memory of the words warmed her even now. He had not said I love you, he never would in straightforward language, yet that vision of a shared future had been his way of stepping into vulnerability, of offering her something beyond ambition and immortality. She walked to the sink and splashed water on her face. She would not let him see her undone.
Dinner in the Great Hall called to her as her stomach rumbled, a reminder that time had not stopped to indulge her crisis. She considered skipping the meal altogether, but that would only draw questions she didn’t want to answer. Tom would be at the Slytherin table, too, fishing for her reaction no doubt.
It was exactly the kind of test he would devise after such a confrontation. If she hid, he would smell weakness. If she went, she would be forced to navigate the dangerous terrain of pretending nothing had happened while every nerve in her body screamed at the memory of green light. So, Hermione did the thing. Hermione straightened her robes and walked into the Great Hall, head held high.
The moment she stepped through the doors, she felt the weight of Slytherin House’s attention. There was no doubt in her mind that Tom had commanded the House against her, or at least, his cronies had spread the word that something had gone down between the two.
She kept her gaze fixed ahead and made for Slytherin, seeking her roommates Seraphina and Lucretia. As she sat down between them, Thoros Nott gave her an encouraging nod, his brown hair falling into his eyes before he brushed it aside. Orion Black, seated besides Seraphina, also lent her a warm greeting. Hermione did not miss the fact that Walburga was sitting on Tom’s left.
“You were gone most of the afternoon, thought you died or something.”
Hermione managed a faint smile as she took some meat and potatoes onto her plate.
“I was in the library, I’ve always been a bit of a book worm. Old habits die hard, I guess.”
“I also like to study,” Orion grinned, propping his chin on his hand. “The female anatomy is quite fascinating, you know.”
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. Once Seraphina and Lucretia had introduced her to Theodore Thoros Nott and Orion Black, she knew whom the playboy of the two was.
“So what you’re saying is, you know your way to a girls clit, huh?” Seraphina looked at Hermione in dawning horror, her language uncouth. Thoros gave a hearty guffaw, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Salazar, Granger, you sure know how to dish it to em.”
Orion gestured subtly over to where Tom and his goons sat.
“I bet Riddle couldn’t find it if he’d put his nose on it himself, if that kiss with Walburga in fourth year was any indication.”
She had to bite her bottom lip to hold back laughter. She appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood, but Hermione could say, from first hand experience, that Voldemort and Diary Tom had been able to find hers just fine.
She thought darkly to herself, if Hermione had not already given her affection to a darker star, she might have allowed herself to drift toward Orion’s easy warmth. If only he didn’t have to marry his cousin, Walburga Black.
“Hermione, you really must watch your mouth. It’s most unbecoming of a lady.”
Seraphina nudged her with her shoulder. Hermione knew her roommates meant well, it was a different era, and public talk of sex was still very much taboo. However, she also wouldn’t sit here and pretend to be one of them. She was not a Pureblood, nor a Half-blood, and she would not become a fake to fit either of their molds. Thankfully, Seraphina and Lucretia had never pushed her to do so. Lucretia gave Hermione a pleasant smile, moving the conversation to safer waters.
“So, Hermione, what do you think of Hogwarts so far?”
Hermione grinned. Hogwarts was a place she loved no matter the time period. It had always been her second home. It was just another fact she’d had in common with Tom Riddle. She had read Hogwarts - A History so many times, and was fairly confident she knew most of the ins and outs of the school. Even now, thanks to Diary Tom, she had come to know the true entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.
“I actually really love it here. There’s just something about this castle that makes my magic feel at home.”
Orion turned to Thoros and gave him a knowing look. Hermione caught that look and chose not to wonder about it. Conversation drifted to classes from there, then to Professors whose names still sounded unfamiliar on her tongue, with the exception of Slughorn and Dumbledore. She nodded when expected, and smiled when required. Thoros reached for the serving dish near Hermione, his fingers careful not to brush her hand.
“First week of term is always the worst because everyone’s posturing about. By the end of the month, half of them will have shown their true colors again and the other will be too lazy to keep up their ruses.”
Hermione tried and failed not to glance over at Tom at the center of the table. She thought of Diary Tom in that moment, and sorely wished he were still here, even though she was actively trying to prevent his creation. Quite the conundrum, if she’d said so herself.
“Illusions seem to be a specialty around here.”
Orion picked up his glass in salute to her dry humor.
“Hear, hear.”
Hermione drank as well, the cool liquid of her pumpkin juice a relief. She had not realized how parched she was until that instant, as though her body had been in a constant fight or flight mode that left her dehydrated. As the chatter continued on into background noise, despite herself, her awareness kept drifting to the center of the table.
The familiar boy she had once known so intimately sat there, a King in his domain. Tom did not look at her again, she didn’t know whether she was grateful for it or not. He spoke to the boys flanking him, his attention seemingly fixed on the present moment. That composure she knew was control, and control was something she understood Tom prized above all else.
She wondered if the careful way he held himself was for her benefit, or if it was simply how he existed when eyes were upon him. Either possibility left her with the same unsettled awareness that his restraint was deliberate.
Walburga leaned toward him at some point, to whisper. Hermione could not hear the words, though the intent came across clearly enough when Walburga looked directly at her. Hermione focused on her plate and resisted the urge to snap Walburga in two. Seraphina followed Hermione’s line of sight and shifted closer, her tone light in a way that suggested practiced discretion.
“You’re being too obvious, Hermione.”
Her eyes flicked briefly toward the center of the table before returning to Hermione. Hermione gave her a sheepish smile. Well, she was a Gryffindor after all. Discretion had never been their strong suit.
“Am I?”
Lucretia reached for the bread basket and nudged it closer to Hermione with a gentle insistence. Thoros shook his head.
“You’d better lay any aspirations towards Riddle down right now, Granger. Walburga’s pretty much staked her claim on him, and, he’s definitely not all there if you catch my drift.
Hermione tore off a piece of bread and shrugged her shoulders.
“I thought it was pretty easy to take him down in DADA, though. What’s a little friendly competition?”
She hoped they’d buy it. Orion nearly spat his pumpkin juice from laughing.
“Friendly and Tom do not go together in the same sentence.”
The conversation drifted again after that, this time toward Quidditch and the coming Hogsmeade weekend next month. Orion launched into an animated retelling of last year’s match against Gryffindor, his hands painting exaggerated gestures. Thoros corrected him with dry amusement, and the two fell into an easy back and forth that drew laughter from those nearby. Hermione listened, contributing when prompted, but her thoughts kept cycling to the same dangerous path.
She felt Tom’s awareness suddenly, the unmistakable sense that his attention had shifted. It was the same sensation she had felt countless times through the Diary, a subtle recognition that defied logic. Hermione kept her gaze on Seraphina, refusing to meet whatever test he might be setting. She had learned, painfully, that acknowledgment was an invitation he did not extend without cost, and it wasn't the right time to clue him in on her little knowledge of aura magic.
When Tom finally rose from the table, the movement drew more notice than she expected. Several conversations paused, forks hovering midair as eyes tracked his departure. Walburga stood as well as she hurried to keep pace with him. Tom did not slow for her, nor did he acknowledge the murmurs that followed in his wake. Orion watched her over the rim of his glass, his expression thoughtful rather than teasing for once.
“If Riddle’s moods keeps worsening, the House is in for a rough term,”
Hermione offered a noncommittal shrug.
“Power can always be taken away,”
Seraphina studied her closely, curiosity evident though tempered by restraint. Lucretia gestured for them to return to the common room for the evening. Hermione gathered her things, resisting the urge to rush. As she followed her roommates towards Slytherin, she straightened her shoulders and continued on. Whatever games Tom Riddle intended to play, she would not be reduced to a piece on his board again.
Friday came the next day, and with it, what apparently amounted to game night. The Slytherins established their own sort of weekend tradition, where the students gathered in the common room as Tom's court. It was the kind of tradition that looked effortless, until you learned how carefully everyone chose where to sit while they bent under the whim of Tom. Hermione had claimed a corner of the long green settee with Seraphina and Lucretia, while Orion lounged opposite her with that casual confidence he carried.
His tie was loosened, hair a touch mussed, and his grin had not left his face since supper, as if he had decided to enjoy himself purely out of spite. Thoros sat beside him, his long legs stretched toward Seraphina. Hermione did not miss the way Thoros and Seraphina’s eyes met each others fondly quite often. Perhaps there was something there, but, it wasn’t any of her business. Orion gave Hermione a nod of greeting.
“Welcome to your first Slytherin game night, Granger. It’s perhaps the only time the house is in temporary unity.”
Thoros snorted, though his eyes stayed on Hermione before returning to the table.
“From the way Granger was talking earlier, I think she’ll handle herself just fine.”
Seraphina rolled her eyes.
“You two behave like you share a brain that you pass back and forth. Cavemen the lot of you.”
Orion lifted his hands in surrender, his grin widening.
“At least it’s a sexy brain.”
Hermione watched Orion’s easy warmth fill their immediate surroundings, and she couldn’t help but join in. Tom’s crowd had clustered around a table already crowded with bottles and cards. Abraxas and Evan sat to his right and left, and Walburga and her friend sat across from them, Walburga making disgusting heart eyes at Tom.
Speaking of, Hermione couldn’t help but to admire how good he looked. His sleeves were rolled neatly to his forearms, and the top buttons of his white shirt were undone. His tie sat loose and haphazard, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d think he’d almost looked normal.
“Don’t look over there until they call to us,”
Lucretia pulled her attention away, the words meant only for Hermione.
“The game will start when Tom gives everyone the word.”
Hermione forced her gaze away. Seraphina leaned close enough that Hermione caught the scent of her expensive perfume.
“Just prepare yourself, Hermione. Tom’s games are usually not so simple.”
Orion gave Hermione a knowing look, snickering.
“Well, you can always bite back, you seem to do that well.”
Hermione laughed out loud, her gaze naturally defaulting toward Tom before she could stop it. He had not looked at her once since dinner, which made it worse, not better. It suggested he had already decided what she was, and had already filed her away as a mistake. Hermione’s stomach turned at the thought.
When the tempus struck eleven, one of Tom’s boys rose, turning toward Hermione’s corner with the kind of swagger that came from never being told no. Avery, if Hermione remembered the last name correctly, his grin bolstered by the attention of his friends.
“Nott, Black, common ladies.” Avery drawled, his gaze sweeping over Hermione’s group. “Formal invitation time.”
Seraphina’s smile remained pleasant, though her eyes filled with annoyance at being called common.
“Avery, if you are here to insult us, you can do it from across the room.”
Avery’s grin widened, and he held up a small vial between two fingers. The liquid was pale and clear, as innocent as water. She recognized it immediately to be Veritaserum. In her time, it was a class A restricted substance. She wondered if they'd procured it illegally or if the laws in this time period were more lax.
“We’re bored,” Avery announced, turning his attention to Hermione as if she were the interesting part of the room. “We’re playing a game, Veritaserum or Dare.”
Orion’s grin faded faster than Hermione had ever seen.
“If you mean what I think you mean, you can take your bottle and shove it.”
Avery tilted his head, amused.
“Careful, Black, you wouldn't want to go against Tom again, would you?”
Thoros shifted forward, almost shielding Seraphina with his broad body.
“Go back to your table. We received Riddle’s threat and will come over.”
Avery’s eyes gleamed.
“Not until Granger agrees, Tom’s orders.”
Hermione’s stomach lurched at her own name. No one, even the most powerful of wizards, could defeat Veritaserum.
“Why would I agree to drink anything you hand me?”
Avery’s grin turned sly.
“You suddenly appeared here at this school, and you’ve made yourself a problem, and now everyone wants to know what kind of problem.”
Orion watched Hermione with a different sort of focus, as if he had already decided he would drag Avery out by his collar if Hermione so much as looked uncomfortable.
“You mean Tom wants to figure out what kind of problem.”
When Hermione gestured to the center of the common room, Tom finally looked up at her. He did it slowly, as though he had all the time in the world. His eyes found Hermione, and Hermione grew sad. It was impossible not to remember another set of eyes, still the same enchanting brown, but so much more tender. Tom did not speak nor beckon her. He only watched her with one eyebrow raised as if to taunt her. Hermione’s fingers slipped free from her sleeve, grabbing the vial.
“Fine, but if we’re doing this, we do it with rules.”
Avery blinked, surprised by her lack of fear.
“Oh?”
Hermione stood as if she were stepping into a classroom debate rather than a trap.
“Everyone drinks the same amount, and everyone plays.”
Orion laughed, delighted at her hutzpah. Thoros watched on, ready to protect his friends at a moments notice. Avery’s grin turned hungry, jumping for the chance to cause more chaos.
“Agreed.”
Hermione followed him across the room with the others in tow. His friends shifted to make room, though it felt less like welcome and more like a cage reshaping itself. Hermione sat where Avery indicated, which placed her across from Tom, and next to Walburga. Walburga’s gaze swept Hermione up and down with undisguised contempt.
“How charitable of you to join us, I do hope you can keep up.”
Hermione returned her smile with one of her own.
“I intend to.”
Avery took the vial back from Hermione, each portion identical in their cups. Hermione accepted her cup when it reached her. She looked at Tom over the rim of the cup, and he looked back, unblinking, his expression remained composed.
“Scared?” Avery taunted.
Hermione lifted the cup to her mouth and drank it in one gulp in reply. The potion slid down her throat with ease. When she felt it's immediate effects, she pressed her fingertips to the tabletop, grounding herself to the cool wood. Avery clapped his hands.
“Right then. First round. Veritaserum or dare, Granger?”
Hermione looked at him as the potion tugged at her.
“Veritaserum.”
Avery geared up, his eyes gleaming.
“Where were you this afternoon?”
Hermione’s mind flashed with images of the curses, and the sound of her own breathing turning ragged as she ran. The potion tightened it’s grip on her, insisting. Hermione forced herself to remain cool and collected as the truth came forward.
“I was with Tom.”
Walburga gave a shocked sound. Several boys laughed, delighted at already tasting a scandal.
“Doing what?”
Hermione kept her gaze on Avery, and refused to offer anything more than the truth required.
“He tried to kill me.”
Hermione watched the effect move across faces like a wave, amusement turning to uncertainty as they tried to decide if she was joking. She kept her gaze steady, her hands flat on the table, and turned her attention to Tom.
Tom’s expression did not change, it was almost worse that way, as if attempted murder were a minor inconvenience. His eyes held hers with an intensity that made her skin prickle, and Hermione forced herself not to look away. Avery’s grin faltered.
“You’re lying.”
Hermione gestured towards the empty cup.
“I can’t.”
Avery’s gaze darted to Tom, searching for confirmation. Tom’s eyes remained on Hermione, which was confirmation enough. All eyes were fixed on Hermione, then on Tom, then back again, a frantic, silent volley. Abraxas Malfoy was the first to break, an incredulous smile spread across his face.
“He tried to kill you, eh?”
He looked at Tom as if he’d just unveiled a spectacular new secret. Hermione didn’t waver. She kept her gaze locked with Tom’s across the table as if to say see what you made me say? Tom lifted his own cup of Veritaserum, untouched until now, and took a deliberate sip. He set it down with finality.
“My turn,” Hermione said.
She looked directly at Tom. She was gonna beat him at his own game.
“Tom, Veritaserum or Dare.”
Tom’s eyes glinted with interest at the open challenge.
“Veritaserum.”
The power was heady. She had the most dangerous boy in the school under a compulsion to answer truthfully. She could ask about Horcruxes, or about the Chamber, she could even expose his plans. Those were wartime questions, however, and this was a different, more intimate battlefield. Hermione was going to make it hurt.
“Earlier, when you had your wand pointed at me with the Killing Curse…what stopped you?”
The Veritaserum took effect and a slight blankness overcame his eyes.
“Curiosity, I suppose. I…wished to understand the source of your arrogance and outright defiance.”
It was not a mercy, nor was it an attraction. It was the cold, clinical interest of a sociopath faced with an unexpected variable. Hermione tried not to feel the sting of it. At least Walburga looked sick, Hermione noted with some satisfaction, at the notion that they had been alone together. The game, it seemed, was no longer just a game. They were in a duel, and Hermione had just drawn first blood.
“My turn, Hermione.”
The dangerous threat in his voice was palpable, and Hermione knew the stakes had escalated.
“I’ll choose you right back. Veritaserum or Dare?”
Hermione grinned, she was going to throw him for a loop.
“Dare.”
Tom seemed to light up with glee, as if he were the cat who caught the canary. Hermione had the feeling she wouldn’t like whatever came out of his mouth next.
“Avery made the mistake of asking impertinent questions tonight. I dare you to torture him with the Cruciatus Curse.”
Hermione could not recover from the shock on her face fast enough. Torture one of his friends on a dare? What was he playing at? In order to cast that curse, you needed to mean it. Hermione had barely talked to the Avery boy, and, he wasn’t that horrible, perhaps more of a poncey git than anything. He didn’t deserve torture. Noting her hesitation, he offered Hermione an alternative.
“Or, you could take the penalty. No one would blame you, it is a rather difficult curse. Only the most capable of wizards could cast it.”
Hermione ignored his jab, realizing she'd once again misplayed her hand, and she would have no choice but to take the penalty to save face.
“I’ll take the penalty.”
Tom stood up and gestured to follow him upstairs to his dormitory.
“You’re going to spend seven minutes with Evan Rosier. We’ll see what kind of girl you really are.”
Hermione did not miss the way Abraxas laughed loudly, a leering smile directed at her. Her friends shot her worried looks, but she waved them off. Evan couldn’t be that bad, right? He'd helped her that first night and he seemed pleasant enough. Well, she would have to try and dig it out of Seraphina and Lucretia later, the history between Evan, Tom, and Abraxas.
The door to the dormitory closed with a sobering finality, and Hermione took the chance to look around. It was a typical boys dorm, orderly in some places and messy in others. Hermione glanced at Evan, who stood awkwardly. He’d made no move to approach her, and for that she was rather grateful.
“I had hoped we’d meet again, but I could not imagine they’d be under such circumstances.”
Hermione chuckled and shook her head.
“Well technically I’ve already fallen.”
Evan raised an eyebrow. Hermione blushed realizing what she’d just inadvertently implied.
“I meant like, when you saw me in the courtyard that night. Not like fallen fallen or anything.”
Hermione was rambling, she knew it. Evan laughed and shrugged his shoulders.
“I’m just joking, Granger. Relax. I knew what you meant.”
Hermione sat down on the edge of the closest four poster bed. Whose it was, she didn’t know.
“So, what did Tom put you up to this time?”
Evan sat down across from her on the opposite four poster, she assumed his own. Both of them were still under the effects of the Veritaserum.
“Nothing get's passed you, does it? Well, I wouldn’t suppose your reputation mattered to you, right?”
Hermione should have been taken aback, but she knew Tom was out for blood. If he painted her as a slut, her reputation would be ruined. Maybe not so much in her time, but definitely in the 1940s. Ironically, the boy whose trying to ruin her reputation is in fact her only sexual experience, and had already ruined it himself. Hermione grinned to herself in turn. What, then, did she have to lose? Tom wanted her to have a reputation, well, she’d give him one.
“If you’re here to seduce me, don’t bother. If I want you to get me off, I’ll find us a broom cupboard. You do know how to pleasure a woman, yeah?”
Evan’s eyes grew wide, genuinely, and his cheeks flushed slightly pink. Hermione grinned, satisfied.
“Don’t worry Evan, I’ll tell you exactly what I like.”
Evan whistled lowly.
“Shit, Granger, warn a guy would ya?”
Hermione winked.
“Wouldn’t it be you, giving me the warning, before you come down my throat?”
Evan’s jaw genuinely fell to the floor. He shifted slightly on the bed, subtly grabbing for the nearest pillow. Hermione laughed. She knew what a boner was, Harry and Ron had went through puberty after all, and she was no stranger to the boys randomly adjusting themselves all hours of the day.
“Do you know about Legilimency, Evan?”
Evan nodded.
“Yes, Tom is a Legilimens.”
Hermione smirked, so that was his aim. He would use Evan’s memories of whatever this would turn into against her. Hermione recalled the way Tom had recoiled from her touch at a mere brush of his hair, she wondered what he would think about the memory of Diary Tom between her legs, kissing her most intimate places.
Of course, she couldn’t very well show him his successful creation of a Horcrux, but she could definitely fuck with him in other ways. A certain memory in the prefects bath, in her time, came to mind. She drew her wand, hoping someone would be storing an empty vial in the room.
“Accio vial.”
Luckily, a vial flew to her hand. She uncorked it and pulled forth a memory by putting her wand to her temple.
“You can give this memory to Tom, saves you the trouble.”
Evan openly gaped at her, gingerly taking the vial from her outstretched hand. Hermione gauged they had but two minutes left.
“I wouldn’t suppose you could finish in two minutes, could you?”
Evan threw his head back, laughing loudly as he crossed his arms. Hermione tried not to admire the solid muscles in his biceps as he did so, she was but a mortal girl after all.
“You’re something else, Hermione, truly. You don’t act like a Pureblood at all.”
Hermione made to open the door, she turned back to Evan and winked at him.
“Pureblood, Half-blood, or Muggleborn, what does it really matter? I’m still me.”
Evan did not reply. Hermione returned to the game, a triumphant smile on her face. Everyone had given her questioning looks, but she couldn't be bothered to care. As she watched Tom and his crew finish their game, a thought struck her. She would give anything to see the look on Tom Riddle’s face when he discovered the memory in the vial.