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Right Place, Wrong Time?	By : Shan84 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 7811 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series nor any of the characters from the books/movies. I don't make money from writing this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Author Note: Thank you for reading :)

"I saw you two the other night, you know," Tarquin said suddenly on Monday morning as Hermione sipped on a strong cup of coffee, trying to wake herself up for the day.

"Hmmm?" She looked up slightly confused, noting the smug look of triumph on his face.

"You and Tom," he began, "When Alphard told me you had stormed out I went after you to make sure you were okay, but it looked like Tom beat me to it," he finished smugly.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" she asked as she took in his triumphant expression.

Tarquin's grin widened, "I knew he liked you! And you can't deny it anymore…"

Hermione shook her head. "You're completely over-reacting – there is nothing going on between the two of us."

"Please! He looked as though he was going to kiss you!"

"Well there is nothing going on," she said with finality – not really knowing how to respond to him. How was she supposed to tell Tarquin what was really going on? She sighed in annoyance as she realised that this would make things slightly more difficult.

"Sure Hermione," he replied sarcastically, then after a moment, turned and looked at her with a bit of concern on his face. "Are you okay anyway? I mean, what happened?"

Hermione sighed. So Tarquin had obviously not stuck around to hear why Hermione had gotten so upset. Either that or none of those… men – for lack of a better word – had decided not to let him in on what got her so angry. She had no idea what to say and was trying to think of an appropriate response when he spoke again.

"Alex looked absolutely devastated though… did you two have a fight?" he asked.

Hermione harrumphed at that. "You could say that. Let's just say that I doubt he will be bothering me anymore."

"What happened?" he asked again.

Hermione sighed in annoyance. She really didn't feel like pointing out the obvious bigotry of those idiotic purebloods. "Maybe I don't want to associate with prejudiced people," she muttered.

"Malfoy?" Tarquin asked, not sounding surprised at all.

"That obvious?" she asked.

Tarquin shrugged. "The guy is a git, Hermione. Always has been, always will. I'm pretty sure that if his head was any further up his arse he'd be looking at his own tonsils."

Hermione bit back a laugh, but couldn't stop the small smile appearing on her face. Tarquin gave her a large grin at the sight of her smile.

"Well Alex isn't much better," she added. "I'm really not interested in spending time with people who are so concerned with someone's parentage," She replied haughtily.

"Yeah… To be honest I didn't have much to do with them in school – they were a year above and in another house, mind you, but there were whispers of bullying. Though if the rumours were true, they would have had to have been quite discreet with whatever they got up to," he explained. "Although Alex has always been polite – it's quite disappointing actually."

Hermione nodded. "Well hopefully he gets the hint that I'm certainly not interested in him, especially if he has views like that."

"Well, you wouldn't have to worry about that with a bloke like Tom," Tarquin began to say.

Hermione looked up at him in disbelief. He had to be joking. Riddle was a bigger pureblood supremacist than Malfoy and Lestrange put together. He was just a better actor compared to the two dolts.

"Oh yes, Tom grew up in a muggle orphanage, so he never discriminated against anyone at school. He was also the most brilliant student Hogwarts has seen since well, rumours say, Dumbledore himself," he explained.

Hermione wanted to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all. Steeling herself and wishing she could wake up from what felt like some kind of ridiculous dream she schooled her features and turned back to Tarquin. "I didn't realise that Tom was an orphan," she commented, hoping her acting skills were up to par.

Tarquin nodded emphatically. "Yes, and despite his hardships in life he was always helpful to anyone who asked – no matter what house you were in. I mean, I'm pretty sure I would've failed our last seventh year transfiguration assignment if it wasn't for his help."

"Oh. That's… nice of him," she commented, pretending to suddenly be interested in the books she was supposed to be sorting.

"You don't fool me, you know," Tarquin said in good humour. "I know you're supposed to be with that bloke Ron, but he has never visited you once… and he didn't even come to your birthday."

Hermione clenched her fists in frustration at Tarquin's insinuation, and more to the point, her situation. Well, of course Ron wouldn't be showing up to anything. She wished that she had never mentioned him in the first place. She remained silent and decided not to humour him with a response. She also decided to ignore the amused glance he shot her way, as though he knew something she didn't.

"All I'm saying is that if you two were to get together, I wouldn't think you were being disrespectful or anything... As in, I wouldn't think you were cheating or anything," he finally said, realising that Hermione wasn't going to say anything.

"Is it so hard to believe that I am not interested in Tom Riddle?" she exclaimed in frustration.

"Okay, okay," Tarquin replied, hands up in defence at Hermione's furious expression. "I'm simply interpreting what I've seen recently."

"Well you're completely wrong," Hermione muttered, thoroughly ignoring the disbelieving smirk on his face, as well as the sudden feeling of heat on her cheeks.

Tom had spent the morning sorting through several recent purchases made by Burke for the shop. The purchase that held his interest the most, and the one he was currently handling with great care, was a set of knives. Not just any set of knives though; they were hunting knives, used by a small group of wizarding assassins. Tom had briefly read about them in a book which covered a range of wizarding criminals a couple of years ago and he felt a certain level of smugness that he now held them in his hands.

The knives had been brought to England from America by a rather shady wizard about two decades ago. Tom suspected that they hadn't been obtained legally, but one really had to question whether normal morals should be placed around the goods which often appeared in this store. He smirked as he lightly brushed his fingers over the fine turquoise handles, careful in handling them – even though he knew all the power was held in the blades. They were charmed so that whoever had ordered the assassination could view a memory of the kill via the blood caught on the blade. They had been created by a tribe of Native Americans hundreds of years ago and were a crude way for one to go. The knives had seen a revival in popularity during the 1800s for both torture and murder before almost fading into obscurity again after the majority were confiscated by American Aurors.

These artefacts were just one of the many things which demonstrated that there was so much to learn about magic outside of Britain. Tom thought of those idiots who gave him sympathetic looks when they realised he was now working in a shop. Were they really that stupid? He was a Slytherin and former Head Boy of Hogwarts, wouldn't they put two and two together and realise that he had much bigger ambitions then slowly working his way up the career ladder in some boring Ministry role? Tom smirked, whilst this opinion was extremely frustrating, it always worked in his favour. Still, he couldn't wait for the day where he could stop pretending and start being.

He checked the time and was surprised to see it was almost lunch. He had been so completely engrossed in sorting through all of the new artefacts, and in absence of the usual annoying customers, had lost track of time. Of course lunch meant getting to see what kind of reaction he would receive from Hermione Edwards after what had happened after her birthday party on Friday night.

If he was honest with himself – despite the fact that he may loathe the idea in this particular case – Hermione Edwards had not been far from his thoughts over the weekend. He had to admit that she had simply begun as a way to 'pass the time' and a bit of a curiosity to solve and then move on from… however, he knew his interest was much deeper than that now. Mainly because he knew her secrets were much deeper than what many could imagine – perhaps, he could even grudgingly admit, himself.

Her reactions also awoke a deep seeded interest in him. She seemed to get annoyed at him, and perhaps even disgusted by him, yet when he thought of the flush on her cheeks when he stood so closely to her that night, he knew she wasn't completely immune. Of course he could admit she looked very attractive that night, any bloke would, but Tom was someone who never cared much for looks anyway. He had had his share of good-looking women, and they were all the same in the end: easy, shallow, vacuous and predictable. Therefore, he used them as he saw fit and then got rid of them just as quickly.

However, when the bossy little witch had turned her wand on him after he followed her from the Palace, he had felt something unfurl in his stomach. The way she looked with her ever-escaping hair, threatening scowl and defensive posture had shown him the promise of a challenge. Fortunately – or perhaps unfortunately for her – Tom never shied away from a challenge and therefore anticipated today's lunch just to see what would happen. What was the best way to approach a woman like Hermione Edwards? The funny thing was that he could recognise many of the same traits in her. She wasn't easily impressed by good looks or shallow preoccupations, so he'd have to approach her much differently to his normal modus operandi on women. It was sure to be interesting indeed.

Just as he was imagining what swotty comments would come out of her mouth today, he was unceremoniously brought out of his thoughts by Burke lumbering back through the store.

"Riddle," Burke greeted, "Come into the office, there's something we need to talk about." He said plainly and continued to the office.

Tom followed his boss and then watched as the older man moved around his desk and flopped unceremoniously into his chair, chubby fingers clasped in front of his rather large stomach.

"Yes, Mr Burke?" Tom asked politely as he stood before him, hands clasped behind his back.

"I need you to stay on through lunch today,"

"Sir-" Tom began to protest, but Burke quickly interrupted.

"I know you like to get out of the shop for your lunch boy, but we've got a customer coming in who always spends up big, and the silly bint even has some artefacts that I would love to get my hands on."

Tom felt irritation bubbling up inside of him but kept it masked under a cool exterior. "With all due respect Mr Burke, if you know what she is like then perhaps you are the best one to do this deal? It's just that I would hate to mess any of your plans up." Tom quickly spoke the last part with as much flattery that he could muster, hoping it would appease the old buffoon and allow him to get out of working through his lunch break.

"Nonsense boy – you've yet to disappoint me with a sale," Burke replied, dismissing Tom's reasoning with a flick of his hand. "Plus, a young man like you, giving flattery to a woman like her – well, I can only imagine what we could possibly get out of this. You will, of course, be commissioned more generously if you procure any sales from the awful woman. I do like to look after my staff and know it will be somewhat of an inconvenience for you dealing with her, especially if it becomes a regular occurrence."

Tom did not miss the greedy sheen pass through Burke's eyes as he so obviously thought of the possibilities in dealing with this potential customer. Clenching his fists in annoyance, Tom wished he could curse to idiot as now he would miss his lunch. Still, perhaps he could simply head out at a later time; he would still need to get something to eat after all. Perhaps it may also keep Miss Hermione Edwards on her toes, as he was sure she'd be simply expecting him to show up. The last thing he wanted was to become predictable to her.

Pasting a small smile on his face, Tom looked back at his boss. "It would be my pleasure to work with this customer Mr Burke. I will still need to go out and get something to eat afterwards if you don't mind?"

Burke's face immediately lit up at Tom's answer. He obviously had complete confidence in Tom's ability to charm a customer. "Excellent, now, let me tell you a bit about Hepzibah Smith…"

What sort of game was he playing at? Did he think that she was so affected by him that not turning up to share the book would cause some sort of reaction in her? Hermione huffed and bit into what was supposed to have been Tom Riddle's sandwich.

Well, if he decides he doesn't want to show up without notice and waste other people's valuable time then the sandwiches are not his to be enjoyed! Hermione thought mordantly as she chewed thoughtfully, washing it down with some hot tea.

Tom Riddle had a motive for everything he did. Obviously he was just trying to get a rise out of her, especially after his behaviour on Friday night… still she couldn't hide the fact that she had been curious as to how he would behave today. Yet when he didn't saunter in with some annoyingly stupid comment or that stupid smirk like he usually did, Hermione wondered just what that git was playing at.

Besides, they had a deal! She reasoned to herself, thinking of the book she was supposed to have been reading today. She was so close to finishing too! This is why she then immediately wondered if he were doing this to get some sort of rise out of her. Well, if he thought it would work, she would sure show him who he was dealing with.

She told herself that she wasn't angry that he simply didn't show; she was angry that she wasn't getting to read the book. Yes, that was all – nothing more, nothing less. She knew that Friday night meant nothing, and it was silly of her to even keep replaying what had happened as she looked for a motive or small inkling in understanding his behaviour.

Yet that small voice in the back of her head chose that moment to remind her of Friday evening and how he had almost behaved, well Hermione was loathe to admit – even to herself – flirtatiously with her.

Lord Voldemort was not interested in women!

It was simply ridiculous. She had never heard of him having a girlfriend or anything of the sort when she was trying to research his past during the war. Harry had never mentioned anything from what he knew of his school days either. She supposed she could ask Tarquin, he seemed one for gossip and could possibly tell her. But then again, she almost banged her head in annoyance imagining Tarquin's reaction at such a question. He was already acting like they had some sort of 'secret liaison' going on – she didn't need things to become worse just because she was a tiny bit curious about whether Riddle had ever had a girlfriend or not.

She was still thinking about Riddle when she heard a shuffle near her table, looking up, she couldn't hide the surprise at the person who was now standing in front of her.

"Alphard…! I wasn't expecting to see you," Hermione said unable to hide her surprise.

"Erm, yes… well… I suppose I dropped by to…" he trailed off, looking extremely awkward, and stepped forward to the little desk she always sat at.

Hermione's eyebrows rose with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, yet she didn't say anything. She watched as Alphard sat awkward across from her in the chair Tom normally sat in.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked.

Hermione's eyebrows rose even further – if that was possible. "You're asking me if I'm okay? You're the one who seems rather out of place Alphard."

She watched as his shoulders relaxed and a small chuckle escaped his lips. "Yeah, I suppose you're right there, Hermione. Sorry about that. I just mean… the other night – you left so quickly, are you okay?"

Hermione looked down and bit her lip, not really knowing how to answer the question; they were his friends after all. "Do you know what happened?" she finally asked.

Alphard grimaced and paused for a minute. "I've got a good idea what happened," he said simply.

"Yeah, well, I'll be fine."

"I'm sorry about them, you know. Alex feels terrible and doesn't know how to approach you."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's not your job to apologise for their behaviour, you know."

"I know," Alphard quickly responded, "It's just… well, what exactly did they say?" he asked tentatively.

"You dear friend Abraxas was concerned about my heritage," Hermione rather snappishly answered and wouldn't admit to feeling a small amount of pleasure at seeing the young man flinch at her words. "I suppose he was making sure I was 'good enough' for your other friend, you see."

"Ah, I see."

"So you can imagine…" Hermione's hands gestured absentmindedly as if to give some explanation. "I mean, no offence, but I'm not romantically interested in your friend."

Alphard sighed, "I figured that was the case now. So there's no chance of Alex even getting a look in?"

Hermione snorted rather inelegantly. "No… besides the fact that I am already seeing someone; I'm not interested if they are that prejudiced." She watched him as he uncomfortably moved around in his seat. "Why are you friends with them? You and Minerva…" she then trailed off quietly, feeling suddenly uncomfortable for having the nerve to ask him such a personal question.

"Hermione, are you a muggleborn?" he suddenly asked, surprising her.

"I… Yes, yes I am." She stuck her chin out defiantly.

Alphard suddenly pulled his wand out and before Hermione could say anything cast a non-verbal spell. She had no idea what it was – she guessed that it was perhaps something to notify them if anyone were to suddenly approach them. "I obviously don't care about your heritage… I was just curious you see, and Minnie had said a couple of things too which made me wonder. But no matter, as a muggleborn you should know and have experience that nothing is ever black and white."

"Yes, but-"

"Hermione, my world isn't an easy one to live in. There are certain expectations placed on you, certain beliefs-" Alphard's lip curled somewhat in disgust, "that your family push on you… Sometimes, to sound disgustingly sentimental, all you have are your friends. My friends aren't perfect, and yes, Abraxas in particular is still a bigoted git at times, but they understand me better than anyone – except maybe Minnie."

Hermione stared at him in surprise. Never had she expected him to be so candid with her. She suspected that Minerva might have something to do with it, and the fact she knew about their relationship. The way he spoke reminded her of what Harry had told her about Sirius' upbringing. No wonder he had helped Sirius out.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to judge," she finally said with as much sincerity as possible.

"Water off a duck's back!" he then grinned at her flippantly. "You do realise that they all think you're some sort of pureblood genius though right?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well it's not like I told them that. They all just made assumptions and came up with their own ideas. I admit didn't correct them though – even though it seems as though most of these discussions seemed to have occurred without me even being present," she looked down at her hands, slightly embarrassed.

"Well it's safer that way, considering the company you've mainly been keeping."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, Riddle, for one. I mean Tarquin is a pureblood but not prejudiced at all… Are you interested in him or something?"

Hermione gaped at him. What on earth was wrong in this timeline where everyone seemed to be under the assumption that she had some kind of romantic designs on Riddle?

Alphard obviously mistook her stunned silence and looked at her apologetically. "Look, you wouldn't be the first bird to fall for Riddle… but, you need to be careful, yeah?"

Hermione could simply sit there staring at him. Finally, she took a breath and blinked. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Look, I'm just telling you to be careful, alright?"

Hermione remained quiet. She didn't want to tell Alphard that she already knew all of this – knew exactly what he was like, that he was perhaps worse than Malfoy and Lestrange put together.

"Why are you warning me?" she asked instead, with more than a hint of curiosity in her voice.

Alphard shrugged. "Both Minnie and I like you… and I just… I know what Riddle can be like. When I suspected you were a muggleborn I thought I should say something."

Hermione was suddenly curious to hear what Alphard had to say about Riddle. Of course she knew what he was like, but she wanted to hear Alphard's reasons. She wondered if perhaps Riddle wasn't always able to hide his perfect façade around everyone. She wondered if he would actually reveal anything.

"What do you mean exactly?" she asked tentatively.

Alphard looked around and then rubbed a hand down his face. "Look, perhaps I'm overreacting a bit. You seem like a smart girl Hermione, and I'm sure you can see through certain things that others can't?"

Hermione stared at him and then nodded slowly. Alphard was obviously perceptive enough to see through Riddle's act, but what had made him specifically seek her out and warn her? Considering he didn't know her that well and she was sure that whilst he may have been able to see through Riddle's pretences, had he witnessed something that he wasn't supposed to?

"Thanks Alphard," she smiled. "You're right, you know, about everything."

Alphard smirked, "Yeah I know," He replied with a charming arrogance. "Look I've got to clear out… Mum's got some awful dinner planned and has demanded my wonderful presence. I'll tell Alex to back off alright?" He said with a wink.

Hermione couldn't stop the small grin from appearing on her face. "Thanks."

"And then later on we'll catch up, yeah? You, me and Minnie? Although I might need you to put in a good word to Minnie for me… she's still a bit cranky about the other night, you see," he added a bit sheepishly.

"Oh I see what this is all about… trying to get in my good books so Minerva will talk to you?" Strangely enough, Hermione didn't find herself annoyed at his behaviour. He was a Slytherin after all; quid pro quo.

"My dear, all of my motives are, of course, genuine… but it would still be lovely if you could talk to her. She can be rather unforgiving when she's miffed about something."

"Yeah, yeah, alright." She grinned.

Hermione had just locked up the shop and was ready to go out and get some dinner when she felt a hand grip her shoulder. Spinning around in shock, Tom was standing there smirking at her.

"Good evening," he said, amusement dancing in his dark eyes at her surprised reaction.

Hermione quickly schooled her features. "Hello, Tom. I'm afraid you've just missed out, the shop closes at five."

"I came to see you actually. I wanted to apologise for missing lunch, I unfortunately got caught up at work."

"It's fine," Hermione replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I really need to go get going," she said, trying to smile politely and walk around him.

"What's the hurry?" he asked as he walked down the street with her.

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes; did he have to follow her?

"Sorry, I'm forgetting myself and don't mean to be short with you. I'm going to get dinner and I'm quite hungry that's all," she replied, trying to sound somewhat apologetic and hoping that he would get the message and go away.

"I hope you weren't hungry because you were waiting for me to turn up at lunch?"

Hermione suddenly stopped and turned to face him in shock. Was he serious? What, did he think that she sat there all day waiting for him to show up and starving herself so she wouldn't miss eating lunch with him? She stared at him waiting for a reaction but he didn't give much away at all, making Hermione wonder if he was really that arrogant… actually, what a silly thought. She knew he was that arrogant – hence why he was defeated by them decades in the future.

"You cannot be serious," she muttered and then continued walking, not caring if he kept up with her or not. Unfortunately, once again, she was reminded of his superior height and his annoying ability to easily keep up with her.

"Well I would never know, would I?" he smirked at her.

Hermione shook her head, "Really, I am not one of those girls – so you can get that impression out of your head right now," She bristled. "And for your information, I did eat my lunch – and yours too."

She watched as a he was obviously trying not to laugh at her. He was so irritating. Without fail, Hermione always found herself riled up whenever he was around. Whether she was getting annoyed at him, or arguing about something academic, it felt as though he was constantly challenging her to be on the front foot. She suddenly wondered if she'd feel the same way if they met and she had no idea who he was.

Tom never responded to her huffy response, instead choosing to walk quietly beside her. Hermione looked at the tiny cafes and restaurants dotted along the Alley and the adjoining laneways. There were a number to choose from and Hermione couldn't really decide what she felt like eating the most. Hoping that Riddle would soon go his own separate way, she eyed a small brightly lit restaurant which she had wanted to try for a while. The restaurant always looked as though they had a fairly loyal clientele, with a mixture from all walks of society. She turned and looked at Tom, who was still, much to her chagrin, walking with her.

"Well, this is me, have a nice night. I guess I'll see you around," Hermione said as they stopped and she moved to the side of the walkway.

"Where are you eating?" he asked.

"Oh," Hermione frowned somewhat, not really wanting to answer. "Just over there," she replied and nodded at the small restaurant which was now only a few metres from where they stood.

Tom turned and looked at the restaurant and she watched as his eyebrows shot up in slight recognition. "I've eaten there before, it's good." He replied, giving the place his nod of approval.

Hermione gave an awkward shrug. "Right, well, see you later then," she said and quickly went to walk away.

"Wait," He called and Hermione felt her shoulders tense at the dreaded expectation he would do this and the slight ordering tone he used. She turned to face him again and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"I'll join you. I need dinner too," He said and Hermione had to stop her mouth from gaping open in shock.

Merlin's pants! How did this happen? She thought anxiously as Tom walked over to re-join her. There was no way of getting out of this. What was she supposed to say? 'No thanks, I would rather sit and eat in a restaurant by myself than eat with you'? Well that did have some merit and definite truth… but then again, she couldn't say that!

"Is there a problem?" he asked and Hermione thought she saw something show through his normally calm façade, but it was gone before she had a chance to confirm what exactly it was.

"No, nothing," she replied, though she wanted to slap herself as her voice came out a little squeaky.

He smirked at her. "Well let's go then," he ordered and strode off ahead of her, leaving Hermione to almost run rather ungracefully to keep up with his long, confident strides.

The tables were far too small for Hermione's liking and the lighting far too… impractical. This was the kind of place she would ask Ron to take her. Yet here she was eating with Tom Marvolo Riddle, and she again had to ask how on earth this had happened. The worst part was that he had remained disgustingly polite throughout the entire meal, had impeccable taste in wine and proceeded to charm the pants off anyone in the near vicinity.

It was entirely unfair, Hermione mentally huffed as she went to reach for the pepper, only to have Tom reach across and lightly dash some on her dinner for her. Stupid, controlling git, she thought and was equally annoyed to find that he had added the perfect amount. This, of course, set the two old ladies sitting not too far from them into a titter. Words such as 'handsome', 'attentive' and 'lucky girl' wafted over to Hermione causing her even more annoyance. Did she already mention that this restaurant was far too intimate for her liking?

"How's your research coming along?" Tom asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Oh… it's fine," Hermione was stumped at his question. If she was ever honest with him (and that was never going to happen) she would confess that she hadn't made nearly enough progress as she would have liked. She had hoped to speak to Professor Dumbledore at her birthday dinner, but the Professor seemed more determined to enjoy Valeria's cooking and Hermione never got a chance to get him on his own. She would have to owl him sooner rather than later; she really needed to meet with him and discuss several findings with him – her progress was rather slow and she intended on rectifying that as soon as possible.

"You don't seem as though you feel that way," he said, much too perceptively, for Hermione's taste. "What are you struggling with?"

Hermione wondered – very whimsically of course – that if she was ambiguous enough with what she told him whether he'd be able to make any links to her situation… But the idea died as soon as it formed. After everything that happened on Friday night, she knew that saying anything to him about her current academic issues was like holding a red flag to a bull. Such a shame, he was so intelligent.

Tom Riddle's appetite for knowledge was more voracious than hers, and for Hermione to even admit that meant that she had matured a lot in the past few years and could see and appreciate his intellect for what it was. Well, she never thought he was stupid, it was just fascinating – in a very, very weird way - to watch him think and process things in the flesh. It troubled her to understand the depth of his intelligence, because what he sought out to know and gain was so, so wrong. Hermione understood that life, or magic for that matter, wasn't black and white, but she could never reconcile how he could justify that there was no such thing as good and evil – just power.

"Let me try and guess then," he began with what could only be described as an innocently amused expression on his face, which was so much more disturbing to Hermione because of her most recent thoughts. "You say your project is based around Ancient Runes… what could possibly be troubling about that?"

Hermione huffed, "You know, maybe I went out for dinner to have a break from work," she looked down and fiddled with her food a little. "But yes, my work is based around Ancient Runes… so what is your final analysis from that?"

Tom sat back in his chair and looked at her. "Why won't you tell me?" he asked instead, all aspects of him appearing nonchalant except for his dark eyes which completely penetrated her.

Hermione bristled slightly at being caught off guard by what she considered – especially coming from him – to be such an upfront question. "Why do you need to know?" She shot back, trying not to tremble under his now heated gaze. Suddenly the restaurant seemed far too small. They continued staring at one another, Hermione felt as though she was rooted to the spot by him. She felt her heart rate increase and her breathing break regularity. She couldn't explain what was going on; she could only continue staring at him.

But before either of them could say anything, the atmosphere was completely shattered. A loud, excited exclamation carried across the restaurant, effectively pulling them from the little world they had created.

"Tom!"

Both Hermione and Tom jolted and turned to what Hermione considered as being more of a screech, rather than an actual voice. Hermione spied a young woman, who appeared to be about their age, with long, wavy black hair, red lips and expensive looking dress robes. She quickly made her way over to their table and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the woman as she had effectively broke the dreaded conversation and strange atmosphere that had just surrounded them.

"Walburga," Tom greeted politely. "Fancy seeing you here."

Wait, this was Walburga Black? Hermione looked up in shock at the young woman who would be Sirius' mother and in her time, a rather hideous portrait at Grimmauld Place.

"I know! I can't believe we didn't spot you earlier," she said and shot Hermione a curious look. "But when I saw you I just had to come over and say hello – even though Tony told me not to disturb your date." She looked slyly between the two of them causing Hermione to snort slightly.

But before Hermione could correct her on their situation, Antonin Dolohov appeared next to Walburga, taking her arm in his. Wait, Walburga and Dolohov are an item? Must be before she marries her relative, Hermione thought in a rather snarky manner.

"Tom, Hermione," Dolohov greeted, looking somewhat nervously at Tom and giving Hermione a quick smile. "Sorry to interrupt, Walburga wouldn't take 'no' for an answer," he said in a light-hearted manner.

Hermione could tell that Dolohov was providing an explanation to Tom, and she was brought back to reality as he gave a small nod – as if approving Dolohov's answer.

"Hermione, was it?" Walburga suddenly spoke, "Nice to meet you and sorry, I hope we aren't interrupting your date too much – I just haven't seen Tom in such a long time and had to say hello," she smiled.

Hermione coughed, "Er, actually we aren't on a-"

"Of course you aren't interrupting Walburga," Tom smoothly spoke over Hermione, therefore not allowing her to correct them on their status. Annoying git.

Hermione turned and gave him a look, causing Tom to cock an eyebrow in amusement at her expression. Trying not to scowl further, she turned back to Walburga and Dolohov. She found Walburga looking at Tom with some kind of excitable expression, whilst Dolohov seemed to be carefully watching the interaction between Tom and Hermione.

Before anyone could speak, Walburga began babbling, asking Tom all sorts of questions about what he had been up to since they last saw each other. Hermione was relieved that his attention had been forcefully diverted… for the time being, she thought reluctantly. She really had to do something about that. She looked up at Walburga and Dolohov and knew she'd need to come up with something soon. She looked at Tom again and could tell that despite his polite expression, he wasn't pleased with the interruption. She knew Dolohov would be aware of this and be currently working out a way to get Walburga to move on. She suddenly smirked as a plan formed in her mind.

"Oh!" Hermione suddenly piped up, putting her best charming smile on, and feeling three pairs of eyes rest on her. "Why don't you both join us for coffee and desert, that way you can have a proper catch up?" She smiled innocently, ignoring the way Tom stared at her.

"Thank you for the offer Hermione, but we couldn't impose on your dinner like that," Dolohov replied.

"Nonsense! Besides, it's so lovely to meet new people," Hermione replied and flashed a winning smile at Walburga who seemed eager at the suggestion. "You don't mind, do you Tom?" she turned towards him with a wide, innocent look on her face.

Tom looked at her calculatingly, but Hermione kept her expression stead-fast. "Why, where will they sit Hermione?" he finally replied, his expression neutral.

Hermione smirked, "Magic, of course." She waved her wand and lengthened the table, summoning two extra chairs from an empty table nearby. She turned to Walburga and Dolohov and smiled. "Please, take a seat." She gestured at the empty chairs. Dolohov sat down with a rather constipated expression that almost made Hermione laugh out loud, whilst Walburga sat down eagerly, not even noticing the tension emanating from both Tom and Dolohov.

"So!" Hermione began brightly – extremely pleased with herself and completely ignoring the scowl that was developing on Tom Riddle's face, "What desert do you all recommend?"

Tom had been in a frustrated mood all morning and he blamed Hermione Edwards. Did she really think that she could hold him off forever? Impudent witch. Tom scowled as he recalled the night before… he'd have to have words with Dolohov about keeping his whore in better line. Walburga ruined an entire night's work for him. The surprise was Hermione however. The way she had manipulated the situation so she was no longer alone with him told him that she was more cunning than what he would have initially thought.

The girl was a mass of contradictions. She was outspoken, yet incredibly secretive, brash yet could act quite well when needed… emotional, yet seemed to be able to detach herself at the right moments. A challenge, a voice right at the back of Tom's mind whispered to him. He felt a flurry of something travel through him at the voices confirmation… Though Tom was far too stubborn to name whatever that something was.

Unfortunately today, he wouldn't be able to use his lunchtime visits to gather any more information either. Before Hermione had quickly scampered off back to her flat, she had told him not to bother as she said she'd be trying to meet with Dumbledore about her project. He knew he couldn't use that Wenlock book as leverage for much longer. If she felt threatened enough, the book would be easily cast aside – no matter how much she wanted to read it.

It annoyed him to no ends. Every time he attempted to cast a foot forward, she would inevitably put all her force into pushing him back. But he'd find out eventually – no matter what. Tom Riddle had had bigger challenges in his life, and he wasn't about to let Hermione Edwards get in the way of stopping him from finding out what he wanted to know.

The front door opening alerted him to a new customer, and he looked up with a polite expression on his face. The expression turned hard as he recognised the person at the door.

"Lestrange," He greeted coolly, as Alexander Lestrange walked purposefully into the store, eyeing him with a semblance of surprise.

"Riddle," He greeted, his tone just as icy, "I thought you wouldn't be here."

"I work here," Tom replied dully.

"Yes, but your lunchtimes are normally… preoccupied, are they not?" The older boy asked with a bland expression on his face. "You seem to spend a fair bit of time with Miss Edwards."

Tom merely stared back at Lestrange, who seemed to be looking at him in a calculating manner. Instead of commenting on Lestrange's observation he cleared his throat. "How may I assist you today?"

Lestrange cocked an eyebrow and Tom wanted to curse the bastard. Stupid, impudent prick, Tom thought in annoyance. Did he have any idea what he was able to do to him? School was over now, anything Tom did to the prick would be incredibly difficult to trace…

"I'm here to pick up an order my Father made," Lestrange announced and handed Tom a piece of parchment.

Tom quickly eyed the parchment and stopped yet again. Lestrange was purchasing the knives? The knives that Tom had admired the day before were being purchased by this prat? Tom felt an annoyance he didn't even know was possible. How could this fool possibly appreciate the history and use of those knives?

"Ah, the knives," Tom said coldly. "I'll just go get them."

Tom promptly organised the sale, wanting to get rid of Lestrange quickly. It was bad enough that he had to see him more often now that Lestrange seemed to have some kind of weird romantic interest in Hermione. Although, he was gleefully reminded of Lestrange's mistake the other night, so he doubted Hermione would want much to do with him now. Tom ignored the faint relief that travelled through him at that thought. It was only because he was getting in the way, Tom justified.

"Hmm," Lestrange looked down at the knives with disinterest, "Father said they were for me."

Tom looked at Lestrange and how bored he seemed with the gifted valuable artefacts. It was so typical of a pureblood like Lestrange to not appreciate what he had at his disposal. It made Tom sick with fury at how obviously spoilt this boy was. He had never had to need or want for anything. Everything had always been handed to him on a silver platter.

"The scroll that comes with them provides a history and information on their uses." Tom replied in a perfunctory manner. He would still keep his perfect reputation up. There was no way he was going to let someone as rich and influential as a Lestrange ruin anything for him.

Lestrange nodded and signed the receipt which would be added to the Lestrange account at Borgin and Burkes. He then took the items, gave Tom a cool look and went to leave the store. Before he left however, he turned to Tom and gave him a look.

"Is there anything else?" Tom asked.

"Actually, yes there is… it's about Miss Edwards actually… her project is on Ancient Runes, is it not?" he asked, a small smirk gracing his features.

Tom was surprised at the question, but his features betrayed nothing. "That is what she says," Tom replied nonchalantly.

"Excellent," he said, and keeping his eyes on Tom, continued, "the Lestrange library is one of the largest in the country. We have quite a selection on Ancient Runes. Perhaps she will appreciate the… gesture." He gave Tom a look, his smug smirk turning superior.

Tom felt his fists clench in anger underneath the cashier desk he was standing behind. He itched to reach for his wand. The idea of Lestrange even trying to charm Hermione through books was laughable. Lestrange was not intelligent enough for her. Not that he even cared about that, it was just an obvious observation. Tom just didn't want Lestrange to ruin his plans to find out what she was hiding, especially if the prat was trying to romance her. How ridiculous, he thought.

"An apology?" Tom asked, watching with glee as Lestrange's smug smirk faltered slightly. "Well, good luck. Oh, and please pass on my regards to June Parkinson… I heard that there is to be an official engagement to be announced soon between the two of you?"

Lestrange's smirk fell completely and he eyed Riddle with the distaste he had become so accustomed too. Tom felt victorious as he had hit such a sore nerve on the prat.

"Good day Riddle," Lestrange replied with tersely and stormed out of the shop. Tom stood there, basking in the small victory momentarily before getting back to work, and thinking and planning his next move on Hermione Edwards.
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