Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 11
- 12
- 13
Author Note: Thanks for reading :)

Tom had managed to avoid Hermione – purposefully – for a good couple of weeks before he had had that 'run in' with her at Flourish and Blotts. A small smirk appeared on his face as he remembered their confrontation. She really was far too easy to rile up. Of course, it was utterly convenient that Holly Fudge, the insipid bint, was there, whose mere presence alone seemed to have offended Hermione to no end.

Still, he had used that daft girl to marvelous effect. Hermione's reaction, along with the others he had cataloged, continued to be interesting – albeit on a completely different level to finding out her real secrets. Tom had noticed the way her body had reacted recently in his presence, well, it was obvious there was something there. Of course, thinking of her reactions reminded him of his own and he immediately scowled.

Besides, while he could still read her physical reactions towards him, why did she have to act so disgusted by it all? Never, in all his experiences with the opposite sex, had he met someone as infuriating as Hermione Edwards. He would never admit that it was slightly disturbing that the one girl he really needed to fall for his charms was the one girl who so obviously wasn't. In fact, she seemed outright offended at pretty much everything he did to her. Especially when he stood too close…

'I-I'm not one of those girls.'

No, he never actually believed her to be like one of those girls. She was infuriatingly intelligent, after all. But it didn't mean that he didn't want her to react like one of those girls. Perhaps he had misread her somewhat? More like underestimated her control, he thought. Tom reminded himself that everyone's level of control had a breaking point; it was just a matter of finding hers.

This was why he had acted the way he did towards her. There was no use perpetually pretending around her when it obviously distracted her so much. She had continuously insinuated and hinted that she didn't believe he was showing her his true face. Therefore, he took a risk and revealed some of himself – including his magic – and her response was, well, more telling than all of the previous interactions he had with her.

So he purposely hadn't sought her out again for a good couple of weeks. He needed to regroup and decide what his next movements would be. Although a certain, disobedient part of his mind asked him what he exactly wanted from Hermione Edwards. He quickly ignored that question. He was going to solve her mystery, then, pending what the mystery was, either move on or-

His thoughts were rudely interrupted as he looked up and found a woman standing in front of him. Tom was felt somewhat disturbed by this, as he hadn't heard her enter the store, and the fact that he prided himself on being extremely alert and he definitely would have heard the woman enter the shop.

"Hello," she said, in a very friendly, light manner.

Tom quickly schooled his features into a blank mask. "Sorry, I didn't hear you enter, forgive my ill manners. How can I help you?"

The woman continued smiling in her light manner. Tom found it made him feel rather uncomfortable. She looked at him almost knowingly.

"I believe a book that you have for sale might be of assistance?" she asked.

"What book would that be?" Tom asked.

"Magick Most Volatile: Ancient Runes."

The book that was sold to Hermione, Tom recalled, as he now scrutinised at the rather plain looking, but strange, woman. "I'm sorry, we actually sold that book two months ago," he finally replied, his voice holding an apologetic edge to it.

"Two months is a long time," she replied with a hint of amusement.

Tom almost cocked an eyebrow in interest, but decided to remain stoic. "If I may ask-"

"You may," she interrupted, a large, serene smile on her face.

Tom was disconcerted by the demeanour of the woman. He discreetly moved his hand into his robe pocket and gripped his wand. "What did you need the book for?"

The woman had the audacity to roll her eyes in amusement at him and, instead of telling him what he wanted to know, she merely replied, "Sometimes, if you can't get an answer to your question, you just need to find a new way of asking."

Tom drew his wand quickly. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Manners, Tom," she chided, though she still had that infuriating nonchalant tone the Tom was beginning to despise.

"How do you know my name?" he hissed. This woman had a strange way about her that he just did not like.

The woman merely chuckled, and before Tom could send a curse at her she stepped back from the counter and disappeared. She didn't even Disapperate, it was like she just vanished into thin air. Tom looked at the now empty space in front of him with calculating eyes. He didn't need time to deduce that this all linked back to a certain witch who was becoming more and more of a distraction. Meticulously cataloguing the strange occurrence, a wicked smirk graced his handsome face as he realised he was ready to take action.

Hermione made her way back to the shop, having spent her afternoon running business-related errands for Valeria. Entering the shop, she heard Tarquin's laughter ringing out through the store. Automatically, a smile graced her face. Tarquin's rather questionable sense of humour never failed to cheer her up. She wondered who was evoking such a reaction from him.

Turning a corner in the shop, she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight in front of her. Almost like a bad déjà vu, Tom Riddle was standing before her with a laughing Tarquin. Tom noticed her before Tarquin did, and a rather amused expression crossed his face. Oh, he was not allowed to look at her like that – especially after what had happened between them the last time. Hermione was still reeling from their confrontation at Flourish and Blotts. Evil git, she thought, as she calmly walked over to them.

"Hermione," Riddle greeted as she approached.

"Hello." Hermione greeted the two of them.

"I've got to get back to the front of the shop, but it was nice catching up with you, Tom," Tarquin said.

"You too. Don't forget about my suggestion," Riddle said to Tarquin.

"Nope, drinks sometime sounds like a great idea!" Tarquin replied, and disappeared behind the book shelves with a parting wave to the two of them.

Hermione's eyebrows rose in curiosity, but at the thought of having to ask Riddle anything, she rolled her eyes and continued to the back of the shop. Sitting her bag of groceries down, she turned only to find that Tom had followed her.

"You're exceptionally hostile today," he commented as he made himself comfortable in her chair.

Hermione scowled at his sprawling – but elegant – form. It was utterly unfair how he could look so refined even whilst he was acting so casual.

"I've barely even spoken to you today," she snapped at him, still trying to work out what he was up to this time.

Tom shrugged his shoulders and motioned his hands in a way that said 'point proven'.

Hermione glared at him as he began swinging back on her chair, arrogant smirk in place. Hermione was almost tempted to whip out her wand and banish the rear legs so he'd end up sprawling on the ground. Instead she made a gesture for him to move.

"What are you doing tonight?" he suddenly asked.

"I'm busy tonight. Now, can you please move? I have to get back to work."

Tom scoffed, but didn't move. "What are you so busy with?" he asked.

"Not spending time with you, of course," she replied, rolling her eyes, and his eyebrows rose with a faint hint of amusement.

"Why Hermione, you wound me with your harsh words. What have I done to cause that type of response from such a refined young lady?" he made it obvious that he was giving her a once-over.

Hermione pursed her lips at his veiled insult. So what if she hadn't really bothered with her hair this morning, and so what if it was laundry day and her outfit didn't exactly match.

"Move!" she ground out, pointing her finger.

He gracefully moved from the chair, and before Hermione could step out of his way to allow him to pass, he was standing right infront of her. She attempted to move but his hands quickly shot out and gripped both of her arms, rendering her immobile. She attempted to struggle, but his grip only tightened and his smirk widened.

"Let go of me!" she hissed, her movements jarred, due to his hold on her.

He merely quirked an eyebrow at her, and pulled her against his chest. Hermione breathed in sharply, fear overtaking all of her senses as he leaned down, his face moving to rest at the crook of her neck.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're far too bossy for your own good?" he muttered against her hair.

Hermione's heart almost stopped, not just in surprise, but because of the feeling of Riddle's breath fanning out across her neck and shoulders. She went rigid, unable to move backwards, and too scared to make any more attempts at escaping.

"Is this where you threaten me, again?" she asked. Unfortunately, any semblance of bravery was lost as her voice wavered.

One of his hands lifted and suddenly his wand was there and dragging her hair away from her neck. Hermione shuddered, and in response, Riddle began lightly tracing random, innocuous shapes on her neck. Just as she was about to ask him what he thought he was doing, he finally spoke.

"You're much more fun to deal with like this," Tom purred against her neck.

Hermione felt the air leave her lungs. His tone may have been deceptively gentle, but his words bellied who she was really dealing with.

"You make it sound like I'm the one with the split personality," Hermione replied weakly.

Tom simply chuckled and Hermione felt her chest constrict and tighten at the sound of it.

"Time's almost up, Hermione…" he whispered, and stepped away from her.

After he had calmly walked away, in an uncharacteristic outburst, Hermione slammed her palms on the desk in frustration and exhaled heavily, finally feeling as though she was able to breath.

Her emotions were jumbled inside of her; a mess of contradictions, indecisiveness and most of all, shame. Shame because, to Hermione, he didn't deserve any of it.

"I think I might be a bit closer to understanding your problem," Phineas announced as they ate dinner in a small café off Diagon Alley, because Phineas indicated that he thought it best if they met somewhere more discreet to talk about such things.

"Closer, but not completely solved?" Hermione asked. At his affirmative nod, Hermione sighed in disappointment.

Phineas eyed her somewhat sympathetically. "You have both Dumbledore and I working on this… the fact we can't solve this any faster is testament to the level of magic that was used on you."

Hermione tapped her fingers on the tablecloth. "I know," she sighed. "So what how far off do you think you are in solving it?"

Phineas shrugged his shoulders. "It's hard to say really. I have to go to Prague next week for business though, and will be gone for a fortnight, but I'll be working on it whilst I'm out of the country. I have a couple of contacts there that might be able to assist."

Hermione nodded and tried to appear calm on the outside, but on the inside she was a mess. After her confrontations with Riddle, the stress of getting home was reaching epic levels. She was jumpy about everything; a day couldn't begin soon enough but it also couldn't end soon enough either.

"I've been doing some research myself," she began.

"And?"

Hermione paused, not sure how to continue. Phineas was an intelligent man, surely he would have gone through any thought process she had gone through herself. She didn't want to sound stupid in front of him.

Taking a deep breath, she looked up at him again. "I think I was sent here on purpose…" she paused and felt a lump building in her throat, as if announcing what she was about to say would be the death of her. "I think whoever sent me here didn't want me to try and get back to my own time." She couldn't help the fact that her eyes felt slightly watery as she thought about it.

Phineas scoffed and then gave an incredulous chuckle.

"What?" she asked, feeling vulnerable at his reaction.

"You've always known this Hermione. It's just that only now are you accepting it."

Hermione frowned. "Don't tell-" she began but was quickly interrupted by Phineas.

"Don't be ignorant girl, it doesn't suit you," he hissed quietly. "Dumbledore has told me – in detail – of his dealings with you. He has been telling you from the start that he doesn't believe this is accidental. You've been in denial."

Hermione sat there. She didn't really know how to respond to that. She looked at him rather blankly, feeling as though a thousand bricks were being pushed upon her, and he was the one pushing them.

"So you don't think I can get back?"

"Again, don't be daft. Nothing is impossible in the magical world. But do you really think that if Dumbledore, one of the most powerful wizards of his generation, couldn't have sent you home by now that there is an easy answer to your situation?"

"I…"

"Your situation pushes the limits of what is currently known about magical theory. You have to accept that you probably won't go back. However, we at least can make a study of your situation. Watch your health, view your timeline and see how you being here now changes your timeline – if it does at all. Don't you see Hermione, you are the ultimate study. The myths on timelines that your situation could solve…"

"I'm not some kind of study for you or Dumbledore." Hermione looked at the man across from her and was suddenly worried.

Phineas held up his hands in an apologetic manner. "Hermione, you misunderstand me. I will do everything in my power to find an answer for you… but stop expecting it to happen in days or weeks." He snapped. "What if I take years? What if we can't find an answer at all? You have to be prepared for that… and if you're not, you're health will suffer in more ways than one. It's dangerous for you to continue acting the way you are, do you understand?"

"I just… I just can't. I can't think that way. Do you understand?" Hermione looked at him imploringly.

"I do. But you can't think like that. You have to start adapting. Change is always inevitable. Was your previous life so planned out and wrapped in cotton wool that you won't be able to?"

Hermione scowled. "You know nothing of my previous life or what happened in it, so don't try to make assumptions."

Phineas leaned back in his chair and studied her. "Perhaps you should share-"

"No!" she cut across him. She would not, she could not. Too many rules, too many regulations, too many things she wanted to keep with her and only her.

"Record it for yourself then. Keep records, look at what has changed and record it and understand why it is changing," he quickly responded.

Hermione felt alarm bells go off immediately. Imagine if someone accidentally got hold of such a record? Her thoughts immediately went to Riddle and the fact that he had ingratiated himself into her life - thanks to her own stupidity. She knew she only had herself to blame, like she had told Dumbledore. Her arrogance at her own capabilities in finding a way home meant that she had given Riddle far too much leeway in being around her.

Hermione looked at him incredulously. She had to admit that she hadn't even spent much time considering it, so intent she was at returning home. "I'll think about it,"she replied, merely to appease him. Though she knew that there was no way she would do such a thing.

He nodded and smiled. She wasn't sure if she felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, or a new one added.

Hermione was finishing up for the day, even though it was almost six in the evening. With the shop closed, and therefore, the usual heating subdued, Hermione had been relying on her own heating charms to get her through the final bit of work she wanted to do.

Even though Tarquin had invited her out for drinks, she had politely declined, preferring the idea of the warmth of her flat and a chance to go back over the research she had managed to compile in the last couple of months. She was still smarting from her meeting with Phineas earlier in the week, his words reverberating in her mind whenever the shop became too quiet, or her task too mundane.

You have to accept that you probably won't go back.

It was so bloody frustrating! She only hoped Phineas was able to gain information from his colleagues while abroad. Hermione ran a hand through her hair. The problem was that there was absolutely no evidence of her situation ever having occurred before. Not a single case study existed on anything mildly related to her situation. She had even looked up time turner accidents – even though the device could only go back hours – to no avail. She suspected that if anyone had been in a similar situation, they had either managed to return to their own time-line, or, they had lived a life of secrecy, refusing to 'mess with the timeline'. Remind you of someone? Hermione's own mind snarked at her which caused her to scowl.

As for her memory, well, that just made Hermione's frown deeper. She wondered if something similar had happened to Smith – if he actually had returned from the Veil. If he did, would the Ministry be working frantically to work out what had happened to the both of them? Phineas had told her that he was looking at the theory that some kind of 'ward' had been put up around the distorted memory. Hence why she was able to remember it quite clearly, yet so far, no one else was able to. Therefore, he was currently looking at everything from more sophisticated case studies of memory charms, ward theories and finally, curse breaking. Apparently, a friend of his, who didn't live far from Prague, had some expertise in memory charms and he would be visiting him whilst he was out of the country on business.

Hermione sighed. She glumly wondered if there was even a point of finding out who it was that sent her here. Shouldn't they just be concentrating on sending her back? But both Phineas and Dumbledore were adamant in finding out who it was, both agreeing that if they knew who it was, it would help them "understand the magic used". Hermione gave an internal huff, because her cynical side wondered if they only wanted to look at her as some kind of research project or for their own self-interest (in Phineas's case anyway). Those thoughts had become especially more predominant after Phineas's suggestion on comparing timelines if she was stuck living through this time line.

The same thoughts continued to float around in her head as she put away the final book for that day. Standing up, she stretched, and frowned slightly at all the kinks in her back. She had definitely been sitting down for too long. Maybe she would have a nice bath when she got upstairs, really treat herself… yes, that would make her feel better.

Just as she was rounding the corner to the back office, she felt something in the air. Was someone in the shop? Hermione stilled, trying to adjust her hearing, though all she was met with was a heavy silence. Shaking her head slightly – she was so sure – making sure her wand was in hand, she turned and was met with an empty aisle. Slowly looking around, she decided to double check that she had locked up properly. Rounding the corner, out near the register, Hermione inhaled sharply as she came face-to-face with Tom Riddle, who was leaning rather languidly against the front counter. They both looked at one another, Tom smugly twirling what looked like a set of the shop keys, whilst Hermione eyed him warily, gripping her wand more tightly.

"Your wards are absolutely rubbish you know," he said, after a few moments of silence.

"How did you get those?" Hermione asked cautiously, nodding towards the keys.

Tom smirked and pushed himself off the counter and moved towards her. Hermione immediately took a step back and raised her wand, pointing it directly at him.

"Why, poor Tarquin had a bit too much to drink tonight. Someone had to help him get home-"

"I swear, if you've hurt him, you'll pay Riddle," she spat immediately worried for Tarquin's welfare.

"Hurt him? Now, why would you suspect me of such an awful thing Hermione? You should be thanking me… It's just he accidently dropped these," he said and threw the keys up in the air, catching them easily. Hermione didn't miss the fact that his wand was now in his other hand. "I was simply returning them when I noticed some of the lights were still on."

Hermione scowled. "I don't believe you," she replied. "I think you took them from him."

Tom merely raised his eyebrows and then carelessly threw the keys onto the nearest surface. The sound of the metal hitting the table so harshly caused Hermione to flinch.

"It's truly terrible that you are so willing to see the worst in me," Tom replied.

Hermione squared her shoulders, refusing to lower her wand. "Well, now that you've so politely returned them, you best be going."

"I don't think I will," Tom replied and after a few seconds said, "We've got unfinished business."

"We don't have anything," she hissed angrily, and saw how his eyes darkened and jaw clenched in reaction.

"Now, now, it isn't nice to tell lies, Hermione," he replied, voice tight, and took another step towards her.

Hermione felt her heart hammer in her chest as she watched him advance towards her. Could she beat him? She highly doubted it… but perhaps he underestimated her? If he did, she perhaps stood a chance. There was no real time for her to properly think though, so she swallowed her fear, and gripped her wand tighter.

Petrificus Totalus, she cast non-verbally, and then used the mere moments she had to duck behind one of the book shelves.

Tom laughed as he cast a shield charm and easily deflected her attempt. "Oh, you want to play, do you? Well, you should have just said so, Hermione. I'm always happy to play."

Hermione shivered at his tone. There were hints of what seemed like excitement and satisfaction in it. She didn't know why. Wouldn't he just want to get control of her in the easiest way possible?

"Now, which shelf are you behind, hm?" he asked, though, he was more talking to himself than her. "It would be a shame to destroy any books… but you may not leave me any choice. I think your boss-"

But before Tom could say anymore, Hermione leapt out from her hiding spot and sent a Stupefy hurtling towards him.

Tom quickly turned around, as though he anticipated her to be behind him, and they both watched for a second as the bright, red light hurtled towards him. Just at the last second, he smirked, pulled up another shield and blocked the spell. Hermione knew she shouldn't be surprised, but it didn't stop her from being disappointed.

She looked at Tom again as the shield came back down and was somewhat perturbed as she took him in. He eyed her in a way that made her feel so exposed. He looked as though he was analysing and anticipating any possible move she would make.

"You know, ever since I met you, I've wondered how you'd duel, what your magic would feel like," he commented carelessly as he rolled his wand in between his fingers. It frustrated Hermione that he was acting so casually about this. It made her feel as though he had already written her off and her cheeks flushed in indignation at the thought. Well, perhaps she would use something he'd never heard of.

Levicorpus, she quickly cast and was surprised by the power in it. She realised that her frustration at him must have transcended into her casting. Tom seemed to be surprised as well, and had to quickly duck out of the way, not anticipating the anger behind the spell and not knowing what it was. But she didn't give him a chance to think as she continued throwing spells at him.

Petrificus Totalus!

Stupefy!

"What was that first spell you cast? I've never seen that before," he asked as he continued to duck and block her.

Hermione was even more furious at that. He was acting like they were duelling in a classroom setting or something!

"Why don't you stand still and find out?" she snapped, as she continued firing spells at him.

Tom continued to look amused, only causing her ire to rise even more – if possible. He didn't even look like he was trying, which she thought was completely disrespectful. Did he think she would tire or surrender easily? Although, why should she be surprised? One of his biggest weaknesses was his arrogance.

Hermione suddenly smirked; she knew there was a spell she wanted to try. She wondered if it was as effective in this time period as it was 50 years from now.

"Expelliarmus!" she cried out.

Tom quickly slashed his wand in front of himself in protection. He then began to laugh. "What are you? A first year?" he jibed.

If Hermione wasn't so angry, she would admit that when he truly laughed, he was exceedingly handsome. His eyes crinkled genuinely and his mouth, devoid of his signature smirk, was so unassuming. Stupid git, she thought. She was almost tempted to remember that insult for future reference.

"Come on, Hermione, your hair isn't even at full potential yet. Although, you could just be one of those typical girls, you know… the ones that can quote a book by heart, but couldn't duel in fear of breaking a fingernail."

She knew he was goading her, and if Hermione wasn't afraid for her life – or so angry at him – she might've been a bit more logical about her next action.

Sectumsempra! She cast, and watched as the spell hurtled towards him as he continued to goad her. His eyes only showed a brief flicker of surprise as he registered the power behind the spell. Before Hermione could even breathe he quickly had to step aside, but he wasn't fast enough, and the Sectumsempra grazed his shoulder. He hissed something unintelligible and turned to inspect his shoulder. Gripping it tightly, Hermione watched as blood began seeping through his fingers. Tom turned back from his shoulder and stared directly into her eyes. Hermione stiffened as she saw the expression on his face; he certainly wasn't amused anymore. His normally dark eyes were now pitch black, and Hermione couldn't control the shiver as she felt the room darken almost completely around them. His gaze was almost feral as the lights flickered and Hermione instinctively took a step backwards, hitting one of the shelves behind her.

She realised that the curse must have only clipped him, as the blood loss, while noticeable, wasn't as significant as what she had seen previously. Still, it was enough for her to realise that it would be a very good idea to get the hell out of there. Taking another cautious step, still holding her wand defensively, she moved towards the front of the shop. If she was quick enough, she could probably manage to get out of there alive.

Her first step seemed so loud over the oppressive silence that had gathered around the two of them. The noise seemed to bring him out of whatever trance he had been in, and his dark eyes snapped to her foot, before looking back into her eyes again. Hermione swallowed and realised that only seconds had passed between them, though it felt like much longer. She watched as his lips curved into a sneer before he brought his wand up.

"Now we play," he said, his voice deathly quiet, though it carried easily over the space between them.

Before Hermione could break into a sprint away from him, he began firing spells at her. To the untrained eye, his casting might have appeared indiscriminate, but as Hermione recognised each of them, she knew that there was nothing haphazard about what he was doing. He was so quick she barely had time to throw a shield up, before she almost tripped over her own feet to get away from him. She gained support from one the shelves and quickly pushed herself off it to try and gain some momentum.

Her shields were struggling under the sheer power of the magic he was exerting, and she, in turn, was now firing a number of curses at him in quick succession as she ran back towards the shop entrance. It was like she was suddenly on auto-pilot. If anyone asked her what she was thinking at that very moment, she wouldn't have been able to articulate it any of it. It was all happening so quickly, she didn't have time to take stock of any possible strategy.

She realised he was gaining quite quickly on her, and fired a Reducto in his direction. It missed him, and hit one of the many large vases Valeria had decided to recently decorate the shop with. It exploded right in front of him, and she almost grinned as he had to quickly stop the shards of porcelain from hitting him. This short lived distraction meant that Hermione was at the door sooner than she realised, and she quickly reached for the handle, and swore loudly as it remained locked and actually burnt her hand.

"Did you really think I would let you just walk out that door?"

Hermione glared at Tom, struggling to hold her wand, wanting instead to cradle her injured hand.

"What was that curse you threw?" he demanded.

"What?" Hermione raised her eyebrows innocently at him. "Reducto? Stupefy? Petri-"

"Don't play with me!"

"But I thought you wanted to play, Riddle," she spat, trying to ignore the fierce burning of her hand.

Riddle's glare – if possible – became even more severe. Hermione glared straight back at him. If he was going to hold her there, like a prisoner, she was going to fight him. Just as she was about to tell him where he could stick his demands, she suddenly felt as though her hand was on fire again, just like when she first touched the door handle. She looked at her injured hand, and horror dawned on her as she realised that her skin was beginning to peel away.

"The affected skin will soon completely peel away without a healing spell," Riddle began to explain, nodding towards her hand. "In fact; you'll need my patented healing spell… my own creation, see."

Hermione looked at him, trying to choke back the sobs that threatened to leave her. What choices did she have? Potentially lose the use of one of her hands or ask him to heal her?

Riddle seemed to answer her question as he clicked his tongue in annoyance. "I'm not going to kill you, Hermione," he said in exasperation, "I'll heal your bloody hand."

"How do I know I can trust you?" Hermione finally asked.

"Well, it's not exactly in my best interest to kill you in your shop is it?" he bit back sarcastically.

That's never stopped you from killing before, Hermione immediately thought, but held her tongue. Her hand was now in excruciating pain, and she had stopped fighting the tears that began to flow uncontrollably. She bit down on her tongue to stop herself from screaming, and felt blood swirl in her mouth from the sheer force of trying to control the pain she was in. She couldn't hold it in any longer, and a blood curdling scream erupted as she watched a large chunk of skin on her palm fall onto the floor.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, you are completely impossible!" Riddle spat and before Hermione could react, he quickly flicked his wand. "Stupefy!"

Hermione's eyes flickered opened quite suddenly, and she took in a shuddering breath as she remembered what had happened. She suddenly lifted her hand, wondering why it didn't hurt anymore, and realised that it was completely healed. Not even a scar was there. She then realised she was on something soft – not the floor of the shop – and blearily took in her surroundings. She was in her bedroom.

Shit.

That meant that Tom Riddle had somehow returned her to her flat. This also meant that he had either left, since he wasn't in her bedroom, or he was currently sneaking around looking at things he wasn't supposed to. She was suddenly thankful that she had hidden the most important aspects of her research in a warded chest, high up in a ceiling cavity, just in case. Unfortunately, if her memory served her correctly, some of Dumbledore's notes on the Veil were spread out in her living room. She had no doubt that he would have looked already.

Hermione crept towards the doorway and almost screamed in shock as she was suddenly face-to-chest with Heir of Slytherin.

"I thought I heard movement," he said as he looked at her.

She cautiously looked at him, noticing that his shoulder was completely healed. The Sectumsempra mustn't have been that vicious then. "What are you going to do to me?" she finally asked and her voice cracked slightly as she eyed his wand, which he made no move to be discreet about.

He completely ignored her question. "You know, I found some interesting information in the living room Hermione."

Hermione stuttered but didn't actually respond. She was now too frightened to actually say anything. Again, she looked around quickly and despondently realised that he could do whatever he wanted. She knew how precarious her situation was without her wand, and tried to control the oncoming panic attack.

"Do you have any idea how lenient I've been with you, Hermione?" he asked as he took a step forward, causing her to immediately take a step backwards. "Do you?" he pressed.

Hermione immediately went to nod her head but quickly stopped and took a deep breath, feeling as though everything was closing in around her. "N-no," she stuttered, but it was too late, as he had caught her slight acquiesce and she watched in dread as his eyes lit up knowingly.

"You do, don't you?" he asked, "Pray tell, how does a girl who only moved here recently, understand me better than half the dolts I've associated with for most of my life?"

"I-I don't know what you mean," she replied, her throat constricting.

"Don't play the fool, Hermione. It certainly doesn't suit you. I'll ask you again," he took another step towards her. "How do you know?"

Hermione stepped back, and grimaced when the back of her knees hit her bed. Tom smirked as he watched her realise she had nowhere to run.

"Going somewhere?" he mocked as he continued towards her until they were only inches apart.

"Please don't," she whispered as he leaned in towards her.

He tilted his head back to look her in the eye. "Don't what?" he murmured and he lifted his hand up and ran it lightly down her cheek. His touch and proximity caused her to shiver violently.

Hermione felt a wave of shame at the pleased look on his face.

"Are you attracted to me, Hermione?" she felt his arm wrap around her waist.

She swallowed nervously and remained silent on his question. The question which always seemed to be at the back of her mind, being insinuated by everyone else…

She squared her shoulders as best as she could and looked up at him. "Don't be ridiculous," she replied, and cringed at the sneer that immediately appeared on his face at her words. "I have a boyfriend," she explained quickly, grasping for any possible straws, though Ron now suddenly seemed so very far away.

Tom smirked at her. "Ah yes… the famous boyfriend. The one who, if he indeed exists, has never shown his face and no one has ever heard of him."

Hermione bristled at this and tried to push him off of her. It was hopeless, of course, and it only meant that the hands now rested on his chest, causing Tom to chuckle.

"He does exist and I love him!" she snapped back at him.

Tom's derision finally came to the surface. "You love him…" he looked at her as though he was disgusted. Suddenly, his wand was pointed against her temple. "How strong is your emotion for him? How much do you love him, Hermione?" he mocked.

Hermione tried to look away from him, but the wand at her temple stopped her.

"All it would take is one careful Oblivate," he muttered at he looked at her. "I could make you completely forget about him."

Hermione could only stare back at him incredulously. She had no idea where he was coming from. What did this have to do with finding out about her project? At her puzzled expression, he continued.

"You'd completely forget, of course. Then how powerful would your 'love' be?" he sneered in a sarcastic tone.

Hermione's eyes widened with realisation. "Please don't," she breathed.

"Then stop using it as an excuse," he snapped.

Hermione looked down, eyebrows furrowed in thought. So many thoughts were running through her mind at that very moment. She was so confused. Was Riddle actually…? No. No, it was impossible. Even the idea, which she now realised, had been floating around in her subconscious for some time, seemed so outrageous she couldn't even justify it to herself.

She looked back up at him and his eyes were almost black as he stared at her. Despite the fact that her heart sped up at the heat of his gaze, she told herself that this wasn't right. No, she couldn't believe this!

Suddenly, his other hand, which wasn't holding his wand, lifted and cupped her check. His gentle touch was in such great contrast to the dark look in his eyes. Hermione's heart stuttered at the contact. It had been such a long time since anyone had touched her in such a way, and she had to mentally stop the urge to lean into him.

Steeling herself, Hermione's eyes darted everywhere else except for his. "No. No, this isn't… No."

"Yes," Tom murmured, and despite his the way his hand gently moved across her cheek, his wand didn't move.

She shook her head, her realisation at what was happening still sinking in, despite the fact that the two of them had been dancing around it for long enough now.

"Yes," he repeated, and his head dropped down to hers, his hand gripping her face and forcing her eyes to meet his before his eyes dropped to her lips.

Hermione shivered as he leant in, their noses now touching. When he finally closed the distance between them and his lips met hers, Hermione felt her knees go out from under her, and she would have surely fallen if he didn't wrap his arms tightly around her. His body had melded with hers, and whatever space that previously existed between them was now completely non-existent. He pressed his lips against hers, confidently, his hand moving from her cheek to her hair, causing her to sigh shakily into his mouth. He took her lower lip lightly between his teeth and sucked on it gently, and Hermione couldn't stop the quiet gasp that escaped.

At this, his lips became more insistent, more demanding. They were devouring her and forcing her to respond and that was when it suddenly became all too real for her. His mouth was full of intent as his lips licked, sucked and pulled against hers. Butterflies fluttered around in her stomach and she fought defiantly against her desire to continue. She couldn't do this. That logical part of her suddenly reminded her just who was kissing her.

"I can't do this," she muttered between his kisses.

He took no heed of her; instead biting into her lower lip and then dragging his tongue against her bottom teeth. Hermione whimpered against him, and at that, she felt his groan vibrate between the two of them. She couldn't stop herself from shakily running her palms up his chest to rest on his shoulders, and his free hand moved out of her hair, down her cheek bone to rest on the area between her neck and shoulders; tracing what felt like meaningless shapes on her skin, causing goosebumps to erupt across her neck and shoulders.

She was finally able to pull away from him and they both stared at each other, breathing heavily, Tom not giving her an inch, nor removing his hands, which now both sat on her shoulders.

Hermione was the first to look away, his intense gaze making her feel vulnerable. She looked down, taking in the closeness of their bodies, which created an unprecedented heat that was completely surrounding her.

"This can't happen again," she muttered. "This is wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen."

He was silent for what felt like an age, causing Hermione to feel as though her words were simply hanging in the air. She chanced a glance up at him and felt her chest constrict as she took him in. His face might have been impassive, yet his eyes were almost as black as storm clouds.

"You know, Hermione, I'm getting very bored with all of this. This constant pushing and pulling you continue to favour… well, it's getting rather redundant, wouldn't you say?"

Hermione remained silent, heart hammering in her chest, as she watched him.

He suddenly leaned down, pressing his nose into her neckline. "There's a type of magic I've been practicing," he murmured, lips caressing her skin. "Can you guess what it is?" he asked, and she felt his wand dig back into her temple.

Hermione swallowed heavily, her throat constricted as she felt his lips move along her neck, until he finally moved away; his fingers replacing his lips, and Hermione couldn't control the disappointment or the shuddering breath that left her as his fingers danced across that sensitive area just above her jawline.

"Can you?" he prompted, his tone deceptively gentle as his fingers moved from her jaw to gripping her face so tightly she couldn't look away.

Hermione couldn't answer him; her fear was paralysing every muscle in her body. What scared Hermione the most was that even though she knew who he was right from the start, she had still managed to underestimate Tom Riddle. And now she was paying the price.

Hermione now realised that she might die in this decade. Her life was in Riddle's hands. She squared herself as best as she could, her gaze turning cold as she finally looked up and returned his stare.

"You don't want to make the mistake of hurting me," she bluffed, as she locked gazes with him.

Riddle's gaze again darkened as he appraised her. Slowly, his lips curled into a wicked smirk. "Now, now, dearest… suspecting the worst already? You're just making me more curious now."

"Oh, stop acting as if you aren't capable." She watched his eyes narrow, and if she weren't standing so close to him, she would have outwardly cringed.

However, almost instantly, his face became impassive again and he didn't rise to the bait of her comment.

"You know, sometimes, to get an answer you've been after, I've been told you just need to ask the question in a different manner. So, I have to ask you a question, Hermione. And I very much hope you can answer it."

Hermione shook her head, but refused to say anything.

"No? Well there are other means of asking…" he trailed off and gave her a satisfied smile. "In fact, I actually prefer this method," Tom said as traced the wand down her cheek and before she could even guess his next course of action, the one word she dreaded was hissed through his lips, "Legilimens!"

Tom gripped her chin and stared directly into her eyes. Entering her mind was completely different to practicing with his followers. While he demanded that they attempt to block him, there was still that subconscious need follow him, which always stopped them from completely rebelling against him accessing their minds. Hermione's was the first mind he had penetrated outside his Knights.

The walls she attempted to erect pulsated all around him. She was stronger than what he had expected, and it only made him more desperate to find out what was hidden beneath. He violently pushed a strong surge of his magic into her and felt triumph as the walls cracked all around him.

Tom was pushing through; rushing uncontrollably. Though, much to his frustration, it was of no choice of his own. Flashes of colour, and only glimpses of images surged past, almost too quickly for him to catch. Tom had never read about this form of protection, but guessed that this was obviously a secondary line of defence she had created if anyone was able to break past her initial walls. While others might be further disenchanted from continuing, it only made Tom more curious. Why did this girl have so many protections? What was she hiding?

As the memories rushed past him, Tom was able to pick up certain images of people and places which were obviously a constant part of her life as they appeared so frequently, even if they were no more than a blur. It was a shame he couldn't actually view anything... just a picture, here or there. Most constant was flashes of a man with bright red hair, who often appeared almost equally with a dark-haired man. Tom blanched slightly at the strong emotions associated with those two. He wondered if the red-head was the boyfriend she spoke of. He certainly appeared in her memories often enough for her to obviously have some kind of attachment to him. Tom ignored the anger that came with the affection that was linked to him, and continued pushing forward. Images of the Ministry were constant, and then, as he pushed deeper, funnily enough, there was flashes of what felt like Hogwarts, over and over again and… books, books, books.

But before he could put too much thought into the latter memories, Tom quickly fell into the first clear memory he had come across since entering her mind.

Suddenly, it was all too clear. He was in a dark, non-descript, hallway, following Hermione as she followed another man down the corridor. He almost skipped over the memory, thinking it unimportant; until-

She was entering a strange chamber.

She was arguing with her colleague.

She was running as the chamber collapsed around her.

She awoke in what he now realised the Veil, located in the Ministry.

Then Tom recognised the woman straight away; the woman who had appeared before him only days earlier. She was talking to Hermione and her work colleague and Tom was transfixed, taking in their conversation.

"Well I have to admit that you two turning up was rather a large surprise… I mean not that I'm supposed to tell you that but fate has a funny way of working."

Tom watched Hermione intensely as she continued to interact with the woman. He noted that the woman was just as infuriating as she had been in his short interaction with her. He was not surprised when the woman calmly stated the same words that Vablatsky had quoted to Hermione at Flourish and Blotts all those weeks ago.

Hermione was given the impression she was going home…

Home.

He withdrew from her mind and quickly caught her as she slumped, boneless, against him. For what felt like an age, though it was probably only minutes, they both remained silent; Hermione trying to control her distorted breathing, while Tom ran through all the possibilities this presented him. Why was that so clear, yet she had managed to block everything else from him? Finally, Tom felt her move, and looked down as Hermione finally seemed to regain some strength, trying to pull away from him. Her head jerked and she stared straight at him, eyes blazing.

"How could you?" she whispered, her voice raw, as though she wasn't even talking to him, but more to herself.

Angry at her for a reason he couldn't define, he pulled her even closer to him and looked down at her, brushing her wild hair away from her face, cupping her cheek.

"Quite easily, actually."
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