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Somewhere in Time	By : serpentinred Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 64471 -:- Recommendations : 6 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I don't make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
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Chapter 16

Hermione Granger was a Gryffindor. The House was known for bravery and boldness. Therefore, naturally, when she saw Tom smile at her in a manner that greatly reminded her of how Crookshanks looked when he had just caught a mouse …

"Professor, I—" she stumbled over her words.

"Yes?" Merrythought questioned.

"I—I—" she stuttered.

Suddenly, she was aware of the fact that she was the center of attention of the whole class. It made her cheeks burn with embarrassment and a sense of dignity perked up, tugging along with it, her Gryffindor bravado. Her mind became numb, racing to find a perfect cover up.

"I—just ... wanted to let you know that ... I'll do my best in your class."

Merrythought smiled brightly at her, oblivious to the fact that her voice was getting lower and lower with each syllable.

"Excellent, Miss Granger. I never would've thought otherwise, seeing what an intelligent young lady you are," she praised her before walking away.

Tom's smile slowly transformed into a sneer once Merrythought had her back turned towards them.

"Shall we begin?" he asked, venom interlacing with the faux politeness in his voice.

No, not really.

She glanced around and discovered that, unfortunately, the students that were practicing around them were mostly his Knights. Great, perfect set up just in case she needed help.

"Whenever you're ready," she nearly squeaked, the pitch of her voice at least two times higher than usual.

She swore that he was laughing at her with his eyes. His face was impassive, however, and she had to suppress a scream when he pointed his wand at her.

"Ladies first," he said quietly, his words like cold silk, slipping over her skin, causing her to shiver.

"Ar-argenta exura," she chanted, her hands uncontrollably shaking.

A stream of light as feeble as her words traveled towards Tom. She stared. Did the spell just disappear before it hit him?

"Were you even trying, Miss Granger?" he asked, his pale fingers sliding up his wand. With a swish of his wand, he cast his spell. "Argenta exura!"

She didn't even have time to move to the side. The spell impacted the pad protecting her chest and caused her to stumble backwards. She desperately wished that the class would end soon.

However, it was just the beginning.

"Are you alright?" Tom asked, taking a step towards her.

"Never better," she muttered. She then cast the spell again. "Argenta exura!"

The spell, fortunately, hit the pad in front of his chest. However, it seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever.

"Argenta exura!"

The spell hit its target before she realized that she had been wrong—he had been controlling his force the first time he had cast the spell.

This time, she was thrown off her feet and landed on the floor, several feet away from where she had originally been standing. She blinked, trying to refocus as he walked up to her, stopping next to her. She distinctly heard the snickers from the Slytherins surrounding them, undoubtedly laughing at her for the dilemma she was in.

"Is something wrong?" she heard Merrythought ask, her voice coming closer and closer to them.

Hermione quickly scrambled up despite still feeling nauseous, knowing that she would have to pay dearly if she let Merrythought know what Tom had done to her.

"She tripped over something, Professor," Tom replied, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She attempted to move away, but he tightened his grip. She winced from the force that he exerted there and was pretty sure that she would have bruises later on.

"Are you alright?" Merrythought asked, hurrying over to Hermione.

"I'm fine," she muttered.

"Perhaps you should let Professor Nostredame read your palm or do some tarot readings for you," Merrythought suggested. "You seem extremely ill-fated these days."

Hermione nearly snorted. She was pretty sure what the Seer-professor would tell her.

Beware the Dark Lord.

"I'm alright, Professor," she reassured her, shooting a glance at Tom who was looking at her, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Take good care of her, Tom," Merrythought told him.

"Yes, Professor," he replied, bowing his head to hide the smirk appearing on his face. He turned his head slightly and looked at Hermione askew. "Are you ready to practice again?"

She gritted her teeth and nodded, determined not to let down Gryffindor House.

"Excellent," he said. He moved five steps forward before turning around to face her again. "Your turn, Miss Granger."

"Argenta exura!" she cast, putting all her strength behind the spell.

Tom quickly cast a Shielding Charm, a mixture of surprise and approval on his face after the spell collided with his shield.

"Argenta exura!"

Apparently, his approval and surprise had no impact on the force of his spell. Thankfully, she did not get thrown off her feet this time, although she did collide with Dolohov when she stumbled backwards.

"Watch it, Granger," Dolohov hissed at her.

She glared at him, remembering what had happened back in fifth year at the Department of Mysteries.

Standing up straight again, she concentrated on the spell before she cast it once more. This time, the spell was surprisingly stronger and faster than before. Tom's shield was up before her spell collided with him, of course. It irritated her thoroughly; after all, she wasn't accustomed to being second best.

"Argenta exura!"

She quickly swished her wand around, and she nearly didn't have enough time to finish conjuring the Shield Charm again. A sigh of relief escaped her mouth; she was grateful that at least she wasn't being thrown across the room again.

Determination overcame her fear, and she stared at him for a few seconds before casting the spell towards him again. She could have sworn that a flash of surprise appeared on his face before he moved to the side, allowing the spell to hit the wall behind him. When he faced her again, however, the satisfied smirk on his face caused her to freeze.

It confused her, and she really wanted to ask why he was so satisfied. After all, she was the one casting the spell …

"Alright, class! Please return to your seats," Merrythought called out, clapping her hands together.

Confusion clouded Hermione's mind as she made her way back to her seat. Even after Merrythought assigned them their homework and dismissed them from class, she still couldn't work it out.

She didn't understand. Why was he pleased?

~-0-~

Whatever his reason for smiling, Hermione still felt as if someone had dropped her into the Arctic Ocean that afternoon as they walked out of the Potions classroom, and Tom Marvolo Riddle nodded slightly to her, saying, "I'll see you in front of Slughorn's office tonight."

In short, she was chilled to the bones. Not even books could take her attention away from the approaching danger of spending a couple of hours with Lord Voldemort.

That night, for the first time in her life, Hermione felt that the trip from Gryffindor Tower to the Potions classroom was too short.

"Good luck," Gareth and Joseph had said to her when she walked out of the common room.

She couldn't help but question their sincerity when they started to snicker right afterwards.

Now, she stood facing the Potions classroom. Her hand remained still, refusing to turn that doorknob and open the door to her fate. She wondered if she could find Dippet and make him change her detention time. However, from the looks of it, Slughorn would probably speak against it and she would still end up in the same situation.

The door suddenly opened, and she found herself staring at Tom.

His eyes flickered only once before a polite smile found its place on his lips.

"Good evening."

"Good evening," she replied, deciding that civility would be her best bet.

She walked cautiously past him and into the classroom. She found the move a bit silly after she entered the room; he obviously wasn't going to curse her right in front of a professor.

"Hermione! You're here!" Slughorn exclaimed happily.

What's he so cheery about? she thought to herself in disgust as she walked up to the front of the classroom.

"Good evening, Professor. I'm here for the detention," she replied as politely as she could.

"Of course, of course," Slughorn answered, clapping his hands together. "Tom will tell you what you need to do. Basically, I just need to rearrange the Potions inventory. Students always put ingredients back in the wrong places and, as you know, some of them can't be set back in place by magic since it will change their magical properties."

Hermione nodded.

"Good! Are there any more questions, then?"

"No, sir," she shook her head.

"Wonderful! Then," Slughorn said happily, standing up from his seat, "I'll leave the classroom to the two of you."

"Wait. You're not going to be here?" she asked, alarmed.

He gave Hermione a wink. By now, she was pretty much accustomed to the shivers that crawled up and down her spine every time he did so. "Of course not. Try not to mess up the room too much, alright, you two?"

He sauntered out of the classroom before she had time to react. She did not know which statement she should react to first. The feeling of disgust was competing furiously with the premonition of the danger lying ahead of her. On the one hand, she was repulsed by what Slughorn might be thinking. On the other hand, she was afraid of what one evening with the Dark Lord would leave her with. At the end, her survival instinct kicked in and pushed all other thoughts aside. She attempted to find a way out of her situation but she couldn't think of anything.

Slughorn disappeared around the corner down the hallway before Hermione fully accepted that she was doomed. Slowly, she glanced at Tom, half curious and half afraid of his reaction. He was sitting leisurely on the edge of the table near her, his attention on her rather than Slughorn.

Her mind momentarily went blank.

As hard as she tried, she could not deny the fact that he was bloody handsome and even more so without the pretense. Tom Marvolo Riddle was far too good-looking, and it was hindering her thinking process, which made her situation quite dangerous. She should have been worrying about her safety, not thinking lewd thoughts about Riddle.

Ron. I have to think of Ron. He's the one waiting for me in the future. He's the one I'm destined to be with. He's—No, wait. What am I thinking? Why would I like Tom Riddle of all people? He's threatening to injure me, if not kill me. Hel-lo, Hermione Jean Granger. Remember what happened earlier today? You really—

"We might as well get started instead of staring at each other for the whole evening. I don't fancy spending an entire year reorganizing potion ingredients," Tom's voice broke through her silent monologue as he stood up and walked past her.

Hermione allowed herself a few more minutes while her conscious tried to communicate with her subconscious. When she was positive that her mind was thinking the way it should and would not go off on its own course, she followed him into the supply cupboard.

He was standing by the cabinet, taking out bottles of ingredients. He glanced at her when she walked into the supply cupboard.

"Finally found your way into the supply cupboard?" he mocked.

"It doesn't really take someone with Merlin's ingenuity to find it, now, does it?" she replied wryly.

He chuckled in response. "I suppose it doesn't," he said softly, his eyes trained on an unlabeled bottle in his hand.

She narrowed her eyes at it, the clear liquid inside strongly reminding her of Veritaserum. She took a step backwards and faced the bottles to her right.

"So, we're supposed to reorganize these, too?" she asked. She winced when she noticed that her voice was noticeably shriller than usual again.

So much for the values that were used to place students in Houses.

"Of course," he replied, placing the bottle on the table to her left and taking a step towards her. "We're supposed to reorganize everything in here." Another step. "Unfortunately, some of the potions and ingredients do not have labels on them." He stopped in front of her.

Hermione mentally cursed at how small the room was.

In a low voice, he said, "And we have to sort them out one by one."

She attempted to move backwards, but she then realized that she was already right up against the wall. A blush crept up her cheeks when she acknowledged just how close he was to her.

They locked gazes with one another. His eyes were like two bottomless pits: dark, endless, and foreboding. So dangerous … yet, she found herself drowning in them, like a leaf being pulled away by the rushing currents of the rivers that lay between the world of living and the world of Hell.

She opened her mouth slightly, trying to gulp in much needed oxygen.

"How should we sort out the potions?" he asked softly, picking up a lock of her hair and twirling it around his finger.

His eyes never left hers, and she felt like a rabbit or just simply a prey with no name, staring into the eyes of a viper—as if she was immobilized. The loss of control made her feel uncomfortable and her heart was beating at an abnormal rate, making it even harder for her to breathe regularly.

"Miss Granger," he whispered, his voice merely a hiss in her ears. She felt a shiver run down her spine, and her throat felt abnormally dry. "Do you know what that potion is?"

Still unable to speak, she merely shook her head, causing him to laugh.

"Take a guess," he suggested, the laughter never quite vanishing from his tone and his voice so gentle that he could've been speaking to his lover.

She swallowed and grabbed a fistful of her robes, as if she was seeking for some feeble support. She shook her head again, suddenly wishing for Slughorn walk in on them, however intimate the scene might appear.

"No?" he raised an eyebrow. "I was under the impression that you were intelligent. Don't tell me that you do not have anyidea of what it might be."

She finally detached her eyes from his and glanced at the bottle innocently sitting on top of the wooden table. It was so easy. Tom had access to everything he needed to brew any Dark potions he wanted, and no one would even suspect that he was the culprit. He had successfully set up the stage, directed his own show, and charmed the audience into believing that he was the hero of the story.

Hermione turned her attention to him again and was hardly surprised when she found him looking at her curiously and calculatingly at the same time. She was just as much an enigma to him as he was to her.

Or so she hoped.

Finally finding her voice, she said, "I never claimed to be extremely intelligent. Besides, there are at least ten different potions that are clear."

"Hm ... true. I guess the only way for us to find out what the potion is, then …" he trailed off, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

She doubted that he would accept it if she suggested that they waited for Slughorn to identify the potion. Therefore, she held her breath, waiting for him to continue and trying to slow down her heartbeat. Unfortunately, he did not seem to have the intention of telling her what he had in mind as he eyed her features.

"Is what?" she finally asked, when she was sure he was not going to say anything else before she did.

"We'll have to test it, won't we?" he asked, his voice only slightly above a whisper again.

His fingers continued to play with her hair, causing her scalp to tingle. His lips curved into an overly pleased smile, mocking and taunting her at the same time.

"On what?" she asked, her voice a pitch higher still.

"Do you have any suggestions?" he asked, lowering his eyes and preventing her from further analyzing his thoughts.

She bit her lower lip and desperately tried to find a way out of the situation she was in.

Suddenly, he leaned forward until his mouth was mere centimeters away from her ears. "You're scared, Miss Granger."

It wasn't a question.

"Pray tell, what am I afraid of?" she questioned, her voice slightly shaky, although she could not tell whether it was because of his proximity or her fear.

"Perhaps you can tell me the answer."

She kept quiet, her eyes still on his face and alert for any changes.

"How can four students who I had never seen before think they know more about me than the students here, who have known me for the past seven years?" he murmured, almost like he was talking to himself rather than to her.

"I … have no idea what you're talking about," she replied slowly, hoping the innocence on her face looked genuine enough for him to believe her. "At my old school, they always taught us to distrust what we see at the surface of things."

"How fascinating," he said. "Are you going to start telling me about the curriculum at Durmstrang, Miss Granger?"

She opened her mouth but stopped midway, searching her mind for the right thing to say. One wrong word could hurt Draco.

Before she could answer him, he laughed, causing the hair on her arm to stand up. A fear rose from the bottom of her heart and attacked all her senses when he coldly stared into her eyes. She could almost see the red glint behind his dark eyes, threatening to break into her mind and through her soul.

"How … did you know … we came from Durmstrang?" she managed to say.

She felt her head pounding in sync with her heart, the blood flushing through every cell of her body and inflaming her, pushing her towards the brink of panicking. However, she knew that at that moment, more than ever, she couldn't panic.

Without warning, he placed his hand on the back of her head and pulled her towards him, until her face was two inches away from his. It seemed a bit pointless to Hermione—he did not need to intimidate her with such close proximity. He was threatening enough without it.

"This is the last time I will warn you, Miss Granger," he said quietly, his voice as cold as his eyes. "I know that you've met with Mr. Malloy already."

"Well, that's rather normal, isn't it?" she questioned timidly. "We … we knew each other from Durmstrang, so meeting with him—"

"I've never believed for one minute that you're from Durmstrang. It's obvious that was just a cover story for whatever you're hiding," he cut in.

"You can't prove that I'm lying," she quickly retorted, placing her hands on his chest to prevent him from getting any closer to her.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips before she realized how guilty that sounded.

"The truth of the matter is that you won't find any evidence against us because," she tilted her head a bit higher, "we'renot lying."

"Is that so?" he asked, the pressure of his hand behind her head increasing and forcing her face even closer to his.

Without warning, she felt something against her throat. Her eyes widened with fear when she realized that it was his wand.

"What … what are you doing?" she asked, her throat dry.

"I'm simply asking you to help me in satisfying my curiosity, Miss Granger. I prefer knowing everything about everyone," he replied conversationally, drawing circles under her chin with his wand.

"You … you can't threaten me like this," she stuttered, cautious about moving abruptly in case he might find some incentive to hex her. "If the professors find out about this—"

"They would never believe you," he interrupted her. "The only professor who would believe you is currently in the middle of Germany with no way of knowing anything that is happening inside the walls of this school. Even if he were here, do you actually believe that I would get in trouble?" The hand behind her head found a lock of her hair and started to play with it. "How do you think I managed to stay here for so long when he was continuously searching for a way to get me to leave?"

Hermione looked at him, surprised. She knew that Dumbledore was not particularly fond of Tom, but she never knew that he had attempted to get him thrown out of Hogwarts before.

Tom's lips curved in a lazy smile. It was not a pleasant smile, yet it sent shivers that were not simply from fear down her spine. That was, until she heard what he said next.

"And they will never find out about it."

She almost thought her heart stopped beating as she was once again reminded of who he was. Images of what he could and might do to her to stop her from telling the professors ran through her head, and she nervously ran her tongue over her lips to moisten them.

She glanced back at him and found his eyes focused on her lips. The way his eyes ran over them pushed her towards the conclusion that this was no longer the stage between interrogator and prisoner. There seemed to be something elsethere.

Something that was sinfully wrong.

The thought triggered the alarm signal in her mind. She mustered all the strength she had and tried to push him away, but to no avail. Amusement cast an odd glimmer in his eyes, stirring up unknown feelings and emotions in her mind, body, and heart, and thoroughly frightening her.

"You can't run away," he whispered, untangling his fingers from her hair and running one single finger down her cheek.

The finality in his words pushed her fear up a notch higher, as if he was the one who was in control of where her destiny was heading.

"Hermione."

The syllables of her name struck her heart, drumming against it like the hammers inside of a piano, creating a lullaby in her mind that lured and repulsed her at the same time.

She shook her head, trying to get rid of emotions she didn't understand and clear her mind.

She had to think of Ron.

Once again, she gathered all the strength she had and pushed against him. This time, however, she threw her whole weight onto him. Taken by surprise, Tom took one step backwards; it was, nevertheless, enough for her to slip past him.

She sprinted towards the door of the classroom. Before she had the chance to touch the doorknob, he had already caught up to her. He slammed his palm against the door, preventing her from opening it. She turned around, just in time to see a flash of light fly past her, and she realized with a sinking heart that he had cast an unknown spell on the door to block the exit.

He placed his other hand on the door, caging her in. As much as she tried to tell herself not to panic, it was not working.

She cleared her throat softly. In a shaky voice, she said, "Look, Tom. We are from Durmstrang. I … I understand that you find us strange in many ways, but that's probably because our schools have different cultures." She bit her lower lip and attempted to avoid looking into his eyes. Other than the fact that she didn't know if he was a Legilimens or not, it still made her wary, staring straight into his mysterious eyes. "I … I was looking for Ma—Draco because … I wanted to make sure … make sure that he's comfortable here, that is. I was worried that he might not be adjusting well to being here. Besides, even if that's not the truth, and I assure you that it is, why would it concern you?"

He did not answer her. In fact, minutes slipped by and he merely continued staring at her. They remained standing there for so long, gazing at one another that she almost thought that he might …

Her mind went blank at the absurd thought of him kissing her before she proceeded to mentally perform nasty curses on her mind.

Ron, I have to think about Ron, she recited to herself as if it was a mantra.

She tried to think of what happened in the most recent Defense class, when he was throwing her around in class. It should repulse her enough to stop thinking of images that were just plain wrong.

All thoughts once again flew out of her mind when his eyes lingered on her lips for longer than necessary, and she was certain that that and the speeding up of her heartbeat had nothing to do with fear this time.

As wrong as the realization was, she couldn't find the strength or will to run away from him. Stopping him from doing whatever he intended to do was no longer an option. It was as if her feet were rooted to the spot. She remained where she was with her back against the door and with bated breath as he studied her face.

Abruptly, he took a step back and flicked his wand at the door, reversing whatever spell it was he had placed on the door.

She stared at him, half of her surprise from the fact that he did not Obliviate her. The other half …

"We shall finish our discussion some other time." He paused, his eyes never leaving hers. "You should know better than to mention this to anyone," he warned quietly before turning around and striding into the supply cupboard.

She continued staring at him from the door.

Thank Merlin he didn't kiss me, she thought as she attempted to ignore the sense of loss at in the pit of her stomach.

What was she thinking? It … it certainly was not a sense of loss. It was probably because of anxiety. After all, he had just spend a good amount of time intimidating her.

Believing anxiety to the case, with irritation building inside of her at an alarming rate, she pushed herself away from the wall and stalked into the supply cupboard.

Strangely, for the rest of the night, not only did she find it a lot harder to stare at his eyes, but also his lips.

~-0-~

A/N: Many thanks to Aling, matterhorn, and my sister for beta-ing for me!
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Somewhere in Time