Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 20
- 21
- 22
A/N: Huge thanks to my betas, LSMerlot and Nerys! Many thanks to those of you who've read, rated, and especially those of you who've reviewed: Lady Miya, Devourer, risotto, and Mr. Galion!

Devourer: Eh ... two? O.o ... *wonders who's the other person Devourer is referring to* Unless you're meaning Tom as the other person? XD Nevertheless, here's the next chapter, and yup, it's Tom ;). Hope you enjoy the chapter! In regards to Prisms, I do plan on updating that one, but the muse is kind of giving me difficulties. SIT will be updated more often because I've already written a lot of chapters before I decided to completely revise the story. Sorry for the long wait on Prisms though!

risotto: *giggles* Have no idea what might happen in the washroom, but something exciting might happen in the classroom ;). Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Mr. Galion: And the answer is revealed. Darn it, I was going for a six month delay between chapters. Just kidding XD. Hope you'll like this chapter!

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Chapter 21

She shivered.

Tingles traveled from his fingertips where they came in contact with her bare skin to her arm and tickled her senses. It frightened her, the way she was memorizing him in ways that were, in her opinion, far too intimate: She recognized his presence even though she had not clearly seen his features or heard his voice.

The door slammed shut behind them, and she quickly moved far away from him, though she knew it was a futile attempt if he, indeed, wanted to corner her. He was an awful lot taller, and her previous experiences with him had proved she could not outrun him, but she was not going to give up without a fight. After all, she still had her wand, and she was itching to use it after hearing his demeaning comments about her. Adrenaline rushed through her veins, and her right hand clutched onto the wand hidden in a secret pocket in the gown.

He didn't bother lighting the candles. It had finally stopped snowing outside, and the moonlight shined merrily on the layers of snow outside, reflecting into the classroom and casting a heavenly, but at the same time, ghastly glow.

The formidable atmosphere around her pricked her senses, wrapping her in its clutches and nearly snatching away her breath—she felt suffocated, and it irritated her that it was because of Tom Marvolo Riddle again.

"What do you want?" she asked, more snappishly than she had intended.

He did not answer her. In fact, he just continued staring at her coldly as if he wanted to rip her to pieces. Taking a deep breath and very much annoyed, she strode towards the classroom door. Before she could place her hand on the doorknob, however, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to the middle of the classroom.

She yelped again, but his grip only strengthened.

"Let go of me," she growled, struggling against his hold. She could barely withstand the urge to draw the wand, do what her remaining logical cells in her brain were warning her not to do, and curse him all the way back to Salazar Slytherin's time.

Surprisingly, he released her. However, she soon found out why: When she ran to the door again and attempted to turn the doorknob, she found that it was locked. After several futile attempts at trying to unlock the door, she glared at it, almost wishing that that would burn the door down and let her out.

He laughed, so light it could've been her imagination, but she knew it was not. Gooseflesh erupted across her arm. Her hand was still extended in front of her on the doorknob, and she wished that the door would somehow miraculously open.

"A rather ... interesting choice," he commented, his voice even lighter than his laugh. "Joseph Potter, hm?"

She frowned slightly, more at his tone of voice than anything else. Draco's words rang in her ears again, but she quickly stuffed them away. It still sounded too ... impossible to be true.

"I suppose it could be considered a wise choice, since he does come from such a ... prominent family," he continued.

She whirled around and glared at him, although she could not see his features clearly. He was sitting on top of one of the desks in the room with his back towards the source of light. He could have easily been mistaken as a shadow in the dark.

He nodded. "True, 'Granger' hardly sounds like a pure-blood surname, which means that you're at best a half-blood, something which is not undesirable, but hardly better off than a lower class pure-blood. And who's to say that you're not Muggle-born?"

Although she couldn't see it, she could distinctly hear the sneer in his condescending voice. After all, although she did argue for Muggle-borns in Muggle Studies, she never indicated her heritage.

"And being a witch, I'd imagine that you wouldn't move up the social ladder quickly enough to your liking."

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. How dare he, Lord "Pure-Bloods Are Better Than Everyone So Bow To Me Since I'm A Half-Blood," accuse her of something like that? Especially right to her face? The nerve of that unbelievable bigot!

"This is ridiculous!" she exclaimed, anger painting her cheeks rouge. "I would never, ever base a person because of their blood, nor would I care!"

"I'm sure you don't care about blood," he chuckled humorlessly, disbelief apparent from his tone of voice. "It is obvious to anyone with a working mind that you picked Potter because of that."

"What? I would never do something like that! Choosing someone based on their blood ... that's just vile, stupid, idiotic—" She stopped in her rant and took a deep breath, fury blinding her as well as her senses. "Why would you care about who I go to Slughorn's party with anyway?"

"Perhaps I've overstepped the boundaries. My apologies," Tom said coldly. "After all, it really is none of my business, but as the Head Boy, I see it as my duty to warn those who are in danger of toppling over their own feet."

She bristled, and without further thinking, she pulled out her wand and cast the first hex that came to mind. She watched with satisfaction at the look of surprise that flashed through his face. He quickly extended his wand and banished the bat bogeys, but not before getting scratches on his right cheek and his hair ruffled.

Seeing the future Dark Lord in the state he was in caused her to smile, but it was quickly wiped off her face when he moved in front of her again and pushed her against the door, trapping her not only mentally, but physically.

His eyes shined dangerously in the dark, and they looked even more sinister with blood trailing down his face. However, she did not care for those ominous signs at the moment. Although she did have a good laugh after the Bat Bogey Hex she had thrown at him, she was still very much incensed.

"Let go of me," she hissed, saying each word with emphasis. When he merely strengthened his hold on her, she narrowed her eyes at him. "For your information, Riddle, it's none of your bloody business who I go to Slughorn's party with, duty or not. The way you are acting right now, if I hadn't known better, I would've thought that you were jealous."

Although she did not take Draco's words seriously at all, it was still something she could easily taunt him with. She should consider thanking Draco for giving her something to laugh at Tom Riddle about.

However, the coldness in Tom's laughter that followed her words cut off her train of thought and wrapped around her, causing her to shiver.

"Jealous? Why would I be jealous?"

In her usual state of mind, Hermione would have probably detected how dangerous he sounded at the moment, but she just did not care. The scene playing out right now reminded her so much of a certain Yule Ball during her fourth year that she decided that it was a perfect way to get even with Tom's earlier comments.

"It's simple, isn't it?" She crossed her arms over her chest and smiled mockingly. "Just because you're afraid to take me to the party, it doesn't mean that others will be. Besides, even if you were brave enough to take me, who said that I wanted to go with you?" She snorted disparagingly to enhance the effect.

He did not answer her. Minutes passed, but she hardly calmed down at all. In fact, the pause only caused her to feel even more restless. She tapped her feet on the floor, waiting for him to respond or at least move away so that she could get out of the room.

"Are you daring me?" he finally asked, his voice overly quiet and kind. It was almost like a sweet venom, washing over and seeping into her, warming and claiming its hold on her before slowly taking her life away.

It was her turn to remain quiet, and alarmed, her eyes flickered over to his. For the first time that night, her heart skipped a beat. Subconsciously, her hand started groping behind her, trying to find the knob. However, before she could turn it to check if it were open, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him.

"Let go of me!" she yelled despite of her fear as she pushed at him with her free hand.

"Are you daring me, Hermione?"

His tone of voice frightened her, reminding her of some kind of wild beast that was waiting in the dark shadows of the forest to pounce on its victim. She froze in her actions, almost afraid that a single move would only encourage him to take action.

"And why would I do something like that?" she asked timidly, almost as if she wished the floor would suddenly swallow her up.

"No?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow at her declaration. "It certainly sounded like a letter of challenge to me."

She had no idea what the reason was, but he always had a way to push her buttons the wrong way and make her react in ways that set the danger alarms off in her mind. His words worked like a match, setting her anger back onto full force and pushing out all thoughts of fear and caution.

If he thought he was the only one capable of mockery, he was in for a surprise.

"Well, you're just being delusional, aren't you? Not to mention ridiculously cynical," she assessed with a nod of her head. "Why do you always think that the whole world is conspiring against you?"

"The real question should be: why do you think you know so much about me when it is obvious that we haven't known one another for so long?" he hissed.

His words alarmed her, bringing back memories of what happened back in the Potions classroom during her detention.

"You're thinking too much," she replied, averting her eyes.

He grabbed her chin with more force than necessary, causing her to wince, and forced her to look at him.

"Try a different phrase next time, Granger," he sneered. "I've been hearing that quite a lot since the first day you stepped into this school."

"Oh, so now you're going to tell me which phrase I'm allowed to use and which ones I'm not allowed? Funny, Riddle, very, very funny. Just one catch: I'm not amused," she said, a sneer appearing on her face, too.

"Naturally, since I'm not Potter," he spat out.

"It's none of your business, Riddle," she growled, her eyes burning with anger.

"Are you trying to make me jealous by strutting around the school with Potter?" he narrowed his eyes. "Because it's not working."

"And I thought you were creative," she jeered. "At least think up some of your own arguments."

"Don't try to change the subject, Granger."

"Pray tell, why would I try to make you jealous?" she asked, giving a short, humorless laugh and intentionally saying "you" in a condescending manner.

"Because you're the one who's trying to escape. You're the one who's afraid. Because," he said, "you are afraid to acknowledge your feelings."

"I?" she asked, outraged. "I am afraid of acknowledging my feelings?" She narrowed her eyes and spat out, "I'm a Gryffindor, Riddle."

Tom placed his one hand on the wall behind her and leaned closer to her. She took a step backwards, trying to keep the distance between them, but to no avail; he moved another step towards her and closed the gap.

"I've always thought that the House values were overestimated." He tilted his head to one side.

She snorted again. "I wasn't the one who was afraid to go to the Slughorn party with you. If you would've stayed out of my business in the first place, Riddle, we wouldn't've gotten into this situation at all," she sneered. "Or did you actually think that not going to the party with me was some kind of punishment to me?" He paused, and for that moment, Hermione almost grinned, thinking she had won a victory over him. "You're really up to your head with your ego, Riddle. What makes you think that I would be attracted to someone like you?"

She placed her hand on his chest in an attempt to push him away, but he wouldn't budge.

She wanted to get out of the classroom, but she could not do that without him moving away from her first. He had boxed her in against the wall, and he did not seem to have any intention of letting her leave any time soon. In fact, he leaned even closer to her.

"When you were making those ... inquiries," he finally spoke, his voice like the breeze before the thunderstorm, "have you ever asked yourself beforehand?" He released her wrist and caught a lock of her hair, curling it around his finger. "Why would I be attracted to you, Hermione?"

He released the hair and allowed his finger to travel down her cheek. She drew in a breath, and her eyes darted from his eyes to his mouth. She mentally chided herself for imagining the different things she wanted those lips to do to her before she forced herself to concentrate on his words and not his wandering hand.

"Well, that's an easy enough question to answer, isn't it? If you weren't, you wouldn't be noticing every little action I do now, would you?"

He suddenly laughed. The laugh was so gentle, brushing over her senses and almost tricking her to a sense of security.

Instead of answering her question, he whispered, "Nobody challenges me, Hermione."

She snapped out of the lull she was in and snorted.

"Well, that's news to me," she sassed half-heartedly, trying to ignore how his fingers brushed against her jawline and down her neck.

"I accept your challenge, Hermione," he said. "But the real question is—" he smiled, "—are you ready to face the challenge yourself?"

Her eyes flashed dangerously as she narrowed them at him. Was he calling her a coward?

"I am not afraid," she hissed. "But I doubt that you could say the same."

Grabbing a hold of his tie, she pulled on it, brought his face over, and gave him a hard kiss on the lips before pushing him away.

"See?" she said loudly, not noticing the strange expression on his face and ignoring how her cheeks got even warmer now, "I told you I'm not attracted to you. Why would I be? And tha—"

Before Hermione could finish what she wanted to say, she was silenced.

His lips met with hers, taking her by surprise, before he moved away again. It was a gentle kiss, but the way he was looking at her, the intensity in his eyes while they flickered between her eyes and her lips ...

Explosions went off in her mind, and she could not possibly think of anything else. The initial shock that came with the fact that Tom Riddle kissed her back, regardless of the reason behind the action, soon subsided, and her mind apprehended a strange sense of loss. A small voice in the back of her head nagged at her, telling her something that embarrassed her thoroughly should anyone ever find out about it—she wanted more. She needed more. It was like she had been waiting for this moment.

And, as if he had read her mind, he complied. Flicking his wrist, he undid the magic that was holding her hair up, and her curls cascaded down her back and onto her shoulders, tickling the bare skin there. His fingers disappeared into her locks and rested on the back of her head, deepening their kiss while his other arm slipped around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

There was nothing she could do but follow his lead. She was lost in their all-consuming kiss, and she did not want to find her way out any longer. It felt sinfully right to be in his arms. It felt like ... she belonged there.

"Tom!" they suddenly heard someone calling out in the hallways, pulling them back to their senses.

They broke apart, panting slightly and staring deeply into one another's eyes.

"Where are you, Tom?" the voice called again, and Hermione recognized it as Iris's.

A sense of possessiveness washed over her; she did not want him to go back to the party with that cow. Without saying anything and with another soft tug, she closed the distance between the two of them once again.

Minutes passed, and soon, they could no longer hear the high-pitched voice of Iris Parkinson calling out his name, but they still did not break apart.

It was as if they were releasing their pent up frustration on one another, and Hermione could barely resist smirking the moment a growl escaped his mouth when she ran her hands down his chest. Teasingly, she pressed her body towards his and pushed him backwards. The back of his legs crashed into a table, and he ended up sitting on it with Hermione half-lying on top of him, still kissing him thoroughly.

His hand traveled down the side of her body, causing her to moan into his mouth. He stopped on her hips, lingering there, making her yearn for more and causing her heart to speed up in anticipation.

They both gasped for breaths when they finally broke apart, the world still swirling around her. Tom gazed at her, and she felt herself falling into his bottomless eyes once more. It was so, so, so wrong, yet it felt so right.

To Hermione, romance novels had always been overexaggerated and given too much credit. Honestly, how could one feel safe and satisfied by simply being in the arms of someone? And their minds drawing blanks when they share a passionate kiss with a guy? It was simply a fairytale to her, and she was not going to join that cult any time soon. No one could actually blame her, though, since she had never gotten that feeling when Ron hugged and kissed her. Honestly, most of the time, it was more like she was protecting him and giving him the sense of security.

Now, however ...

She frowned and ran her fingertips over her lips, which were still tingling as the one single logical cell in her brain kicked back into action. No matter what the reason was, she should not be wishing that he would kiss her again. Before she could move away from him, however, he seemed to have read her mind and pulled her closer again, closing the distance.

She shouldn't. She really, really shouldn't, but instead of pushing him away, she shyly placed her arms around his neck, trying to eliminate any gaps between them. It was obvious that he had much more experience than she, but now was not the time to fuss about that fact yet. She was much too caught up with their kiss. She ran her hand through his hair, satisfied that she finally got her wish at last. It was just as voluminous and soft as she had thought.

When they finally parted again, she opened her eyes slowly and blinked, the solitary cell of logic blasted into smithereens.

"Yes, I can see that you don't find me attractive at all," he said. It seemed as if he were trying to act casual about their situation, but the effect was greatly diminished by the confusion. Apparently, he was just as unsettled by the kiss as Hermione was.

His words brought back the memory of why they were standing in a deserted classroom in the first place and pricked Hermione on a nerve.

"Well, yes. I'm sure you don't find me to your liking either," she scoffed. Tilting her head a bit higher, she stared down her nose at him. "Besides, I obviously want to move up the, quote unquote, 'social ladder' quickly enough, so I have to hide away my emotions," she added sarcastically, fury flashing through her eyes once again.

"Hm ..." he said, feigning thoughtfulness, "so you're admitting that you do have emotions for me?"

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before snapping her jaws shut. "You wish, Riddle."

"Doesn't seem too much like it from your enthusiastic reactions."

She growled deep in her throat, very much annoyed at him. He laughed at her reaction, a little too delightfully in her opinion.

"In your dreams. It's not as if I'm Iris or one of your other little admirers," she huffed, turning her head to one side.

He remained quiet, and Hermione had no idea what he was thinking about at the moment, which she knew he was doing. She was slowly learning that the impassiveness was a way to cover up the many thoughts going through his head.

Quite suddenly, he laughed, and his eyes lit up.

"You're jealous," he commented.

"I am not," she denied immediately, moving off him and straightening out her skirt. "Why would I be?"

"There aren't any other reasons for you to act this way," he replied, leaning closer to her and allowing the moonlight to illuminate his features. Oh, he was definitely delighted. "You are jealous."

"Hallucinations," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest as if it acted as some sort of shield, and turned her head further to one side than before. With some difficulty, she attempted to ignore her burning cheeks and how his eyes glittered all too merrily. "I was just curious why you're still alive after going into the girls' dormitory. Since it's for Slytherins, I would assume that there would be curses and hexes that would fry the intruder, rather than just letting them slide down the stairs."

"I'm sure," he murmured, raising his hand and letting it get tangled in her hair again. "I'm so honored to have you ... worrying about me."

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

"Well, then, since you care about the rumors so much," he said tauntingly after playing with her hair for a while, "let's just say that I was in the school library that day. So, I would first have to know how to split myself into two pieces to be in her room at the same time."

But you already know how to split yourself into two pieces, a small voice answered him in her mind.

She suddenly froze, reality crashing down on her.

What was she doing? What was she doing?

How could she stay here and snog the future Dark Lord? How could she do this to Harry? It was wrong, completely wrong. And to question Tom Marvolo Riddle about his actions ... was she mental?

She had to be. She absolutely, positively had to be. Because even while she looked at him right now, she couldn't bring herself to fully regret what she had done.

She released her hold on his tie, her arm falling to her side. Harry was going to kill her ... or worse yet, he was going to be disappointed in her. And with what was going on between her and Tom ... it was not going to work out. What was she—

That was the most infuriating and embarrassing part of this whole fiasco—she wasn't thinking. The pain that Harry would go through when he found out what she had done ...

She felt like groaning out of frustration.

Her expression must have been stranger than she thought it was since Tom was staring at her curiously now. As she stared into his eyes, she recalled the fact that he would ultimately be killed.

Not that I really care about his well-being ... No, I don't care ... really ...

Oh, who was she kidding? She unconsciously always noticed the things that he did, the words that he said, and the expressions that appeared on his face. Admittedly, it was stupid, sick, and wrong, and she did try to ignore him, but it just didn't work.

Was Alphard right? Did she start fancying him long before what happened right now?

She looked away, and her forehead creased into a frown again.

But he was Lord Voldemort. His existence would only bring sorrow to others. She shouldn't. She really shouldn't be so ... attracted to him. She shouldn't be here in a deserted classroom, standing there and waiting for him to kiss her once more.

"Thinking about your," he spoke up, a mocking glint in his eyes, "boyfriend?"

She froze again, fully acknowledging what she had done to Ron.

Merlin's pants, she cheated on Ron.

It did not matter that it was in a different time period and that Ron would never find out about it. It was something that would be on her conscious for the rest of her life because she just could not believe she would do something like this to hurt him. It was wrong, and when it was with Lord Voldemort ...

He slid off the table and stopped in front of her, his gaze never straying from her face.

"Did it ever occur to you that perhaps you don't love him as much as you think you do?" he asked.

She glanced back at him and found herself mesmerized by his eyes, which were darker than usual.

And as he leaned in to kiss her again, she knew that she was in trouble—because she just could not find it in her to push him away.

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Hermione Granger no longer knew if she should worry more about the fact that Tom and her never made it back to Slughorn's party, which was bound to become the hottest gossip by tomorrow morning, or the vindictive pleasure she felt when Joseph told her about Iris being all teary eyed for the rest of the evening.

She could tell that Joseph was suspicious about what happened to her after she left the party, but she wasn't about to tell him that she spent most of that time snogging Tom Riddle in an abandoned classroom.

"I had stomach pains ... I was going to Madam Pomfrey's and got distracted," she had lied, looking off to the side and hoping that her discomfort was not as conspicuous as she thought it was.

Joseph gazed at her suspiciously and was probably going to ask her questions about the cause of her "distraction," but after giving him a random excuse, she escaped into the girls' dormitory, more than relieved to find it nearly empty. Most of the girls were still in the common room chatting, and Adriana Scrimgeour, having taken a potion for the headache that had been bothering her for the whole day, was sound asleep on the other side of the room.

Hermione plopped onto her bed with a sigh.

She was confused. No ... that wasn't right. She wanted to be confused. Although the rational side of her shunned Tom’s sinful deeds, another part of her was strongly attracted to the intelligent, charismatic side of him.

It was, at most, a very unhealthy obsession—yes, she was merely ... fascinated that she'd finally met someone who was so intellectually similar to her. As much as she complained to others about their debates in Potions, she had to admit that she secretly anticipated those moments. She loved how she could have an intelligent being to speak with, let alone debate with. It made her feel alive that there was someone her own age who could appreciate her thirst for knowledge, instead of forcing her to feel like she was wasting her time—not that Ron and Harry had succeeded in the long run, but it was aggravating at times.

But ... regardless of the reasons, her actions were completely wrong and ... well ... wrong. There was no other word for it. She should be sentenced to Azkaban for life.

A sharp tapping coming from the window disrupted the silence, causing Adriana to mumble something about “stupid policies” in her sleep as Hermione shuffled over to let the owl in. She gave the owl some bits of cookies from the supply she had left over from Hogsmeade and watched it fly out the window before she opened the letter.

Dear Hermione,

Hope things are alright back at Hogwarts. You won't believe this, but the Healer in charge of Ginny's injuries said that Ginny will be waking up any moment! That means we could come back to Hogwarts soon!

Hermione closed her eyes and opened them again. Half of her mind was thankful that Ginny was finally about to wake up. The other half, however ... she really did not anticipate the drama that would occur once Harry and Ginny were back in Hogwarts.

Her hands on the letter tightened, and her frown deepened. She did not have an explanation for the two of them if they were to find out about her snogging session with Tom Riddle, and neither did she know how to explain to them. Shaking her head and heaving a sigh, she looked back to the letter in her hand.

I got your last letter, by the way. So Dumbledore went all the way to Germany to find Feierabend? I hope Dumbledore can find him soon and that he will have solutions to our problem. I can't wait to return home. Then, we won't have to worry about Riddle any longer.

Which meant she would never get to see Tom anymore. Her stomach churned at that thought. She took a deep breath and tried to see things from a brighter perspective.

Once she returned to the future, all her problems would be solved. She could pretend that nothing happened at all. Despite the guilt she would feel towards Ron, she did not have to tell him what happened. She wouldn't have to worry about her obsession with Tom Riddle anymore and could keep her concentration on Ron and her relationship.

I hope things are working out with ferret boy. He'll never be NOT annoying, of course, but let's hope that he'll be less so. Remember to keep me updated about what happens back there.

Harry

Yes, she should definitely inform him about the ... er ... interaction between Tom Marvolo Riddle and her. She was so sure Harry would be so very thrilled about that.

Throwing the letter into her trunk, she slammed the lid shut (causing Adriana to stir in her sleep again), jumped into her bed, pulled her blanket over her head, and closed her eyes. She would have to reply to Harry later; she still had to figure out how to face a certain Slytherin Head Boy in their next encounter.

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Somewhere in Time