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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Author Note: Welcome to chapter 5, thank you for reading!

Hermione leaned against the door of the office and released a shuddering breath. What was she going to do now? Why did he want her to help him? She had been so careful when talking with him!

Quickly making her way up the stairs to her flat, she removed her coat with trembling hands, and slumped onto her bed, trying to calm her breathing. This didn't feel like the other times she had 'accidently' ran into him, she thought grimly.

Putting her notes and bag on her bed, she forced herself to stand back up and calm down. This was utterly ridiculous and surely she was overreacting! But then again… shouldn't she trust the awkward feeling that was currently churning in her stomach? Despite his age and innocent expressions, she highly doubted that the Voldemort of the forties did anything by halves.

No, because people who did things by halves did not set Basilisks onto unsuspecting, innocent school students…

Or have already committed murder…

Or create Horcruxes in their spare time!

No, if anything Hermione believed that in many ways he was more dangerous now than what he was in the future because nobody truly knew who he was, well, except her… and Dumbledore. But she doubted even Dumbledore could fathom what he was capable of doing - or becoming - for that matter.

Hermione reluctantly realised that this line of thinking was not helping her emotional state in the slightest. She needed to pull herself together! The worst thing she could do right now was allow her emotions to get the better of her. Allowing her emotions to become obvious would be like setting a red flag in front of someone like Tom Riddle. And despite his newfound interest in her, she felt that she had played her role quite satisfactorily so far. She wasn't going to ruin it now!

Hermione tried to remind herself that this was nothing compared to her fear of him during the war… She reasoned with herself that he probably only wanted her help because he was after the book – nothing more, nothing less. And perhaps if she came across as boring and one dimensional, he would get tired of trying to find out more about her and leave her alone. By then, she probably would have found a way home anyway.

With that in mind, Hermione steeled herself and walked back down the stairs. She was careful to ensure that she appeared as unruffled as possible from her recent emotional transgression, throwing her shoulders back haughtily for good measure. Look the part, feel the part, she mentally chanted to herself whilst gripping the office door handle.

"Hermione! I was just about to go check on you, you were taking ages," Tarquin said as soon as she stepped back into the shop. She noticed that he was standing next to Riddle, who was looking intently at her. His stare would have taken her off guard if she didn't already have some suspicions about his behaviour as a person.

"Oh." She waved a hand casually in the air. "I was simply putting everything away. Sorry." She shrugged her shoulders in a non-committal manner and walked towards the last shelf of books she had been sorting the day before.

As she began sifting through the mish mash of books relating Merlin knew what – she was, after all, still sorting fiction from non-fiction, she felt a sudden presence behind her. Spinning around, she looked straight into the dark eyes of Tom Riddle.

"Would you still mind helping me find that book? I hate to bother you, as I know you're so busy, but I would be in here all day otherwise…" he asked, with a humble smile on his lips.

Hermione bit her lip. "Of course, Mr Riddle. Although, I don't really know how much help I could be."

"Please call me Tom… I do believe we are past such formalities, if I may say, Hermione?"

There was something about the way he pronounced her name. She deduced that it felt odd because it seemed much more personal. Still, to keep pretences, she swallowed her feelings and gave him a short smile. "Of course… Tom."

His name tasted equally strange on her tongue; stranger than Voldemort, for some reason. She guessed that it was because the whole 'charade' of Tom Riddle that made it slightly odd. She knew that his real character, Voldemort, swam just below the surface… waiting like a shark, using the charm of Tom Riddle, and then striking his victims. Hermione was grimly reminded that she could never let her guard down with Tom Riddle. One wrong move and Voldemort would strike.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, Hermione realised that they were both still gazing at one another. Blushing at the strangeness of the situation, she quickly looked away and gave a small, polite smile. "Well…" she began, as she looked across the shop, "Believe it or not, I saw some books on various countries over this way, so you may just be in luck," she said as she began leading him to a far corner of the shop.

Hermione found what she was looking for. For once, some books were actually grouped together. "Here we are," she announced to him, noticing that he had remained relatively silent since asking her to call him by his first name.

"I saw a whole heap of books here the other day. Maybe we'll find India?" she asked and looked up at him. He simply remained watching her, expression blank, instead of the books in front of them. It was extremely unnerving to say the least.

Hermione decided to ignore his stare and began magically sorting through the books. Books on Africa, Thailand and South America all flashed before her before she re-sorted them neatly with her wand.

She thought it rather random, when he eventually broke the silence. "Have you ever travelled, Hermione?"

Without breaking her concentration on sorting through the many tomes, she nodded her head slightly. "Sure," she replied.

"Where have you travelled?" he then asked.

Hermione gave a casual shrug. "Oh you know. Most of Europe… Australia." She wasn't sure if mentioning her travels was risky or not… but in the end, she decided that it was something that he couldn't really use against her. And for Hermione, the best way of emotionally dealing with someone like Tom Riddle was to just speak to him as though he was a normal person. Normal! The idea alone wanted to make her snicker.

"Australia?"

"Yes."

"What made you want to travel there?" he asked.

Hermione wondered what his reaction would be if she told him the real reason… that she had gone there to find her parents and restore their memories after Obliviating them because they ran the risk of being murdered by his followers.

"I've always been fascinated by the place," she replied rather plainly.

He nodded his head. "I haven't read too much into Australia. Perhaps I should."

Hermione gave him a tight smile. "It was a fascinating journey to say the least. Their Indigenous people have a very rich history."

"Do they use much magic?" he asked and she noted the surprising tone of curiosity in his normally even voice.

"They believe in all sorts of different things. It really depends on which tribe you speak to. Each tribe considers itself to be its own nation, so to speak. They will often have their own languages and beliefs. The beliefs are often referred to as the 'Dreaming'," she explained, as she gracefully flicked through and checked a couple of books missing titles.

"Dreaming?" Tom asked, with a slight note of incredulity in his tone, whilst he concentrated on her wand movements.

Hermione had the sudden urge to have a bit of fun. "Oh yes. They believe that before humans, plants and animals came into being, their souls existed. They knew that they would eventually become physical, but not when. In fact, they believe that a person's soul or spirit will continue on after our physical form had passed through death. Therefore, the soul is the foundation of their belief system, really," she explained, before briefly glancing at him and noting the nonchalant mask he was currently wearing. She would have smirked, had they not been in such close proximity.

"Fascinating," he simply replied with. Hermione could feel his gaze on her, making her slightly uncomfortable. She briefly wondered if she should have avoided her little bit of fun with the 'soul' talk.

Neither Tom nor Hermione spoke after that. Therefore after what could be described as an extremely awkward ten minutes, where Hermione continued searching and Tom simply watched her, Hermione finally grinned in excitement.

"Hah!" she cried in triumph, as the book flew into her hands. "India!" Accidently forgetting who she was with, she turned and grinned at him smugly. Said grin only faltered slightly when he raised his eyebrows at he and she was quickly reminded who she was helping. "I knew it would be here," she said smoothly, covering up her small waver in demeanour.

He smirked at her and held his hands out. "May I?" he requested.

Hermione handed him the book and couldn't help but note how long and pale his fingers were. She was reminded of watching Voldemort with his long, spidery fingers, using his wand so knowingly; without restraint. She had always thought his freakish hands had been some sort of product from using too much dark magic, but looking at the hands of the man in front of her now, she realised that Voldemort's hands were simply a mutation of the physical characteristics he already had. She then couldn't help but wonder if Tom Riddle held or used his wand in the same way as his future self.

She watched as he silently flicked through the book, his eyes scanning quickly over the information. "This is perfect, Hermione. You've done well."

Hermione couldn't help the cold shiver she got when he gave his approval. "It's not a problem. If that's all, I best get back to work. Tarquin will take care of the sale, front of shop," she replied tightly and bade him good bye.

She had managed to take a couple of steps away from him before she felt a hand on her shoulder. Again! She didn't like the way Riddle felt it necessary to touch her. It made her feel too exposed. She quickly turned around and faced him.

"Hermione, if I may, can I ask you something?"

Hermione stared back at him in surprise. He seemed – well looked – concerned. Hermione thought that the expression, which was obviously fake, appeared almost funny on him.

"Ask away," she managed to reply, whilst stepping out of his grasp.

"I can't help but think, by your behaviour, that I have done something to offend you. If I have, I'd just like to apologise."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Had her distaste of him been that obvious? She thought she had been playing this game rather well. Although Harry and Ron had always told her that she wore her heart so obviously on her sleeve. She was, after all a Gryffindor.

"Er… I don't have a problem with you," Hermione said slowly. "I apologise if I gave you that impression. To be honest I don't even know you."

Tom gave a slight nod. "Excellent. I would hate to think we got off the wrong foot somewhere along the line. It's just I have a feeling I will be in here quite a bit, since I know Tarquin and buy a lot of books. I would hate for it to be awkward for us."

It felt like someone had poured ice down Hermione's back at his words. He would be coming in often? Merlin! Did that mean she should get another job? Perhaps even report her issue to the Ministry and let them sort it out? A million thoughts suddenly ran through her head and she realised that she hadn't actually responded to him.

"Oh, no. It won't be awkward," Hermione responded. "It, er, won't be an issue because I don't have any issue with you."

"Excellent. Well, good-day to you, Hermione," he replied with a curl of his lips, and before she had a chance to say anything, he was off towards the counter to pay for his book.

Hermione suddenly wished to be swallowed whole into the veil all over again.

A whole week had managed to pass and Hermione would not admit to herself or anyone else that she may have been feeling slightly nervous about the idea of another visit from a certain, young, wannabe Dark Lord.

In the last few days, since she had seen him, she had gone over their encounters repeatedly. Trying to work out how Riddle would have picked up on her hostility. And she deduced that whilst she hadn't been perfectly nice, it wasn't like she had been outwardly aggressive towards him either.

Oh, how she suddenly wished that she had never walked into Borgin and Burkes, had never accidently – but quite literally – ran into him outside that coffee shop, nor decided that Tom Marvolo Riddle was the most appropriate person to get into political debates with. Perhaps she shouldn't have started discussing other culture's theories on souls for fun, either… Because at this very moment, Hermione Granger felt as though she had now made a huge mess of things.

Dumbledore's notes certainly weren't helping her dismal mood either. He was right by calling them rudimentary, because so far, it appeared that nothing was in order, and because of this Hermione had spent the last few nights trying to understand the order of his paperwork, let alone the content. But she couldn't give up hope. The answer had to be in there somewhere!

"Earth to Hermione…"

Hermione looked up and saw Tarquin standing there, moving his hand in a waving motion in front of her face.

"Oh, hello there." She smiled up at him.

He grinned back. "Merlin! It's been a busy morning! I've had customer after customer in here. I think word is getting out that it's not as hard to find our books anymore,” he said.

Hermione chuckled. "Maybe… or maybe because it's the weekend and everyone's about to go back to school?"

Tarquin rubbed his chin in mock thought. "Too true, I have been serving a suspiciously high number of Ravenclaws browsing and buying up big for the term."

"There you go… I'm sure most book stores would go out of business without the Ravenclaws," Hermione joked.

"Hah, it's great to see that Hogwarts jokes transcend to everyone," Tarquin stated happily, giving her a wink.

Hermione, thankful for Tarquin's non-suspicious nature, smiled. "I think I've read 'Hogwarts: A History' too many times to count."

"Yeah about that… If you grew up in England, why didn't you go to Hogwarts?" Tarquin asked.

Hermione bit her lip. She hated, more than anything, pretending that she didn't go to Hogwarts. She was proud of her academic achievements, for being a Gryffindor and, most of all, making Head Girl after the war ended. But even though she really liked Tarquin, she couldn't tell anyone about her past – it was far too risky.

"My, uh, father was an academic… He felt he could teach me just as well as Hogwarts could," she answered, the lie feeling traitorous on her tongue.

"Oh well, what a shame you couldn't go, we might have known each other earlier," he said wistfully. Hermione again felt guilty about the fact that he trusted her enough to take her lie at face value and believe her.

"Yeah. Isn't it..." she replied lightly.

"Where are your parents now?" Tarquin suddenly asked.

Hermione felt the happiness immediately drain from the room. Her parents weren't even born yet. It made her realise just how much she missed her parents. Being in this situation made Hermione realise how much she had taken her parents for granted – just because they were always there. Looking down, she sighed sadly. "They're gone."

"Oh. Hermione, I'm so sorry," Tarquin said, and she suddenly felt a warm, comforting hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay," She replied quietly. "There's no use sitting around moping about it. They would have hated that," she added.

"I'm sure they'd be proud of you. Working on this special project with Dumbledore and all," he encouraged.

Hermione looked up at him and smiled, cheeks flushed. "Thanks. That's lovely of you to say that."

"Well it's true. Plus you're doing an amazing job here. My Aunt couldn't be happier, you know."

"Thanks." Hermione smiled. She was actually enjoying this job, surprisingly enough. There was no stress – unlike her former role as an Unspeakable. She was discovering some wonderful books too – books that looked like they had been hiding for decades. Her most recent 'wondrous find' was a rare fifteenth century book on Transfiguration. She had wondered if Dumbledore had it yet and that night had written a letter to him telling him all about it.

In fact, if this situation was reversed to her own time and she had Ron back, she would consider this like a perfect holiday, well almost perfect if you excused her encounters with a certain someone…. Perhaps when she returned home, a career change or break would be a great idea…

"Legilimens!" Tom hissed as he gripped the boy's jaw harshly.

Antonin Dolohov flinched automatically as Tom's magic pushed into his mind and began sifting through his emotions and thoughts. Nothing interesting, Tom thought with a smirk as he quickly flitted through his follower's memories…

Dolohov with his parents… playing Quidditch… and… feeling up Walburga Black? Well, Tom smirked… he had certainly kept that little conquest to himself. Not surprising though, considering she was currently betrothed to marry Orion Black.

Tom had been practicing both the arts of legilimency and occlumency since his seventh year at Hogwarts. However, whilst he of course wanted to master both forms of magic, he had been somewhat preoccupied with other plans and academic pursuits. Things had been put on hold – until now.

He quickly realised - in his early days of learning legilimency - that the skill came easily to him. He had a natural gift for reading people, something that he had honed to his advantage at both the Orphanage and Hogwarts. He was able to tell, just by watching someone's body language, what they were thinking, feeling or even react to a particular situation. Tom knew that once he mastered both forms of magic he could not only read peoples thoughts, but influence them as well. Tom smirked; two things he had a natural aptitude for: reading people and controlling them. He knew it wouldn't take him long to completely grasp them… especially when he had such loyal followers willing to open their minds to him, quite literally.

Deciding that Dolohov's thoughts were becoming increasingly boring, he quickly pulled out of his mind. Watching Dolohov sway from the after effects, Tom let him crumble to the floor as he quickly turned to his other follower.

"Nott." Tom nodded towards the plain looking boy with watery blue eyes.

"Yes, my Lord?" He cautiously stepped forward and knelt submissively before Tom.

"How are your skills in Occlumency coming along?" Tom demanded.

Nott faltered slightly before looking up at Tom. "Quite well, my Lord," he replied.

"We shall see," Tom replied, before motioning for Nott to look up from his position before him.

Again, like he did with Dolohov, Tom grabbed Nott's chin and pulled it harshly whilst pointing the tip of his wand against Nott's temple.

"Legilimens!" he cast and immediately began attempting to gain entry to Nott's mind.

Tom felt the natural barrier which existed within every person and began his attempt to push through it. Nothing but blank, white, space met him as he entered.

He continued pushing, looking for an opening, or any weak point. Well, this was interesting; nothing but white space, Tom smirked. Had Nott actually achieved an acceptable level of Occlumency for him? He studied Nott's face more closely and smirked. The boy was had started to sweat profusely and looked to be in agony.

Enjoying watching the pain on Nott's face, Tom pushed further and felt the boy tremble slightly. Still, he managed to hold Tom out. Tom wasn't using his full force and his follower knew it. He smirked and decided to up the ante. Pushing harder, Tom felt Nott's trembling body begin to shake violently. In satisfaction he noted that Nott's emotions were pooling to the surface – without his control. Another violent push and he was hit with Nott's fear, pain and defeat. The emotions always came first, and it was only a matter of time before he could see thoughts and memories too.

Whilst impressed that his follower had lasted this long, Tom was beginning to tire of this and therefore, like a serpent ready to strike, he pulled his magic up to its full force and finally pushed through the boys occlumency walls. Nott gave a loud shriek from the pain as Tom quickly broke down the white space and began flitting through his thoughts and memories. He quickly came across Nott's memory of Tom reading Dolohov just previously and smirked at Nott's emotion of sympathy for his fellow Knight. He then saw another memory of them back in Hogwarts, at the Forbidden Forrest, practicing dark curses on one-another. Tom hissed in displeasure and quickly pulled from Nott's mind and pushed the boy away letting him fall swiftly to the ground. Nott's most recent memory had been automatically linked to other Knights business. Tom was not happy at all.

"I was almost impressed with you Matthew," Tom said calmly as he looked down at the trembling boy on the ground.

"M-my Lord?" Nott gasped as he weakly pushed himself up to look at Tom.

"Almost… You did so well holding me out and yet, I find that when I do finally break through you gave away our secrets almost straight away," Tom sneered.

He was met with no answer from Nott, who simply collapsed back on the ground, too exhausted to even try to make a case for what Tom deemed as a failure.

"You do realise that any first year Auror could break through your feeble Occlumency shields and see what I just saw? You seem to have concentrated too much on building a wall to hide your thoughts, but I told you to concentrate more on controlling your thoughts! You were supposed to hide what was most important!"

"I'm sorry My Lord!" Nott replied, having caught his breath by now.

"How are we supposed to achieve our objectives if you do not appear to even listen to my teachings? Did you even read the books I gave you properly?" Tom hissed as he circled Nott.

"I did, My Lord!" Nott sat up, facing him.

"You disagree with me?" Tom asked quietly.

Nott quickly studied Tom's furious expression and realised his mistake. "N-no… I-I…"

"Crucio!" Tom hissed. Nott screamed in agony as the curse took hold. Tom watched as the boy twisted and turned on the ground in agony as he calmly counted to 20 before pulling the curse off.

Crouching down, next to Nott's face, Tom placed his hand on the boys shoulder. "Do you understand why, Matthew?" he asked quietly.

Nott simply shivered on the ground, gasping for breath.

"We cannot risk being exposed. We cannot risk a nosey Auror or worse… a wizard like Dumbledore finding out our plans. I am protecting our goals. Do you remember our goals, Matthew? Do you remember what you are dedicated to?" Tom asked softly.

Nott looked up into Tom's eyes and blinked. "Yes. Yes, My Lord, I always remember."

"Good boy," Tom said and stood back up. "Dolohov!" he barked, "Help Nott up and ensure he is presentable. Meet me out the front. We will go to the Leaky Cauldron to meet Mulciber and Rosier."

"Yes My Lord," Dolohov replied and quickly went to Nott's aid.

Without a second glance at the two, he swept out of the room, feeling confident of his developing abilities.

Tom sat with his Knights at the Leaky Cauldron mulling over his glass of fire whiskey. After his last meeting with Hermione Edwards, he had called his followers together as soon as possible.

Hermione Edwards had become a blip on his radar. She was annoyingly intelligent, insufferable, and brash. However, for Tom, the most intriguing aspect of the witch was the way she acted around him. Her insolent behaviour frustrated him to no end!

It simply wasn't normal for a girl to just appear in Tom's life like she had; shrouded in such mystery. He had a feeling that she was fleeting and if he didn't find out her secrets soon he would always wonder. This mere girl with her obvious emotions and secrets… Not to mention her link to Dumbledore – even though she never attended Hogwarts.

It was all just too odd for someone like Tom to ignore. So as soon as possible, he would use his rather outstanding skills in reading people to gather her secrets. As soon as he knew her secrets he would be able to forget about her and find something new to pursue.

"… Wouldn't you like that Dolohov? Then you could get your filthy hands on the Black whore again."

Tom tuned back into conversation that was currently going on around him. Mulciber was currently ribbing Dolohov over what Tom now knew – thanks to his legilimency – was a rather interesting tryst with Walburga Black.

"Don't call her that!" Dolohov sneered back at Mulciber.

Mulciber leaned back on his chair and smirked at Dolohov. "She put out for everyone in Slytherin. Just forget about her and let her go off and unhappily marry Orion."

"She did not!" Dolohov shot back petulantly.

"We have all been there," Rosier piped up quietly from the corner. "Well everyone except-" And he looked directly at Tom.

"Now, now, gentlemen… This is no way to talk about a pureblooded witch… from one of the oldest and most distinguished families in Britain," Tom interrupted with a nasty smirk on his face.

Nott snickered into his own drink. "Indeed," he added.

All laughed, except Dolohov, who scowled moodily into his drink.

"Hey, isn't that the annoying Hufflepuff, Skeeter?" Rosier said, turning the attention towards the door.

He was right. Skeeter had just walked through the door. Tom smirked, thinking that his entrance couldn't come at a more perfect time.

"My Knights," Tom said lightly, "We shall be making room for one more at the table."

"Skeeter, My Lord?" Mulciber asked, trying to remain nonchalant, though his eyes betrayed his curiosity.

"Yes, I'm talking about Skeeter. Do not question me. All will become clear soon enough," Tom replied in annoyance.

"At least he is pureblood and is actually good at Quidditch – despite his unfortunate house placement," Dolohov said with half-hearted enthusiasm.

"Could be worse… he could have been in Gryffindor," Rosier said and snickered.

Tom almost wanted to roll his eyes. Oh well, at least their stupidity would make Skeeter feel most comfortable.

As Skeeter walked towards the bar, coming within a couple of metres of their table, Tom turned and called out to him. On obviously hearing his name, Skeeter stopped and looked slightly confused, before looking around, until his eyes fell on Tom. A look of pleasant recognition appeared on Skeeter's face. Tom then waved him over to their table.

"Hello Tom," Skeeter greeted in a friendly manner before turning to Tom's followers. "Antonin, Matthew, Eli and Leo." He nodded towards all of them, who also greeted and nodded at him in return.

"Why don't you join us, we could all catch up," Tom suggested and gestured to the empty chair.

"Er, sure… I'm here to take food back to the shop for lunch, so I'll just go order and be back," he replied, smiling, and then walked off to the counter.

Tom smirked. Why did he not think of this earlier? He could befriend the loyal Hufflepuff… Hermione's friend and colleague… and subtly glean information about the puzzle of a witch through him. Who knew what she told Skeeter? Perhaps he could even find out what her special project with Dumbledore was all about. A rush of excitement rushed through Tom at the multiple possibilities!

Skeeter returned with a butterbeer and sat in the vacant chair next to Tom.

"You sure you don't want a fire whiskey?" Rosier asked Skeeter.

"Not when I have to go back to work," Skeeter replied in a friendly tone.

"How is work going?" Tom asked politely.

"Very busy actually. I think word's getting out that the shop is actually beginning to look organised. In fact I was only able to get away because we were craving the Leaky pea and ham soup."

"By 'we' I assume you are talking about yourself and Hermione?" Tom asked, pushing the conversation in his desired direction.

"Yes, of course," Skeeter nodded.

"How is Hermione going?" Tom then asked, with a completely innocent face.

"Oh great! She's really sorting the shop out. My Aunt is extremely pleased."

"Who is Hermione?" Nott piped up suddenly.

Normally, Tom would have been annoyed at his follower for asking such a question, but he knew it might be an opportunity for Skeeter to unwittingly reveal information.

"Oh, she's working at the book shop. Helping my Aunt sort out the mess." He grinned, "She's only in London temporarily though. Working on a project with Dumbledore."

Tom noted the sudden looks of interest appearing on his followers faces. They had obviously now realised why Tom wanted Skeeter to sit with them.

"Dumbledore? What sort of project is it?" Dolohov asked curiously.

Skeeter shrugged his shoulders. "Not sure… She's a bit secretive about it. But I just figured that it was some new discovery that she didn't want anyone else to know about. Hence why Dumbledore's helping her. You know how academics can be – right, Tom?" Skeeter turned to Tom.

Tom smiled. "Of course."

"Actually! You should offer to help her Tom! You were top of our year and I heard your marks were the highest Hogwarts had seen since, well, Dumbledore himself."

Tom managed to allow a humble blush spread across his cheeks. "Well, actually, I did. Offer to help, that is. She told me that it wasn't necessary."

Tom had to clench his jaw and control his anger as he quickly remembered her veiled insult at him; '… it's a bit different to what was studied at school' She had haughtily told him almost a week ago. Tom had wanted to curse the arrogant little chit right on the spot. How dare she speak to him as though he was a mere inexperienced school boy? He was sure he could show her magic that would make her toes curl.

"Oh, that's a shame! I guess she really is one of those serious and secretive academic types," Skeeter replied thoughtfully.

"I guess she is," Tom stated. Not for long though.

"So doesn't she come from England?" Nott asked. Tom decided that perhaps Nott wasn't so useless after all, as Skeeter swallowed his polite and interested expression hook, line, and sinker.

"Yeah, she's from England."

"Did she go to Hogwarts?" Rosier asked. "She must be older than us, because I don't remember a 'Hermione' from our time."

"No, no, she was home-schooled. She's around our age," Skeeter responded.

"Home schooled?" Dolohov asked curiously.

"Yeah, she was telling me that her Dad was some kind of academic who wanted to teach her himself."

"But Hogwarts is the one of the best magical schools in the world!" Mulciber jumped into the conversation haughtily.

"Well she's brilliant with magic anyway, so I guess she has intelligent parents…" Skeeter stated.

Tom had to agree. From what he had seen so far of her wand work, she was fluid, confident, and he had even noted her casual use of non-verbal magic whilst she had sorted through those books for him. The mystery of this girl suddenly deepened for Tom. She must be a pureblooded witch for her parents to have the audacity to wish her to be home-schooled… either that, or Tom considered that she could be a half-blood, like him.

"What's her last name?" Nott then asked.

"Edwards. Apparently she lived in the Durham area before coming to London," Tom answered.

"Oh I think I might have heard of an Edwards family…" Rosier trailed off.

"Well it's not like it's an uncommon surname, Eli," Nott snickered in return.

"No!" Rosier rolled his eyes at Nott. "I think I heard my parents talking about a well-respected Edwards family somewhere along the lines," He replied vaguely, causing Nott and Mulciber to chuckle at him.

"Do your families know one-another?" Dolohov then asked Skeeter.

"No. She got the job because my Aunt is good friends with Dumbledore," Skeeter explained.

Suddenly the young men were interrupted as Tom the barman shuffled up to their table.

"Mr Skeeter?" He asked and held up a large brown bag which obviously held Tarquin's food order. "Two serves of pea an' 'am soup with sides of malted fruit teabread?"

Skeeter skulled the rest of his butterbeer and stood up with a grin. "That's me," he replied. "Thanks, mate," he said as he took the bag from Tom and moved away from the table.

"Not a problem," Tom said. "You tell that Aunt of yours that she needs to stop by an' visit more often."

"I will - thanks again, Tom," he replied, before turning towards Tom and the rest of the young men. "Well, it was good to see you all again."

"Definitely," Dolohov replied quickly. "We'll have to get together for a round of Quidditch sometime," he said with an actual grin.

Tom would smirk if Skeeter wasn't still standing there. This was perfect! He thought. If they could reel Skeeter in, there's no doubt that Tom could easily get information from him about Hermione and what she was up to.

Skeeter nodded at Dolohov enthusiastically. "I'm always up for Quidditch. No doubt I'll see you back in the shop looking for another book, Tom," he then said, turning his attention to Tom.

"Yes, well I can hardly surpass the range available there," Tom replied in a friendly manner.

"Or the girl sorting them right?" Skeeter quickly added with a wink. "Don't worry, Mate, your secret's safe with me," he whispered conspiratorially, whilst tapping his nose with his index finger and allowing a huge grin to spread across his face.

Tom's eyebrows rose. Skeeter thought he was… interested in Hermione? In a romantic sense? How utterly preposterous! He could have burst out laughing if that was something he did on a regular basis. However Tom simply schooled his features into what could be described as 'polite misunderstanding'.

"Tarquin, I am certainly not interested in Miss Edwards like that," Tom quickly replied.

"Okay, Tom, I believe you," Tarquin said in a tone that indicated anything but.

Tom was horrified! He couldn't have that idiot go back there and say such things to that little upstart of a witch!

"I assure you Tarquin, that it's the truth." And for once, Tom wasn't actually lying. He wasn't interested in her at all - in that way! He just wanted to find out her secrets, that's all! Nothing more, nothing less.

And why exactly would he be interested in her? He was Lord Voldemort, the heir of Slytherin. She was just… well; he didn't know what she was exactly. But Lord Voldemort was certainly not interested in courting or wooing girls at this time in his life. Tom scoffed internally at the mere thought of it.

"It's okay, Tom, your secret is safe with me," Tarquin replied. "Anyway, I better be off before the soup gets cold! Cheerio!" And before Tom could say anything, the annoying Hufflepuff was already near the door.

Tom scowled into his drink. He really hoped that idiot didn't say anything… Perhaps he could quickly go and obliviate the fool? Hmm it was certainly an idea.

He looked up at his followers who had a mixture of reactions on each of their faces. Scowling at them, and effectively removing any looks of amusement, he downed the rest of his drink quickly.

"If that's what Skeeter wants to think, let him," Tom said quietly. "It will certainly make finding out what the chit is hiding much, much easier…"

"Lunch is served!" Tarquin announced as he entered the shop. Hermione looked up from her work.

"Oh thank Merlin, I am starving!" she replied eagerly as she got up from her place on the dusty floor and brushed herself off whilst Tarquin set up their lunch on the counter at the front of the shop.

"Pea and ham soup followed by malted fruit teabread," he announced as Hermione stepped up next to him and gave an appreciative look at the spread.

"Thank you for doing this," Hermione said as she sat down on a stool next to the counter whilst Tarquin summoned some cutlery for them.

"No problem, we both needed the break," Tarquin replied easily and began digging into his soup.

Hermione simply nodded and began eating. The food was delicious – much better than what she remembered from the Leaky Cauldron in her own time. Obviously the cook they had in this age was much more proficient.

"So, guess who I bumped into at the Leaky Cauldron?" Tarquin suddenly asked, after they had been eating in silence for a couple of minutes.

"I could never guess…" Hermione replied, really not understanding the sudden mischievous tone of Tarquin's voice. Perhaps that's where his future daughter got her gossiping ways from?

"Tom Riddle." Tarquin leaned back, looking at Hermione, obviously waiting for her reaction.

Hermione held her shock in and looked up at him in confusion. "Tom Riddle?" she asked in confusion. Why did Tarquin think that she would care that he ran into Tom Riddle?

Tarquin had obviously misinterpreted Hermione's questioning look because he let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Yes, Tom Riddle… the bloke who has already been in here a couple of times… specifically wanting your assistance," he raised a triumphant eyebrow.

Of course Hermione knew exactly who he was talking about and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead she decided to play along with his suggestion that she didn't remember him. "Oh. Him," she replied idly as she took another spoonful of soup.

"Is that your reaction?" Tarquin asked, slightly incredulous.

"Should I have some other kind of reaction?" Hermione asked, again, feeling somewhat confused.

"I think he might like you," Tarquin replied in a 'sing-song' tone.

Hermione couldn't hold in the snort that suddenly escaped her nose in an extremely unladylike manner. "I'm sorry?" she asked.

"Oh you don't believe me, do you?" Tarquin asked incredulously. "Well explain why he was asking so many questions about you."

Hermione's smile suddenly vanished. "Questions? What sort of questions?" her worried tone was unable to be concealed.

"Oh, just how you were settling in – that sort of thing."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Surely that was just 'polite' chit-chat?

"His friends were there too… They wanted to know why you didn't go to Hogwarts." Tarquin continued.

"Oh. What did you tell them?" Hermione realised the hand holding her spoon was unnaturally tight. Looking down, she realised her knuckles were turning white.

"Just what you told me. That you were home-schooled," Tarquin replied. "Hey, do you know the Rosier family?" he asked innocently.

Hermione's eye brows rose. "Rosier? No… but my parent's might have," she replied awkwardly. Gods! These people were Voldemort's first Death Eaters…! She was once again unfairly reminded that these people were just hitting their prime in this time period.

"Oh, that's a shame. Eli thought that his family might have heard of yours," he said conversationally.

"Well, they might have," Hermione said, trying desperately to add some brightness to her tone.

"Anyway, that's not what we supposed to be talking about… We were talking about you and Riddle!" he quickly moved the topic back, his eyes bright with excitement.

Hermione wanted to laugh. He had to be joking! There was no way she would ever be interested in Lord Voldemort! She'd rather take Divination for five years straight then go near Riddle. Not to mention, she thought with finality, she was practically engaged… to Ron.

"What about Riddle?" Hermione asked.

"Well… would you ever go on a date with him?" Tarquin asked, unconsciously leaning closer, awaiting Hermione's answer.

"Er, I'm sure he's a lovely guy," Hermione wanted to be sick at her words. "But I'm actually already seeing someone."

Tarquin's eyebrows shot up. "You are? You never told me that. You really are full of secrets aren't you?"

So Hermione proceeded to tell Tarquin all about Ron. Well, give as much detail that was possible without revealing that he was a Weasley or risking anything to do with possibly changing the future.

"So we were pretty much engaged before I had to come to London." Hermione finished confidently. It honestly felt good to talk about Ron again.

"Engaged? Wow! I had no idea!" Tarquin replied.

"Well… almost. I know he will propose as soon as I come home." Hermione said surely, whilst eating the last of her teabread.

It was about two days after she told Tarquin all about Ron and she was humming absentmindedly as she wrote neatly in the stock ledger. She had set up a makeshift desk in one of the now organised corners of the shop where she kept her ledger. It was much easier than coming to and fro from the office when she found a book she needed to record. Hermione couldn't believe that Valeria had never performed any kind of stock-take on her books. How was she supposed to know what or how many books were in the shop?

She put the ledger down and quickly walked over to the back of the store. She was sure she had seen a book on the History of Gringotts out this way. If she could find it, Hermione would be able to add it to several different sections of her ledger, including Gringotts itself, Goblins, Magical Currency as well as the History section, to name just a few.

She had gotten to know the different aisles well enough over her time in the shop to not even bother looking where she was going anymore, as she quickly navigated her way through to the back of the shop.

It felt like the most embarrassing déjà vu when she, yet again, crashed into a familiar male chest, the same arms wrapping around her to keep her steady and that familiar scent that caused her to go immediately rigid in his arms.

"Hermione," he said in amusement. "You really need to start watching where you are going. We can't keep running into one-another like this."

Hermione sighed in annoyance as she looked up into the smirking face of Tom Marvolo Riddle.

"Mr Riddle, I do apologise for my careless manner," Hermione gritted out.

"I already told you to call me Tom and really, why would I not enjoy catching such a charming young lady."

Hermione wanted to hex the git. But instead, she calmly stepped out of his arms and stepped well away from him.

"Sorry, Tom. I forgot," she replied.

"That's quite alright, Hermione."

"Well, then. If you excuse me…" she said awkwardly, and stepped around him, giving him a ridiculously wide-birth.

She was almost waiting for him to stop her – he had, after all, done it every other time she had tried to escape his clutches. But when he didn't, she was a mixture of mild surprise and immense relief. So she continued onwards to the back of the shop, quickly found the book on Gringotts and happily walked back to her ledger, feeling triumphant about her sorting abilities.

Sitting and continuing to write in her ledger, she didn't completely relax like she had before, knowing that Lord Voldemort could still be possibly lurking in the store. However, she continued to present an air of nonchalance, because sitting there appearing to be concerned about the slightest noise would not look good. Especially because she felt that whilst Tom Riddle's interest in purchasing books was genuine (he didn't become a Master of so many subjects and theories of magic by doing nothing), she was worried after listening to Tarquin the other day as well as her own interactions with him.

Yes, she actually wished that she could turn back time (touch wood) and change the way she had acted towards the young Dark Lord. Why oh why couldn't she have just held her tongue around him?

'Insufferable know-it-all'

And now she had Severus Snape's insult ring in her ears like a big, fat 'told you so'. Hermione unconsciously crossed her arms in defiance; there would be no more 'interest' to be garnered from her! She would be as boring as… well as boring as she wanted. There was nothing interesting to be known about her.

"You look like you've come to some sort of monumental personal understanding…"

She looked up, and sure enough, there was the one person she didn't wish to speak to.

"Ah, hello," Hermione replied, feeling good on the inside because she didn't include some sort of witty retort to his comment.

"What are you doing?" he asked, nodding towards her book.

"I've created a stock-take ledger. Basically improving record keeping." There, try to find something interesting about that, Voldemort! Hah!

"Why is the book so thin?" he asked curiously, looking at it.

"What do you mean?" Oh, you've got to be kidding me! Hermione thought in annoyance. Must he really need to know everything? Merlin! She had tried her best, tried her best to not say anything that would cause questioning and where did it get her? Straight back to square one!

"Well, if you are keeping records for this entire shop, I would expect quite a substantially sized book."

"Oh. Well, all you need is to be satisfactorily proficient at charms..."

"How do you use it?" he asked, stepping closer towards the make-shift desk and looking down on the book.

"Well, all you need to do is write the name or subject matter of the book you are searching for on this page here," Hermione pointed to the first page of the book, "And then all of the linked books will appear on this page," she explained.

"How?" he asked.

Hermione looked up at him, "Well, say I was interested in looking up Transfiguration, for example, I would just write Transfiguration here and then all the books relating to it would appear here." And so they did, Hermione noted proudly as the all of the possible suggestions Hermione had catalogued so far appeared on the page.

"So as you can see from this list, that this is every book relating to Transfiguration that I have been able to catalogue so far." Hermione continued explaining and picked up the book that she had suggested to Dumbledore for good measure.

"I'm impressed," he said quietly as he watched the suggestions appearing on the page before them. "How did you manage to do this?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "It's a bit messy to go through the entire process, but let's just say that I spent a lot of time mucking around with memory and summoning charms."

She didn't want to go into too much detail – even though it did feel good to boast to someone like that. Besides, she had initially gotten inspiration from the Marauders Map and worked it out from there. She had used similar magic at the Ministry – having everything organised certainly helped with her projects immensely.

Tom smirked. "That could be used in many different ways – not just for keeping records."

Hermione gave a small knowing smile and simply shrugged her shoulders.

"Your parents must have been very intelligent," he then commented.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Well, you were home schooled. And Tarquin mentioned that your father taught you," he explained.

"Oh," Hermione said. "Yes, well, I spent most of my childhood reading one thing or another. I guess it's only natural." Well, at least that part was the truth…

"Where are your parents now?" he asked curiously.

Hermione looked away. She didn't want to have this conversation with him of all people! How dare he even ask; she thought as she felt the beginnings of tears begin to well in her eyes. No! She wouldn't cry! Not in front of him. Not in front of any of them.

"They're gone," she answered without any further explanation.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise…" he began to say, but was interrupted as Hermione abruptly stood up from her seat. She didn't want to listen to his insincere words that meant nothing.

She briefly looked towards the ceiling, trying to control the surge of anger inside of her, as she quickly moved away from the small desk.

"It's fine," Hermione replied tightly. "Really. It is," she said as she gave him a tight, false smile. "I have something to take care of out the back. Sorry, but I'm sure if you need help Tarquin can assist."

She didn't even give him a chance to answer as she quickly walked off. She was so embarrassed all of a sudden, because she had reacted like that in front of him. It had all happened so suddenly, there was no way she could have seen it coming, or stopped it for that matter.

After coping so well in front of everyone, she - of course - had to briefly lose it in front of Tom Riddle. The one person who held no compassion for others, who would use other's emotions for his own personal gain…

She couldn't stand the humiliation right now. She couldn't stand the fact that she was here… That original, optimistic determination to get home – that unquestionable belief – which she had carried since the beginning was slipping. Without it, Hermione realised that everything was about to become much more difficult.
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