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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Author Note: Thanks for reading :)

Tom paced the spare guestroom at Dolohov Manor; he was not happy.

"Explain to me again, why those fools, Lestrange and Black were even here?" he spat at a nervous looking Dolohov whilst Nott, Mulciber and Rosier watched on with blank expressions on their faces.

"My Lord?" Dolohov looked at him in confusion.

"Do not make me spell it out for you."

"I-I, ah, well… Avery is still in France on his apprenticeship and, well, Crouch had to accompany his father to Prague…"

"And?" Tom spat.

"Well I couldn't really think of anyone else. They are really good players; Smith is a dirty player – always has been… I just don't think Skeeter realised."

"It's true, my Lord, Smith is a dirty player," Nott jumped in quickly.

Tom rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Whilst this Quidditch… chit-chat… is very fascinating," he replied sarcastically, "it still does not explain why the game was cut short. Lestrange is, of course, infamous for cracking at what could be described as the most inopportune moments."

Well, Tom thought in annoyance, the most inopportune moment for him. The way that Hermione Edward's face had lit up when she saw that book, well, he knew she was desperate to read it. In fact it was the first time since he had met her that he had seen her drop all her defences in front of him… in fact, in front of everyone he had observed her with. Perhaps the only one he had seen her give a similar look to was Dumbledore. Thank Salazar that old coot is back at school, Tom thought with relief. The absence of Dumbledore certainly made things easier for him.

He had seen a small flicker of an opportunity and it had been ruined by those Quidditch idiots. Now that she had time to think about it, she would put those defence walls back up again and he would be back at square one. The best way to deal with someone like Hermione Edwards was to not allow her time to think; to force her to make snap decisions. Because personalities like that hated being forced to think without already knowing – or thinking that they knew – all of the answers. She needed all the facts and then all of the decisions she made were logical. He was suddenly curious to see how she duelled. Tom had always thought that the way someone duelled was an excellent judge of their character in general.

"My Lord, if I may, I am sorry," Dolohov's voice cut through his thoughts, causing him to quickly turn and stare at the boy.

"Oh, I'm sure you're sorry… but sorry doesn't bring back the progress that I was making, does it?"

"No, no it doesn't, my Lor,." Dolohov mumbled, looking down at his feet.

"Never-the-less, despite all of your failures," and he cast a sweeping sneer to the four young men, causing them to squirm, "I would like to show you some new magic."

He noted with satisfaction how their expressions quickly changed from worry to curiosity without a moment's notice. Tom smirked; people were just too easy to manipulate.

"I've discovered a relatively old curse… do any of you remember anything about the Trier Witch Trials?"

"The witch trials in Germany?" Nott piped up.

"They mainly killed weird muggles – stupid fools," Mulciber commented.

"Correct," Tom confirmed. "It was considered one of the largest European mass executions in peace time. Whilst they mainly killed muggles, some magical blood was taken as well."

"Filthy muggles," Dolohov spat.

"Yes, well, the wizards of that time certainly agreed with you. Which is why they created a curse that would literally cause the recipients nightmares to seem real – pain included," Tom paused and looked at the group standing in front of him. "It was cast when they fell asleep, and could only be broken by the castor. Of course those caught murdering witches and wizards… well the curse would never be lifted," Tom studied the group. There were small murmurs of shock and obvious interest in the curse.

"So they would have to live with their nightmares?" Rosier asked curiously.

"Sleep itself would eventually become their nightmare. It was enough to send them insane, of course… many even ended up killing themselves, but some even embraced their nightmares." Tom pulled his wand out and lightly ran his fingers over it. "I want to teach you, but I need a volunteer…"

Tom looked across at all four boys and noticed all of them suddenly look down or away. Except Dolohov, Tom noticed with a smirk as he stepped forward.

"I'll volunteer, my Lord," Dolohov said.

Good boy, Tom thought with pleasure. Antonin knew that he was going to be chosen today anyway. Tom almost respected the fact that Antonin was willing to accept his punishment.

"Very good Antonin. Of course, you know I will make it a very quick procedure and then the curse will be lifted. It is simply to demonstrate to the others," Tom explained in a mock kind voice.

Dolohov simply nodded, swallowed heavily and moved to stand in front of Tom.

"First," Tom began, "We need to make him fall asleep… Somnus Iam," Tom cast with a swish of his wand and Dolohov yawned tiredly before collapsing heavily to the ground, seeming to have fallen asleep.

"Nocens somnium fio proprius somnus," Tom said in a slow and clear voice, allowing his wand to slash diagonally across Dolohov's body.

Tom watched as Dolohov lay on the floor, not even moving at first. Tom was beginning to become impatient until he saw Dolohov's lips begin to twitch and his eyelids flutter. Suddenly his legs jolted outwards, causing the other Knights to take an unconscious step back. Tom stayed where he was, closely observing him.

Tom decided that he wasn't really interested in actually seeing whatever Dolohov's worst nightmare was - he just wanted to view the reaction. A whimper escaped Dolohov's lips and Tom knew it was in full effect.

After another few moments strangled cry wound through the room as Dolohov rolled straight onto his back and began thrashing about, his body unconsciously trying to wake him up. Tears began leaking from his eyelids and a scream – raw and desperate – rang through the room, causing all of the Knights to flinch uncomfortably.

"Finite," Tom whispered, allowing his wand to sweep over the prone body in front of him.

The room was completely still, Dolohov still lying on the ground, eyes closed, whilst the rest of the group stood around him watching and waiting to see what would happen next.

After a few moments, Dolohov's eyes cracked open, and he looked towards the ceiling – not seeming to remember where he was or that anyone else was in the room. His gaze looked glassy and unfocused; his breathing heavy as he slowly brought a semi-shaking hand to his head and ran it through his hair.

None of the Knights dared to say anything, whilst Tom watched Dolohov so closely. Finally Dolohov seemed to realise that he wasn't alone and turned his head and looked at the collected group who stood before him.

"Antonin," Tom said.

Dolohov simply stared back as all his senses returned. "My Lord," he finally replied, in what sounded like a dry and cracked voice.

Tom turned to the other Knights, "What are you waiting for? Help him up," he ordered.

Rosier quickly stepped forward first and held out his hand, quickly pulling Antonin up, who winced when he was back on two feet again.

Dolohov looked blearily around the room, before looking at the rest of the boys in the room. "It-it… was like nothing I've ever…" he trailed off, not able to complete his sentence and looked down.

Tom stepped forward and put his hand on Dolohov's shoulder, causing him to look up at Tom. "Excellent work, Antonin."

Hermione was currently walking down Diagon Alley. It was her day off and she had desperately needed to get out of the shop for a few hours. Tarquin was still moping about what had now become a very infamous Quidditch game. He said that it was mainly because Smith cheated, but Hermione knew that he was also sore because the game had ended after what was now referred to as 'the confrontation' and the ex-Slytherins had won.

Quite frankly, Hermione was tired of listening to it. She thought that this time period would at least not subject her to mindless Quidditch talk; it was bad enough listening to Harry, Ron and Ginny sometimes. Therefore, she had decided that some fresh air was in order, and she now found herself wandering aimlessly through Diagon Alley, with no real destination in mind.

As she walked past Flourish and Blotts she couldn't help but notice the ridiculous number of people inside. It was the type of shop that was always busy, but it looked as though there was some sort of event on. As she walked up to the shop she noted the large poster on the window:

"Today only: Meet celebrated Seer Cassandra Vablatsky!

The writer of 'Unfogging the Future' will only be at Flourish and Blotts to answer your questions!

Hermione scoffed as she remembered having to read that awful textbook during her rather short stint in Divination. Celebrated 'Seer' indeed! Hermione scoffed. She wondered if Cassandra Vablatsky was as loony as Professor Trelawney. That's almost a requirement for that type of magic; she thought and mentally snickered at her own joke.

Still, she was rather curious to see the woman in the flesh… Vablatsky was, after all, part of history and Hermione did wonder what sort of musings the woman would spout to the naïve all-believing masses. In fact, it had been a while since she had had a decent laugh at anything. So she pushed her shoulders back and confidently entered the shop, trying to find space amongst the many people.

Just as she was about to mutter about crowds and their complete lack of civility, she looked up and almost groaned out loud. Why oh why, did this keep happening? This is starting to get really old! She thought in frustration, as Tom Riddle walked up to her.

"Hello Hermione, here for the talk?" he asked conversationally as he stepped up next to her.

"I was walking past, saw the poster and thought I'd have a look," she replied evenly. Of course! She thought in annoyance, of course Lord Voldemort was at this ridiculous thing! Hermione mentally snickered; he probably wanted to have his tea leaves read and be told just how wonderful he was. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes; she could certainly give him some future predictions, and she didn't need a bloody crystal ball!

"Do you have the day off?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. Actually, now that she thought of it, she hadn't actually run into Riddle since that Quidditch match; when he had saved her from that curse. She hadn't had the chance to thank him yet – or, if she were realistic, she had been avoiding even thinking about it. The idea of thanking him was utterly abhorrent to her… but a small part of her silently wondered what would have happened to her if she had been hit by that curse.

Why did he do that anyway? She knew he had his precious 'good orphan' façade that he would keep up for a few years still, but he didn't have to do that. He could have let the curse hit her and just pretend that it all happened before a response was possible. Hermione seriously wondered if she was currently wishing that the curse had have actually hit her, rather than Tom Riddle saving her… and her feeling as though she therefore owed him something.

"Hermione?"

She looked up, surprised, to find Riddle smirking at her. He had caught her off guard, lost in her thoughts… again. "Listen Tom," she began, "I, er, wanted to say thanks…"

Tom merely cocked an inquisitive eyebrow, causing Hermione to garble her words even more.

"That is, er, thanks for um, saving me the other day. Yes," she finished and let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding in. That really hurt!

"That's quite alright Hermione," he replied smoothly, and Hermione detected a slight hint of what sounded like amusement in his voice. "I guess you owe me one, then." He then added in a teasing manner.

Hermione's eyes bulged slightly. "Oh," she replied. "Well, yes, I suppose you have a point there." She had no idea how to answer that! She wasn't sure if he was just making fun of her or being serious… Could Tom Riddle ever not be serious? She wondered if he ever had fun doing anything… well, anything that didn't include killing or hurting people, that is.

Deciding to move away from him and sit down, as she couldn't leave now, she spotted a spare seat almost right next to where she was standing. Hermione noted with glee that it was next to an empty space, so Riddle couldn't sit next to her. Smiling smugly, she sat down and made herself comfortable. Unfortunately Tom still hadn't done anything and was just standing there, looking around. Seats were being taken up quite quickly. Annoyance crept up on her when she noted his smug smirk as he came to stand in the empty spot next to her and easily conjured up a chair. Hermione held in the urge to groan.

"I guess I'm fortunate there's an empty space here," he commented casually, as he sat down next to her.

More like unfortunately! Hermione thought darkly, but merely smiled and nodded weakly – feeling uncomfortable at their sudden close proximity. Did he have to conjure his chair so close? She unconsciously crossed her legs and folded her arms – her body language a clear reflection as to how she felt about the whole situation.

Before Hermione could internally complain anymore about the proximity of one Tom Marvolo Riddle, a giant pool of mist suddenly swept through the room. Oh, here we go… Hermione thought, rolling her eyes. As the mist evaporated, a woman now stood at the front with a placid smile on her face.

"Welcome," she said in a light voice. "Thank you for joining me today."

Hermione sighed in relief that her voice wasn't as misty and annoying as what Professor Trelawney's had been.

"I could spend today discussing things which, no doubt, many of you would have already read and dictate the course of my time here… but I predict that you all would rather see me in action." With that, she smiled at her small pun and a light smattering of laughter travelled through the room. Hermione merely rolled her eyes.

"So, I can't promise that all of you will get answers to your questions. I work from intuition only – you cannot force the inner eye to do its magic after all!"

Turning and looking through the crowd, Hermione noted that the woman looked as though she were deep in concentration as she studied many of the faces in the room. Suddenly her attention zeroed in on a young girl sitting a few rows ahead of Hermione and Tom.

"Ah, Miss Daisy Yates?" Vablatsky asked, smiling at the girl, whose eyes bulged in shock.

"H-how do you know my name?" The girl - now known as Daisy – asked in complete awe.

"Oh, well I went to school with your Mother… you look exactly like her," Vablatsky responded with an impish grin on her face.

Hermione rolled her eyes and scoffed quietly, causing Tom to look at her and raise an inquisitive eyebrow. Hermione ignored him and put her attention back to what Vablatsky was telling the girl.

"What you've been hoping for – or more – who you've been hoping for will come into your life soon," She stated mysteriously.

"Can you tell me who and when?" Daisy asked; the jittery excitement evident in her voice.

"I keep seeing a dark haired man… Though you will know when you meet him. You have a very open mind to the clairvoyant vibrations." She smiled at the girl.

"Will he become my husband? Is he my soul mate?"

"What a load of sexist nonsense," Hermione muttered under her breath. Urgh, Hermione grimaced as she watched the girl – who had obviously forgotten the rather large crowd in here – get fanatical at the idea of meeting her future husband. How embarrassing!

"I just… I thought I may have been too old to find a suitable husband," the girl replied eagerly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head as Vablatsky quickly stood up and walked smoothly over to the girl.

"Give me your palm," she ordered and the girl quickly held her palm out.

"Oh yes, I see…" she began as she inspected the hand. "… It will be a happy union, as you tend to give all of yourself to love – no matter the cost."

"Soon?" the girl asked, looking absolutely delighted.

Hermione sighed. How ambiguous! She thought with annoyance… Anyone could predict that!

"Yes, soon. Keep your eyes open…" Vablatsky replied mysteriously and she drifted back to her own table. Hermione watched with distaste as the girl sat down happily with a flushed expression on her face.

"You don't agree, Hermione?" Tom whispered to Hermione, causing her to jump, his breath tickling her ear due to their close proximity.

Hermione turned and looked at him haughtily, unconsciously drawing back and creating some new distance between them. "You can't tell me that you think that her ambiguous 'prediction' actually holds any water?" she whispered back.

"They say that you need to read between the lines to truly understand Divination," Tom murmured back.

"What rubbish!" Hermione whispered harshly. "I can guarantee that all that will happen is that foolish girl has been given a bit of hope and she'll be eyeing off every bachelor who comes in close proximity to her… of course she has increased her chances of meeting a suitable man – simply because she'll probably be looking at every single bloke in the general proximity," she shot back, her voice not as quiet as before.

"But wouldn't that be part of it anyway? Making her aware of her surroundings or the possibilities?" Tom questioned quietly.

"No," Hermione scoffed, "It merely makes her believe something that she could easily do on her own. In fact," and a smirk appeared on Hermione's face, "you better be careful… she might see you and think you are perfect husband material."

Tom chuckled lowly and then leaned across to Hermione again, effectively removing the space that she had created between them, "I highly doubt that, Miss Edwards," he mocked, causing her to scoff quietly in return.

"Oh but wouldn't it be romantic… Something you could tell the grandchildren! Imagine meeting at the divination talk where she was told that she'd meet her future husband…" and then Hermione paused for effect before mimicking Vablatsky perfectly, "soon." She snickered into her hand.

Tom was about to reply when a random person sitting in front of them turned around and 'shushed' them as Vablatsky found her next victim.

"Ooh, we must be ruining the 'clairvoyant vibrations'," Hermione snickered quietly.

Tom turned to look at her again, his lips twitched slightly, but before he could respond, the same person turned around and glared darkly at Hermione. Hermione felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment at being singled out. She just couldn't help herself when it came to making snarky comments about this field of magic.

So the talk went on. Hermione was starting to wish that she never came to this ridiculous presentation. She couldn't get over the multitude of mundane and narcissistic questions people asked when they were chosen. Daisy Yates' stupidity was only the tip of the iceberg in Hermione's opinion… Of course; Vablatsky was completely vague and ambiguous in her answers: hiding behind banal symbolism and information you could easily glean from someone's simple body language.

She chanced a quick glance at Riddle and almost laughed out loud at how absorbed and interested he looked in something trivial Vablatsky was explaining in regards to making prophecies. She found it hard to process that a wizard as intelligent as Voldemort would place such high importance on one of the woolliest branches of magic. No wonder he lost! Yes Riddle, and here's another prediction… please allow Lucius Malfoy to handle any prophecies in the future. She had to physically hold the snicker in that was threatening to break out.

Suddenly Vablatsky's eyes fell on Hermione and she smiled lightly at her, causing Hermione to look back at her suspiciously.

"What a shame it is, my dear, that you do not believe the noble art of Divination," she said, causing Hermione's mouth to open in shock.

"I-I'm sorry?" Hermione responded with, still surprised that she was talking to her.

"One would think Miss," and she paused, with a knowing smile on her face, "that you would be more open to my branch of magic… all things considered."

Hermione's eyes widened. Did she know? "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied, suddenly only able to focus on the woman in front of her.

"Do you remember that… everything happens for a reason?" she asked and Hermione sucked in a sharp breath at the familiar words. "Fate does control it all-"

"Even at times when you think it's all accidental," Hermione whispered in shock, and looked down, trying to hide her emotions.

"Your mind is anything but mundane, dear," she smiled at Hermione, causing her to look back up in shock.

Vablatsky then turned her attention away from Hermione, moving on to the next person. But Hermione didn't pay attention to the rest of the strange seminar. Her posture rigid and her hands balled into tight fists, she tried to control her breathing - not even aware of the stare she was attracting from a certain young man sitting next to her. What exactly did that just mean? She wondered. She didn't believe in Divination, but how was it possible for her to be singled out like that? Not just that, but for her to quote it word-for-word. It was just… impossible.

"Hermione?"

Hermione felt a hand on her shoulder and took a sharp breath before turning and looking at Tom. She hadn't even realised that it had all finished; people were already standing to leave. Noting the curious glint in his dark eyes, she quickly averted her gaze.

"Are you okay?" he asked. She shuddered at the expression on his face; it was nothing but mock concern. Reality and gravity pulled at her as she looked back at him. He really was a marvellous performer, she thought, momentarily.

"I'm fine," she responded quietly as she watched Vablatsky pack up and without disappearing in a cloud of mist, politely answered a few questions from some people who had gathered around her and then retreated to what looked like the back of the store, where there was surely a rear entrance.

"What did-" Tom began to ask, but Hermione interrupted him by standing up quickly, shrugging his hand off her shoulder in the process.

"I have to go," she said and ignoring him, and quickly walked off. She had to talk to Cassandra Vablatsky.

Tom clenched his fists, trying to restrain his anger at the pure audacity of the girl. Feeling his nails dig into the palm of his hand, he quickly stood. Intuitively, he stood up with the intent to follow her. Tom wanted to know what Vablatsky had been talking about when she had singled out Hermione…

…everything happens for a reason…

…fate does control it all…

…even at times when you think it's all accidental…

Hermione seemed to know exactly what Vablatsky was talking about, to the point where she had finished Vablatsky's sentence. His intuition was telling him that for some reason, those mere words, justified why he wanted to know her secrets. To him, it was as though he was able to finally stop looking for reasons and loop holes as to why she was here, and why she had appeared – rather inconveniently – in his life.

He watched her walk out the front door of the shop and onto the street. He quickly followed her, making sure that he stayed hidden within a group of people who were also leaving. He watched as Hermione suddenly turned down the alley next to Flourish and Blotts. Tom furrowed his brows in confusion. What is she up to? Realising that the alley was too small for him to not be noticed by her, he cast a disillusionment charm on himself, and followed her down the alley way as quietly as possible. When she got to the end – which also happened to be the back of Flourish and Blotts – he noted that Cassandra Vablatksy was already standing there.

"Ah, I thought you would come to me," Vablatsky stated to Hermione good naturedly, who now stood before her.

"How did you know?" Tom heard Hermione ask, without any pre-empt.

"I believe you understand the basic theory of the inner eye – despite your disbelief in it?" Vablatsky asked Hermione.

Tom watched as Hermione looked down and took in a sharp breath – much like she had when Vablatsky had singled her out in the shop. "C-can you tell me anything else?" Hermione then asked quietly, with desperation in her voice. "I'm so lost…" she then whispered in such a quiet tone, that Tom almost missed it altogether.

"No… the inner eye doesn't work on command," she replied to Hermione softly. "But you must know that you have all the information… everything."

Hermione looked up at the woman, with what Tom noted as disbelief. "If I knew everything why am I still here?" she asked quietly, yet Tom noted the inflection of frustration in her voice.

"I can't answer that for you."

Hermione sighed and gave a small smile. "Right, well, thanks anyway." And with that Tom – despite the disillusionment charm – backed up against the wall as Hermione walked straight past him and back into Diagon Alley. He turned and looked at Vablatsky who was watching Hermione with a small smile. She suddenly turned and looked right in his direction and gave a smile and a wink before stepping back into the shop.

Tom now stood in the alley way alone, wondering how it was possible to have even more questions than what he had before. Something ticked over in his mind – everything was now justified. His pursuit to find out who exactly Hermione Edwards was could now begin.

Hermione sat at her small desk in the shop, currently sorting through a selection of potions books to add the ledger. She was half distracted, thinking about her run-in with Cassandra Vablatsky the previous day and the fact that Tom Riddle had seen her react terribly to something, yet again. Although she has to admit that she couldn't be her usual annoyed self at Riddle and his ability to turn up unannounced everywhere, she seemed to go because she figured that yesterday was more her turning up unannounced to something of his interest. Of course he would be at something as ridiculous as that. The worst aspect of the entire ordeal was that if he had no justification to be suspicious of her before, well he had certainly found a reason now!

Bloody hell! Hermione wanted to pull her hair out! What did Vablatsky mean by the fact that she already had all the information? If she had all the information, why was she still stuck in this place? Surely she wasn't so stupid to have missed something? Was there some kind of small detail that she had brushed off as being insignificant? She needed to spend more time reading; though it was proving somewhat difficult. Her days sorting in the shop sometimes left her dead tired, and Tarquin or Valeria always wanted to do something with her… whether it was to have dinner together or simply sit around having a chat. The problem was, Hermione actually adored spending time with the both of them… the time she spent socialising with them was the only time she felt as though she wasn't missing a part of herself by not being back in the future. Therefore, she rarely found herself refusing their offers.

One small issue that was beginning to become problematic was that Hermione was beginning to find it extremely difficult explaining to Tarquin why Ron couldn't just simply come and visit them in Diagon Alley. Tarquin had declared that he wanted to meet "this Ron fellow" and Hermione had no idea what to do. Wizarding transport was quite easy within greater Britain – unlike muggle transport. So her flouncy excuses about Ron being "caught up in work" were beginning to wear thin – even on her, personally. Not to mention Tarquin's slight jibes at Ron not having the time to "visit such a lovely specimen". She had no idea what she was going to do about that at all.

"Excuse me?"

Hermione turned and looked at the young woman who was currently standing awkwardly next to a large pile of books near Hermione's desk. The woman looked to be about Hermione's age, with dark hair and an open expression on her face.

"Are you Hermione Edwards?" she then asked, but before allowing Hermione to speak, simply continued explaining her presence, "I'm here to collect the transfiguration book for Professor Dumbledore. Oh, wait… how rude of me. My name's-"

"Minerva McGonagall?" Hermione guessed a bit awkwardly.

"Oh, you must've received the Professor's owl then!" she answered and smiled. "Pleased to meet you." She held her hand out for Hermione to shake.

Hermione shook her hand, hoping that her nerves weren't showing through. She hadn't received an owl from Dumbledore at all, but Hermione was becoming so accustomed to these lovely little 'reunions' – as she now referred to them – that she had guessed. She knew that McGonagall had worked at Hogwarts as a protégé of Dumbledore for most of her life… it only seemed like common sense to guess who this young woman was.

Thankfully this was a reunion Hermione could cope with. Unlike previous meetings, she thought darkly, as she took in the friendly looking woman in front of her. Hermione could see some traces of the teacher that she would know in the future – the immaculate appearance and sharp eyes, being the main tell-tale signs, but it was an extremely odd experience. After all, this person would be her future head of house, her future transfiguration professor and mentor for Hermione.

Hermione swallowed her nervousness and smiled. "No, I'm sorry, I didn't get the owl at all, I'm afraid."

"How did you know my name then?" she asked with a confused expression on her face.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh… Er, Professor Dumbledore mentioned he had an ex-student working with him… I just put two and two together."

"Oh, alright. Well, the owl would basically tell you that he really wants that Transfiguration book you found – you know the rare one that was produced in the 14th Century?"

Hermione did remember the owl that she had excitedly sent when she had come across the book. She was very pleased to know that Dumbledore now wanted to purchase it.

"I do remember now, I'm glad to hear that he wants to buy it," she replied. The happiness at meeting someone like Professor McGonagall in this time period was immense, considering the other people she had met so far were certain Dark Lords, Death Eaters and ancestors of people she had grown up with. Something akin to relief spread through her system.

"Yes, just as I can't wait to read it," she commented. "But the Professor also wanted to say that sorry that he couldn't make it himself. Unfortunately he's busy undoing a terrible transfiguration prank gone wrong." She smiled ruefully.

Hermione couldn't help but smile at this. "The perils of teaching..." she responded with before standing up. "I know I kept the book somewhere around here… just in case," Hermione said as she looked through a pile of transfiguration books. "Ah! Here it is!" she said as she spotted the dusty, old tome almost straight away.

"Excellent. Thank you very much," Minerva replied. "Well, I guess I should be off… It was nice to meet you, Hermione."

"You too, Minerva. Oh, and I found this book before on potions… I'm not sure if Hogwarts has it in stock?" Hermione said, as she held another equally looking dusty, old book up. Hermione, of course, knew that Hogwarts didn't have it – well, the Hogwarts of her time didn't have it anyway. She also knew it was extremely rare, and would be a very valuable collection to the library. Hermione had only seen one other copy available, which was in the Ministry library.

"Oh, really? Let's have a look." Minerva peered at the book. "Well, I must admit that I haven't seen it, but I will double check with the potions professor. Thanks for that," she replied.

"Not a problem," Hermione smiled, hoping that she wasn't staring too much at her old Professor. Despite the age difference, the mannerisms and way of speaking were uncannily reminiscent of the person that she had known.

Minerva smiled and went to walk to the front counter to pay for the book. However before she could disappear completely from sight, she suddenly stopped and swiftly turned around to face Hermione again. "Say," she began, "Would you like to come for lunch with me? I'm just going to head down to the Leaky – nothing special – you're more than welcome."

Hermione stared back at the young woman in surprise. "O-okay, I was about to have lunch anyway. We'll go sort out the book and I can let Tarquin know," she replied brightly.

She stood up quickly, and pulled on her cloak. For once she felt as though she wasn't hiding from the people of her past.

"So I understand that Professor Dumbledore is helping you with a project…" Minerva commented as they both tucked into their simple lunch.

Hermione paused and wondered what exactly Dumbledore had told Minerva about her. "Yes, he's been very helpful," she replied; ambiguous on purpose.

"So what kind of project is it exactly?" Minerva then prodded. Hermione mentally sighed in relief. She could tell by her innocently curious expression that Dumbledore obviously hadn't told her much at all.

"Oh, it's just purely academic; relating to the subject of Ancient Runes," Hermione offered. "Really, it's quite boring." She grinned.

"I highly doubt that," Minerva replied, matching her grin. "But why is the Professor helping you – if you don't mind me asking?"

Hermione wondered what to tell the girl. Not knowing what Dumbledore had told her, she was immediately on the defensive. Though, looking at Minerva's expression, she didn't look like she was fishing for information – like certain other people – she actually looked genuinely polite and interested.

"Oh, well my parents were always talking about how great Albus Dumbledore was. When I showed up in London, not knowing anyone, he was the first person I thought of. He got me my job and everything," Hermione replied.

"He's a good man," Minerva replied warmly. "Why didn't you go to Hogwarts? We probably would've been in the same year!"

So Hermione told her the story that she had spun for everyone else; that she was home-schooled, her parents were gone and that she was only staying in London to finish her study before returning home to her boyfriend.

Whilst spinning her lies, Hermione realised that she felt incredibly comfortable talking to the Minerva of this time period. She was very quick, friendly and open. Hermione realised that whilst she initially thought that she was pretty much the same as her older self, as they spoke she realised that the young woman in front of her was much less severe and formal than her older self. She could easily admit that this Minerva could actually become a close friend, rather than just an admired teacher if they did, in fact, actually grow up in the same time period.

She managed to steer the conversation away from herself – feeling guilty about having to lie - and asked Minerva all sorts of questions about her becoming a professor, as well as her years at Hogwarts. Just as they were getting into an interesting discussion regarding the book Minerva had just purchased, they were interrupted.

"Minerva, Hermione!"

Both girls looked up to see Alphard Black standing at their table. He gave them both a handsome grin. "It's wonderful to see two such beautiful young ladies out," he then added charmingly.

"Do you ever turn the charm off, Black?" Minerva replied sarcastically, but Hermione noted the friendly, almost teasing, glint in her eyes.

"I don't believe it's in my nature to do so," he replied and grinned before turning to Hermione. "My friend still feels most terrible for almost cursing you Hermione," he said as he sat down confidently at their table, making himself at home with his butterbeer.

"Oh, really, it's okay. I wasn't cursed in the end - no harm done," she replied, trying to shrug it off.

"What do you mean someone almost cursed her?" Minerva asked before Alphard could say anymore.

So Hermione and Alphard quickly explained how Lestrange had almost cursed Hermione – meaning to curse Smith instead.

"So really, we were quite lucky Riddle was watching over you," Alphard said and Hermione noted the small 'look' he shared with Minerva after that comment.

"Riddle, eh? That's a surprise. Well, actually, maybe it isn't…" Minerva seemed to ponder out loud, causing Hermione to give her a confused look. "I have never liked that Smith! How he got into Hufflepuff I'll never know," she exclaimed.

"Well you know he's always badgering on – no pun intended by the way –" And he laughed, causing the girls to both roll their eyes at his terrible joke, "About how he's distantly related to Helga Hufflepuff… Salazar! If I have to hear that story even one more time I think I'll magic myself permanently deaf!" he exclaimed dramatically.

The girls laughed at him and they continued to chat about random things, with Hermione finding out quite quickly that Alphard and Minerva had been Head boy and girl together at Hogwarts – one year ahead of Tom Riddle. Hermione enjoyed observing the way they seemed to bounce off one-another as they spoke. Hermione also couldn't help but notice the way Minerva blushed slightly whenever Alphard put his full attention on her. Hermione wondered if Minerva had a small crush on the handsome Black. It was completely understandable if she did. He was absolutely gorgeous with his raven black shoulder length hair and bright grey eyes.

Hermione excused herself to go freshen up in the bathroom. As she tried to get a handle on her rather unmanageable hair in the foggy mirror, she wondered if Sirius would have turned out like his Uncle if so many terrible things hadn't happened to him. When Hermione knew Sirius, he was rarely happy – except when Harry was around. Trying not to let thoughts of Harry get to her, she again forced herself back to what was now her present. A small grin graced her face as she thought of her growing suspicions regarding Minerva and Alphard.

Walking back out to the table she stopped right in her tracks at the sight that greeted her. Alphard was currently whispering in Minerva's ear whilst his hand clutched hers tightly under the table. She watched as he leaned back and smiled at her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, and she blushed furiously at his intense attention. Deciding to return to the table at a much slower pace, Hermione grinned smugly, feeling vindicated at the sight before her eyes. It wasn't long before she was standing right across from them, but they were so caught up in their own conversation they didn't even note her return.

"Ahem," Hermione said and gave a small cough for good measure. She watched in confusion as their hands quickly tore apart and they moved apart far too quickly.

"Oh, Hermione! You're back," Minerva stated, looking quite flushed.

"Yes I am," Hermione replied, looking at the two of them in confusion.

"Well, I was just telling Minnie, er I mean Minerva… that I must be off…" Alphard suddenly said, quite awkwardly as he quickly stood up from the table.

"Yes, yes you were," Minerva quickly nodded her head in agreement.

Hermione quirked her eyebrows at the two of them… They had to be joking, right? She looked at them in confusion as Alphard pulled his jacket on and Minerva fiddled with a loose thread on the sleeve of her blouse.

"Well ladies, it was lovely,"Alphard said, smiling at the two of them, "Perhaps we'll run into one-another again soon."

Both girls murmured their agreement and goodbyes; Minerva seemingly embarrassed at being caught and Hermione confused at their utter denial that they were obviously attracted to one-another in one capacity or another. After Alphard had awkwardly left, Hermione waited for Minerva to finally speak.

"What you saw... well, it wasn't the way you imagine it," she finally said.

Hermione looked back at her. "Oh? How would I imagine it?"

"That we're… you know…together."

"Why would you deny it? I mean, you aren't embarrassed are you?" Hermione said, completely disregarding Minerva's denial.

Minerva sighed and rubbed her temples tiredly. "I can see you're not going believe any of the excuses I give you, are you?"

"I don't see why you have to hide it anyway… wait, neither of you are already involved with someone are you?" she asked; it was the only reason she could think as to why they'd be having a relationship in secret.

Minerva sighed, and quickly looked around. Noting that the bar was still practically empty, she turned to Hermione. "Can you keep a secret?"

Could she keep a secret? Hermione mentally snorted, she had been keeping so many secrets lately that if anyone could keep a secret it was her. At Hermione's nod, Minerva groaned and then after a long pause finally spoke.

"It's a long story, but I can technically say that Alphard and I aren't involved-"

"But just before-" Hermione interrupted but was quickly silenced by Minerva's hand.

"Yes, I know. I'll explain… We aren't together now but we once were. You see, we had never really socialised until we became Heads. When we became Heads we realised how much we had in common… well one thing led to another and we became more than friends." Minerva blushed.

"So why aren't you together anymore?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"There's no future for us," Minerva said quietly.

Hermione shook her head. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm a muggleborn… Alphard is from the House of Black," She replied and gave Hermione a knowing look.

Hermione simply stared back at her. She had had no idea that Minerva McGonagall was a muggleborn like herself. It was never something that was mentioned when she was at school… which actually surprised her immensely.

"So now can you understand why we can't be together?" she added, in almost a bitter tone.

Hermione swallowed her mounting anger. "So this is his idea?" she asked.

Minerva looked down at her hands. "No. I ended things with him when school finished," she swallowed. "You know, save him the trouble," she laughed bitterly. "He's been trying to see me ever since… We've met a couple of times, but today was a complete shock, to say the least."

"Are you ashamed of your heritage?" Hermione asked in shock. How could someone as strong as her be ashamed of being muggleborn?

"No!" Minerva reassured. "Great Godric, no!"

"I don't understand? How can it not be him then?" Hermione asked.

Minerva smiled bitterly. "You have no idea what his family is like, do you? His sister Walburga, for example, is completely insane. There was a small rumour which almost exposed us at the end of our year. I was poisoned Hermione… spent a week in the hospital wing and was lucky that there were no long lasting effects. We couldn't prove it outwardly, but we were sure that it was Walburga who poisoned me. She apparently couldn't believe someone would start a rumour about her brother and a… 'mudblood'," she explained angrily.

Hermione didn't know what to say. She could completely relate to Minerva. It was a hatred that she hadn't experienced strongly since the war… but she could never forget the hatred she had fought in the war. Draco Malfoy's voice suddenly whispered through her mind; 'filthy mudblood'. Anger curled in her stomach at the memory.

She looked at Minerva earnestly. "I'm a muggleborn too," she said. "I've experienced hatred because of my blood," she said, much more quietly than her declaration of her heritage.

"We're two of a kind, aren't we?" Minerva looked up at her and gave Hermione a small grin.

"I suppose we are," Hermione smiled back at her. "Why won't he do anything?"

"I've asked him not to. There wouldn't just be a risk of being simply disinherited. His parents have shown their… violent tendencies before. They make Walburga's actions look like a walk in the park, let me tell you. I would rather him be alive."

Hermione nodded. She had been so incredibly lucky to have found Ron. Minerva, on the other hand… well, it was an awful situation to be in.

"Well you never know what will happen," Hermione offered, although it was offered weakly. As far as she knew, her Professor wasn't married in her time and being married to Alphard Black would have, no doubt, been a well-known fact. Her stomach clenched in sadness, as she felt as though there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

Minerva simply gave her a weak smile in return. She didn't need a future prediction from Hermione to know that the two of them being together was pretty much impossible.

Tom walked up the familiar steps at Knights book shop. He had spent the last couple of days wondering how best succeed in this plan to find out what exactly Hermione Edwards was hiding.

He knew that he couldn't use the same charade on her that fooled so many others. She seemed to be too wary of him… too suspicious of his intentions. Her difficult ways caused him to clench his jaw in annoyance. He had spent the last couple of days thinking how he could approach her, if simply charming her, like most of the other stupid bints, wasn't going to work. Then he remembered how she had been with that book… Hermione Edwards' weakness was knowledge.

Tom had always prided himself on his ability to be able to easily find others' weaknesses. Whilst he may not have worked out her secret yet, she was terrible at hiding her emotions… and the prickly demeanour she had around him would almost be amusing if it weren't stopping him from finding out what he wanted to know.

Carefully schooling his features and stepping into the store, he gave Skeeter an amiable smile and the dolt gave him a genuine grin back.

"Hello Tom, after another book?" he asked.

"Hello Tarquin. Not really… is Hermione working?" he asked politely.

"Oh," Tarquin digested Tom's question, and it annoyed Tom how assumptions were obviously running through the idiot's head. "Yes, she's up the back of the shop at her usual space," he replied.

"Thank you," Tom replied and walked off, not interested in watching how the Hufflepuff's eyes lit up at his ridiculous delusions of Tom being interested in Hermione in a romantic sense.

He quickly navigated the over-crowded aisles until he reached Hermione's 'corner'. He stopped just short of allowing himself to be noticed by her and quietly observed her instead. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as she looked through a book, quickly scanning it and flipping through the pages at a rather fast pace. He noted how she kept pushing her overly boisterous hair out of her face as she continued trying to concentrate on what she was doing. Waving her wand silently, Tom watched the ledger glow slightly before fading again. She then turned to another chapter and huffed loudly as she again, had to push her hair back as it bounced forward.

Tom silently waved his wand and smirked as he watched her hair pull back from her face, and begin to hold itself up into a simple pony-tail, above her head. At first she didn't notice her hair pulling itself into place, but then she automatically went to push it back and looked up in confusion as she felt the pony-tail in place. Looking around, she stiffened as her eyes met his.

"You looked like you needed some help there," he commented, as he pushed himself off the shelf in a nonchalant manner and walked towards her.

Hermione, still touching her hair, looked at him. She was angry that she hadn't noticed him… furious in fact, he thought as watched her brown eyes narrow at him. He almost wanted to grin, but kept his features relatively blank as he looked back at her. She remained silent, and didn't respond to his comment.

She finally swallowed and looked back down at the ledger. "Looking for a book?" She asked plainly. Tom was now annoyed, he was expecting some kind of remark… like how she had been at the Vablatsky seminar. He wondered if what he had seen in the alley had somehow affected her mood.

"No, actually. I wanted to speak with you," he replied.

Her eyebrows rose with interest. "Oh? What do you want to talk about?"

"I was actually wondering if you were still interested in reading the Wenlock book. I've almost finished it myself, that's all."

Hermione stared back at him, blankly. "That's okay," she replied, "It's probably not a good idea to lend it to me – just in case something was to happen," she replied, resolutely.

"Oh, but I thought you said that you would never hurt a book," Tom responded lightly, and watched as her fists clenched at his comment.

"I would never purposely hurt a book," she replied, and Tom felt his lips twitch at how she had started to react in annoyance to him, the blank façade slipping away.

"Of course, Hermione," he said. "I am still happy to make a deal with you, if you are willing to hear it."

Hermione looked at him again and he watched as she bit her lip in thought. She seemed to be warring with herself as to wanting to hear the deal or not. Finally she sighed. "What sort of deal do you want to make then?"

Tom smirked. "As long as I am present when you are reading the book, I see no risk in lending it to you," he said.

Hermione simply stared at him. Her mouth opened several times and then closed, nothing coming out. Finally she spoke. "T-that's it? You just want to be present when I read it?" she asked, completely forgetting herself in her surprise.

"What? Did you think I'd ask for your first born or something?" he asked with a touch of sarcasm.

She rolled her eyes; he smirked, waiting for whatever witty retort she had. She opened her mouth to speak, but she didn't. Instead, another voice – irritatingly familiar to Tom – interrupted them.

"Miss Edwards?"

Both turned around and Tom almost swore out loud as he saw Alexander Lestrange standing there. What was that stuck up prat doing here?

Lestrange walked towards them, his eyes meeting Tom's coldly and Tom wanted to sneer as a superior glint passed through the prat's eyes.

"Riddle," Lestrange greeted rather shortly.

"Lestrange," Tom returned in a perfunctory manner.

Lestrange turned his attention to Hermione who looked as though she was sitting and watching their exchange with interest. She then looked at Lestrange curiously, obviously wondering why he was here too.

"Alphard said that he saw you at the Leaky Cauldron. I wanted to take this opportunity to come and apologise to you… formerly," he said, and Tom had to control a snicker at how awkward and stiff Lestrange was.

Hermione gave a small smile. "Oh really, it's fine. Er, I didn't get hit in the end…" she replied awkwardly.

Lestrange quickly glanced at Tom. "Yes, it was lucky you weren't hit. Again, I wanted to reiterate my sincerest apologies."

"What spell did you use anyway?" Hermione suddenly asked, looking curious. Tom was slightly surprised at how there seemed to be no anger or offence on her behalf at Lestrange. Curious little witch, he thought. Tom watched with satisfaction as Lestrage's cheeks tinged a slight red; obviously embarrassed at having to go into further detail.

"Engorgio skullus," Lestranged muttered and looked away.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up, and to Tom's complete and utter surprise she burst out laughing. It was strange watching her laugh, usually she was on-guard about one thing or another – or too busy being thoroughly offended at everything – well, around Tom anyway. He also noted how Lestrange was looking at her in surprise. Obviously he was expecting her to be outraged as well – like most girls would have been.

She finally finished laughing. "Quite the nasty hex," she commented with mirth. "Do you even know the counter-spell?"

Lestrange stood up straighter, hands clasped behind back. "Of course I do. One does not cast a spell he doesn't know the counter for," he almost recited mechanically.

Hermione looked to be biting the inside of her cheek – obviously trying to hold further laughter in. "Right… well, from the impression I got, I would assume that that Smith's head was already big enough."

Tom watched in annoyance as Lestrange's lips twitched. "Yes, well, I'd like to think that it was a lesson in a literal sense… Perhaps even out the physical characteristics with the mental ones."

Hermione laughed again. "Well, now that he's been 'outed' as a bit of a cheat, I highly doubt he'll be invited to anymore quidditch matches," she commented. "With that said I accept your apology."

Lestrange's shoulders noticeably loosened. "Well to make up for it… I was, ah, wondering if you'd…" he paused and Tom noted the annoyed look he was shot for merely being present. Tom did not take the hint and continued to stand there. If he wanted privacy, he was going to have to ask for it, and the pompous git would never drop his pureblood manners with a girl in the room.

Lestrange took a breath and looked away from Tom and back at Hermione, who Tom noted was watching the exchange with a calculating look in her eyes.

"… Would you allow me to take you to get ice cream one afternoon?" he blurted out quickly.

Tom kept his features schooled, but on the inside he was completely surprised. One of the prissiest purebloods around was willing to be seen in public with a girl whose blood status he didn't know of. Nor was she the girl who Tom knew his parents had been pushing him to marry – one of those unattractive Parkinson bints.

Well, this was certainly a change from the Lestrange first encountered at Hogwarts, Tom thought. He hadn't been able prove his heritage for arseholes like Lestrange and Malfoy in his first few years at Hogwarts. Anger flashed through him as he recalled their cruel taunts and pranks that whilst Tom learnt to deflect very quickly, still caused utter fury when he remembered them. Whilst their prick of a friend Black just seemed to sit back and ignore most of what happened in Slytherin; either too preoccupied with quidditch or his school marks.

They soon learnt their lessons though. Nothing could, of course, be brought back on Tom though. Then he secured his own group, his Knights, and was undisputedly the most intelligent student in Hogwarts… so unfortunately for Lestrange and Malfoy, there wasn't much that they could do to touch him. Showing any obvious discord in Slytherin was the one rule that was never broken by anyone. Any disagreements never left the Slytherin quarters, and this suited Tom's needs just fine.

Tom turned his attention back to Hermione and realised that she was still looking at Lestrange in surprise, with Lestrange staring back at her expectantly.

"That really isn't necessary, I mean you already apologised," she replied, but there was no malice in her covert rebuff.

"Oh I insist - just as friends of course," he replied. "I would detest the idea that you simply know me as the man who almost hit you with a terrible hex."

Hermione bit on her lower lip. "Oh… well, I guess it's no problem then… just as… er, friends. When would you like to go?"

"How about tomorrow afternoon?" he suggested.

"Okay. Well, I guess I'll see you then," she replied.

Lestrange took this as his cue to leave. "Good day to you Miss Edwards," he nodded his head politely, before giving Tom a short glance, "Riddle," he noted.

Tom merely nodded his head, not saying anything, and watched as Lestrange stiffly made his way out of the store. Once he was out of sight, he turned back to Hermione, who had a strange look on her face.

"So," he began, breaking the silence, "are you interested in reading the book?"

Hermione looked at him surprised. Maybe she had been expecting him to make some sort of comment about Lestrange. Tom purposely didn't for that reason alone. The more off-guard he put her with his actions, the more she would be forced to make decisions quickly; which is exactly how Tom wanted things to operate between them. Not waiting for her to answer, he continued.

"How about I come over at my lunch break tomorrow?" he asked. Tom knew that by her being in her own space, it would simply reassure her more to agree.

"Oh, I couldn't make you give up your lunch break," she replied.

Tom merely smirked. "Well I highly doubt that being in here," Tom gestured towards all the books, "is a waste of my time… although I suppose you have a fair point, you can therefore provide lunch."

Hermione's mouth opened and then closed again in surprise. Crossing her arms, she furrowed her eyebrows. Tom observed that she was obviously weighing up the pros and cons as to whether she should accept his offer. Finally she sighed and looked back up at him.

"Fine," she replied. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow at lunch."

Tom decided that now was the time to leave, before she had too much time to rethink her decision.

"Very well, see you tomorrow Hermione." He replied, and before she could say anything in response, he smoothly turned on his feet. Flicking his wand in the air, he heard a huff of annoyance as he undid the hair spell and her hair fell all over the place. Tom's smirk widened as he heard her mutter some rather unsavoury curse words directed at her hair.

"Thank you!" she called out sarcastically as he walked off.

Tom didn't turn around, if he did she would surely notice how pleased he looked with himself – and that just wouldn't do at all. No, he was waiting to share that particular look with her when he managed to wrench all her secrets from her.

It would take time, something that at this point in his life; Tom felt he had almost an unlimited supply of…
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Right Place, Wrong Time?