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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Author Note: Thanks for reading :)

Hermione leaned against a bookcase in exasperation. It had been an unusually busy morning in the shop, and she had been roped in several times to help Tarquin deal with customer after customer. She had just gotten rid of the last customer, an elderly lady who had talked Hermione's ear off for Merlin knows how long about anything and everything. Hermione figured that the old woman had simply been lonely; therefore she had been too polite to move her on and had lost most of her morning because of it.

She smiled at Tarquin who – looking absolutely flustered – came and stood beside her and exhaled loudly.

"Bloody hell, if I get one more customer through here saying 'I don't know the title, can't remember who wrote it or what's on the cover…Do you know the book I'm talking about?' I think I will resort to the most unseemly behaviour."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him. "At least you weren't stuck listening to that old woman for what felt like hours," she commented.

Tarquin grinned, "Ah yes, if I hadn't have been so busy I would've come to your rescue. Mrs Bisley often corners me… although it looks as though she has found a new victim. Watch out, you'll be the new flavour of the month," he joked. "And then you won't be able to get rid of her."

"That isn't funny."

"Well it is… for me, that is." He grinned cheekily.

Hermione shook her head. "Well I haven't been able to get anything sorted this morning at all, which is annoying."

"Do you mind waiting to sort a bit longer? I need to get some lunch or I'm going to bloody well pass out!"

"I suppose so," she replied in a mock exasperated tone, "Go on, before we get inundated even more," she said, making a shooing motion.

"Thanks, you're a darling!" he half-yelled as he bounded out of the shop.

Hermione grinned as she watched him leave and headed up to the front counter and made herself comfortable on the spindly stool. Leaning against the counter, she yawned and rubbed a hand through her hair, which no doubt looked like a horror again after this morning. Annoyance rushed through her as she realised that she had again forgotten to buy something to help keep it back. Idly, she wondered what kind of spell Riddle had used to tie her hair back the day before.

How was it that a wizard knew that spell and she didn't? Well, it would be a cold night in hell before she'd ask him what it was. Staring at the counter, she grinned when she spotted a random piece of twine and with a bit of concentration, she used it to tie back her hair and grinned in satisfaction when it held. There, that will do just fine! She thought, satisfied, as she gingerly patted her new ponytail.

Thinking of that spell reminded her that Riddle would, of course, be arriving soon with the book. She still didn't understand it. He said that he didn't want anything. Although Hermione quickly reminded herself that he didn't do things for free… although he didstate that the only condition was that he was present when she was reading it. That was it. Nothing else… apparently. Hermione sighed; she shouldn't have agreed to it at all. After all, who knew what went on in his head? Well, at least Hermione could admit that she had a better idea than most. Yet here she was, accepting to spend time with him so she could read a book. But it wasn't just any book, she thought, feeling a small amount of justification. She knew from reading the history of Wenlock's work that the original edition had gone missing sometime in the 1800's. Dolohov's family had obviously come across the book in a less than legal matter… really, she should report it to the Ministry – it belonged with Wenlock's ancestors, or the Ministry archives – not holed away in some pureblood family's library. Hermione felt slightly guilty… but she couldn't go to the Ministry – she might attract unnecessary attention to herself, and she was grimly reminded of why she couldn't do that.

She suddenly felt as though she had sunk to a new low. Reading books in control of the future Dark Lord… What would Harry or Ron say if they found out? They would be angry with her - that was for sure. But she had just gotten so caught up with the thought of getting her hands on that book that she had been blinded. Reading Wenlock's own personal notes was just too tempting. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity! Arithmancy was one of Hermione's most favourite magical subjects and she had even spent some time working on several specialised Arithmancy projects whilst in her graduate program at the Ministry. She reasoned that her getting to read that book would have been like Ron finally seeing the Chudley Cannons win the Quidditch World Cup… or perhaps, even one game for that matter.

Riddle was always around, anyway, she thought in hasty annoyance – trying to ignore the fact that her internal monologue continuously ended in some sort of justification of her recent behaviour. Well, it wasn't a lie, he was always around. Hermione wasn't stupid; she had obviously become some sort of curiosity for him… well, if she wasn't prior to that, she would definitely be now – thanks to Vablatsky. She just had to be careful, pretend as though she belonged here… If she fought him, and no one else knew about her past except Dumbledore, then the odds were looking quite good in her favour, she reasoned.

Hermione therefore ignored the niggling voice that reminded her that Riddle had eventually become a Master of Legilimency. Well, if he was already on his way, he hadn't attempted anything on her yet. Not once had she felt him try to enter her mind – something she was quite familiar with from her training at the Ministry. Hermione blanched at the memory of having her thoughts invaded by her supervisor. Hermione had struggled with Occlumency – it simply wasn't something that could be taught theoretically, it was a skill that you had to master through your own emotional control. She had passed the requirements for an Unspeakable – which, admittedly, were higher than what would be expected for an ordinary person. Obviously it was an important skill to have as an Unspeakable – considering the important projects they were involved in. Without the required training, information could get into the wrong hands – with disastrous outcomes. The only person she had confided with in regards to her difficulty learning the skill and her lower-than-perfect marks was Harry. Harry understood, after everything he had gone through. She hadn't even told Ron – at the time she had felt tired at the thought of even discussing it with him - as Ron didn't care about that sort of thing. He would have just reassured her that she had passed in the end, and that would've been all that mattered. Well, he had a point, Hermione thought wryly, but it was something that had bothered her to no end.

She just had to be careful. If he was going to snoop around her life, she would just need to give him nothing more to be curious about; even though he seemed to be nosey about absolutely everything. What an annoying git! She scowled, remembering that she had also agreed to provide him with lunch. She should have poisoned the food – or just put a whole heap of laxatives in it… either way, Hermione would enjoy the outcome. In the end, she had just ended up making sandwiches – nothing fancy, just tomato chutney and cheese. Well, she reasoned, she wasn't going to give Lord Voldemort the satisfaction of enjoying her cooking; although she personally loved the simplicity of chutney cheese sandwiches.

She looked up as Tarquin re-entered the shop, a steaming bag of chips in his hand. He gave her a wink as he walked back in.

"Thanks, Hermione," he said, mouth full or chips, "I was so hungry."

She smiled and stood up. "You know I could've given you some food from upstairs."

Tarquin quirked an eyebrow. "And miss out on hot chips? Never."

"They'll make you fat if you eat them every day," Hermione commented with a grin.

Tarquin shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "That will never happen to me." He then popped another two chips in his mouth and moaned in delight. "These are sooo good – want some?"

"No, that's quite alright… and never say 'never' Tarquin," she smirked at him.

"Don't worry about me, darling, I promise you will never stop having to look at this gorgeous body," he replied, and made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, trying to hold in her laughter, but before she could respond the door opened again and Tom Riddle entered the shop. Both Tarquin and Hermione turned their attention to him. Tom looked up at the both of them as he shrugged his robe off.

"Ah! Tom, what a surprise!" Tarquin said – voice full of innuendo, and gave a wink to Hermione which caused her to blanch slightly.

"Did you get me chips for lunch then?" Tom asked Hermione, obviously choosing not to comment on Tarquin's insinuation – much to Hermione's embarrassed relief - as he walked up to them.

"No, I made sandwiches." Hermione scowled somewhat at his ordering tone.

"Hermione thinks that chips make you fat," Tarquin added.

"They do!" Hermione turned her attention back to Tarquin, "Especially if you eat them every day, like you do!"

"I'm surprised you're worried about that sort of thing, considering you're going to get ice-cream with Alexander Lestrange this afternoon," Tom said, and smirked.

Hermione's scowl deepened to the point of no return.

"She's what? Since when?" Tarquin asked in shock.

Hermione gave a withering glare to Tom, before she turned to Tarquin. "It's nothing, really."

"But what about dear Ronald! Oh, you'll break his heart, you will!" Tarquin said dramatically.

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed. "It's not a date. He's simply apologising for almost cursing me at that quidditch match. That's all," she said, with scary finality.

"I went to school with that bloke. You might not think it's a date, but he probably does," Tarquin responded. "And anyway, would Ronald be pleased about this?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Tarquin. "Well if he does think like that then he will learn pretty quickly that it's not… and Ron wouldn't care because we are perfectly secure in our relationship, thank you very much!" she snapped, though Tarquin was not taking her seriously at all. Turning to Tom, her scowl didn't leave her face, "Well, do you have the book? Come on, I'm hungry and I've only got 40 minutes to read," she huffed and walked off, not even waiting.

She went down the back of the shop where her desk was located and plopped down, and summoned their lunch. Tom Riddle had done that on purpose, and now Tarquin was going to want every single detail about her ice cream 'trip' with Lestrange. Yes, she was calling it a 'trip' because it was not a date. She scowled… perhaps she had it wrong and things in this decade were a bit different. No one would bat an eye-lid in her time if she went to coffee or dinner with a male friend. In fact, she had regular catch ups with Neville without their significant others around all the time. All her life in fact, Hermione had found it easier to have male friends rather than female ones. Ginny and Luna were, of course, exceptions.

She looked up in annoyance as Tom smoothly pulled up a chair and sat down next to her.

"Thank you, very much…" she muttered, and pushed his sandwich towards him.

"I'm sorry Hermione, I didn't realise that he didn't know," Tom replied smoothly. Hermione looked at him and was extremely irritated to see that his eyes were betraying the other other-wise apologetic expression he was wearing.

"Well, it doesn't matter, does it? Now, do you have the book?" Hermione asked as she picked up her sandwich. When she looked up, she realised that Tom simply was looking at her – eyebrows raised – as though he was highly amused by her.

"What?" she asked, about to bite into her sandwich.

"Where's my book?" he asked.

Hermione's eyebrows rose. "Er, I don't know… Just pick one from the shelves." She gestured around them.

"But I don't know what to pick," he mused. "I don't really think that it's fair, do you? Me, sitting here without something to read… and you're enjoying the book I'm so kindly letting you read."

"But that wasn't part of the deal!" Hermione quickly shot back, before she even had time to think. "The deal was that you would let me read the book as long as you were present!"

"But what am I supposed to do whilst you sit there and read?" he asked, his eyes wide with faux-innocence.

Hermione clenched her fists. She knew that there would be something – anything in fact – which allowed him to be utterly irritating. Hermione was suddenly irked to think that she was more annoyed at him, than she was fearful of him. Taking a deep breath, she looked back up at him and smiled sweetly.

"Perhaps you could enjoy your sandwich whilst I read," she replied, her smile so fake it could rival his supposed 'look' of innocence.

"Come on Hermione; just recommend something that I can read. Then you can enjoy the book – no interruptions."

"But that's not the point! The deal was that you would bring the book and I would read it!" Hermione quickly retorted, realising that she was repeating herself and was most probably going to lose for that matter.

"What's the issue? I don't see what's wrong with getting me a book… just something to, you know, pass the time," he replied all-too-innocently.

Hermione mentally counted to ten before exhaling a breath she didn't even realise that she was holding in. Pasting another smile on her face, she quickly stood up and went and retrieved the potions book she had told Minerva about. The only reason she chose that particular book was that she had a sneaking suspicion that if the book wasn't up to standard that it would become another issue… and then she'd never get to read that book.

Handing him the potions book, she noted the curious glint in his eyes. Hermione smirked; he obviously hadn't read it before.

"Here, have you read this?" she asked innocently, feeling superior because she had in fact read it. Twice.

Tom looked at the book, face remaining blank. "No. Obviously you have though," he commented lightly as he opened it to a random page, his eyes instantly drawn to the content – a mixture of history, theory and then the directions, something which was different to the required potions texts used whilst at Hogwarts, which only held a brief description and directions.

"Hogwarts doesn't even have it. I only know of one other copy in existence which is in the Ministry," Hermione replied smugly.

Tom looked up at her and raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Oh really? You know this how exactly?"

Hermione quickly stopped herself from reacting. It annoyed her how he had to make everything sound suspicious. "Minerva McGonagall told me that she had never seen it there." She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, face blank. "Now, can I please have my book?" she asked, trying her best not to sound impatient and effectively changing the direction of the conversation in the process.

Tom looked up from the book and reached down into the leather satchel he brought with him and carefully removed the book. Hermione had to stop herself from reaching over and taking it; this debacle in finding him a book had already almost cost her ten minutes of reading time.

Quietly thanking him, she cautiously took the book and looked down at it. This is what she had been so desperate to read ever since she had first started learning Arithmancy. Opening it, she was quickly dragged in, not even noticing the future Dark Lord that sat beside her with a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he observed her.

Hermione was so busy reading through the book, trying to take in all the information; she didn't even register her surroundings anymore. However an amused snigger brought her out of her book. She looked up just as Tom shook his head going through the potion book.

"What is it?" she asked curiously, before eyeing her sandwich and realising that she hadn't touched it at all yet.

"Hm?" he replied, looking up from the book.

"What are you reacting too?" Hermione pressed and then reached for her food. Her stomach growled angrily at being ignored. Hermione eyed Tom and assumed that he didn't even realise he had made an obvious reaction to something.

"If my old potions Professor had a read of this, he would have a heart attack," he replied.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up curiously. "What are you talking about?"

"Barrufio's Brain Elixir," he simply said.

"And?" Hermione pressed. She had no idea what he was going on about.

"Well, this book states that you need to grind all of the ingredients-" he began in an incredulous tone, but was quickly cut off by Hermione.

"Of course you need to grind all of the ingredients. Otherwise how will it effectively enter the blood stream quickly?" Hermione interrupted quickly. "I mean, it's quite obvious, considering the Elixir is only a short term stimulant, you would need to absorb it as quickly as possible."

Tom smirked and raised his eyebrows. "What I was trying to say - before you interrupted me - was that Advanced Potion Making directed you to cut, not grind, the ingredients. Hence the potion would have extremely different outcomes."

"But…" Hermione quickly stopped herself. The Advanced Potion Making text didn't state that in her time. Though if she truly recalled, she realised that her text book had not been the first edition... which meant that the mistake had obviously been rectified sometime between now and Hermione's schooling years. She looked at Tom, who was watching her carefully, obviously waiting to see what she was about to say.

When she didn't continue, he simply shrugged his shoulders. "It would be interesting to see the effects of the potion with using this other technique… You seem to know all about it…" he commented rather dryly.

Hermione's cheeks flushed in indignation. "I would never use such a potion! It's almost like cheating!"

"Well how do you know so much about it then? And of course you seem to be most aware of getting the best reaction from it," he said, a triumphant smirk gracing his perfect features.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "I haven't. It-it simply seemed like the most obvious way to make the potion most effective. Perhaps, for your information, I even might have a flair for potion making!" she replied angrily.

She noted in annoyance how he was obviously trying to hold his laughter in. He was so irritating! She would love to wipe that smirk off his face… since it always seemed to permanently stuck there. The worst part was that the smirk didn't distort or taint his features; Hermione was loathe to admit that it made the git look even more handsome. In a completely arrogant way! Her mind quickly added, feeling heat on her cheeks as she scowled at him.

"Okay," he began with amusement clear in his voice, "I believe that you would never dare to try it," he finished, mockingly.

Hermione felt even more anger rise in her. "Well some of us actually have morals… Have you tried it?" she asked, though the tone of her voice hinted that she expected him to have tried a potion that she completely disapproved of.

She noted that Tom's eyes glinted, and she suddenly regretted saying anything. She couldn't help herself though. He continuously angered her, and in the heat of the moment she was too angry to remember who he was or control what came out of her mouth, for that matter.

She watched as Tom placed the book down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his long legs. He looked her right in the eye, and she shuddered at his now close proximity. "Why Hermione," He said quietly, as though her name was merely a breath of air he was taking, "are you suggesting that my morals are anything less than scrupulous?" His expression was completely innocent, although, she carefully noted that his eyes told a completely different story.

Hermione took in a deep breath, and unconsciously leaned back, trying to remove herself from the overarching presence that he had suddenly created. She had no idea how he managed to do that, it almost felt as though the pressure and atmosphere of the entire shop had changed in the blink of an eye. He continued to stare at her, head tilted as though he was merely studying her and that nothing else was going on. She then watched as one of his hands slowly rubbed his jaw line in what could be interpreted as contemplation.

She wanted to break this sudden change in the air, and purposely blinked, breaking off their momentary staring competition and bit her lip. "Why, why would I insinuate such a thing?" She asked, trying to sound offhand about the entire exchange.

"You tell me," Tom simply stated, though he didn't moved from his current position.

"Well… well you were teasing me. And, well, I simply wondered…. Since you did comment – after all – that you'd be interested to see the effect of this method. I guess I assumed…" she trailed off weakly.

Tom suddenly leaned back and Hermione exhaled, feeling all the previous pressure tension quickly disperse.

"Why would I use one of those potions? I hardly need one." He replied, not even remarking about her weak excuse – which admittedly surprised her.

Hermione would normally find such a comment incredibly arrogant, however the way he said it, it was more self-assured than anything. It was as though he was simply stating a fact that everyone should know… that Tom Riddle was exceptionally bright. Hermione had to grudgingly admit that he was bright, even though he was the complete epitome of evil.

"Anyway, my lunch is coming to an end, so I really need to get back to work." He said, as if the last few minutes didn't even happen.

Hermione stared at him. She was still surprised that he had dropped the whole thing… for now, she couldn't help but think.

"So I'll need this…" he said as he fluidly reached across right in front of her and grabbed the book, and Hermione felt incredibly nervous with his close proximity. She noted in annoyance that he seemed completely unaffected by it all. Stupid intimidating prat!

He stood up, carefully placing the book in his bag and smirked at Hermione. "Well I guess I'll see you tomorrow. Oh, and I also enjoy ham and mustard sandwiches too," he said, causing Hermione to narrow her eyes at him.

"Am I expected to make you lunch every time you let me read that book?" she asked, unable to hide the annoyed tinge in her voice.

"Well, I think that's fair," he said, as he began to walk away, "I am after all, doing you the favour… Oh and enjoy your date with Lestrange." He called over his shoulder, already on his way out of the shop.

"It's not a date!" she quickly retorted in frustration. But it was too late, he was out of sight. Though Hermione could have sworn she heard him chuckle.

It was finally the afternoon and Hermione was getting ready to close up the shop after an equally hectic afternoon. Tarquin had already called it a day, but had demanded that she was to give him a 'full report' the next day about going to ice cream with Lestrange. Hermione rolled her eyes at the thought. Honestly, she thought he was worse than Ginny in some aspects. If he didn't continuously talk about that girl he liked so much, she would seriously wonder about his sexuality… This whole situation bothered her; if she knew everyone was going to make such a big fuss, she would have simply declined.

She simply kept forgetting just how 'conservative' people in this age seemed. Of course, now that she had hindsight on her side, she realised that she was the ridiculous one for agreeing to it. If only she had time to think about it, but of course, she was put on the spot. That, of course, seemed to be a regular occurrence lately… having to make quick decisions. Hermione missed her easy days of where she could simply mull over a decision and weigh up all the pros and cons equally. That was one of the joys of working in a government job, after all.

There was a brisk knock on the front door and Hermione looked up, noting that Lestrange had arrived. She gave him a small smile and wave before grabbing her robe and throwing it on. As she took a quick glance down at herself, she randomly thought that she really needed to do some clothes shopping. She had now been stuck here longer than anticipated, and her bare minimum wardrobe wasn't even cutting it for someone who had always prided herself on being low maintenance.

She opened the door and stepped out, noting that since September had started, the temperature had made a noticeable change. Hermione greeted Lestrange quietly, as she closed and locked the door behind her.

"Miss Edwards, you look very nice," he complimented as she turned back to face him.

Hermione's eyebrows rose at the compliment. She was pretty sure that she looked extremely harried after the day that she had, and wanted to correct him almost straight away. Though as she observed him as they stepped into the crowd – how formally he held himself, she realised that she shouldn't bother correcting him – it would be a natural thing for him to compliment the person he was with.

"Thanks, and please just call me Hermione," she replied politely, not really knowing how to speak to him.

"Just call me Alex, then. Thank you for accompanying me," he replied.

"Oh, well, I actually haven't had ice cream in such a long time," she replied.

"Really? Do you not like it? We could go somewhere else if it suits?" he said, looking somewhat concerned about the idea that he had made a bad choice.

"No, no," she laughed, "I love ice cream… but my parents were rather strict about sweets and sugar, so I guess I never think to treat myself to it," she explained.

"Oh? Well I treat myself to it all the time," he gave a small smirk.

As they made their way through the usual Diagon Alley crowd, Hermione noted he was rather attractive, in that aristocratic way. He was quite tall; definitely over six foot two, with auburn hair that was much darker than Ron's more ginger-coloured hair, and a straight nose with a well-defined jaw line. Hermione was sure that he would have his pick of witches if wanted.

"So I really am sorry about the curse-" he began but Hermione quickly cut him off.

"Really, it's fine… I mean, no harm done," she quickly said.

"Right, well it's not the kind of man I am," he replied seriously.

Hermione had to acknowledge that she had been wondering about the kind of man he was; which was one of the reasons she had admittedly accepted his offer at first. She was curious after seeing the way he had interacted with Riddle, it was quite obvious that they despised one-another. This surprised Hermione greatly, as she had always thought that the Lestrange's had been loyal followers of Voldemort. She had already deduced from the obvious that Alphard and Lestrange must have been good friends, and she also recalled the strange look that had been shared between Minerva and Alphard when the fact that Riddle had stepped in and saved her from the curse came up in conversation. Perhaps not all the students of Hogwarts had been as enamoured by Mr Perfect, like she initially guessed. She wondered how Riddle had raised the ire of Lestrange and Alphard. Another thing she wondered was whether Lestrange was as evil as his successors, if he wasn't in Riddle's pocket.

"Alphard mentioned that you haven't been in London for long," Lestrange commented conversationally.

So in the time it took for them to make it to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, Hermione gave him the same run down she had given everyone about her arrival. It was starting to irritate her that she had to repeat it so often; hopefully she wouldn't have to keep telling it much more.

When they finally reached the small parlour, Hermione grinned as they entered. She hadn't been here since she arrived in the past and the place just hadn't been the same since Mr Fortescue was abducted and killed by Death Eaters during the war. Another family had taken over and she smiled as she remembered Harry complaining that the ice-cream tasted more 'watery' than when Fortescue ran it. She personally thought that Harry was just bitter that he didn't get free ice-cream anymore.

They stepped up to the counter and Hermione smiled as a much younger looking Fortescue stepped up to serve them.

"Ah, Alex, here for your usual, I'm guessing?" The man said, giving Lestrange an affable smile. Hermione guessed that the two knew each other quite well. She mused that he must, in deed, enjoy it quite regularly.

"Of course, Mr Fortescue." He smiled and then turned to Hermione, "What would you like Hermione?"

"Oh! Um…" Hermione looked up at the board and had no idea what to choose. Despite the fact that she never thought to eat ice-cream much, now that she was here, she realised how much she had missed it. "I'm not sure…" she thought out loud as she scanned the menu.

"Don't feel rushed, dear," Mr Fortescue replied cheerfully.

Hermione nodded and continued scanning; it was then that she spotted it. The one thing her parents absolutely refused to let her have whenever they got ice-cream… It was something that Hermione had always wanted as a child, yet was always denied it.

"I'll take the Knickerbocker Glory, please." She grinned and then bit down on her lip in anticipation. She imagined her Mother's face if she saw what she was up to. Both of her parents would be absolutely mortified. Hermione's parents had usually only ever allowed her a small scoop of strawberry ice-cream in a cone whenever they went on holidays or what they considered 'special events'. Even as Hermione became her own adult, her parents reprimanding tones regarding what they considered 'bad' food always – without fail – ran through her head when she made her choices. For once, Hermione chose not to deny herself.

Florean laughed and Lestrange's eyes widened slightly. "Miss, are you sure you can handle it? Such a tiny little mite you are," Florean commented, as he began to prepare their order.

"Oh most definitely," she replied, full of self-assurance.

"So this is what happens when parents deny their children sweets?" Lestrange drawled, though she could tell he was merely teasing with the small smile that curled his lips.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose… what is your 'regular' then?" she asked.

"Strawberry and chocolate with fudge sauce and flaked almonds," he recited easily.

"All the time?" she asked.

"Most certainly. Do you always order that?" he said, and nodded as Florean began to fill the tall ice-cream glass.

"No; but how could I resist since it's been so long between ice-creams? I do also like vanilla with chocolate sauce though," she answered.

"Well, it's a challenge then… we can't leave until you've eaten the whole thing," he replied with a dead serious expression on his face, though she could see the mirth in his eyes.

"Fine," she replied, a determined expression appearing on her face. "You're on."

Hermione groaned. There were at least three more mouthfuls left in her serving and she wasn't sure if she could manage to eat them. The vanilla and strawberry ice-cream, strawberry sauce, fruit, wafer and cream now mixed somewhat uncomfortably in her stomach.

"Had enough?" Lestrange, or Alex, as she was trying to think of him as, asked – having long ago finished his ice-cream.

"I'm going to finish this," she replied, eyeing off the remains. "I just need time."

"You don't have to," he replied. "Don't make yourself ill," he then added in a serious and overly responsible tone.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. She was thoroughly enjoying it. She also actually didn't mind Alex. He seemed nice enough, albeit a bit awkward when the conversation gone into a lull. They had talked about the many regular topics you discussed when you first met someone; interests, hobbies and family – well obviously Hermione skirted around that particular topic. Though he spoke of his family, who he seemed to get along with, though didn't see his parents that often. He was an only child, confirming her suspicions that he had to be the father of Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange. Hermione was therefore confused that he wasn't one of Voldemort's lackeys, as Rodolphus and Rabastan were two of his most dedicated and dangerous Death Eaters. Hermione was desperately curious to find out why then, it seemed as though Tom and Alex hated one-another. It irritated her to no end that it would be completely inappropriate to just ask him; Hermione hated not being able to know something.

She had initially worried very much that he was treating it as a date; therefore she was sure to mention the fact that she had a boyfriend as soon as it was tastefully possible and she thought it was a lovely, friendly gesture for him to invite her out like this. He didn't even bat an eyelid at her mention of a boyfriend, which made Hermione feel much better.

"So," he began, and Hermione wanted to giggle at the way he attempted to sound casual, it just wasn't in his blood – quite literally. "What is your project based on?" he asked.

Hermione explained that it was based around Ancient Runes and kept it at the bare minimum.

"It's still very exploratory at this stage," she concluded her explanation, "therefore I wouldn't want to go into too much ridiculous detail and bore you."

"So is Riddle assisting you with your studies?" he suddenly asked, causing Hermione to almost spit her mouthful of ice-cream out at him.

"What?" she asked, wide-eyed.

Lestrange suddenly looked nervous. "I'm sorry; I did not mean to pry in such a way..." he explained.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, well perhaps she wouldn't have to sneakily broach the subject after all. "No, no, he's not – why do you ask?"

"Well," he gripped the back of his neck in what Hermione perceived as him being uncomfortable, "He's just been around the two times I've seen you. Also, he was always involved in… academic pursuits… I was just curious – I apologise, it really isn't my place to ask anyway."

"It's fine," Hermione assured, "He actually offered to help… but no, he just always seems to be conveniently around…" she answered the last part contemplatively – more for herself – rather than him. "Forgive me for prying, but you two don't seem to like each other very much…?"

Lestrange's eyebrows shot up. "So, you noticed that, did you?" he asked.

Hermione simply nodded her head.

"Well I would say it's neither… here no there? He was a year younger than me so it's not like I was in his age group, nor did we hang around in the same groups at school. I guess you could say we didn't really see eye-to-eye… you would understand that some people just don't get along?"

Hermione mused over his statement, immediately trying to analyse every word. "I suppose so. I guess there are just some people who don't click," she replied as she thought about what he had just said. What did he mean? Did he know about the kinds of things Riddle got up to in school – or was this based around something else? Or maybe they just simply didn't get along?

"Exactly," he agreed.

They remained silent as Hermione finished the rest of her ice-cream. She gave a proud sigh as she was finally able to push the empty ice-cream glass away from her.

"Well, I must say, I have never seen a girl eat so much ice-cream," he commented.

"It was very enjoyable, thanks again," she replied giving him a small smile.

"Not a problem, it was very enjoyable company," he complimented. Hermione wondered if he was telling the truth. She admitted that it had been nice, but there were quite a few awkward stalls in conversation, which she had struggled to manoeuvre out of.

"Thanks. Well it's getting late, so I suppose I should get back home…" she replied and stood up.

"Oh…" Lestrange watched her get up. "Would you like me to escort you to your apparition point then?" He quickly stood up and Hermione was reminded of those overly formal men in the period dramas she used to watch with her Mother on the BBC.

"Apparition point?" she asked, confused. She didn't need- "Ohhhh!" she exclaimed, catching on. "No, I actually live in the flat above the bookshop. You're welcome to walk me back if you wish?"

"Oh," his eyebrows rose in surprise, "Certainly; shall we?" He asked and held the crook of his arm out.

Hermione stared strangely at his arm, but linked her arm in anyway, so she didn't seem rude. She had seen men walking with women like that in the alley – she just thought it was odd that he was doing it now. Perhaps because he felt as though he knew her better now?

As they walked through Diagon Alley, there was little conversation, as Hermione really didn't have much to say to be completely honest. When they reached the door of the shop, she turned and smiled at him.

"Thank you, it was nice to get out and I haven't had ice-cream in such a long time," she said politely. "And you have officially repaid whatever debt you were worried about." She added.

"Oh… right. Well, I guess I will see you?" he asked, staring at her.

She felt a bit exposed under his scrutiny, but smiled, her cheeks tinging slightly. "Of course. Well goodnight, Alex."

"Goodnight Hermione." He smirked and bowed his head slightly before leaving.

Hermione sighed as she walked between the aisles; she had fortunately been able to get a lot of sorting done in the last couple of days, in between putting up with Tarquin's constant chatter about her supposed 'date' with Alexander Lestrange and the smugness that was Tom Riddle.

She unconsciously scowled as she thought about Tom Riddle. The way he sat, the way he spoke – everything was so arrogant and seemingly well-rehearsed. She wondered if he spent every morning practicing each and every facial expression he intended to use that day. There was no way it was possible that someone could be that cool, calm and collected all the time. Not to mention he would constantly cause her to lose focus whilst they were reading. He would, without fail, comment on whatever he was reading and then Hermione would end up getting into a debate with him on whatever the subject matter was – causing Hermione's progress on reading Wenlock's book to be much too slow for her liking. It also didn't help that he seemed to always easily finish whatever he was reading, which hurt Hermione's pride somewhat. She had always been the fastest reader, or the one to grasp things before everyone else. Admittedly, she wasn't used to dealing with someone who easily understood every single one of her views on magic, even if he didn't necessarily agree on them. It bothered her immensely that this person just happened to be Voldemort.

"What's bothering you Hermione? You look really scary when you're angry," Tarquin commented as he walked into her aisle.

Hermione spun around. "What are you talking about?" she asked, rather hotly.

"You look like you've sucked on a lemon," he said rather plainly.

"Oh." She brought her hands to her face. "Well, I'm fine."

"Right, right, you're always fine," he responded sarcastically. "If you're that mad at him, perhaps you should give him an ultimatum," he said seriously.

Hermione stopped looking through the book she had been handling and turned to Tarquin… Did he somehow know? Was there some kind of cunning person located under his happy-go-lucky, take everyone at 'face value' personality?

"I mean, tell him that if he doesn't come and visit you, it's over. That will sort out his true feelings; let me tell you that right now. Blokes just need to be told straight Hermione."

"Oh." He thought she was thinking about Ron. Well, that was another thing she was trying not to think about. Her birthday was coming up and she would most likely be spending it here, not with Ron or her family.

"Just say it. I mean you could even warn him of all the male attention you've been getting. Maybe that'll set him straight," he joked, eyes twinkling.

Hermione sighed, her chest aching slightly. "Yeah…" she trailed off, wondering what Ron would be doing in his time. Would he be trying to find her? What was the future even like now? This then got her thinking about the many different theories behind time travel, and it made her head hurt even more, so she immediately pushed it down - just like she had been doing since she arrived here. Pushed it down and locked it away.

She felt a comforting hand on her shoulder, looking up, she saw Tarquin had stepped closer and was giving her a genuine smile. "If you ever need to talk – about anything – I'm here to listen… I know I've said it before, but you're my friend and I worry about you sometimes." She felt a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder and she smiled. He truly was a good person, naïve, but good.

She swallowed her mood and gave pasted on a cheeky grin. "Well, as your friend, I think you need to take your own advice… I hear so much about that girl you like, yet you never seem to do anything about it." She said.

Tarquin groaned. "Well, it's difficult…"

"How?" Hermione scoffed.

"Well… because… she's kind of seeingsomeoneelse!" he quickly blurted out, face heating up. "And I won't do that, you know, try to steal another bloke's bird. Even though I know," he said with conviction, "that she's the only girl I will ever love!"

"You didn't tell me that!" Hermione replied quickly.

Tarquin shrugged. "It's okay; if she marries him I'll just wallow in self-pity for the rest of my life." He sighed dramatically.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh come off it. I'm sure you won't live like that at all," she reprimanded.

"I will!" he replied.

Hermione simply sighed and shook her head. "Well, don't let life pass you by just because you're focusing on this one girl."

"I'm not letting life 'pass me by' Hermione… Oh, hello Tom," he replied and then gave a wave over Hermione's shoulder. Hermione spun around to find Tom leaning against the bookshelf.

"Hello," he replied politely, eyeing the both of them.

A customer suddenly called from the front of the shop for assistance. Tarquin took this as his cue and walked off, mood seeming bright despite the conversation they just shared. Hermione sighed and then turned back to Tom, realising that lunch time always came around much too quickly.

"You give terrible advice," he said bluntly, before she even had a chance to speak.

"What are you talking about?" she huffed, and began walking to their usual spot.

"Don't let life pass you by?" he questioned with a fair imitation of her tone and sniggered.

Hermione felt her mood immediately darken. "What are you talking about? What's wrong with that advice?"

Tom shook his head. "So what, let him just sit back and be okay that something he wants, something he can't have may never be his?"

"Well what sort of advice should I give? Tell him to chase this girl and then potentially ruin a relationship or his pride?"

"What is the point going through life scared to do anything at the risk of offending others?" he retorted to her question.

Hermione huffed and sat down in her chair whilst summoning their lunch: roast beef sandwiches with relish. "And I suppose that you are an expert in that, as well as everything else in the world." She muttered, handing him his sandwich.

Tom took the sandwich and reached for the book he had been reading the day before on Ancient Egyptian magical theory. He looked at her. "I know a lot of things Hermione," he replied smoothly, smirk firmly in place, obviously amused at her completely offended behaviour.

"Right," she answered shortly, deciding to not even deign him with a response as he was obviously just doing it to get a rise out of her.

They both began reading, Hermione concentrating extra hard because she did not want to get distracted today. She was up to a fascinating chapter where Wenlock begins to go into detail about her discovery of the importance of number seven in magic.

"That's one of the most fascinating parts of the book," Tom commented, causing Hermione to tense in annoyance.

"Mmm-hmm," she replied and continued reading.

"I mean, seven is just so entrenched in magical culture, it's hard to believe that the theory doesn't go as far back as the founders…" Tom commented.

"Mmm-hmm," Hermione repeated, she refused to be pulled into another one of his debates on magical theory – as much as she enjoyed arguing – the sooner she finished the book, the better.

"In fact," Tom began and stood over her shoulder, "There is a really interesting paragraph right here," he said, far too close to her, "about her methodology." He pointed to the paragraph which was located about halfway down the next page she was to read.

Hermione couldn't help but notice his subtle cologne, mixed with the fresh smell of soap, and his extremely close proximity. Her lips thinned and her body tensed, not being used to such close contact from someone who she essentially realised she didn't know as well as she thought she did. How could you? She thought, in annoyance; Tom Riddle had more dimensions than anyone she had met, except for maybe Dumbledore.

She knew he was doing this because she was trying to ignore him. She knew, not just from her recent dealings, but even during the war, that Voldemort enjoyed the idea of making people squirm and make them feel irrational. It was almost like a sport for him. Instead of reacting to his nearness, she sniffed humourlessly.

"You're going to ruin it for me," she replied blankly and continued reading, completely ignoring him.

He continued standing there; she didn't know what he was expecting her to do, but she continued ignoring him. It gave her extreme satisfaction, despite how uneasy she felt being so close to him, that he was probably somewhat flummoxed that she wasn't responding to him. Though he would never show it of course, she thought smugly. Normally she always had a retort or would all too eagerly respond to the bait he would lay. Hermione couldn't lie, she did enjoy their discussions and arguments to an extent – how could she not? She always enjoyed anything academic, but she also decided that he wasn't always going to get his way either.

Suddenly Tarquin's voice, which sounded louder than usual, interrupted her triumphant thoughts. Hermione guessed he was at least an aisle or two over. The conversation wasn't difficult to miss…

"Oh no, Mrs Bisley, I think that Hermione has actually headed out. I think she had to run some errands or something…" She heard him say, quite clearly.

Oh bloody hell! It was that dotty, old woman from the other day! If Hermione was seen, she'd have to relinquish her entire afternoon. She silently thanked Tarquin for so obviously warning her. Quickly snapping the book closed, she looked up at Riddle, who was looking down at her in surprise.

"I have to get out of here," she said seriously and stood up.

"What are you talking about?" he replied, shaking his head – obviously wondering what she was going on about.

"Did you hear Tarquin? If I don't hide, I will be stuck listening to that old woman all afternoon!" she hissed, "I'm hiding!"

"Hermione, where on earth-"

"I'm not giving you some kind of explanation! I'm getting out of here… you have no idea… but by all means stay and find out," she smirked mockingly. With that, Hermione quickly dashed behind a book shelf that led to the back office. She quickly opened the door and slammed it behind her, not even waiting to see Riddle's expression.

Suddenly the door started jiggling and she was pushed unceremoniously away as Tom quickly stepped in, shutting it closely behind him. Hermione glared at him from the shelf she managed to catch herself on – instead of toppling onto the ground.

Tom turned and looked at her. "You didn't mention it was Mrs Bisley!" he hissed. "She used to come into Borgin and Burkes all the time trying to sell things."

"Well I thought you fully heard Tarquin giving me a warning! I got stuck with her for hours the other day," Hermione explained plainly as she righted herself.

"Try getting stuck with her day after day for a month!" Tom replied harshly. "Burke had to tell her we couldn't afford her goods; that's how bad it got."

Hermione took in his offended expression and suddenly burst out laughing. She never thought she would see him trying to escape someone so vehemently… perhaps his boggart wasn't just death, but dotty old women too. At that thought, she howled in laughter.

"Be quiet Hermione! She might hear," he said strictly.

But Hermione couldn't stop laughing, and Tom had to end up casting a silencing spell – whilst throwing an angry look at Hermione - around the whole room to keep her from being heard. Hermione didn't mind, it was one of the most priceless scenes she had seen in a long time.

Although she suddenly stopped laughing as she realised something important: she was now stuck in a small room with the future Dark Lord…
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Right Place, Wrong Time?