Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/545431.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major
      Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Hermione_Granger/Tom_Riddle
  Character:
      Tom_Riddle_|_Voldemort, Hermione_Granger, Harry_Potter
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Time_Travel, Romance, Angst, Paradox
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-10-25 Updated: 2015-06-09 Chapters: 12/? Words: 33366
****** The Time Travelers Husband ******
by TwistedTale
Summary
     Involuntary thrust through time over and over again, Hermione Granger
     keeps getting shuttled from one year to the next with only one
     consistency. Tom Riddle.
***** Prologue: Letters to Harry *****
**** Prologue: Letters to Harry ****
Dear Harry,
My name is Hermonie Ri- Granger, and you may not remember me, but I have
certainly not forgotten you. Once, we were the best of friends, as close as
siblings, if you do not remember me, this letter may seem very strange to you
but I need you to place any mistrust you have at the word of a stranger aside
for a moment. The fate of the world may very well depend on it.
Press your wand against this parchment along with a drop of blood and all will
be explained to you, for the information I have must be for your eyes alone.
Harry frowned at the yellowed parchment and placed it aside for a moment before
turning to the other items in the box. Inside were vials and vials of silvery
liquid he couldn't identify, a strange locket with a curling S on the front
(Which he refused to touch even before seeing the little 'Do not touch'
scribbled on a parchment on its chain- something felt very wrong about it.) a
wand, a large pile of parchment tied together with twine, a small vial with
some thick yellow substance in it (The label clearly declaring it was venom of
some sort) and a glittering silver knife one of the goblins in the room eyed
greedily.
"Is everything in order Mr. Potter?"
The goblin at his side asked brusquely. Harry frowned and looked down into the
box at the strange pile of mishmash again. How was he supposed to know if
everything was there?
"Eh… sure."
With a snap of its gnarled fingers the box and letter disappeared.
"No need for alarm Mr. Potter," the goblin drawled at his squawk of protest,
"they have merely been sent to the front… with a feather light charm added for
good measure."
"Couldn't you just shrink it?"
"If you wanted to damage the items inside, yes."
Harry sighed, "Never mind then."
"Will that be all?"
Harry nodded and the goblin led him out to the front desks where his parents
were waiting. His father ruffled his hair as soon as he got close enough and
grinned while his mother peered worriedly down at him.
"Is everything alright, dear?"
"Yeah mum, its fine."
"See Lily, I told you that you were worrying for nothing," she glared at her
husband but it seemed not to dampen his spirits at all. "So Harry, what did
this mysterious inheritance contain?"
"Tons of stuff, there was a locket, a bunch of old parchment, a few vials with
some silvery goo inside- oh and a knife," Harry didn't mention the venom or the
wand. They wouldn't let him keep the box if they knew about them (He could get
away with the knife, Sirius had given him one when he had turned ten and while
his mother had pitched a fit he had gotten to keep it.) He was reluctant to
mention the letter as well; he wanted to finish reading it before showing it to
his parents.
"Wicked!"
Lily frowned down at the two of them. "Why would someone send you something
like that?"
Harry shrugged and his mother's frown deepened. "Well I think I will have to
take a look through this box myself."
"Impossible," the goblin teller grunted over the large book he was scribbling
away at. "The contents are for one Harry James Potter only, if any other witch
or wizard tries to remove or handle the items the box is charmed to explode."
"Explode!" She declared in alarm, James looking just as stunned as his wife.
"Yes," the goblin said with relish, "explode. But young Mr. Potter should be
safe handling the items, as per your instructions we checked them box for any
malicious magic and found none." The goblin sounded disappointed.
"I don't like this," Lily said with a frown.
"Well if the goblin says it won't hurt the kid I say why not," James said
brightly.
"You are too lenient with him James, what if something in one of those vials
curses him, or makes him sick, or-"
"Harry, you know the signs of an object being cursed?"
Harry nodded.
"You know not to eat or drink anything strange without running it by your
mother or I first?"
He nodded again.
"You know you don't trust anything-?"
"If I can't see how it thinks and to watch out for everything else, I know."
"Good boy," James said, patting Harry on the shoulder "Harry can handle himself
Lily, and if he can't he knows to come to us. Don't forget we have a bright
kid… nothing at all like me at eleven."
That made his mother smile and Harry instantly relaxed. He had won the rights
to his box… for now.
"Merlin help us all if he was," she said teasingly making his father give an
affronted pout. She turned her startling green eyes to her son. "I am going to
trust you with this Harry. But any sign of trouble, any at all, you let us
know."
Harry smiled brightly and nodded taking the offered wooden box from the
disgruntled goblin behind the desk. True to their word it was light as a
feather.
"Well now that that is all taken care of, let's finish our school shopping!"
The rest of the day was spent in a wild haze of stores, books, potions
ingredients, brass cauldrons, and bronze scales. Only one thing kept Harry from
the mindless joy he should have been experiencing on his first school shopping
trip.
The fate of the world may very well depend on it.
Harry couldn't get the words out of his head and they buzzed like angry bees in
his skull. Why would anyone, much less someone who claimed to know him that he
knew he definitely did not know, trust an eleven year old with information that
could save the world? Why not the aurors or the minister, or Albus Dumbledore?
And what did it need saving from in the first place?
"Time for your wand, kiddo."
Harry grinned and forced the burning questions into the back of his mind to re-
examine when he got back to his room.
Press your wand against this parchment along with a drop of blood and all will
be explained to you, for the information I have must be for your eyes alone.
Chills worked their way down his spine as he entered Ollivander's and raw
excitement made his heart beat faster and his hands shake. Finally, after
waiting years and years, he would get his wand.
"I was wondering when I would see you Mr. Potter-"
---
"We will just come back tomorrow son," James said gently, gripping his son by
the shoulder to provide as much comfort as he could. "You heard what old
Ollivander said, you aren't his first tricky customer."
"And if we can't find you your wand here, there are always other options." His
mother added.
Harry had to fight against the lump in his throat to keep his voice from
breaking. "Yeah…" was all he was able to manage.
With that the Potters made their way to the floo in the Leaky Cauldron, and
with a swirl of green flames they were back in Godric's Hollow. James helped
Harry carry his things up to his room, cracking jokes and laughing too loudly
when Harry weakly responded.
When all of his things were where he wanted it, Harry quietly asked his dad to
leave. "I just want to be alone for a while."
James nodded with a sympathetic grimace and quietly backed out.
"Dinner will be in an hour, if you don't feel up to it I'm sure your mother
won't mind if you take it in here."
"Thanks, dad."
With one last grin his father left Harry alone with his thoughts.
As soon as he was sure he was alone he pulled the box that had been his mind
all day over. It was a simple wooden box, not flashy or extravagant, and from
what the goblins had told him, had only basic preservation charms placed on it.
It was rather practical.
He opened it again and was relieved to find the letter placed on the very top.
Harry read through the letter again, committing the words to memory before
setting it on his pillow. Until he got his wand there was nothing he could do
about the rest of the message, so he turned his attention back to the other
things in the box.
He picked up the dagger first, it was light and well balanced. It was like an
extension of his arm, and goblin made if he was right. His father had shown him
goblin blades before in the National Wizarding Museum, and it looked similar to
the ones he remembered. He set that aside as well before reaching back into the
box and grabbing one of the vials of the silver liquid.
Harry held the vial close to his face and examined the swirling silver,
mesmerized. He thought he could see shapes in the liquid, faces, and if he
strained his ears he caught the faintest sound of whispers.
I will ask mum about it later. He decided and carefully set it back in the
small rack that held it and the many others. He didn't dare touch the locket or
the venom, he knew danger when he saw it, but he did curiously pick up the pile
of parchment, frowning at the squirming writing on each and every page. How was
he supposed to read it?
He stared at it for a solid twenty minutes trying to make out words in the
wriggling letters when he finally gave up and tossed them to the end of the
bed. That left only one thing left to examine, the wand. A strange thrill
worked its way down his spine when he reached for it, and his heart started to
pound as his fingers brushed the smooth hilt of the wand.
When he finally picked it up, for the first time in his life, he felt powerful.
Wind whipped at his hair despite the fact his window was closed, everything in
his room shuddered, and he couldn't take a full breath from the sheer
excitement that pulsed from his body. Magic wrapped around him as if it was
saying 'hello'.
This was his wand.
No doubt about it.
When the powerful feeling finally lessened he stared at it in awe. He was a
wizard, now it was official. The awe quickly transferred to the mysterious
Hermione Granger. How had she known which wand was his? How had she gotten it
in the first place?
She said she was my friend… a close friend. She would know my wand. But how?
Why? When?
There was only one way to find out.
Harry grabbed the dagger and went over to the parchment, hissing through his
teeth as he stabbed his finger and let a drop of blood fall to the parchment.
Then, he drew his wand and gently tapped it.
He didn't have to wait long for something to happen. The parchment rapidly
expanded, writing filling every inch of space possible before finally coming to
a stop. Carefully Harry picked it up, and started to read.
Oh Harry, I am so glad you decided to trust me! I know you must have questions,
you always were inquisitive, but they will be explained when I tell you my
story.
First, I am a time traveler. But more on that later.
Harry stared blankly at it for a very long time. If what she said was true,
then it explained a lot. If this Hermione was someone he would meet in the
future and befriend then it would make sense for her to know about his wand.
Or she could be an enemy trying to trick me into doing something. He thought
darkly as he continued to read.
Second, as I said before, I am your friend. You may not believe me right now-
you have put a lot of trust in me as it is- but it is none the less true. You
can judge that for yourself later though. First I have to tell you the story of
the Harry Potter I knew, a Harry Potter you may never become because of me…
Harry read the story that followed intently. The tale Hermione wove seemed more
fantasy than reality, but the little facts- like about his aunt, uncle, and
cousin whom no one could have associated with him and his family- and about the
Weasleys (How could she have known about the flying car or the name he and Ron
had given the Ghoul in the attic?)- that convinced him that she was telling the
truth. She even knew some things about him he had never told anyone, not even
his parents.
But there was one part of the story he didn't understand. All through it she
mentioned a Dark Lord, but if he remembered correctly the last Dark Lord was
put in prison over fifty years ago. …he is clever Harry, and that is my fault
too. If not for me he would have gone insane a long time ago. But he would have
also killed your parents, I didn't want you to live your life without them, not
while there was something I could do.
The Dark Lord has not started any open warfare in your time yet, but his
influence is everywhere. He will take over slowly, and by the time everyone
realizes it I fear it will be too late for our world.
I can't stop him, not on my own, I need help and you are the only one I know
who can... the only one who will. You are one of the few people I know who will
do the right thing despite all the pressure against you.
I don't expect you to believe me, even as I write it down this entire story
seems ridiculous. So I am going to offer you proof. All the vials with the
silver liquid inside the box are memories, all of my memories from the time
this whole mess started. In the beginning I used them as a sort of diary for
myself to keep track of the timeline, so To- so I couldn't be tricked.
I give it to you now Harry to prove my honesty. If you choose to help me, then
I will be waiting for you in the Room of Hidden Things at Hogwarts this year on
Halloween night.
If you don't know where that is, you will soon. My memories will be your guide
and I daresay you will understand everything there is to know about Hogwarts by
the end. Even without Mischief Being Managed.
If he didn't trust her before he certainly did now. Only Remus, Sirius, Peter,
and his Dad knew about the map.
You will need a pensieve Harry, just dump the memories inside it and then dive
in…
After that, it is all up to you.
Despite what you choose, always know I will look out for you when I can. You
will always be my friend Harry, always.
Yours,
Hermonie Granger
Ps: Do not touch that locket until AFTER you view the memories. It is VERY
dangerous.
Harry peered into the box again. So that is what a memory looks like. Sirius
had said he was going to show Harry how to extract them after he had gotten his
wand.
As soon as he got his Hogwarts letter Sirius instantly had went out and bought
him a pensieve. 'A pensieve for a pensive boy.' Sirius had declared when he had
bestowed it upon Harry, 'You are much too somber for a boy your age, perhaps if
we extract some of those memories you will be a bit more carefree.'
Harry had never actually expected to find any use from the gift (Sirius was
rather forgetful) and had stashed it under the bed. Excited he now dragged it
out and wiped away the dust that had accumulated inside the bowl.
When it was clean enough he reached up and gently pulled the box down to him
and took out the large rack that held the memories. Each vial was clearly
labeled with a date and time and Harry sorted through it until he found the one
labeled 'First'
He carefully uncorked it and poured it into the pensieve. The silver memory
glowed brightly and he saw flashes of people, places, and things he had never
seen before…. He even saw himself, but an older version of himself.
Without hesitation Harry reached out and touched the swirling memories, not
flinching as he was pulled deep into the memory of a stranger.
***** Tom Riddle *****
**** Chapter 1 Tom Riddle ****
She was at Hogwarts.
Hermione backed into a wall ask quickly as she could, wrapping her arms around
herself and crouching down in a weak attempt to cover herself. What had
happened to her clothes? To Harry? How had she gotten to Hogwarts in the first
place?
The sound of rapid footsteps reached her and she immediately scrambled to try
and find a place to hide.
"Here girl- conceal yourself behind me."
A tapestry of an old crone beckoned and Hermione was quick to comply, ducking
behind the heavy fabric and huddling in the small niche she found there. The
footsteps grew louder and louder before stopping. Hermione dared not breathe.
"Hermione?"
A voice called cautiously, the low timbre of the speaker's voice sent chills
down her spine.
"Are you hiding from me?" The man asked incredulously.
Hermione bit her lower lip as she weighed her options. He, whoever he was,
seemed to know who she was and where she was hiding. She had no wand, no back
up, no idea if he meant her any harm. Instinct decided for her when a long
fingered hand wrapped around the edge of the tapestry and her senses were
assailed by the heady scent of spicy cologne.
She lunged, smacking into someone's chest with a loud thunk and sending them
both down to the ground. In-between them the tapestry shrieked in indignation
as two arms came up and around her, swaddling her in piles of screaming fabric.
The sudden constriction only served to fuel her panic and she thrashed in the
strangers firm grip.
"Sweet Merlin woman, stop struggling," he hissed in a tone that was meant to be
obeyed. It didn't have the desired effect, she fought all the harder. With a
quiet hiss of rage the man flipped them both over in one swift move, pinning
her down with his body. She saw his face for the first time, large dark eyes
framed by long black lashes, a narrow face with high cheekbones and porcelain
pale skin, slightly flushed from the effort of holding her down. His lips were
thin and slightly curled in a snarl.
"GET OFF ME THIS INSTANT!"
The crone shrieked making them both flinch at the sound. Without a word the man
brought up his legs to straddle her, pinning her arms to her sides while he
reached into a pocket and pulled out his wand. Hermione shut her eyes and
looked away.
"Silencio."
The crone fell silent and Hermione opened her eyes in shock. He was staring
down at her intently, black eyes tracing every feature of her face as if trying
to memorize it.
"I am not going to hurt you," his voice was low and soothing. "I'm going to let
you up now," he spoke slowly; as if she were a spooked animal he was trying to
keep calm. "Promise me you are not going to run."
Hermione considered running, she considered lying to get away. But this man had
not hurt her yet, if he had been a death eater that wouldn't have been the
case… he could be trying to trick her, but he didn't seem malicious in the
least. Even when they were fighting he only tried to pin her.I will have to
trust him until I can figure out what is going on.
"I-" she swallowed heavily, "I promise."
He stared at her a moment more before nodding and slowly sliding off of her,
carefully rising to his full height and taking a step away. Hermione struggled
to sit up, keeping the heavy fabric of the tapestry rapped around her. She bit
her lip nervously; she could not stand up without exposing herself.
Without a word the man quickly shrugged off his robe and held it out to her.
She took it cautiously.
"Could you turn around?"
He seemed amused by the request but obliged her. Quickly, she unfolded herself
from the wall hanging and all but dove into the long fabric of the robe. It was
worn, but it didn't have holes, and it completely covered her. She clenched the
front of the robe together to be sure it wouldn't fly open and took an
experimental step forward. The hem was long, but if she didn't move too quickly
she wouldn't trip.
"Are you finished?"
"…yes." He turned and looked her over slowly; she could see his pupils dilate
briefly before he looked away from her.
"Then I need you to follow me."
Hermione scowled, "No. First tell me how you know me, and how I got here."
He sighed heavily. "I have known you my entire life Hermione, and for now I am
going to leave it at that. Right now I need you to follow me; we have a lot to
talk about and very little time."
He reached into his pocket and she tensed until he pulled out a small black
book with a golden name she couldn't read on the back. He flipped through it
for minute, eyes scanning the text before quickly putting it away.
"We have exactly a half an hour before you have to leave."
She frowned. "Why a half an hour, what happens then?"
"I will explain after I have gotten you somewhere safe."
"Safe?"
"Yes, safe. Now come."
He started walking away and Hermione, not knowing what else she could do,
followed after him. Together they wound their way through Hogwarts, the man,
whose name she still didn't know, set a quick pace she had trouble keeping up
with at first. She kept stumbling over the hem of the robe he had lent her and
almost fell flat on her face more than once. She almost wept in relief when
they came to a very familiar stretch of wall.
"The Room of Requirement?"
"Yes. It's the safest place in Hogwarts I am willing to take you."
With that he paced in front of it three times and a door appeared. Without
missing a beat he opened it and gestured for her to go on through. "Ladies
first."
He didn't sound sarcastic when he said it but she still felt a small twinge of
annoyance at the utterance. Without a word, she all but shoved past him into
the room.
It was tastefully done, she thought in surprise after glancing around. The
colors were muted, everything matched, and giant bookshelf lined one wall with
everything from the muggle classics to advanced arithmancy texts.
She absolutely adored it.
"Like it?" she jumped in surprise at the feeling of breath on her ear and
blushed hotly at the chuckle that followed.
"It's fine, now I want answers," she snapped.
"Very well, take a seat." The man gestured to a beige couch in front of a
rather large fireplace (complete with crackling fire) and took a seat himself
in a small armchair next to it.
She begrudgingly did as he asked, settling down into the plush cushions. I
could spend hours just sitting here.
"Now you had questions."
A million of them.
"You said I had to go in a half an hour. Why?"
"Actually, we only have about." He reached into his pocket again and pulled out
an old fashioned silver pocket watch. On the back was an engraving,To T. from
H. Counting the minutes until we are together again. "Twenty minutes now. But
that doesn't answer your question."
"It doesn't," she said tersely.
"To be frank I have no idea why."
Rage shot through her entire system.
"You have-!"
He held up a hand. "But I can tell you my theory. I think that during your
fifth year at Hogwarts, while you were in the department of mysteries, some of
the sand from the time turners in the Time room got inside you somehow and
altered your magical core."
"How do you know about that?" Only someone who had been there could have known…
or someone who had seen the damage after, but even then they wouldn't have been
able to link it to her.
"You told me."
"I have told you nothing, I don't even know you!"
"But you will."
Her mind was a whirlwind, the pieces clicking together into a pattern she did
NOT like. He gazed at her patently, letting her draw her own horrifying
conclusion.
"I see you are beginning to comprehend."
"No. What you are suggesting is impossible."
"With magic nothing is impossible, power, money, fame… immortality- magic can
provide it for you. But I digress; there are things I still need to tell you.
First, the next time you meet me, ask for my key."
"What key? What is it for?"
He reached up to his neck and pulled out a fine silver chain, at the end was a
golden key. "This key actually. It's for a Gringotts vault. Ask me for it and I
will give it to you, then after you take it you will have-" he pulled out the
black book again "Three days to get yourself situated."
"How do you know that? Why can't you just give me your key now? Where… when am
I?"
"I know because you told me and I wrote it down so I could meet you. I can't
give you my key now because you cannot take anything with you when you travel.
As for when you are… November seventeenth, nineteen forty four."
Nineteen forty four. She slumped back into her seat and fought against the
hysterical laughter that threatened to take her over.
"I would relax if I were you, stress can cause you to travel early."
"Why?"
He frowned "I told you I don't know-"
"No, why you… why this time?"
Why me?
"…I don't know." He gazed into the fire, lost in thought. "I met you when I was
five years old," he finally said. "You asked me for help, and when I asked you
why you said it was destiny." He turned and looked her in the eye, his face
deadly serious. "I have always been a great believer in destiny. Even then."
A chill worked her way down her spine. A chill that spread all through her
body, she started to tremble and the man sighed.
"But our time is up. Remember, the next time we meet ask for my key. Go to your
vault. You will find answers there I cannot provide. I should be close by so
you will not be alone for long."
"Th-thanks," she got out through chattering teeth "But who are you?"
"Ah, I had forgotten to introduce myself. I have gotten used to you knowing
everything about me…" the smile he gave seemed half annoyed half fond.
"But I am Tom Riddle."
Fear, horror, shock, anger, all crashed through her body like a hurricane, her
hands balled, her shoulders tensed, but just as she opened her mouth to scream
or rage or curse she blacked out. The last thing she saw was Tom Riddle's
smirk.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the lyrics.
**** Chapter 2 Adventures in Babysitting a Psychopath ****
-Say nighty-night and kiss me
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me
While I'm alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me-
Faint music caressed her ears drawing her to full wakefulness, she almost
wished it hadn't. It was so hot it was hard to breathe. With a small groan she
sat up, carefully brushing away the strands of hair that clung uncomfortably to
her sweaty back. She was in a small, windowless, room, laying on the only piece
of furniture in the place.
The old cot groaned under her shifting before she finally stood up. Naked
again, she thought crossly and looked around for something to cover herself
with. To her relief there was a small pile of clothes in the corner of the room
with a small piece of paper on top. It had her name on it.
Suspicion settled heavily in Hermione's stomach as she picked it up and flipped
it open.
Hermione,
Had to run an errand, will be down later with your key. Clothes should fit you,
best I could do for now. Don't make noise; Mrs. Cole's room is above you.
Regards,
Tom.
Her jaw clenched and she tossed the letter aside. She almost left the clothes
where they were as well but she didn't want to be naked in front of Tom Riddle
again. It was a simple blouse- that dipped down to almost inappropriate levels-
and skirt- longer than she was used to it went right down to her ankles- but
everything still fit well enough. There was even a pair of low heeled shoes
that slid right on. He knows my size. The thought made her sick.
Properly clothed, she made her way back to the cot and sat down, dragging her
fingers through her extremely frizzy hair as she started to do what she did
best. Think.
What on earth had happened to her?
She had been with Harry… they had been at Bathilda Bagshot's house… Harry had
wandered off with the woman and the next thing she knew- Nagini. She shuddered
at the memory before forcing herself to focus.
I was trying to get us out alive. That is when I ended up at Hogwarts, with Tom
Riddle.
But why Tom Riddle? Of all the people in the world why him?
When they had spoken last, he had said he had known her since he was five years
old. But why on earth had she approached him then? Couldn't she have found
someone else? Dumbledore would have been her first choice, should have been her
first choice. Even Slughorn would have been better than Voldemort!
No matter how she shuffled events around her head she couldn't think of any
logical reason why she would pick the future Dark Lord for anything!
Is the time traveling going to cause me to lose my mind?
It was the only explanation she could think of.
Above her the music fell silent and heavy footsteps echoed through the room. If
Tom's information was accurate, she was right under Mrs. Cole's feet. The name
was familiar; she frowned and racked her brains, trying to remember where she
had heard of the woman before.
The orphanage! She runs Tom's orphanage!
If she remembered correctly, that meant she was in London and if the heat was
any indication she would bet it was summertime.
So he is back from Hogwarts right now. He mentioned errands he had to do…
Her mind came up with a million different sinister scenarios of what 'errands'
implied. That settled her mind with another dilemma. Did she leave or wait for
Tom to come back?
He was familiar with her already if the note implied anything, and if he had
meant her any harm he would have already done so while she was unconscious. The
tension in her shoulders lessened a bit. She could trust him for now.
It didn't mean she was out of danger though, she knew what he was capable of,
it just meant she had to be wary until she could figure way to get back to her
own time.And away from all of this insanity… insanity that shouldn't even be
happening in the first place.
Altering time should be impossible, every text on the subject she had ever read
said so… everything was supposed to be static- at least large scale events.
Influencing Tom Riddle (and by extension the Voldemort she knew) even a little
could drastically alter the time line as she knew it.
"Why would I take that kind of risk?" She murmured just as the sound of a door
opening reached her. Footsteps, light and almost hesitant, sounded up a flight
of stairs to her left and she immediately collapsed back down onto the cot,
shutting her eyes tightly. She felt like she was three again and trying to
avoid her parents after staying up late reading.
Coward… Some part of her mind whispered. She stoically ignored it.
Whoever was coming down the stairs must have finally made it because the room
was suddenly filled with silence.
"I'm not stupid, I know you are awake." The voice was high, young. She cracked
open her eyes and blinked in surprise. It was Tom, but not the Tom she
expected. This boy couldn't have been more than seven years old, short and
scrawny with large hollow looking black eyes. His clothes were too big, his
hair was messy, and the bones in his body (that she could see) jutted out at
all angles.
"Don't they feed you?"
It was the only thing she could think to say as every instinct she had screamed
to pull that boy into her arms and protect him. Tom shrugged and set the paper
bag in his arms down next to the wall.
"I get enough."
He reached into the bag and pulled out a shiny red apple. He idly threw it at
her and she scrambled to catch it.
"I know you like fruit after you travel, so I got you apples. You like apples
right?"
His eyes were trained on her, black and intense.
"I do, thank you." His thoughtfulness surprised her. The boy smiled, looking
very smug and pleased with himself as he pulled out an apple of his own, a
green one, and bit into it with a loud crunch. Keeping half an eye on him she
started in on her own apple and was pleasantly surprised by how tasty it was.
"So, you have my key?"
The boy nodded, setting his apple aside and reaching around his neck. The same
silver chain with the same golden key to the vault; without hesitation he
handed it over to her and returned to his fruit. She had expected much more
resistance.
"The Leaky Cauldron isn't far from here, only a few blocks away. Mrs. Cole
probably will not notice if you leave now… if you want to." Tom said after a
moment, glancing over at Hermione.
He doesn't want me to go.
"I think I should, but I will be back later."
His posture instantly relaxed and he let out a little sigh before he glanced,
almost shyly, over at her.
"Can I come with you?"
She was slightly taken aback by the question.
"I don't think-"
"But I know the area, and the people, and this time. I can help."
Well he had her there, he did know the time, she wasn't very familiar with the
thirties and having a guide might just be to her benefit.But this IS Tom
Riddle, and he is seven on top of it all. DO I really want to bring a child
along with me?
"Please?" the boy finally said. "I won't cause trouble. I promise."
There was a slight twinge of desperation in his tone, a greedy hunger in his
eyes, his fingers curling into fists and relaxing over and over again as if he
were full of nervous energy. Hermione knew that look; Harry had given her that
look (minus the greed) more times than she could count.He will follow me if I
don't agree she thought with a sigh.
"As long as you do exactly what I tell you to."
Triumph shone in his eyes. Not joy, or happiness, or anything she might have
expected from a boy his age. Just a cold triumph… it was a bit unnerving.
"Let's go then," she said with a shake of her head. The boy nodded and started
off toward the stairs, moving as quiet as a church mouse as he took the steps
two at a time to get to the top. She followed cautiously after, doing her best
and failing to follow Tom quietly.
"You move like a dinosaur," Tom said with a frown as they made their way
through the orphanage. They passed by groups of other children who all fell
silent when Tom passed them and didn't make a sound until he was safely by.
They are afraid of him. She realized with morbid fascination as even the older
children watched him with narrowed eyes.
A hand shot out and grabbed her arm.
The boy who was holding her looked to be in his late teens, but there was
something hard in his gaze that made her think of someone much older. Just as
she was about to demand for him to release her he spoke, his voice scratchy and
gruff.
"That kid, Riddle, I would stay away from him. He's all wet."
At her apparent confusion he sighed. "He's no good, doll. He may be a kid but
he's dangerous."
Hermione frowned and carefully pulled away from him. "I can take care of
myself."
The teen grinned ruefully at her, a few of his yellowed teeth were missing. "I
thought so too, then one day I found myself taking a nasty tumble down the
stairs." He tapped the side of his crooked nose. "Made me a site prettier if
you get me."
"I will be careful."
The teen grunted and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a quick
drag "That's what they all say." He muttered before glancing over her shoulder
and walking quickly away.
"Hermione."
Tom, who must have noticed she wasn't following, had returned for her. He was
staring at the retreating back of the teen who had grabbed her with a scowl.
"What did he want?"
"It was nothing, let's just go."
Tom looked like he wanted to argue with her but he said nothing as she pushed
past him and wandered blindly through the halls until she caught sight of the
exit. There she paused, suddenly unsure.
"Is it ok for you to just leave like this?"
Tom shrugged and said nothing. Hermione sighed and shook her head as she
stepped out into a small stone courtyard. There were more children here, some
were running around, more were playing quiet games, (jacks, chalk drawings,
jump rope, ect.) others were trying to find any bit of shade they could to
escape the sun.
It was winter just a few hours ago. She thought with mild amazement as Tom
impatiently grabbed her hand and led her out into the busy London streets. His
hand was so small in hers, and again she was forcibly reminded that he was a
child. He didn't hold himself like other little boys though.
He walked rather stiffly for being such a young child, his gaze was focused
instead of wandering, and he moved with purpose instead of a youngsters aimless
roving. It was hard to picture this serious little boy one day growing into the
darkest wizard of all time.Perhaps if he wasn't so cute others might have
suspected him sooner. She thought with a wry smile.
Despite the gauntness in Tom's cheeks and his scrawniness he was a pretty
child. He would be very handsome one day, she knew that first hand, but right
now he was pretty- like a porcelain doll. She had to hold back a laugh at the
thought. It was funny how that sweet face had completely disarmed her and her
anger as soon as she had met him. I can't hold a grudge against an innocent
child.
He suddenly stopped and she almost toppled over him (It was strange being so
much taller than him.)
"Shit."
"Language," she scolded. He didn't seem to notice and with a surprisingly
strong yank turned her down another street and started pulling her as fast as
he could. "Tom- Tom what's wrong!" They were both running at this point, Tom's
hand holding hers so tightly his nails bit painfully into her skin.
He glanced over at her, black eyes serious, "The Paradox Chasers. They have
found us."
***** Chapter 4 *****
**** Chapter 3 The Paradox Chasers ****
At the end of the street two men stood. One was tall and reed thin with a messy
mop of blond hair and a vague dreaminess about his expression that reminded her
of Luna. The other was short and more squarely built with salt and pepper hair
that betrayed his age; there was a keenness to his eyes as he scanned the
street that sent chills down her spine. Both were wearing (rather conspicuous)
deep purple robes and despite this they didn't bother to hide themselves from
the muggles, all of whom didn't seem to notice the two wizards at all. It must
be a spell of some sort…
So far neither noticed Tom or Hermione.
"Stop staring and come on!" Tom hissed and pulled her into an alley to their
right and dragged her down next to a large group of trash cans. If anyone
looked down the alley they wouldn't be spotted right off.
"Tom who are those men?"
"The Paradox Chasers, they hunt time travelers. Last time we saw them you said
they were Unspeakables."
Her hair on the back of her neck rose on end. "Unspeakables? You mean they work
for the Ministry? But how could they know anything about me if I didn't use one
of their time turners?" Hermione knew that each individual device was tracked
but she hadn't been near a time turner in years. The last time she had she was
in her— Fifth year. A chill worked its way down her spine. Tom said he thought
it had something to do with my time traveling.
Her attention was drawn to his shrug. There was a look of vague embarrassment
in his eyes as he steadfastly stared at the brick wall in front of him. I keep
forgetting how young he is…
"It's ok if you don't know the answers to my questions," she said gently.
"There is still plenty of time for you to learn about these things."
His lips twisted into a sneer and he said nothing.
"What can you tell me about those men right now?" He stayed stubbornly silent.
"Please, Tom I need to make a plan to get us out of here… I can only do it with
your help."
He turned his dark eyes to her, scanning her face as if searching for a lie.
Finally, the boy sighed. "I have only seen them a couple of times before and I
only know what you told me about them." His tone was slightly accusing as if
she were at fault for his ignorance. "A different you I suppose. You said they
were Unspeakables and then didn't explain what Unspeakables were." He sounded
frustrated as he said this. "You told me their job is to track people trying to
alter history, stop them, and put the time line back to the way it should be."
Hermione frowned as she mulled this over. "But I am not trying to alter
history, I don't even know why I am time traveling in the first place!"
"I don't think they… hush!" Tom hissed and pulled her closer to the garbage
cans, his fingers digging into her arm.
The Paradox Chasers were walking by, she could see the slight glimmer of the
sun off of their velvet robes (She was surprised they could stand the fabric in
this heat) as the Chasers passed precariously close to their hiding spot.
"-has to be somewhere around here. The amulet is vibrating like crazy."
"That means she hasn't been to the vault yet. We can catch her this time Zane,
I can feel it!"
"You said that the last three times Booth, face facts she is a right side
cleverer than you and-"
"Even clever people slip up," the man, Booth, said grimly "And when they do it,
they do it spectacularly. The girl will make a mistake one day, and I plan on
being there for it… now this way."
To Hermione's relief they kept on walking. A few minutes later Tom crept to the
edge of the alley and peered out gesturing for her to follow.
"They are going up and down the street, if we don't want them to catch us we
have to move fast. You run for it and I will distract them."
She stared at him, surprised, and he gave an annoyed glare in return. "I'm only
doing it because they can't hurt me. The Cauldron is just over there, now run!"
Before she could try and stop him he dashed out into the street. Hermione's
heart leapt into her throat as Tom narrowly avoiding getting run down by a
horse and carriage before throwing himself at the blond Chaser. Surprised, the
blond automatically brought his arms up to hold the boy and Tom proceeded to
scream bloody murder.
"MURDERS! VAMPS! HELP!"
Whatever spells had been cast on the muggles to keep them oblivious to the two
wizards faded and groups of people turned to stare at the stunned twosome. Tom
thrashed and screamed in the blonde's arms and Hermione stared in stunned
silence at what appeared to be the ultimate tantrum before realizing she had to
start moving.
But what about Tom? I can't just leave him. She bit her lip and stared over at
the boy who had the tall man in a death grip. Tom had claimed that they
wouldn't hurt him, and it appeared they were trying their best not to as they
attempted to pry him off and calm the startled muggles.
He can handle himself. She told herself weakly and started off toward The Leaky
Cauldron, trying to block out the sound of the boy's shrieking behind her.
---
The goblin glared down at her, and Hermione glared back.I don't have time for
this. She thought with a frustrated sigh and slammed her key down in front of
the smug looking creature.
"I have my key right here, I don't understand why I need the manager to get
into my vault."
The bank teller's lip curled. "Only the manager can give you access to your
vault. I don't know why so stop asking and wait… preferably over there," he
gestured toward a small stone bench flanked by two heavily armed goblin guards.
"I have a lot of work to do, so if you would please." His tone held a threat.
He glared imperiously down at her until she grabbed her key and stepped out of
the way for the next person in line.
As she made her way over to the bench Hermione bit down on her tongue and tried
to keep from screaming. She couldn't afford to just sit there and wait, not
when Tom needed her.
He could be dead for all I know and it would be my fault. She thought nervously
and her jaw trembled under all the strain she put it under. Her parents would
have scolded her for grinding her teeth like she was had they been there.What
will happen to the timeline if something happens to him, what will happen tome
if something happens to him?
Minutes ticked by with impossible slowness and she nervously drummed her
fingers against her thigh, anxiously watching the front of the bank, fully
expecting the men in the purple robes to burst in at any minute.
I never should have let him be a decoy; he is just a boy, just a little boy.
What chance does he have against two grown wizards?
"The Manager."
The silent guard at her side announced suddenly, making her flinch in surprise.
She scrambled to her feet peering around until her eyes landed on the short
cloaked figure walking brusquely towards her. This goblin was completely
covered from head to toe and she could see no distinguishing features under the
folds of fabric. She took a breath to speak but the Manager, whom was instantly
surrounded by four more guards, shook his head gesturing brusquely for her to
follow.
She did with only slight hesitation. Instantly, the guards at the bench moved
to flank her and she eyed them warily as she was led past dozens of patrons who
stared curiously at her. Her silent guide led her through a door to a part of
the bank she had never been to before.
It was a series long squat hallway filled with doors, on each door was a golden
plaque with what looked like Gobbledygook etched into it. She remembered seeing
some of the words from the reading she did on the goblin wars for History of
Magic…. If she remembered correctly they were carved onto shields and used to
try and scare the enemy by announcing the fighting prowess of the warrior
wielding it.
She was tempted to ask about it before shaking her head, frustrated with
herself. She didn't have time to wonder after what was most likely some vague
goblin custom, she had to get to her vault and then she had to get to Tom.
Knowing herself like she did (the thought gave her a headache) she knew there
would be something inside that would help her- something that would help her
not feel so helpless. The group stopped in front of a large door.
"In here." The manager whispered quietly in English before giving a sharp
command in Gobbledygook to the guards, who instantly broke formation. Hermione
frowned and eyed the guards warily, and the guards sneered back as she made her
way into the room.
It was large and crescent shaped with various shelves filled to the brim with
goblin made weapons. The largest being an ornamental axe that was proudly
displayed behind the monstrous desk made from a wood that looked… purple?
"It's made of Irrirum, a tree long extinct."
The manager spoke softly and her attention was rapidly drawn to the small
figure behind the desk, long surprisingly dainty fingers clasped in front of
him. "But I will not bore you with idle talk, you are here for your vault."
"Yes… but I still don't understand why I have to go through you to access it."
"You are very young, especially in the eyes." The goblin threw back the hood of
his cloak, "Yet still the same woman who came to me all those years ago… simply
fascinating."
Hermione gaped. This was not a male goblin. She had the slightly darkened skin
of all her kind, but she had no wrinkles to speak of, her ears were delicate
and long, the tips of said ears poking out from the silvery blond hair that
fell to her waist. Her eyes were wide and green and glittering slightly like
gemstones. She grinned and straight rows of razor sharp teeth glittered
wickedly in the light of the room.
"I am not what you expected?"
"Not even a little." She answered weakly.
The goblin woman laughed. "I know I am a true wonder. Now I think you have
waited long enough for your vault."
The woman nimbly made her way over to the giant axe and tugged on the handle.
There was a quiet click and a painting of a feeding Nundu to her right slowly
swung open. "It is this way."
Hermione followed after the goblin slowly, flinching at the snarl of the big
cat on the painting as she passed its canvas. They were in a large tunnel, rows
of torches lining the walls all the way back to a giant silver vault. The woman
led them to the vault quickly.
"Now because it is obviously your first time here I will explain everything.
First, this is a Time Vault," the goblin said with a proud sweeping gesture.
"Some of our best work, currently there are three in existence, yours being the
most recent."
"There have been two others before me?"
"Yes, but only one is still in use. The other was captured by the ministry… oh
now don't look so surprised. Did you honestly think you were the only time
traveler in the world?"
She blushed "No- yes- I don't know this is all so very new to me."
"Adapt or die. That is the goblin way and I would recommend taking up the
mantle. On to the vault- only you can enter, no one else can as the inside is
connected directly to your magical core. Not only that but the interior is a
thing out of time, being such you can access it fifty years in the future,
place something inside, and then get that same item fifty years in the past.
Ignore every law of magic or muggle science you know, it will not help you
understand how it works. Just be content that it does."
Hermione was sorely tempted to ask how it did work but the look the Goblin gave
her made Hermione hesitate.
"Is it dark?" She finally asked.
The goblin snorted. "By your standards no. But I don't see how it matters when
it is benefiting you. Now I do believe you are in a rush so I would recommend
going inside now."
That's right! I have to find Tom and make sure he is ok.
"How do I use it?"
"Just use your key and the magic will do its work. I will wait for you here."
Hermione nodded and slowly approached the smooth surface of the vault, it was
silver and metal with the keyhole being its only imperfection. She drew her
hand over the cool surface for a moment before bringing out her key and
carefully unlocked the vault with a small click.
For a second nothing happened… then-
A wild gust of magic exploded around her hand grabbing and pulling at her as if
it were a giant vacuum and she might have screamed as she was absorbed into the
vault, her ears full of the goblin's cackling.
***** Chapter 4: The Vault *****
**** Chapter 4 The Vault ****
---
Hermione landed flat on her face. Luckily for her she landed on a rather
comfortable mattress instead of the hard surface of the ground. I must have set
this up in advance. She thought as she pushed herself up to her knees, glancing
around curiously.
It looked more like a cluttered garage than a vault. Clothes racks took up the
sheer majority of the space, all of different colors and styles and fabrics.
Above each of these racks were floating pieces of parchment with numbers on
them. Across from the racks were rows of dressers, all organized by color and
size. Hermione counted thirteen in total. More parchment was laid across the
top of each dresser.
After slipping the key back around her neck she slowly stood, wincing as the
blood rushed back into her feet after kneeling for so long, and started to move
through the vault. She examined the dressers first, they were all relativity of
the same style and make but were all made of different kinds of wood, they were
organized by color, darkest to lightest.
Hermione walked over to a dresser and quickly scanned the parchment on its
surface.
Wands, available for use after 1945.
Hermione set the parchment down and carefully opened the top drawer of the
dresser. Inside were piles of wands all laid out in neat rows. Heart pounding,
she carefully picked one up and shuddered in joy as she felt her magic respond
enthusiastically to the wand.
“Lumos.”
The wand sparked to life, glowing brightly, and Hermione beamed down at it. For
the first time in a long while, Hermione felt like she had some measure of
control. She quickly canceled the spell and set the wand back inside the drawer
with great reluctance. She did not want to give up her new found control so
quickly, but if the parchment could be believed (and it could considering she
wrote it) then she needed a wand from another period.
She quickly made her way through the rest of the dressers, stopping at one made
of oak.
Wands, available for use after 1891.
Hermione stared incredulously at the date, just how far back in time had she
gone to need wands from eighteen ninety one? She didn’t want to think of it.
She opened the drawer and saw more rows of wands, fewer than the last but there
were still plenty to choose from.
She picked a lighter colored wand and was pleased to discover it reacted easily
to her direction. She would keep this one. She shut the drawer and made her way
over to the clothes racks. It was like wandering through a department store,
except all of the clothes were her size and her style. The parchment above each
of the racks labeled when the clothes were in style and when she could wear
them again as ‘Retro’ wear.
Behind the racks of clothes were a variety of suitcases from different times
and eras. Some were magical and some were muggle. Next to that was a muggle
file cabinet. She curiously opened the top drawer and flipped through all of
the different files, one for every year going back to eighteen fifty. She
flipped through them until she found one for nineteen thirty two to nineteen
thirty nine.
Inside the folder was pictures of her, both muggle and magical, and various
slips of parchment and paper. Birth certificates, apparition licenses, ID’s…
even a few deeds to various properties around London and one, to her surprise
and alarm, in Knockturn alley. Dozens of keys were spelled to each of the
deeds. According to the file they were keyed into her magical signature and
upon her death they would disintegrate if they were outside the vault.
Disappears upon traveling was scribbled under the keys.
Safe houses. She realized as she read through all the information on the wards
protecting each house. Relief settled over her shoulders like a warm blanket.
These were places for her to go, she wasn’t adrift, she had planned for this,
and she had taken care of herself.
With a sigh of relief she grabbed a key for a small flat in London and slipped
it into a pocket of a simple black purse she had grabbed in a box by the wall.
Content she prowled around the rest of the vault, picking up things she needed
as she went. Extra clothes, toiletries, shoes, quills and parchment, and even a
small worn cauldron were all loaded into a magical suitcase she charmed to
float behind her. She was tempted to pack more but the future Tom claimed she
would only be there for three days. Pretend you are packing for a vacation.
Take only what you need for a few days the rest will be here when you get back.
As she packed she thought about her father.
Growing up he had always teased her when she would pack for long trips; he
always said she packed for the apocalypse.
“Hermione dear, if you pack any more I might start to worry.”
“I am packing so much so you don’t HAVE to worry… pass me that jacket.”
“It’s summer, you won’t need it.”
“Yes but what if it gets cold at night?”
“You sound like your mother… she would always pack the same way you do and I
would worry about it constantly.”
“Why?"
“I was always worried that one day she would realize she had everything she
needed in that little suitcase of hers and never come back.”
“But she did.”
“She did and then we had you and I stopped worrying. She told me she would
always come back because she always had something to come back to. So, in my
opinion, it is always better to pack a little less to have something to come
back to.”
“Or someone!”
“Yes, or someone.”
She smiled sadly at the memory as she closed the suitcase with a small snap.
She would miss them, would always miss them, but the loss didn’t cut her as
deeply as it might have. She had already mourned them when she sent them to
Australia, had mentally prepared to never see them again. It didn’t stop the
pain in her chest from flaring up.
Tears tickled at the corners of her eyes and she furiously rubbed at them. I
don’t have time for this, I need to finish packing and Tom needs me.
She had almost forgotten the boy and with a renewed sense of urgency made her
way to the very back of the vault. There were two wardrobes standing side by
side, almost completely identical. Paper was taped to the front of the one on
the right.
Open me
Curious, she set the things she was taking out of the vault aside and made her
way over to the wardrobe. Reaching for it with slight hesitation before
realizing she was being silly, she wouldn’t do anything to endanger herself.
She opened the doors. Inside was a single shelf, on it was a rack to hold
potions. Only three of the slots were in use. Three plain vials with swirling
slivery liquid she instantly recognized as being memories glowed brightly in
the dim interior of the wardrobe and she picked up the bottle labeled First.
I need a pensieve.
Hermione lifted her wand and cast a quick Accio, fully expecting to have the
one come flying at her. Nothing came. Confused she cast again, still nothing
came. Could it be the wand? She cast Lumos and the tip of the wand glowed
brightly. Hermione frowned, how could she have collected such a large cache of
items and not have provided herself with the one she needed?
I must have had a reason for it… but what?
There she was stumped and she didn’t like the feeling.
With a small sigh of irritation she picked up the potions rack and settled it
in with her other belongings in the suitcase, charming the vials quickly to
avoid accidently breaking them. She would find a pensieve after she found Tom
again.
Tom! I had almost forgotten!
She had spent too long lollygagging, she needed to get out and find him before
something terrible happened to him. With new determination she quickly shrunk
the suitcase she had been steadily filling and shoved it into the purse before
winding her way back to the front of the vault.
Like on the outside the wall was smooth and stark white with the keyhole being
the only flaw. Hermione took a long deep breath and braced herself as she
shoved the key into the hole and was instantly pulled through back to the other
side.
--
“Find everything you were looking for?” The Manager asked, a tiny smirk curling
the corner of her lip. Hermione glared in return.
“You could have warned me,” she muttered crossly.
“I could have, but that wouldn’t have been as funny. Now if you have everything
you need allow me to escort you out.”
Hermione gave a frustrated sigh and nodded. The goblin smiled at her again
before throwing up her hood as they made their way back to her office. The
witch peered down at the goblin curiously.
“Why do you wear that hood?”
The goblin cackled loudly, “Because of the first Goblin War. Your Wizarding
history books claim it was just about the issue of issuing wands to non-humans.
But it was really all about a beautiful goblin woman, and a human wizard who
fell in love with her.”
“A wizard and a goblin?” Hermione asked incredulously.
“Is that so hard to believe? We are not so anatomically different and some
humans are blood thirsty enough for us to find them attractive… but that does
not answer your question. I wear this hood because one of the laws worked into
the First Treaty after we lost the war was that all goblin women were to hide
their faces so as not to tempt hapless wizards. I am one of the few women of my
tribe that still go into human territory, and to avoid being seen I wear my
cloak.”
“But that is ridiculous!”
“That is life.” The goblin said as they left her office, the guards snapping to
attention as soon as they passed them.
They walked silently side by side until they reached the door leading into the
public part of the bank. “Until next time Hermione Granger… I wish you much
success in your endeavors.”
“Thank you.” She started to walk away.
“Oh and before I forget a friend of yours is waiting at the front of the bank.
Don’t keep him waiting.” With that the goblin turned on her heel and
disappeared back through the door.
A friend?
Apprehension and curiosity warred in her breast as she made her way to the
front of the bank, her newly acquired wand clenched tightly in her hand. Then
she spotted him and all tension fell from her.
“Tom,” she sighed in relief and made her way over to him. He was standing by
the front doors, leaning back against a column, peering awkwardly around at the
well-dressed patrons who passed him. His black eyes were tense and his thin
lips are twisted into a defensive sneer as people visibly gave him a wide
berth.
“Tom!” She called, his eyes met hers and she could read the relief in his gaze.
He quickly made his way over to her and as soon as he did her nose wrinkled.
“What on earth is that smell?”
His expression shifted into something furious and dark. “You don’t want to
know,” he grumbled and shoved his hands into his pockets. With a small flourish
she took out her wand and cast a quick cleaning charm on him, much to the boy’s
surprise. He quickly examined himself all over.
“What did you do?”
The vague panic in his voice surprised her.
“Nothing, I just cleaned you up is all,” he relaxed a bit “Tom you know I am
not going to hurt you right?”
He sneered.
“As if you could.”
She rolled her eyes at the declaration. “Well, I thought you would like to
know.”
“I will keep that in mind.” He grumbled sarcastically.
She held back a tiny smile as she slowly examined him. Despite the lingering
smell that hung about him, he looked completely unharmed. A bit disheveled, but
unharmed. A well of relief spilled over and impulsively she threw her arms
around him. He tensed and tried to pull away but she didn't let him go.
“What on earth are you doing?” he hissed.
“Hugging you.”
“Why?”
“Because I really needed a hug… and I am glad you are alright.”
He stopped struggling as if he were stunned.
“Oh… well… yes….”
She lingered a moment more before letting him loose. “You still want to tag
along with me?”
He eyed her warily. “Are you going to hug me again?”
She laughed “I might.”
He frowned and she could see the gears turning in his head. “…fine. But don’t
grab me again without asking.”
“Agreed. So are you ready to go?”
“Go where?”
“You will see,” she held out her hand “trust me?”
He eyed her hand like an average person would eye a snake before slipping his
hand into hers. “For now.” He grumbled, and with that Hermione apparated them
away.
***** Houses and Homes *****
**** Chapter 5 Houses and Homes ****
--
They reappeared in an alley behind a café Hermione used to go to as a child. It
was brand new in this time; in fact, it wasn’t even open to the public yet. She
smiled as she peeked inside an open window at the brand new tables and chairs
lined up neatly in rows. In almost fifty years she would sit at one of those
little tables and read her school books while her parents talked quietly over
tea.
A retching off to her side brought her attention back to Tom. He was leaning
heavily against the wall and looked very green.
“I am so sorry I should have warned you! Side along apparition can make people
sick and I didn’t think-” His gagging cut her off.
“You… should try and,” he closed his eyes tightly and his fingers curled into
the brick “think more often.” He said in-between clenched teeth. Hermione
reached out to guide a soothing hand over his back.
“Don’t touch me.” He groaned and she instantly pulled back and waited for him
to catch his breath and draw himself up. “I’m… ok. Where are we?”
“We are still in London if that is what you are asking, as for where we are… we
are at a café near my old house.”
He seemed to perk at this. “Are we going there?”
She shook her head. “There is no point, its… just a house. It’s not my home
anymore.”
He frowned. “Aren’t they the same thing?”
Her heart wrenched for him, because he truly didn’t understand… and until he
got to Hogwarts he wouldn’t really understand how a place could be a home. Even
then he destroyed it in the end. He was just so damaged even at such a young
age.
“A home is a place where you can be yourself without fear and relax; it’s a
place where there are people who love you waiting.”
He was thinking hard. She could tell from the way his eyes focused on her,
looking at her without actually seeing her.
“I don’t understand,” he said slowly “how can that make any difference?”
“It just does, you will understand one day.”
He snorted. “Doubtful, unless I get adopted I am at Wools until I am eighteen,
and I don’t see that happening any time soon.”
Her heart broke for him all over again. “It could happen.” She offered weakly.
He glared at her.
“I’m young not stupid, Mrs. Cole chases people away from me. I know it. It was
why you picked me… you know I am not going anywhere anytime soon.”
“Oh Tom that’s not true-”
“Isn’t it?” his eyes were stony, hard, and there was a hollowness to them that
scared her.
“It isn’t.” She repeated back at him.
“Then why?” he demanded “Why me? I have been puzzling over it ever since you
gave me my key and this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a grubby
piece of paper. It was worn, and looked like it had been folded and unfolded
again and again. In faded pencil was a small list of date and times in her hand
writing. “You could have picked anyone in the world, why me?”
She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know why herself why she had
picked him. She could lie, but she was a very bad liar and even at his age Tom
would be able to tell if she was. Why Tom? She had been puzzling that over
herself and couldn’t think of any reason to pick him. She knew what he was-
what he would become. But looking into his eyes she could only see a lost
little boy, abandoned, and alone.
“I don’t know yet.”
His eyes widened in surprise, as if he had not expected her answer. “You don’t
know? How can you not know?”
“I don’t know a lot of things Tom, but… I suppose if I gave you that key… I
trust you.”
It was the only logical explanation, and when she thought about it, it made
perfect sense. She would only have given that key to Tom Riddle if she trusted
him. Somehow, somewhen, this little boy must have gained her confidence, her
faith. It was hard to believe.
“You trust me?” From his tone he apparently found it as hard to believe as she
did.
“I must. Why else would I give it to you?”
His lips twisted in confusion. “I don’t know….”
He looked lost and she quietly reached for him again sighing as he took a step
away from her. “Well that’s all in the past,” for now at least “so there is no
use dwelling on it. We can only move ahead.”
Tom sighed and said nothing, looking a bit calmer then he had before. “I can
take you back to the orphanage-“
“NO!”
She flinched at the volume but quickly regained her composure. “Ok, then we are
going to a flat close by. I am going to be staying there until I have to go
again… alright?”
He nodded, looking tired. She gave him a sympathetic smile and started to walk
around the corner, beckoning for him to follow. He followed slowly behind her,
silent as a shadow. Quietly, they made their way to the building. It was tall,
plain, and all together unassuming. “We are on the fourth floor, 3D.”
She was speaking more to herself at this point. Tom was lost in his own
thoughts and had been their entire walk, and she didn’t dare disturb him for
fear of setting him off again. Where had that burst of emotion come from to
begin with? Could it have just been an emotional childish rant? She had not
been around many children in her life, even when she was a child herself. She
vaguely recalled various temper tantrums from other children. But this wasn’t a
temper tantrum… it was just raw emotion.
Hermione was forcibly reminded of Harry again. They were so alike it was
surprising. Harry was the same way when he was upset; he would bottle it away
and then unleash it in large torrents before going deep into himself, pensive
despite what anyone else would do.
The worst part of dealing with someone like Harry or Tom was the fact that when
they were upset there was nothing you could do without making it worse. You
could only wait for them to sort themselves out.
She hated it.
“Hermione, we walked past it.”
Tom’s quiet voice drew her from her thoughts. He had stopped a few paced behind
her, staring at a simple oak door with 3D carefully painted on the front.
“Oh! I didn’t even notice.”
“Obviously.” He mumbled.
She pretended not to hear and with a small flourish that made Tom roll his eyes
she pulled out her new key and unlocked the door. As soon as the door opened a
fireplace ignited to her right, lighting up the room. As soon as everything
came into clear view she gaped at what she saw.
It was the room Tom had the Room of Requirement make for her. The same beige
couch and armchair, the same bookshelves (minus a few books) everything was an
exact copy. Tom had stepped into the room, peering around curiously, his hand
absentmindedly reaching out and touching everything he walked past. He stopped
a few feet away from the bookshelves, his hand patting the arm of the armchair
by his side with mindless diligence.
“Can I open one?”
There was hunger in his tone, a hunger she well understood. “If you like, just
be careful. I don’t know what is on the shelf and it could have something
dangerous.”
His nose wrinkled, “books aren’t dangerous.”
She wanted to laugh at the declaration. “Well some wizard books are… I am
surprised you didn’t know that.”
He picked up a large leather bound book that was almost too big for him to
handle comfortably and slowly carried it over to the armchair. “Why?” He asked
as he settled down and flipped it open, peering down at the parchment.
“Because if I had known about Diagon Alley at your age I would have read every
book I could get my hands on from the book store.”
“They will not let me in on my own; they say I need an adult.” He sounded
rather put out by that and Hermione almost smiled.
“I suppose they would… I am going to go unpack. Will you be ok here?”
“Hmn.”
She supposed that was a yes. She walked past him to a small door she saw next
to the bookshelf. Beyond it was a large, king-sized bed with a deep red
comforter and very comfortable looking pillows. There was a small dresser
across from the bed and a desk under a window to her left. It was already
stocked with ink, quills, parchment, and a small dictionary.
She set her purse down and pulled out the tiny suitcase, setting it on her bed
and tapping it with her wand. It quickly grew to full size, none the worse for
wear. She knew there were spells she could use to unpack quickly, but she
decided to do it the muggle way, letting herself check her things over again as
she put them away.
Hermione gave a little rueful smile when she realized that she has packed too
much. I can always take some back later. The thought comforted her. She liked
having something constant, the vault provided that.Perhaps this place can be
something I can come back to as well. She liked the little flat, it was
soothing.
She wanted to explore it more.I should finish unpacking she thought
reluctantly, but as she halfheartedly dragged her fingers over a red blouse she
was folding curiosity finally won out and she went exploring.
There was a small bathroom attached the bedroom. The room was spotless and
white with only a few deep red adornments standing out like spots of blood. Red
curtains half covered a charmed window that showed a shoreline from a foreign
beach. Red towels were hung neatly on a rack below a pale picture of a field of
daisies blowing in an invisible wind. A fluffy red rug was wrapped around the
toilet; it looked perfect to dig chilly toes into late at night.
A giant claw footed bathtub rested in one corner of the room, but unlike a
regular muggle bathtub this one had three faucets. Next to yet another door was
a small sink next to a countertop. Hermione quickly summoned her toiletries and
set them on the counter. She then turned her attention to the new door.
This one led out into a kitchen, it was small, but it would suffice. There were
a few high cabinets stocked with mismatched plates and glasses, all organized
neatly. A stove was placed next to a vintage (or rather modern in this time)
fridge. It was stocked with fresh food which surprised her immensely.
How could she have a fully stocked fridge? She examined every inch of it but
could detect no spell or enchantment that could explain it.Could someone have
stocked it? But who would I give access to? Unless she didn’t.
Hermione quickly cast a detection spell but could find no traces of anyone
except for a vague glow from the next room over. That’s Tom in the front. There
is no one else here. A brief red flash caught her eye and she froze.
Red meant magical non-human.
It was coming from a couple of folding closet doors. Tense and wary Hermione
inched closer to the closet, wand at the ready, eyes trained on her target.
Surprise would be her weapon and with a violent flick of her wand the doors
flew open with a crack, making the creature behind the doors squeal.
She had knocked flour loose and everything was covered in the fine white powder
. It obscured her vision and she hissed in frustration as it blinded her. A
spell she couldn't see or identify smashed into her stomach, sending her flying
back into the door. Her head hit the door with a loud crack and she saw stars.
The flour was starting to settle and Hermione could see her attacker. A short
crooked creature with floppy ears, all solid white from the flour, its large
hazel eyes narrowed in fury. Hermione stumbled to her feet, her head spinning
wildly as her scrambled brain tried to identify the little creature.
It raised a hand.
Oh, it’s a house elf!
The elf cast, and Hermione was thrown into darkness.
***** Attachment *****
Chapter 6 Attachment
---
Hermione opened her eyes slowly, grimacing at the brightness of a lamp to her
right. Her head gave a nasty throb and she shut her eyes tightly against it. I
need to turn that light off…. She sat up, her stomach giving an unpleasant
lurch as she did. Hermione quickly lay back down with a groan.
She groaned out loud Why does everything hurt? She might have thought she was
hung over except she had never had more than a few glasses of wine in her
entire life.
“Miss is awake!”
The loud squeaking voice made her wince and she slowly turned her head to stare
at the creature huddled in the corner of her room. Unlike other house elves she
had the misfortune of seeing, this one was clean, well filled out from regular
feeding, and clear of bandages and sores… except for a large purpling bruise
spread across the left side of its head. Everything came rushing back, and
sudden guilt seized her.
“I am so sorry, I didn’t know you were here and-”
“Oh no! Youse do not need to be worrying miss, Biscuit was being lazy even
though she knew youse was coming.” Her ears flopped. “Then bad Biscuit attacked
the mistress who has been so good to Biscuit’s family.”
The elf seemed to coil in on herself and Hermione’s heart just about burst. “No
Biscuit, you were only defending yourself like you should have. I shouldn’t
have just attacked you like that… I gave you that nasty bruise too.”
At that the elf’s head snapped up. “Mistress did no such thing! The bad boy hit
me with a bottle- stuffed poor Biscuit into the stove he did. If Biscuit hadn’t
escaped….” The elf shuddered.
Bad boy?
“Tom!” She gasped. “Is he alright? Where is he?”
The elf’s ears went back. “Biscuit put the bad boy in the wardrobe…”
As if in response the wardrobe shuddered. Hermione didn’t know if she should be
upset on Tom’s behalf, or if she should laugh.
“You shouldn’t have put him the wardrobe, he is muggle raised and probably
didn’t know what you were. Not to mention that I was unconscious at the time…
he might have jumped to conclusions.”
The elf’s ears flopped and she wrung her hands “He was protecting Miss?”
“He might have thought he was.”
Ears down the elf snapped her fingers and the wardrobe doors burst open, Tom
tumbled out to his knees, tangled in her clothing. He tore a red blouse from
around his neck and shook off a skirt from around his legs. His hair was stuck
up at all angles, wild, his lips were curled into a snarl that might have been
cute if there wasn’t true ferocity behind it. He was missing teeth, she noticed
in mild surprise as the boy’s crazed gaze fixed on the elf in the corner and,
arms outstretched, he lunged for her throat in the way a feral dog might.
“Tom stop!”
The boy, in his fury, didn’t seem to hear her as he tackled the elf to the
ground, his already large hands, and long fingers fastened about Biscuit’s
throat. He was hissing, spitting in his rage and the elf struggled against him
for a moment before disappearing out from under him and reappearing behind
Hermione. She could feel the elf’s trembling as the creature clung to her
skirt.
The boy whipped around and if the elf had not been there Hermione would have
taken step back in alarm from the raw hatred in his eyes. The devastating look
didn’t last long, the instant he saw her and his entire posture softened.
“Hermione.”
He sighed out her name like a prayer and reached for her in the way all
children did when looking for comfort before he seemed to realize what he was
doing and let his arms fall to his sides.  “I thought you were dead.” He said
stiffly.
She was sure her eyebrows shot straight into her hairline at the comment.
“What made you think that?”
He looked away from her “Your neck was bent wrong, and there was blood… lots of
blood. I thought that thingmight have killed you.”
It was then he saw Biscuit and the rage from before flared in those coal black
eyes and he might have lunged for her again if Hermione hadn’t placed a calming
hand on his shoulder, forcing his attention on to her. “She didn’t mean to
frighten you Tom, she thought I was an intruder… and I didattack her first.”
Tom looked up at her, incredulous. “You?”
Her cheeks heated. “I can fight when I have to- and don’t you forget it.”
His lips twisted into what might have been a mocking sneer before his face fell
back into his usual blank expression. “Of course,” he said slowly. He didn’t
believe her, she was almost offended. He is a child Hermione, he doesn’t know
any better.
“Well, now that that is all sorted out let’s all shake hands and be friends.”
The boy and the elf stared at her like she was a crazy person. Her eyes
narrowed. “You heard me, shake hands.”
Tom and Biscuit eyed one another with unmasked malice before the elf
begrudgingly held out a hand. Tom waited a minute more before placing his
larger hand in hers and they gave one tense shake before letting go and backing
off.
“Now that that is done, we ca-“
A wave of dizziness overtook her and she fell back against her bed. Tom was
instantly there, clutching at the fabric at her sleeve to help her keep her
from falling entirely.
“What’s wrong,” his intense black eyes bore into her, demanding an honest
answer, she could feel his fists tighten on her sleeve.
“I am just a bit dizzy,” she murmured and rubbed at her temples, tenderly
feeling about her head until she gave a sharp hiss of pain when her fingers
brushed over a rather large lump. “You hit me very hard Biscuit.” The elf
whimpered and Tom glared deeply at her “I need a few potions to fix myself up
but I don’t have any ingredients… and I didn’t think to check the vault for
money.” She sighed and her head started to throb.
At this the elf perked. “Money is no trouble miss! There is an account set up
for us to use.”
Hermione shouldn’t have been surprised. “That is a relief, I will just go and-”
the dizziness struck her again and she automatically grabbed at Tom who did his
best to support her. He was strong for being so scrawny.
“You can’t go anywhere like this.” Tom huffed out, she could feel him tremble
slightly under her weight and she slowly eased off of him and onto the bed. He
didn’t let go of her shirt sleeve.
“I will go for miss!” The little elf squeaked out “It is being my job.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
The elf shook her head furiously, her large bat ears flopping with the
movement. “Is being my JOB miss, Biscuit be finally earning her wages.”
“You have wages?” Hermione smiled.
“Oh yes miss, three galleons a week miss, most generous for what little Biscuit
does.”
“I am sure you do more than enough Biscuit,” the elf blushed and stared at her
toes. “Grab me some parchment and I will write down everything I need.”
The elf was quick to comply. Hermione gently tugged her way out of Tom’s iron
grip to carefully pen down what she needed and handed the list to the elf. As
soon as her arm was free Tom’s hand returned to her sleeve and she didn’t
bother trying to make him let go, instead she addressed the elf. “I wrote what
potions the ingredients go to on the side, if they are selling them anywhere
just buy them, I am not going to be up to much brewing.”
The elf nodded eagerly and took the list looking it over once, then twice, then
disappearing with a sharp crack.
“I don’t like it.”
Hermione peered over at Tom. “Don’t like what?”
He sighed impatiently “The house elf. I don’t like it.”
“Biscuit is a sheTom. I wish you would try and be a little nicer to her.” He
scowled and said nothing and Hermione sighed tiredly “Please Tom? If only for
my peace of mind,” at his look of protest she quickly added, “I am not asking
you to be her best friend, just stop trying to attack her.”
He stared for a long while at her before giving one sharp nod. She smiled at
him and he grimaced slightly in return. They sat in silence for a minute and
she peered out of the small window that looked out into the street. Night had
fallen and the streetlamps were lit.
“I know you might not want to, but shouldn’t you get back to the orphanage?
They will be missing you right now.”
Tom snorted and looked away. “They may notice me missing, and they may put up
someeffort to find me but in all honesty I know they hope I never come back.”
“That is terribly irresponsible of them.” Hermione murmured, not knowing what
else to say, and rubbed at her throbbing head. “I am not going to send you back
there tonight, it’s too late and I am in no shape to get you there. You will
stay with me.”
His eyes narrowed slightly but he didn’t say anything and Hermione didn’t pry,
her head hurt too badly to start what would most likely be an argument with the
boy. So instead they sat on her bed in silence, Tom not giving up his grip on
her. “You can let go, I’m not going anywhere,” she sighed. Instantly Tom’s hand
was off of her sleeve and in his lap, where he immediately laced his fingers
together, clenching them so tightly his knuckles turned white.
She could almost sense his anxiety it hung so thick about him. The thick
oppressive aura felt almost smothering, like his feelings were reaching up to
strangle her and she swallowed against the feeling. I’m going to have to talk
to him. She thought and her head throbbed in protest.
“What’s wrong?”
He peered over at her, dark eyes sharp. “I am fine.”
Hermione sighed. “Obviously you aren’t. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s something if it is causing you so much stress.”
“I am not stressed.” A loud crack echoed through the room making Hermione
flinch. The window was shattered, letting the cool nighttime air roll in in
waves.
“Obviously.” Hermione muttered sarcastically. Tom picked up on it and was
instantly up and away from her, but he didn’t leave, instead he leaned into a
corner of the room, peering out the recently shattered window.
Cornered animal, that’s what he was, a cornered animal. She stood but her head
spun so badly she had to sit back down. “I’m not going to let this go Tom, so
if you are not going to leave you might as well talk to me.” She finished
crossly, trying to push through the pain in her skull.
“You could have died.”
Hermione frowned. “But I didn’t. Tom I am going to be alright.”
“But you might not have! Then what would have happened?”
“Well… I would have been dead,” she said, slightly taken aback.
“Then what would have happened to me?” He demanded. “If you died, what would I
do?”
“You would go back to the orphanage, live your life.” Something flashed in his
eyes, some deep primal emotion. Fear. She identified to her surprise. He was
afraid. “What’s wrong with that?”
He ground his teeth and the wardrobe shuddered and fell over.
“Tom, you need to calm-“
“Alone.”
The word hit her like a ton of bricks and understanding rushed through her
veins. He didn’t want to be alone. She had been there for, from what she could
see, his entire life. Opened his eyes to what he was and what world he belonged
to. From what Harry had told him of Tom’s childhood, the boy had constantly
struggled to figure out whom and what he was… why he was so different… why he
could do the things he could. Hermione had changed that, she had put a name to
his invisible powers and told him what he was. Magic, wizard, special- to have
the link to that magical place shattered- she didn’t realize how strongly she
could affect him. How she HAD affected him already. She had given him books,
knowledge, comfort…
He was attached to her. That had to be it. He was attached to her.
Slight hysteria forced a startled laugh from her but she quickly covered it up.
“On Tom, I am not going to die anytime soon.”
“You can’t promise that, you can’t know, it can happen at any time-”
“Hush!” Something in her tone kept the boy quiet despite the obvious turmoil
brewing inside him. “Tom, I know I am not going to die because of that list in
your pocket.”
His hand automatically reached for it and he pulled it out, looking it over
again as if searching for a hidden clue. “I don’t understand,” he said slowly
as if it pained him.
“I haven’t given it to you yet, and if I had died here I wouldn’t have been
able to go back to give you that list.”
Understanding glowed in his eyes and his entire body slumped in relief.
“That’s right.” He said his eyes half lidded in pleasure, “That’s right, I did
not think of that.”
She forced herself up and this time the dizziness wasn’t so bad, she slowly
made her way over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving a weak smile
when he didn’t shrug her off. “I suppose you are stuck with me for a good long
while.”
“Good.” He sighed out. “Good.”
Another loud crack filled the room and Biscuit reappeared, a package floating
around her like a small white bird.
“I is back!” The elf announced with a smile which faded as she glanced around
at the damaged window, the fallen wardrobe, and the frazzled twosome in the
corner. “What did Biscuit miss?”
***** Equilibrium *****
Chapter 7 Equilibrium
--
Hermione downed the last potion with a sigh of relief and collapsed back onto
the bed, the pounding in her head finally subsiding. Next to her Tom snored
quietly, curled into a ball, clutching at the soft pillowcase below his head.
The boy had tried his best to stay awake with her, if only to learn potion
making first hand, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open after the first potion.
She couldn’t blame Tom for passing out; he had been put under a lot of stress
for her the past day. Not to mention he is still growing, he needs all the rest
he can get. She sighed and gently stroked his mussed hair out of his face,
giving a small smile as he grumbled something under his breath and curled into
a tighter ball.
For such a paranoid little boy he was a very heavy sleeper.
Biscuit was in the same state as the boy, except she had chosen to curl up
inside the wardrobe, Hermione’s scattered and dirty clothes from Tom’s tramping
making the perfect nest for her. She had tried to tell the little elf she could
go sleep where she normally would have but Biscuit was adamant that she be
nearby in case of trouble.
She is a good elf. Hermione thought fondly as she made her way over to the
creature, carefully extracting a sleeping gown from the elf’s arms and
tiptoeing into the bathroom to change. The gown was wrinkled and rumpled but
with a quick flick of her wand the garment was perfect again, Tom’s fury had
done a number on her clothing while he had been trapped inside the wardrobe.
I’m glad I didn’t finish unpacking or else he might have crushed the memory
vials… and I still need to find some way to view them before I have to go
again.
By her count she had used up a day and a half already and she would waste more
while she slept. But I can’t avoid sleeping,she thought ruefully, remembering
the mad tornado of exhaustion that was her third year. So, with heavy eyelids
she slipped into the bed, (careful to place a pillow between her and the
sleeping Tom so as not to disturb him) and let herself doze off.
--
BANG!
Hermione shot up, hand automatically reaching for her wand that she normally
left under her pillow- Are we under attack? Where is Harry?She looked around,
frantic, but quickly relaxed. She was not in her tent in the middle of the
woods; there were no giant snakes here. She was safe in her bed, with Tom-
He wasn’t there. His side of the bed was made up neatly though. She peered over
at the closed doors of the wardrobe.Biscuit is gone too.
CRASH!
Hermione flinched at the sound. It was coming from the other side of the door
that led into the living room and her heart started to pound as she imagined
just WHAT was going on. She felt around for her wand only to find it missing, a
chill worked it was down her spine.
BOOM!
She raced for the door and threw it open to be met with a tornado of pages from
torn books. The couch had been torn apart by what looked to be giant claws. A
lamp lay shattered and the fireplace was crumbled in on itself, soot and bricks
were everywhere.  In the middle of all this chaos was Tom, covered in soot and
ash from head to toe. The black made his deep blue eyes seem to glow brighter.
In his grubby hand was her wand. His teeth seemed even whiter as he grinned and
flicked the wand again.
The chair exploded in a shower of fluff and springs.
“TOM!”
The boy jumped in surprise and stared, stunned as Hermione marched toward him.
“Just what in the name of Merlin do you think you were doing?” He seemed to
come to his senses as she plucked the wand from his loose grip.
“Practicing,” he mumbled.
“Practicing what? Blowing things up?”
He mumbled something so quietly she couldn’t hear him.
“Speak up Tom, I can’t hear you.”
He looked down and she looked down with him. At his feet was a ravaged green
book, in-between the gashes she could just make out the title.  Healing Spells
101: A Beginners Guide Wellness.
All the anger rushed out of her like air out of a deflating balloon. “Tom, you
are too young to be practicing that kind of magic… and I know you meant well
but you should NEVER take someone else’s wand.” The boy said nothing and
Hermione reached out to stroke his hair again, sighing as he jerked away from
her touch. He is like a skittish kitten.
“I know how hard it is to be too young to do certain things, but sometimes you
have to trust that the grownups know better than you.” He gave a little noise
of dissent but said nothing. “I need you to promise me you will not take my
wand again except in an extreme emergency. Can you do that?”
It was Tom’s turn to sigh. “Yes.”
She could sense that was the best she was going to get. “Ok then… now where is
Biscuit? She doesn’t seem the type to let you destroy the house.”
He glanced warily at her and that sense of dread from before returned.
“Tom, where is Biscuit?”
CRACK!
Biscuit appeared in the middle of the room, hands locked behind her back, a
pleased smile crossing her lips.
“Miss be wanting Biscuit?”
Tom stared at the elf, wide-eyed and Hermione shifted her gaze between the too
smug elf and the stunned boy with suspicion.
“I thought you might be in trouble, I see I was mistaken.”
“I is tough miss. Not much Biscuit can’t handle,” the elf glared at Tom as she
said this and he just narrowed his eyes in return.
“Were you two fighting again?”
They both turned to her, expressions carefully neutral.
“We was not fighting miss!” The elf protested quickly. “We promised Miss we
would not.”
Tom nodded in agreement and Hermione sighed. “You know you are both terrible
liars.”
Tom looked offended, Biscuit looked guilty.
“I am going to let it go this time, but next time if I catch you two fighting,
or being nasty to one another there will be repercussions.”
Tom’s eyes went distant and she could tell he was trying to find a way around
it. Biscuit on the other hand nodded and wrung her hands, glancing over at the
boy warily. I am not going to be able to stop them.Hermione thought with a
sigh.
“Well… now that that is all squared away, let’s get this mess cleaned up and
get something to eat.”
Tom’s nose wrinkled as he glared around the room. “That will take forever.”
“Well Tom, you shouldn’t destroy things if you are not willing to clean up
after them,” Hermione said and flicked her wand, cleaning most of the soot off
of the sullen boy. “When we are finished here, you can use the bath.”
His cheeks reddened and his jaw tightened. “Fine.”
“Ok, you can start with the books. Try and fit the pages in the right order, if
I repair them like that all the information would be scattered. And Biscuit, if
you would prepare breakfast-”
The elf bobbed her head in a quick bow and popped away.
Tom glared at the place the elf was for a minute before going over to the
books. He didn’t say a word as he hunched over the pages and pages of
information scattered around on the floor. He has destroyed at least five very
large books and the work would take him a while. But he needs to learn his
lesson.Hermione thought as guilt stabbed at her. He did something wrong and now
he has to pay for it.It didn’t stop her from wanting to help him as she quickly
fixed the couch, chair, fireplace, and other various broken objects scattered
around.
He glared at her at first, peering at her over his work when he thought she
wasn’t looking. It felt like hot daggers were being pressed into her spine his
gaze was so cutting. After ten minutes of this the stabbing sensation lessened
and Hermione finally let herself look over at him.
His eyes were closed, like he was concentrating deeply on something and his
fingers were stroking the spine of a book, slowly. To her astonishment pages
and pages loosened from the giant pile he had gathered together and seemed to
slither as they wormed their way back into their proper book.
That’s impossible. She thought, heart leaping into her throat. He should not be
able to do that. Not with such control.Not even grown wizards could do what
little Tom was doing. Most didn’t have the attention span to even learn to
light a candle wordlessly let alone wandlessly…
He was a wonder, a terrifying wonder.
How long would it be before he could best her? She had given him a boost by
introducing him to the wizarding world so early. How advanced would he be by
the time he reached Hogwarts?  He wouldn’t have to hide away from his fellow
Slytherins his first few years as he caught up to his pureblood peers. He could
start a powerbase as soon as he stepped foot in the castle.
What have I done? She thought woefully, fighting the urge to tear her hair out.
I have made things so much worse.Another thought, a deep, dark thought, entered
her mind.
While clever, the boy was still relatively helpless against her. She could end
it all. All the war, all the pain the future would hold.
“Hermione?” Tom asked nervously. She blinked and turned her attention to him.
His eyes glowed with uncertainty and she realized, to her horror, she was
pointing her wand at him. She quickly flicked her wrist and all the pages
stacked themselves neatly into separate piles. With another flick they were
repaired.
“Just decided to help you out is all,” she smiled weakly. “Go clean yourself
up. Breakfast should be done by the time you finish.”
The boy frowned, looking deeply into her eyes before giving a sharp nod and
bolting from the room. Hermione sighed and collapsed on the newly repaired
couch.
“He’s a boy, just a little boy, it would be murder.” She muttered to herself.
Justifiable murdera voice in her head whispered darkly. She furiously squashed
the thought down and refused to let the idea resurface. I’m not thinking
clearly.The stress was finally getting to her. She shook her head tiredly and
decided to head to the kitchen to check on Biscuit.
The kitchen was organized chaos.
Enchanted knives were chopping, something on the stove was being stirred, and
plates and plates of food were scattered around in various states of
completion. Her stomach clenched painfully as she realized just how hungry she
was. I haven’t eaten since Tom’s apple.She thought, eyeing a plate of bacon.
“Miss can sit at the table while Biscuit finishes.” The elf called out from the
middle of the cooking tornado.
Table? Hermione turned and sure enough the room had been expanded to fit a
large table, covered in a lace tablecloth with lit candles in silver
candleholders, expensive looking silverware, and a vase of fresh cut flowers.
Their gentle perfume lured her over and she smiled as she caressed a petal. The
last time she had had flowers on her table was the last dinner she and her
parents had shared. Her mother would always bring new flowers into the house
every week to replace the ones that went bad. Some pretty, some smelly, some
odd looking. Her mother was of the opinion that living things needed to be in a
house to make it truly alive.
Hermione settled down at the table and let her thoughts drift to the past; she
let herself think of happier times. They were simpler at least….
The door to the bathroom opened and Tom inched his way in. He paused to stare
at the chaos of Biscuits cooking in ill-disguised amazement before peering over
at her and making his way slowly over.
His hair was damp, clean, and messy from lack of brushing. His skin was, again,
porcelain pale, and his hands were clean. His clothes were still filthy. As if
sensing her thoughts he frowned at her.
“All I had were my old clothes, my other things are back at the orphanage.”
Hermione hadn’t thought of that. She frowned for a moment before brightening.
“I can transfigure you something until you get back. Would that be ok?”
Tom shrugged. She took that as a yes.
Hermione summoned one of the flowers to her, carefully plucking the petals off
and laying them down. Tom watched, curious, as she tapped each one, mumbling
the spell to transform them and beaming as they transfigured to just what she
wanted.
“There! Will these do?”
Tom reached out and rubbed a part of the fabric in-between his fingertips.
“It’s fine, smells like flowers though…” he grumbled and tucked the clothes
under his arm. He started toward the bathroom again before pausing. “Thank
you.”
Hermione blinked in surprise. Thank you?She didn’t think it was possible; she
was so stunned she didn’t reply as Tom quickly made his way back into the
bathroom. I don’t believe it…
Perhaps she had been wrong about Tom… he might just turn out alright. She had
been kind to him in the past from what she could tell, what if that was the key
to ending the war? Changing him for the better- why didn’t she think of that
sooner? Was such a thing even possible?
Tom reappeared, the clothes she had made him hung loosely on his slim frame but
fit well enough to function. She beckoned him over and wordlessly he obeyed
staring at the floor as she adjusted his clothing to fit him. “There we are,
you should be more comfortable now.”
“Still smells like flowers,” he mumbled, taking a seat at the table. “I feel
like a walking bouquet.” He still refused to look at her.
“Well I can always cancel the spell and turn everything back into flower
petals.”
“No!” the boy stared at her, horror struck, and Hermione couldn’t help but
laugh at his expression.
“Relax Tom, I was only joking. You know I wouldn’t actually do anything like
that don’t you?”
His mouth twisted and he looked rather unsure before nodding. She sighed, if
she was going to go about changing him, she needed him to trust her. But trust
would take time, time they didn’t have. I will just have to do the best I can
each time I meet him,she thought tiredly.
“Breakfast!” Biscuit’s cheery voice broke into her thoughts and plate after
plate settled themselves in neat rows on the table. Bacon, eggs, toast,
oatmeal, sausage, pancakes, French toast- every combination a person could ever
want at breakfast was there.
Tom stared at all the food, a deep hungry look in his eyes. Hermione knew the
boy hadn’t been starved, but he had probably not had much goodfood in his life.
“Are you joining us Biscuit?” Hermione asked.
The elf’s ears perked. “Biscuit would be happy to.”
The elf sat across from the boy and they both stared at one another for a
moment before slowly filling their plates. Tom refused to touch anything the
elf hadn’t picked up first. Hermione snorted and summoned over a teapot (one of
four beverage containers) and slowly poured herself a cup.
It was heaven.
Hermione’s ears perked at the sound of silverware scraping and grinned when she
saw Tom finally dare to eat the food in front of him. Biscuit was watching the
boy intently as Tom took up a spoonful of oatmeal, took a bit, and then set it
back down.
“It’s good.” He grumbled.
The elf smiled brightly. “Tommy should be trying it with cinnamon.”
Tom’s nose wrinkled “Don’t call me that.”
He poured a generous amount of cinnamon on his oatmeal.
Perhaps there is hope for those two after all.Hermione thought with a smile and
settled back into her chair, relaxed for the first time in a long while.
 
***** Night at the Museum *****
Chapter Notes
     An: Just… uugh. Between work, school, and an improv. Troupe I managed
     to get myself into. I haven't had a second to write. I swear I will
     have more time now because I JUST finished my last exam! YAY! Summer
     break for me!
Chapter 8: Night at the Museum
===============================================================================
"Hermione can we take a break?"
Hermione paused and looked down the boy next to her. Tom was slumping in
exhaustion and his feet dragged slightly as he pulled up next to her. She
frowned.
"I don't know…" she was reluctant to stop; she only had one more day before she
travelled and she needed to find a pensieve while she still could. God only
knew where she would end up next. The note her future self had given Tom
provided some clues, she knew what dates she would go to, but not in what
order. It made planning impossible, much to her frustration. Today could be her
last chance to see the memories for a long time. But we have been searching
since breakfast…
Tom's jaw clenched and his eyes went to his shoes. "Please. I'm tired."
Hermione sighed. He must have been exhausted to have admitted to being tired,
the boy was stubborn as a mule. "Alright Tom, we will stop, but only for a few
minutes." She glanced around until she spotted a tiny restaurant on the corner
of the street. "How about there?" Tom shrugged. Hermione took that as an OK.
"Let's go then."
They made their way across the bustling street and into the building and
Hermione let out a small sound of contentment. Cooling charms were merlin's
gift to wizards. A man was instantly there to greet them.
"Hello, welcome to The Hole in the Wall let me take you to your table."
Hermione smiled at the server and followed along behind him to a small table in
the back. The place was quiet and except for one other table, empty. It suited
Hermione just fine. The man set menus and silverware down for them before
returning to his post at the front of the building.
Hermione took the opportunity to look around as Tom glanced over the menu in
front of him. It wasn't a very large place, with no more than twenty booths all
the same shade of brick red lined up in neat rows. There were four doors in the
place. Two to the bathrooms next to her, one to the kitchen a few feet to her
left, and one back out the front door. It was always good to know where the
exits were.
Unless there is a way out through the kitchens we would be trapped here. She
thought uncomfortably, wanting nothing more than to leave and start walking
again. She hadn't seen the Paradox Chasers yet, but she was convinced that
should she stop….
She shook her head and tried not to think about it too much. The thought didn't
stop her from eyeing the door every few seconds though.
A girl made her way out of the kitchen. She was younger than Hermione, probably
no older than sixteen years old with long curly blond hair pulled back out of
her face. She walked over to them with a bright smile.
"Hello! My name is Darla and I will be looking after you today. Can I get you
anything to drink?"
"Water," Tom instantly responded, "lots of water."
The girl grinned at the boy. "Lots of water? We can do that." She looked over
at Hermione "How about for you?"
"Same thanks." The woman flounced off, high heels clacking noisily with each
step. Not even a minute later, she was back with two sweating glasses and a
large pitcher of ice water.
"Charmed to refill as often as you like," she told Tom with a smile. She looked
between the two of them. "Is there anything else I can get you right now?
Something to eat perhaps?"
"…I'm not sure. Can you come back in a few minutes?" Hermione said.
Darla looked disappointed for a minute before nodding and rushing back into the
kitchen. When she was gone Hermione let herself slump down onto the table,
resting her head on her arms, still keeping half an eye on the front doors. She
hadn't realized just how exhausted she was.
Across from her she heard Tom gulping down cup after cup of water. I shouldn't
have kept him out in the heat so long. She looked at the child across from her.
Sweat had plastered his hair to his scalp and his cheeks were an alarming shade
of red.
He should have told me the cooling charm I put on him had faded…
"Can I get you two anything else… besides more water?" Darla was back.
Apparently the concept of a few minutes had changed since her time.
Hermione was about to say no but Tom looked cautiously over at her in silent
inquiry. "Well I don't need anything, but if you like you can order something
Tom."
The waitress turned to the little boy and her smile grew even brighter. "What
would you like dear?"
Instantly, Tom's expression shifted and Hermione watched in fascination as his
eyes grew a fraction wider and his shoulders slumped a bit. "Just some fish and
chips please."
"Ohh, such a polite boy," the waitress cooed. "I will put that order right in
for you." She zipped away without another word.
"Why bother with the act Tom?"
His expression faded into his usual stoicism. "People tend to give me things if
I look pathetic."
Hermione shook her head. He was such a manipulative child. But really weren't
all children manipulative when they wanted something? She recalled more than
one occasion when she begged her parents for something and had gotten it by
pouting for long enough.
"You still shouldn't manipulate people like that."
Tom shrugged and returned to his water.
A few minutes later the waitress returned with a large plate of fish and chips
and a slice of cherry pie.
"For after your fish, it's on me."
Tom beamed at her. "Thank you."
"You are cuter than a bug's ear!" She squealed and looked like she wanted to do
nothing more than to embrace the little boy. Before she could give into the
impulse Hermione decided to speak up.
"If you could get us our check we should be finished here."
Darla nodded and scurried off.
"Told you." Tom smirked, and dragged the pie to him.
"Oh for goodness sake Tom eat your fish first. You need the protein."
"Yes mum."
"Unless your snark will get us closer to a pensieve, I would appreciate it if
you would be civil."
Tom scowled and looked like he was going to say something cross when the
waitress reappeared with a small tray that held their bill.
"Here is your bill, when you are ready you can put the money on the tray…" she
paused, hesitating at the edge of their table. "I don't mean to intrude, but I
heard you are looking for a pensive?"
Tom and Hermione fixed their attention on the nervous waitress.
"You know where we can find one?" Tom asked intently.
The woman nodded. "Yes, there is one open to the public at the National
Wizarding Museum in South Kensington. You go in through the muggle Natural
History Museum, in the main hall there is a statue of Charles Darwin. Tap his
head and say Evolution."
"That is keen!" Tom said with a grin. The waitress blushed under the sudden
praise.
"Oh it's nothing really. My uncle goes to use it all the time so I thought I
would pass the information on. Still good luck and have a nice day." With that
she retreated back into the kitchen.
Tom turned to face Hermione, joy lighting up his features. "Let's go!"
Hermione was eager to go as well, she was running on limited time after all,
but she finally said.
"After you eat."
Tom glared down at the fish like it had personally offended him and quickly
stuffed his mouth. She had never seen the boy look so improper doing anything.
She had to resist giggling at the sight of his bloated cheeks as he tried to
stuff two pieces of fish into his mouth at the same time. When Tom turned to
the pie Hermione pulled the check to her and laid a few sickles on the tray to
pay for the food and a few more on the table for the tip.
"Ok I'm done, come on Hermione. Shake a leg." Tom was up and moving.
"Oh slow down Tom, you don't even know where we are going!"
===============================================================================
A quick bout of apparition and a password later Hermione and Tom were in the
middle of the National Wizarding Museum. It was bustling with people. Hermione
had been surprised; the muggle part of the museum was almost empty when they
arrived.
"Wow." She heard Tom mutter.
Hermione looked around and couldn't help but be impressed. Things were moving,
flashing, glowing, hovering, and making all sorts of noises. There was so much
to look at and touch and listen to. I wish I had known about this in my time, I
would have spent hours here.
Hermione was sorely tempted to rush over to a case filled with old tomes to
look them over but her mental clock reminded her of how little time she had
left. A few hours at the most. With that in mind she tapped Tom on the shoulder
to get his attention and made her way over to the information desk.
Behind the desk an old wizard sat. He had giant glasses that magnified his eyes
to about three times their size, white fluffy hair that stuck up every which
way, and bells tied to his long droopy beard. They twinkled softly as the
little man looked up at Hermione as she made her way over.
"Evening Miss, how can I help?"
"I was looking for the public pensieves could you-"
"Oh I could and I would, but I can't, all the public pensieves are booked up
for the rest of the week."
Hermione paled, "The rest of the week?" I don't have that kind of time!
"Yes, I can pencil you in for Thursday though."
"I'm sorry but I will be… out of town. Is there any way I could use one now?"
The old wizard frowned and his magnified eyes crinkled as he thought. "Well… I
suppose if someone misses their appointment I could let you take the slot. But
only if someone doesn't show up."
Hermione sighed in relief, hope flaring in her chest. "Thank you sir, if you
don't mind I will wait here to see if something opens up."
The old wizard beamed. "I have no problem with a pretty witch keeping me
company, but what about your… child?"
She looked down at Tom.
"I can wait here with you." He offered, but his eyes drifted out toward the
exhibits.
"You don't have to. Go and explore. Just make sure you check back in with me in
a half an hour!" She called after him as he disappeared into the crowd.
Why do I feel like I have let loose a bull in a china shop? She wondered as the
little wizard pulled over the chair next to him for her to sit on.
"Thank you, sir," she said with a smile.
"Oh, don't bother with sir call me Bertie. Bertie Bott."
She jolted at the name. Couldn't be… he is much too old his father perhaps?
"Ok, Bertie. Quick question, you don't happen to have any sons do you?"
"Sons? No. I do have a daughter though." He pulled a picture toward him from
his desk and handed it to her. "Love of my life that girl." The girl in the
picture waived at her upon being noticed. She had brown hair and blue eyes, a
slim figure Hermione envied greatly, and a gentle smile. "She just got married
last month. A good man, if a bit absent minded. He owns a sweet shop in Bath."
"Do you get to see them often?"
Bertie smiled sadly. "Not often enough for my liking."
He then asked about her family and Hermione told him as much as she could
without giving too much away. The talk then turned to Bertie again. He told her
about his work at the museum ("Restoring old and forgotten things, it's an art
I tell you!") and about the people he had seen coming through the museum over
the years. ("One woman came in her wearing an outfit made entirely of feathers.
Let me tell you all the fellas got an eyeful when a gust of wind came
through!")
They kept up their conversation as time passed and people came and left. Every
once and a while Bertie would glance down at a manifesto of names and one by
one they glowed and disappeared. "As each person goes in to use it, the names
are crossed off. They get an hour and after that hour the next person can come
in. If the name doesn't disappear, that person didn't show up."
He explained when she asked. There were two names left when Tom finally
wandered back, eyes glowing.
"There is so much here," he all but gushed. "I have questions-"
He was so eager and excited she didn't have the heart to scold him for showing
up so late. He quizzed her on all she knew, even managing to get Bertie to talk
about some of the magical artifacts the museum had to offer. The old man warmed
to Tom quickly and soon the two were in their own little world and Hermione
couldn't help but be fascinated by Tom. For such a young boy he was asking
questions way beyond his level and she was almost flabbergasted by his
intelligence.
In a few years… what could he be?
She knew Voldemort had been smart, definitely highly intelligent. She knew that
when she was trying to study his dark marks and recreate the spell for the DA's
use. She had never associated the Dark Lord with this level of brilliance
though. Right now he is at the level as I was at when I was eleven… I think he
might be smarter than I am.
The thought winded her. There were very few people she considered smarter than
her, and none of them were younger than she was.
"…and there goes the last name. I am sorry Miss. Granger, but that's it for
today."
Tom and Bertie were staring at her. Bertie's eyes were large and sad and Tom's
were sharp and slightly narrowed.
"What?"
"The last name, it glowed. The museum will close in the hour they have to use
the pensive in. I am sorry."
No!
"Oh…"
"Hermione can I show you something before we have to go?"
Hermione blinked "Er, sure Tom."
The boy raced forward and grabbed her hand and started to drag her deep into
the museum.
"Where are you taking me?" She asked when they were out of earshot of the other
patrons.
"To the pensieve, I found the room it was in while you were talking to Bott."
"But Tom there is someone in there-"
"So we make them leave."
"We?"
"Yes, I am going to help you."
"Tom I am not putting you in danger again!"
He rolled his eyes. "Nothing can hurt me if I don't want it to."
Your arrogance is going to get you killed. "If you keep underestimating people
you could get seriously hurt. We are going for the pensieve yes but, hold on a
second."
Tom glared at her in frustration. "Why? We are running out of time."
Hermione didn't respond and instead pulled out her wand. She ignored his flinch
and tapped him on the head, watching as he slowly disappeared under the
disillusion charm. She then tapped herself and shuddered at the feeling of
runny eggs going down her spine.
"You made us invisible?" Tom sounded impressed.
"Sort of, it's more like we blend into the background. We will still have to be
quiet though… now take me to the pensive room." If Tom nodded she didn't see
it. A second later he grabbed her arm and started tugging her though an exhibit
that had to do with the evolution of memory charms. There was no one around.
"It's past that door over by that orb," he whispered.
"Alright… I am going to go in. Stay out here and let me know if anyone is
coming. If you see anyone coming toward us, try and lock the door and alert
me."
"…Ok."
Hermione slowly loosed herself from his grip and crept toward the door, doing
her best to keep her footsteps silent. It wasn't locked she discovered upon
turning the knob and slowly swung the door open. There was the pensieve sitting
in the middle of the room on a stand, glowing brightly from the memory inside.
Next to that stand was a table with a small rack to hold potion vials. There
was a single empty glass container in the rack.
Hermione moved over to the pensieve and peered down inside. There was an older
man; she could see him watching a young couple kissing on a stone bench. The
man in the memory looked like a younger version of the older man who was
watching. He was reliving memories of his youth. She cringed at the thought of
disturbing him before steeling herself. He could come back again. She couldn't.
She reached into the pensive and felt around until she caught something solid.
With a great tug she tore the man out of his memories. The man came flying out,
landing flat on his back, dazed.
With a quick flick of her wrist the man was stunned, staring blankly up at the
celling. "I'm sorry." She whispered to him as she bottled his memory and
slipped it into his frozen hand.
With that Hermione reached into her own pocket and pulled out three vials. She
quickly uncorked the one labeled first and slowly dripped it into the pensieve.
When it was empty Hermione carefully set the vial aside and gently touched the
silvery memory, letting it pull her in.
===============================================================================
Hermione had been dropped into a large, unfamiliar room. There was an enormous
fire place casting a gentle glow through the room. On the mantle was a flower
pot filled with what she assumed was floo powder and pictures filled with
people she had never met before. There were two giant armchairs on a plush rug
in front of the fire with a small table in-between them. On the table was a
paper.
June 17th 2013
"If you turn to look at the walls, I think you will be very happy with what you
find."
Hermione knew that voice.
A figure moved into sight, and Hermione was looking at herself- but an older
version of herself.
Future Hermione was more…womanly. Her hips looked wider, her breasts plumper,
and her face looked a bit rounder. She looked tired, there were dark shadows
under her eyes and there were slight wrinkles around her mouth from either
constant smiling or frowning. Past Hermione really hoped it was the former.
Doing as she was told Hermione glanced over the walls. They were filled with
books, new books, old books, rare books, common books- going up three floors.
This is what she had always imagined her library to look like.
"It only took being a time traveler to collect this many." Her older self said
with a smile and settled down into one of the plush chairs by the fire with a
content sigh. "It was all about being in the right place at the right time and
sometimes I had the luck to stumble into an author whose book I wanted."
Her older self's eyes found the place Hermione was standing and Hermione was
suddenly nervous at the exhaustion she found there. What had happened to make
her so tired?
"Life happened." The woman replied, much to Hermione's surprise. "I know what
you are thinking, considering I once WAS you… but not quite the you, you are
currently."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked out loud.
"You are asking what I am talking about, I am almost positive of that. What I
mean is I am not you, and you may never become ME because of my meddling." The
older woman's eyes were far away as she looked into the fire. "I am not sure if
that is a good or bad thing yet, and I will never know because of my current
choices."
Hermione said nothing as questions bounced around in her brain. The older woman
smiled. "I will try and answer your questions as best as I can. But I can only
answers the ones I, myself, asked when I was in your situation." The woman
settled back into her seat and closed her eyes for a moment as if she were
thinking very deeply.
"It was so long ago it is hard to remember everything I wanted to ask. I wrote
it all down once but I lost it when we moved… I think I should start at the
beginning of our story though and answer the questions I would have wanted to
know as I go." Before she could start a young house elf popped into the room
with a tea tray.
"For Miss," The little elf declared proudly and put the tray down on the table
in-between the chairs.
"Thank you dear, you can go back to your chores now." The elf bowed and popped
away.
"Sweet little thing," future Hermione said with a smile, picking up a very fine
looking cup and taking a sip of the tea. "He makes a good cup, gets that from
his mother." She set the cup down on a saucer on her lap. "Now where was I? Ah
yes, the beginning."
"A very long time ago the first Hermione traveled back in time to the 1800's
and from then on moved forward at a pace of about three to five years remaining
at each place she traveled to for about one year at a time. This Hermione did a
great many things, learning and studying and making friends of all sorts before
making it back to her own time." The woman took another sip of tea. "No, she
didn't age in all that time until she hit the year of her birth. Only then did
she start to age again. In essence, as long as we are traveling back before our
first birthday we are immortal unless we are killed… and we CAN die Hermione,
don't forget that."
"What you mean by the FIRST Hermione?" she asked, despite knowing this person
couldn't hear her.
"I bet you are wondering about my terminology. It's not exactly correct; we
are, after all, the same person. But each of our experiences has made us so
different from one another that we might as well be entirely different people.
My life isn't going to be your life... at least I hope it will not be." The
woman looked down into her cup and traced the rim with a finger. "Not that my
life is bad by any means, I merely wish things had turned out differently."
Regret hung about her aura and for a moment Hermione thought the older version
of herself had forgotten her until she spoke again. "I have been so blessed
with my life, I have made wonderful friends and allies and I wouldn't trade a
moment spent with them. But sometimes I wonder… if I have been wrong this whole
time about certain things. That is why I am here talking to you, to give you a
chance at a happiness I never got to have because of fear."
The woman sighed and shook her head. "But I am getting ahead of myself. I was
telling you about the first Hermione… she lived her life, and she died after
living to a ripe old age after changing the world for the better. There wasn't
much information about her by the time I came along." She took a sip of her
tea. "The second Hermione went through something similar, except she followed
the events of the first Hermione in the wrong order. She was the one who
figured out that there would be a Hermione after her and was the first to try
and create a system of guiding the next version of herself."
The woman smiled slightly. "It continued on from there until it turned into
what I first found in the wardrobes in the vault. There was so much inside,
memories from all the past Hermiones, parchment paper with new spells worked on
for years between all of us, new potions to cure and kill and a bevy of other
things. We formulated new mathematical concepts, learned how to care for and
find rare plants, and where to find lost cities of magic. We even discovered a
new planet. All the while we left hints and tips of who we should talk to and
the patterns of where we might end up next and who to trust with our key. Who
had broken that trust, and who hadn't, what bits of information to give to who,
when, what should be changed and what should never be changed."
Hermione frowned. She had seen nothing like that when she had opened the
wardrobe. Perhaps it had been in the one next to it?
"It was hard to follow at first, there was so much to look at and study and I
was so young and new to Time Traveling. Most of it went right over my head but
the more I studied the more I learned and the more I tried to follow in my own
footsteps… or the past-me's footsteps rather… as best as I could. All the past
Hermiones had created a diagram to be followed on how to create a better more
perfect world, tweaking and changing it over and over again… we are practically
Gods Hermione. With our power we can change the world in almost any way we want
to and I was positive it was all for the better."
The future Hermione sighed deeply. "I was very wrong, but by the time realized
it, it was too late to fix. At least it is too late for ME to fix, there is
still time to do the right thing instead of the thing I thought was right. So I
burned all the information inside the wardrobe. All the diagrams, books,
spells- they are all gone. I have left you all of our accumulated resources but
nothing else."
"But what should I do? Where do I go?" Hermione felt the first stages of true
panic set in.
"You will be fine, I know you will be. Just relax, don't panic, and choose your
key holder wisely. I have left you two other vials with-"
"HERMIONE!" the shout reverberated around her. "They're here! I need help!" It
was Tom.
"-I hope it will be enough. Break the chain Hermione. For all our sakes, be the
one who breaks the chain."
The memory started to fade. "HERMIONE!" Tom shouted again, and with a great
tug- she was back in the museum.
===============================================================================
Tom was flashing in and out of visibility. Both of his hands were braced
against the door and glowing a dark blue. The door was shuddering badly and a
few parts had already broken in. Tom's hair was covered in wood shavings. "I
don't think I can hold them back much longer!"
Hermione whipped out her wand and cast three of the strongest locking charms
she knew. The door stopped its shuddering and Tom slumped to the ground. He was
breathing hard and his hair glistened wetly with sweat. "What took you so
long?" He gasped out.
"I'm sorry."
"Well… you are here now. Get us out of here."
Hermione glanced back at the two other vials of memory. She would not have the
time to look them over... at all. She was going to travel soon, and she
couldn't exactly take them with her. I can't give them to Tom either. I don't
know what would happen if he got information about the future. Whatever it
is. Regretfully she raised her wand again.
"Reducto!" The vials shattered under the power of the spell, and the silver
memory inside dripped down to the floor. Useless. "Come here Tom."
The boy's gaze flicked in-between her and the glass for a moment and she
thought he might not come near her until the door shuddered again. He was at
her side in an instant. She took a hold of his shoulder.
"Hold on." She warned and tried to apparate only to hit a very strong barrier.
They were trapped.
A chill worked its way down Hermione's spine. But it wasn't fear. This is what
happened to me last time before I traveled.
Tom looked up at her "Well? Are we going or not?"
"I am about to travel." Hermione said weakly as she started to shake. Tom's
eyes widened in surprise.
"Now?"
She nodded. She had to think and think fast. She would be safe from danger when
she traveled, Tom would be left behind. I can't leave him in danger again. Then
an idea struck. Hermione reached for her neck, pulling out the fine silver
chain with the two keys on the end of it. One was for the vault, the other was
the key to the flat she had added on that morning.
She cast spells in quick succession, trying hard to fight the trembling in her
arm. I hope this works.
"What's this?" Tom asked as she placed the chain around his neck.
"One is the vault key, it's about time I gave it back to you, and the other…
well that's a key to the flat. I made it into a portkey, it will take you back
there if you give it the password."
"What will happen after that?"
"It will be a normal key again… I want you to keep it Tom."
Tom stared uncomprehendingly at her. "You mean you want me to have it until you
leave." He asked slowly.
Hermione shook her head although it was hard to. She was trembling even harder
and the cold feeling was spreading from her chest to the rest of her body. "No.
I want you to keep it. Even after I leave, I want you to have access to the
flat. I charmed it for permanence so when I travel it will not disappear."
Tom's expression went flat, she could see the gears in his head turning
rapidly, trying to assimilate what she was telling him. "You… are asking me to
live with you?"
"Yes you could put it that way. You don't have to if you don't want to though,
you could go back to the orphanage and use it as a safe house…" She trailed
off.
"…Why on earth would I say no?" He asked softly clutching at the keys around
his neck until his knuckles turned white.
The door shattered and she saw the blond Chaser peer into the room. They were
out of time.
"Courage." She whispered, and Tom, still clutching the keys, disappeared.
"We finally got you, Granger." The shorter Chaser, Booth, growled and prowled
toward her.
Hermione's teeth stared to chatter.
"T-t-too late." She breathed out and before the older man could say another
word or take another step, Hermione disappeared into the Time Stream.
***** Flying Blind *****
Chapter 9 Flying Blind
---
Unlike the previous two times she traveled, Hermione stayed conscious… not that
there was anything to stay conscious for. She was surrounded on all sides by
black and silence and cold. The cold was the worst. It crept into her lungs and
froze her from the inside. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move, she
couldn't even think. All of her existence centered around the black and the ice
that felt like it was slowly creeping into her skin.
When it felt like she would be forever stuck in icy limbo, there was warmth.
Hermione sucked in a breath and let the delicious hot air fill her and in that
moment she decided that she would never complain about the heat ever again.
With each breath she took the darkness around her unraveled. There was no other
way to describe it. It was like someone took black yarn, grabbed a strand of
it, and tugged until that strand and all those around it broke apart into
thousands and thousands of individual colorful threads.
It was like seeing a rainbow for the first time, completely and utterly
breathtaking.
The colors slowly started to make sense, that shade of blue was part of a
window, that pale white was sunlight, the warm brown was the leather of a book,
the gold on the spine were letters Beasts of the Wilds.
She blinked once, twice, and the world around her was clear. There was a young
man holding the book, a young man she knew. "Tom."
He looked up from his book, his solid blue eyes placid.
"I have been expecting you."
His voice was different. A bit deeper, richer, it was not a man's voice yet but
it was on its way. A loud whistle interrupted her musing and Hermione took in
the rest of the space around her. She was in a train compartment.
"Where are we?" she asked. She had her suspicions, but one could never be too
sure.
"Hogwarts Express, and before you ask I locked the compartment door before you
appeared. No one can get in so you can relax."
Hermione wanted to do just that, but the slight chill that remained in the
compartment reminded her of her nakedness.
"Er, Tom, do you have any-" he shut his eyes and waved his hand. Instantly, she
was clothed in a simple robe. "Thank you… that was very impressive magic."
Tom shrugged. "I have been able to do it for years."
"You really need to learn how to take a complement," she mumbled and sank into
the familiar cushions, basking in the warmth of the sun as it poured into the
compartment. When she had thawed a bit more she spoke again, "What time is it?"
Tom looked back up from the book he had re-immersed himself in. "I assume you
are asking for the date." It was a statement, Hermione didn't bother answering
him. "It is nineteen thirty seven, September first... around three in the
afternoon I would say."
"So, you are headed to Hogwarts then…" she mused.
He quirked an eyebrow. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
She rolled her eyes. "I was just thinking out loud." She looked him over
carefully. "What year are you going into?" It was hard to tell; Tom had always
been rather tall for his age (from what she could tell) and spoke well enough
to easily fool anyone about his age if he didn't stretch the truth too much.
"My first."
She blinked in surprise. He looked about thirteen or so, he was developing
early. She remembered reading somewhere that boys who developed earlier tended
to be popular and well liked.
"Oh, you must be excited."
Tom shrugged. His nonchalance surprised her until he explained himself. "I
expect it to be rather dull actually. I have already mastered the first year
spells and the second. I have been working on third year material, but it seems
to focus less on practicality and more on creature recognition so mostly I have
been reading." There he paused, scanning her face quickly before speaking
again. "I am rather eager to see the library though, from what you tell me
there is none that can rival it."
At that Hermione smiled. "I have yet to see the library that could even come
close."
"I suppose I will have to take your word for it until I can check for myself."
Hermione laughed. "You are so distrusting."
"And that amuses you?"
She grinned. "Yes, it does."
Tom stared at her intently. "I don't think I will ever understand you."
"Well if it makes you feel any better I don't think I will ever understand you
either."
His lips twitched before falling back into his usual neutral expression.
Outside the train whistled again, causing Tom and Hermione stare out the
windows for a moment. "We don't have much time left," Tom said. "Perhaps ten
minutes at most."
Hermione frowned and pulled the robe more securely around her shoulders. She
did not relish the thought of going back into the cold and the black so soon
after leaving it. Tom noticed the action and his brow furrowed.
"Is the cloth not comfortable? I would have brought something nicer but our
time together is limited so I thought the conjured fabric would suffice."
She gave a weak smile. "It's fine Tom." He looked unsure, but before he could
speak again she changed the subject. "What are you reading about?"
"Werewolves."
Memories flooded her. "One of my Professors was a werewolf."
He perked up at that. "Truly?"
Hermione nodded and proceeded to distract herself by telling stories of her
third year to the curious boy, being careful to leave out names as she spoke.
She had just finished talking about the unique tolerance to wolf bites that
Animagi had when she felt shivers race down her spine.
"It's time."
Tom looked disappointed. "I suppose I will see you later."
How much later would it be? One year? Two? Ten?
"I suppose you will. Goodbye for now."
Tom nodded and stared deeply into her eyes as the cold slowly took over her
body. The deep blue of his irises were the last thing to fade into the black as
she traveled again.
---
It was dark. Hermione squinted but it was no use, it was pitch black. Not the
endless black she saw when she traveled, but it was still dim. The next thing
she noticed was the fact that she was on her side, on a rather comfortable…
cushion? She blinked a few times to try and clear her vision and she noticed
the crisp white sheets beneath her. A bed then, she identified and stroked her
hand over the fabric.
"Mmmm."
It was the warning she got before an arm was thrown over her side and a hand
mindlessly pawed at her breasts. Hermione had to hold back a scream and
flinched so badly she fell out of the bed crashing painfully down onto the
wooden floor.
"Ow," she hissed. Her hands and knees ached from the effort of trying to catch
herself, she would bet very good money they were scraped.
"Tom?" A groggy voice called. "Did you fall out of bed?"
Hermione bit her tongue and her eyes darted around to find a suitable hiding
place. Under the bed! It was her only option, she dropped down as low as she
could, and wincing as her chest came in contact with the hard wood as she
scrambled under the bedframe. The bedframe wasn't very high, but there was just
enough space for her.
There was no dust or grime, to her immense relief, but there was a small pile
of clothes to her right and her cheeks heated at the implication.
"Tom?" The voice called again. She- and it was a she- sounded confused.
Hermione was sure her entire body was red. Tom? MY Tom? It was hard to think of
the little boy she had come to know having sex… she assumed he was having sex
at least. The evidence was overwhelming.
A door opened to her right letting a cloud of steam gush into the room. A
second later a figure moved out of the cloud. From her angle she could only see
a pair of large masculine feet as they walked over to the bed. She could count
every hair on his legs he was so close. Her eyes traced a single droplet of
water as it made its way down the thick column of flesh that made up his calf.
All muscle, she thought, her mouth suddenly very dry.
"Pearl?" The voice sent shivers down her spine. "I heard you call."
Hermione heard shifting above her and let out a surprised wheeze when something
pressed against her back. Please don't let them have heard! She prayed,
clenching her teeth as the sharp thing, which she assumed was a spring, jabbed
into her unprotected back.
"I thought…" she trailed off, unsure. "It's nothing."
Get off get off get off. Hermione mentally chanted, sighing in relief when
Pearl finally scooted to the edge of the bed. A small, dainty, pale foot came
into her field of vision, followed by another. Both feet were quickly covered
by fabric… the bed sheets if Hermione wasn't mistaken, they were wrapped around
her.
"You took a shower?" She sounded disappointed.
"I did tell you I had to leave in the morning." His voice was stern. No
nonsense.
"Is there any way I can convince you to stay a while longer?" Hermione could
almost hear the pout in her tone. "I could…" there was a quiet rustle and a
towel fell into her line of vision-
Oh sweet Merlin.
Quickly followed by the fabric of the bed sheets-
Oh. Sweet. Merlin.
And Pearl getting down on her knees-
OH SWEET MERLIN!
And the sound of a low, strained, groan-
Hermione was ready to scream for them to stop. But Tom did it for her.
"Stop." He ordered tersely.
There was a quiet pop and the girl fell back and away from him, sitting down
right in front of Hermione… Pearl had a rather plush bottom. Hermione almost
felt self-conscious. The feeling quickly turned back to embarrassment at the
sight of the purple-red bruises going down along the girls back.
"I have to leave. Go take a shower and let me get dressed in peace."
Pearl sighed but obediently rose to her feet and made her way over to the door
to the bathroom, she hesitated only for a moment before disappearing inside. A
minute later the shower started up. As soon as it did the door slowly closed on
its own, a blue haze covering the wooden surface.
"Are you going to spend all day under there, Hermione?"
It felt like her insides had frozen and she swallowed heavily around the lump
in her throat.
"I was rather hoping you wouldn't notice me here," she finally said.
"I saw you in Pearl's memories. Don't worry I altered them, she will never even
realize you have been here."
Hermione sighed and slowly made her way out from under the bed wincing slightly
as her back cracked.
"You shouldn't play with people's memories like that Tom."
"I can assure you my way is more gentle than most, and I doubt that she will
miss those few minutes of her life."
A hand was thrust in front of her face and she gratefully took it, letting Tom
pull her to her feet.
Her back buckled slightly and she fell forward into Tom. He caught her easily,
holding her steady as her back twitched and throbbed. He smelt nice, like
shampoo, soap, heat, and something else she couldn't identify, cologne perhaps?
"I think your girlfriend might weigh a thousand pounds." She finally hissed
when her back finally calmed down to the point where she felt she could stand
on her own.
Tom snorted. "She is not my girlfriend."
She frowned and was ready to scold him when she felt something press into her
belly. Her eyes went round as coins.
Tom grimaced and took a step away from her. "I apologize, that has been
happening a lot lately."
"You're hard." She squeaked, then she took a really good look at Tom. "You're
naked!" She all but shrieked. Well that wasn't entirely accurate, the key to
the vault still hung around his neck, but other than that, not a scrap of
clothing.
He quirked an eyebrow. "So are you."
Well he had her there. "Well at least I have a good reason why." She grumbled,
crossing her arms across her breasts, looking at everything in the room but
him.
"So do I. If anything I should be offended that you have intruded on my
personal time… I wasn't expecting you."
She glanced quickly in his direction before going back to studying the wall.
"You weren't?"
"No, you were supposed to appear next week."
She frowned, only just noticing as magic washed over her skin as she thought.
Tom had clothed her again. This time it was a full outfit instead of just a
robe. "I think I know what might have happened."
"I would like to hear it, but I think you should go."
She looked sharply over at him. He was wearing pants this time and fastening
his belt in place before picking up a very nice looking button down shirt.
"Why?"
"Pearl, she should be getting out of the shower soon. I locked the door but I
don't want to have to explain why."
"Where should I go? I don't even know where… or when I am."
"You are in the Leakey Cauldron, second floor. It is nineteen forty one. Go
down stairs, take an open table, and get something to eat. I will join you
shortly."
It rankled that she was being ordered around, but her stomach gave an ominous
rumble. "Don't take too long."
He nodded glancing over at the bathroom door, "Hurry."
Hermione made her way out of the room, closing the door behind her firmly. She
glanced up and down the hallway, mildly relieved there was no one there to see
her. She was sure her hair was a mess, and she was positive her cheeks were
still flushed. What would people think about that?
Well I have been called a whore before. She thought with a delicate sniff. She
thrust her chin into the air and walked, proud as a peacock, down into the main
pub. Almost instantly she felt like there were a thousand pairs of eyes on her.
She tried not to look down at her feet or cross her arms across her stomach as
she glanced around nervously for a place to sit. Hermione felt dirty, like some
brand was plastered across her forehead that she couldn't get rid of. She could
feel the phantom touch of Tom poking into her belly. She shivered slightly at
the memory.
But no one gave her so much as a second glance. She relaxed slightly. Really
what had she been expecting? She was being illogical. People came and went so
often why would anyone notice one teenage girl wandering about? With a small
sigh she wandered over to an empty table by the stairs leading up to the guest
rooms. As soon as Tom made his way down she would know about it.
A waitress came over a few minutes later and Hermione soon found herself
stuffing bits of melon, pineapple, grapes, and blueberries into her mouth with
alarming speed. She had tried a bit of bacon before, but her stomach had turned
so violently at the taste that she had hastily pushed it aside. Hadn't Tom
mentioned something about her preferring fruit after she traveled? She would
keep that in mind for next time.
She had just finished off a sizeable chunk of watermelon when a rather pretty
girl came down the stairs. There was something about the way she was walking
that caught Hermione's attention, a smooth looseness to her stride and an
astonishing fluidity to her movements that held her captivated. The woman
traded a few words with the man behind the counter and passed him a key.
Through the buzz of conversation around her Hermione caught the tail end of
their conversation.
"Will that be everything, Miss?"
"Yes it will."
"Will your… companion be joining you?"
"Not at the moment, he had business to take care of."
Hermione eyed the girl critically. She was willowy, tall, and moved with that
serene grace Hermione envied. Her hair was a deep chestnut and very curly, but
her curls were neat and well ordered, almost like a doll's hair, and her face
was tiny and cute. But her eyes were large and, if she had to pick a color to
describe them, she could call them mother of- Pearl. There was almost an
audible click as her mind made the connection.
This was Tom's… lover?
The thought made her ill. He shouldn't be having sex with that. She looked like
she would break under the pressure of a stray gust of wind. Not to mention she
looked young. She would have to give Tom a very stern talking to about underage
sex. Did he even know about contraceptive charms?
She groaned and buried her face into her hands. She did not relish the thought
of giving the future dark lord the 'talk'.
He doesn't seem to need it. She thought darkly as she remembered the hickey
trail that went down along Pearl's back. Whatever had happened to the little
boy who flinched every time she tried to touch him?
"Hermione?"
She blinked and looked up from the empty plate she had been staring at.
Tom was sitting across from her, his dark eyes contemplative as he observed
her. He was devastatingly handsome, his hair, still slightly damp, gleamed
ebony in the light, his skin was smooth and pale, and his eyes glittered. It
was as if there was a whole universe behind those eyes, and if you could get
close to him, you could see it. Hermione caught sight of a few women sending
coy looks over in his direction, and she really couldn't blame them.
"Well at least you have your trousers on this time."
His lips twitched into a brief frown before he fell into the neutral expression
he always seemed to use with her.
"Indeed I do-" he slowly looked her up and down "-and so do you. If we are done
pointing out the obvious now, tell me how you could be early. I was under the
impression that the dates you gave me were complete, and unchanging."
Hermione leaned back in her seat. "Do you remember that night at the museum?"
"Vaguely."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, I only had a chance to view one of the
memories, but according to my future self every time another version of me goes
back in time, the dates of my traveling alter."
Tom frowned. "You didn't think to tell me this sooner?"
"I didn't know about it sooner. It's only been about twenty minutes for me,
Tom."
He sighed, sounding rather frustrated, then spoke slowly, as if his focus were
being pulled in two different directions. "Well now that we know, we can do
something about it."
Hermione frowned. There was something in his tone that put her on edge. He
doesn't like that I can just pop in at any time… what are you hiding Tom? She
didn't dare ask, this Tom was a master of the mind if his recent trick with
Pearl was any indication, and she was all but defenseless. At the moment she
had no wand, and no practical skill with occlumency. I have to be careful with
my suspicions until I can learn occlumency.
She tensed when Tom reached into his pocket, only to relax when he pulled out
the black leather diary she had seen on him when they had first met. He flipped
through it for a moment before he found what he had been looking for. "I don't
see anything about you deviating from the times you gave me before this."
"But why is it changing now?" She wondered out loud.
"I couldn't tell you." He shut the diary with a snap. He was obviously bothered
by his lack of knowledge. Hermione saw his jaw clench and his fingers drum
restlessly over and over again against the table. Hermione felt his
frustration.
"I wish I had access to the Hogwarts' library. It's one of the most extensive
libraries in the world; there must be something there about what is happening
to me." She sighed.
"There isn't. I dare say I exhausted all of their books on time travel and
found nothing coming close to your situation."
"All of them?"
"It wasn't that impressive a feat. There were only a few on the main shelves
and for once they had better information than the ones in the restricted
section."
Hermione frowned at him. "You shouldn't be going into the restricted section."
"I always have permission."
"You still shouldn't be in there."
His eyes narrowed "Any particular reason?"
Her jaw clenched. "Just a lot of dangerous information."
"Information is never dangerous Hermione."
"It is if you put it to use."
"Are you trying to imply something?"
Before Hermione could reply the waitress who had been serving her came over.
She held the tray she had been using close to her chest and her foot tapped in
a nervous rhythm. "Pardon me, but I have your bill…"
Tom glared at her and the girl flinched badly. His expression gentled and when
he spoke his voice was low and smooth. "Thank you, Martha. You can put it on my
tab."
The girl relaxed. "Yes Mr. Riddle. Have a good day Mr. Riddle."
"You have a tab?" Hermione asked when the girl had left.
"Technically it's yours, but you gave me permission to use that and anything
else I might need… if it makes you feel any better you gave me a monthly draw
limit."
Hermione had to fight a smile. "I gave you an allowance?"
Tom's returning smile was dark. "I prefer to think of it as payment for
services rendered. But we have wandered away from our original conversation."
Hermione shook her head. "I have no idea what we can do about it without
careful research, and if what you say is true about the Hogwarts' library, then
I am not quite sure where I could possibly find information about what I am
going through."
"Well… there is always the Department of Mysteries. But I doubt you want to go
traipsing about the Ministry of Magic. According to the law you would be locked
away in one of their rooms, never to be seen again if they caught wind that you
were a time traveler."
Hermione shuddered at the thought. "And the Paradox chasers might be there."
Tom smirked. "I wouldn't worry about them."
"Why?"
"I have come up with a way to keep them chasing their own tails for months…
perhaps years. They shouldn't be a problem."
"How?"
Tom shrugged. "It was a simple matter. I found a spell that would allow me to
mimic your magical signature enough to confuse them. It would not hold up
against the securities of a place like Gringotts, but the amulet they are using
to track you is rather inefficient once you know how it works."
"So where are they exactly?"
"As of right now they are in Albania."
"Albania?"
"Yes. I cast the signature spell on various trees. As soon as they approach a
tree with the spell attached to it the spell will fade and the next will
activate and they will start the search anew."
"Are you sure it will work?"
Tom frowned. "Very sure. Really Hermione, it's a simple matter to keep two
bumbling Unspeakables out of our business."
"You shouldn't underestimate people."
His eyebrow rose. "I have managed to keep them off of our trail for years with
little effort. They have changed neither their methods nor their approach, I
feel confident that that will not change."
"But-"
"Do not worry about it Hermione." There was suggestion laced in his tone, and
she felt her shoulders relax slightly. She felt calmer.
"What did you do?"
He leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest. "You were growing
agitated, so I cast a calming charm on you. Mothers use that particular spell
on fussy infants."
If she wasn't so calm she might have taken offence to be referred to as an
infant. As it was all she wanted to do was relax in a comfortable chair for a
while or take a long nap. She yawned loudly making Tom frown. "Perhaps I put
too much power into the spell." He murmured as Hermione rested her head on her
arms and shut her eyes.
"Maybe," Hermione agreed, and let herself drift off.
***** Biscuit's Boy *****
Hermione was awake.
It was an odd feeling to have been so deeply asleep one moment and then to be
suddenly and completely awake the next. Perhaps it was because her sleep had
been an enchanted one. She didn't even feel tired. She contemplated the oddness
of her situation for a few minutes more before she slowly sat up. She was on a
bed, she noted. One she was acquainted with.
It was the London flat she and little Tom had occupied. He had stayed.
She peered around. Where before the room had looked more like a guest room,
this place was obviously lived in. The wardrobe at the end of her bed was
slightly open and she saw more than one robe inside, they were obviously too
big for her. On the desk to her left was a small pile of parchment, she stood
and moved over to inspect them better.
Across the surface of the desk were pages and pages of research on some kind of
amulet. A few letters written that looked to be in a woman's hand if she wasn't
mistaken, and another letter that she was positive that came from Hogwarts.
Hermione couldn't resist the urge to look.
Dear Mr. Riddle,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to serve as Prefect
for Slytherin House. Your school record shows that you have exhibited quick-
thinking in stressful situations, the ability to lead others, and the cunning
Slytherins have long been lauded for.
We are certain that you will continue to be a model for your peers and will
take your new responsibilities seriously. Enclosed please find your Prefects
Badge, which should be worn on your school robes at all times. Congratulations!
Sincerely,
Horace Slughorn
Head of Slytherin House
Ps: Well done my boy, very well done indeed.
Hermione wasn't surprised Tom had been made a prefect, what she WAS surprised
by was the implication of Tom's age. He was, at the very least fifteen years
old. He looks so much older. She thought slightly dumbfounded. If she had, had
to guess his age before she saw the letter she would have said he was seventeen
or eighteen. It was his height, the way he carried himself. Hermione told
herself as her cheeks heated when she remembered their interaction that…
morning? What time was it? Hermione looked out a nearby window. It looked to be
late afternoon.
"Miss is looking through Tommy's things?"
Hermione jumped in surprise at the sound of the voice behind her. She turned to
face the speaker and relaxed when she saw a familiar face.
"Biscuit! Oh look at you, you are so much older!"
And she was. There were more wrinkles in her skin and her ears drooped a little
more than they had before, but beyond that the elf looked none the worse for
wear. Biscuit raised herself up proudly.
"Indeed, I am. Tommy hasn't managed to off me yet."
"I was worried about that to be honest, but you seem to be doing well."
"Yes miss, I have a husband and a little one of my own now. Crumpet listens
better than bad Tommy ever did."
"Crumpet?"
"He is my son miss, he is three this year. Although I consider him my second,
bad Tommy feels like my first."
Biscuit considers Tom her son? Well it made sense; she had sent Tom back to the
flat alone with no one… except for Biscuit.
"I am so sorry, Biscuit I didn't even consider you would have to look after
him."
"I won't say it wasn't trouble miss, but I liked Tommy's company. It was lonely
in the house all alone before he came."
"Speaking of Tom, do you know where he is?"
"Tommy is at work, he will be back in a few hours though. He stays later then I
would like and sometimes I have to drag him home."
"He has a job?"
"Yes, miss! I am very proud of him!" Her ears perked for a minute. "But we can
talk more over tea, I just put a pot on and it's ready."
As they wandered back through the flat, Hermione took the time to observe the
changes that the years had brought to the place. The furniture and many of the
knickknacks were still the same, but there were more books on the bookshelves
then there had been before, and on the mantle above the fireplace were
pictures. In one was the Tom she had seen not even a few hours ago. He was
rolling his eyes at the camera and leaning against the door to the flat. There
was a trunk at his side. It must have been taken just before he went to the
train. Another picture next to it showed a taller Tom. He was standing next to
a blond haired boy she assumed was a Malfoy and a girl with black as night eyes
and hair, a crooked nose, and a vague smile.
She looked familiar but Hermione couldn't put her finger on here she had seen
her before. There was yet another picture next to that one. This one had a
whole group of boys. Each had a different crest on their robe. They all looked
bored. Golden lettering was under them:
Slug Club 1941
They must have taken this before the end of last school year. Hermione thought.
"Tommy doesn't like his pictures, but I get them and put them up anyway."
Biscuit said proudly when she noticed Hermione looking. "He used to try and
tear them up, but I put a stop to it. But come, before the tea gets cold."
There is something odd about Biscuit. Hermione thought as the elf led her into
the kitchen. A small round table had been set up with a white lace tablecloth
draped over it. A fresh bouquet of flowers stood in the middle of the table.
Biscuit snapped her fingers and teacups and saucers flew out from the cabinets
and settled themselves down onto the table. "Would you like any honey?" Biscuit
asked.
"If you don't mind…" she said with a frown. What is different about Biscuit?
"Is something bothering Miss?"
It hit Hermione like a bolt of lightning. "Your accent!"
"My accent?"
"Yes, you speak properly now- not that you didn't speak well before but- you
are grammatically correct."
The elf smiled. "Tommy taught me. He told me I would have to know how to speak
and write properly."
"Why?" Hermione asked as the elf took a steaming kettle off of the stove and
carried it over to the table.
"So I could send him letters at school. I look on him as my own child Miss, but
he wouldn't have liked it if I kept popping to Hogwarts to check on him. The
other House Elves wouldn't like it either. So every once and a while I send
Tommy letters and snacks from home, he loves my gingersnaps." Biscuit settled
down on the chair next to Hermione. "Besides that it is good to give young boys
some freedom. Human boys and house elf boys are not so different that way, it
just takes humans longer to mature is all."
It had to be the most bizarre thing she had ever heard. "Does he write you
back?"
"Oh yes Miss, I insist on it, or else I DO go down to the school." The elf
wrung her hands. "I also write to his teachers when I need Miss. I sign his
permission slips when he brings them, the magic takes me for his guardian. I
hope you don't mind."
"Not at all, actually I didn't even consider the fact that he would be without
someone looking after him. Thank you for doing it for all this time."
The elf's cheeks reddened. "You give me much credit, you did think of some
things. You set up Tommy's allowance, and gave me access to our vault to pay
for all our needs."
"I suppose I will. Next time I am in the past I will get everything set up."
"I don't doubt that. But Miss should drink her tea before it gets cold."
Without another word Hermione reached for her tea and took a delicate sip. It
was still hot and she relished the feeling of the heat moving down her throat
and into her belly.
"You said Tom was working." She finally said when her cup was half empty.
"Isn't he a bit young?"
"Tommy has special permission because he is so advanced. He works with Mr.
Bertie at the museum most nights in the summer and on the weekends when he is
at school… he might be working there full time if the governors didn't reject
his application for early graduation."
"COULD he graduate early? That is a lot of material he would have to know."
The elf sighed. "Tommy could do it. He has read all the books, and there isn't
a spell he can't cast. But…" the elf trailed off. "Tommy isn't a pureblood."
A spark of rage made her straighten her back. "If he has the aptitude then I
don't see what the problem is."
Biscuit shook her head tiredly. "Pureblood wizards do not like it when a
muggleborn boy outshines their own sons. They give thousands of reasons why not
to let Tommy through. He had to fight so hard to keep his job at the museum
Miss. They call him selfish to ask for more."
"But he is a Slytherin! They are supposed to be ambitious!"
"You will hear no arguments form me, Miss."
"Something has to change."
"I agree."
Hermione jumped at the sound of Tom's voice. He stood in the doorway, casually
leaning against the frame.
"How long have you been there?" She asked as he slowly walked into the room.
"Long enough to hear you defend me, it almost makes you causing me to be late
to work worth it."
She gaped at him. "I made you late to work?"
"Yes, after you passed out under the effects of a simple calming charm I had to
take you all the way back here before heading to the museum."
"You were the one who cast the spell on me!"
"I didn't expect it to have such a great effect. You should have told me how
weak you were."
Hermione jumped to her feet. "I am not weak!"
Tom seemed surprised by her outburst. "So you don't know yet I assume?"
"Know what?"
"That when you travel it all but drains your magical core."
A chill worked its way down her spine. But it had nothing to do with her
traveling. Tom seemed to notice her sudden fright. "Biscuit could you get
Hermione more tea?" The elf nodded and with a snap of her fingers the kettle
was pouring a generous helping of steaming hot tea into her cup. "Drink and try
to calm down, remember stress can cause you to travel early and you are in to
shape magically to do so."
Hermione accepted the cup he passed to her and she took deep gulps of the
steaming liquid. "Tom if my core drains completely I could lose my magic… or
even die."
"Yes, that is one of the reasons wizards haven't tested time travel more
intently. It takes a lot of magic to jump back even an hour, and you jump years
on your own."
Hermione was a powerful witch in her own right, she knew it, she was proud of
her power. But as she did the mental calculations she grew more and more
alarmed by the sheer amount of magic needed to travel as she had. What I do is
impossible.
"I should be dead three times over by that logic."
"But you are not." He walked till he was next to her, his black eyes gleaming
as he examined her face. "I have one working theory, but as of now it is only a
theory. The way I see it is that, unlike what the text books say, your magical
core is more like a muscle than a fixed thing." Tom said with a gesture. A
spoon floated over to his hand and hovered above it. "At first all you can do
is little things. Then after you do it a few times, your magic adjusts to the
strain and grows stronger and soon…" another spoon floated up to hover next to
the first one. "You can do more and so on and so forth until-"
The whole table lifted up including the cups the flowers… even the chair she
was sitting on.
"Tommy put Miss Hermione down." Biscuit scolded.
Tom smirked and with a flick of his fingers everything fell down with a crash,
including Hermione.
"What was that really necessary?" Hermione hissed through her teeth.
"No, but it did bring me mild entertainment."
"Has anyone told you that you are an ass?"
"Only you."
"Good, someone should know the truth. Tom Riddle is an ass."
"You should be nicer to the man who can solve your problem."
Hermione groaned. "Which one?"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial filled with a blue liquid.
"This will help your magical core recharge a bit faster." She took it from him
and held it, but she didn't drink it. If Tom was bothered by her obvious
distrust he didn't show it, instead he continued speaking "-and tomorrow I have
permission from Bertie to let you look through our collection of rare magical
tomes. One of which I happen to know is about time travel."
"And they are going to let me read it?"
"Well they are going to let you look at it."
Hermione frowned in confusion.
"Let me explain, the book is written entirely in parseltongue, and no one knows
what it says except me."
***** The Book of Before *****
Chapter Notes
     Hey guys I am back! And only 2 days late from the promised update!
     (You know after the 2 year break ((cough))) Seriously though I lost 2
     pets, 3 aunts, and I took a year off of school to work a bunch of
     shitty jobs that drained me both mentally and emotionally. I was in
     no fit shape to do anything let alone write and I wanted to give you
     guys my best. But things are looking very good right now and I feel
     up to the challenge of finishing this chapter! (Which my computer
     ate, did I mention it died in the middle of the re write. Twice.)
     I would have gotten this to you sooner but as it turns out my beta
     might be a published author soon so has to work on her own things so
     all mistakes are my own. You see anything really wonky please let me
     know and I will fix it ASAP. I just didn’t want to make you guys wait
     any longer. Soooo enjoy!
“Are you sure we are allowed to be in here this late?” Hermione whispered as
she crept around a large dusty crate. She lifted the lantern Tom had conjured
for her to try and get a better view of what was ahead, but saw only the faint
outlines of more crates and long narrow rows of shelves.
“Quite sure, we have permission remember? And don’t bother whispering, there is
no one here.”
“Well, excuse me for being cautious.”
“Consider yourself excused.”
Hermione huffed in annoyance and Tom smirked.
“Where is this book of yours anyway?”
“In the very back, I left it in a box under my work station.”
Hermione nodded and they started to move towards the back. There is so much
clutter she thought as the sheer amount of things forced her and Tom to walk
single file.How on earth do they find anything?
There seemed to be a weak attempt to keep like objects with like but other than
that things were just piled and packed together. Her fingers have an
involuntary twitch when she saw a large pile of books carelessly stacked next
to a growling box. She sighed and forced herself to keep walking; she had
bigger problems then saving a stack of priceless books. Luckily for her there
was a lot to look at to distract her.
On one long table were pieces of metal of all shapes and sizes but she could
only identify what a few of them might have been used for. None of them were
longer than three inches in length and the majority of them were black and
twisted, she wondered what purpose they served.
The shelf next to the strange metal shapes contained a bevy of dolls.
They all looked to be handmade, some of the stitch work elegant, others clumsy,
but they were all similar except in what they wore. Some of the dolls had what
looked like human hair pinned to their heads and nothing else. Others had bits
of cloth made into rudimentary clothing, a burlap shirt, a cotton skirt, a fine
silvery silk like material fashioned into a toga- there was no limit to the
sheer amount of cloth and styles used. The last doll on the shelf sent chills
down her spine. It was in the shape of what looked to be a child, or at least
she assumed so as it was so much smaller than the others. It had a smear of a
smile across his otherwise blank face. Her insides turned to ice when she
realized it was dried blood.
“What are they?” She asked as Tom came up behind her.
“Voodoo dolls. They caused such trouble the knowledge on how to make them was
destroyed.” He sounded rueful and her chills intensified. “It was said that the
more intimate an item you could get from your victim, the better the magic
worked. For example hair and blood would be more powerful than cloth or other
personal items.”
“More powerful?”
“Yes, from what we can tell it was like being put under a very strong
compulsion charm depending on the item used for the dolls. Distance was an
issue as well.” He pointed to the doll wearing the toga. “With a doll like this
one, the victim would have to be within twenty feet at the very least for the
spell to take effect, and even then the result would be diluted. For one like
this,” he pointed to a doll further down the line, this one had a tuft of blond
hair wrapped in a sky blue ribbon pinned to its head. “The distance was
greater, about sixty to seventy feet on average and it was harder for the
victim to resist the curse.” He gestured toward the child doll with the bloody
smile. “With blood the range didn’t matter, and the victim was helpless to
resist the demands of the doll maker. It worked more like the modern imperius
curse. Some scholars have debated that the origins of the imperius are directly
tied to the original spell used to create the dolls. I suspect the imperius
curse is actually a weaker, less refined version.”
She gave a weak smile at his enthusiasm.
He examined her face and frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
Hermione shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
His eyes narrowed but he didn’t press the matter. “Then let us continue on.”
She didn’t dare ask about anything else as the instruments around her grew
increasingly sinister looking.
Blades of all shape and sizes were lined up against one side of the narrow
aisle she found herself walking down, and lengths of rope were hung on the
other.
A whispering knife tried to lure her to it with promises of power, and a long
silk lasso reached forward to try and wrap itself around her wrist as she
passed it. A sword hummed slowly to itself and she could have sworn she saw a
beautiful woman doing needle point reflected in the blade as she dodged around
it, and yet another length of rope swayed back and forth to a tune only it
could hear.
She peered over her shoulder when the whispering, the swaying, the humming, all
intensified. If they had been calling to Hermione, they were screaming for Tom.
They wanted him to touch them, use them, and Hermione was surprised at the care
he took to be sure he didn’t damage anything as the artifacts tried to caress
him in some way.
She didn’t have long to ponder on this as they finally came upon a large open
space. She felt like she could finally breathe now that she was away from the
clutter. Hermione lifted her lantern and could make out a series of low steel
tables pressed against the back wall.
“You use metal tables?” She asked.
“We do, wood has the nasty habit of absorbing latent magic over time. I don’t
think I need to tell you what happens when two or more dangerous curses
combine. I am still surprised that none of the desks at Hogwarts have
exploded.” Hermione cringed at the thought as she followed Tom to a table
tucked behind a large series of shelves covered in bones. “This is my station.”
As they drew closer to the desk Hermione froze at the sight of a large skull of
some kind of reptile. Mummified skin clung to the bones, and its large maw was
opened wide to revel rows and rows of curved teeth.
“What is it?”
“It’s the ancestor to a few species of modern North American dragons and the
flying serpents of South America. The natives worshiped it as a god and there
are rumors that the priests spoke Parseltongue but I seriously doubt that is
the case. My theory is that Parseltongue originated in India. That is where I
found the book.”
“When were you in India?”
Tom reached under his desk and pulled out a large iron crate with surprising
deftness. “Last month. The museum sends me out to retrieve artifacts from other
museums or to collect things from dig sites.”
“Is that why you were in Albania?”
He set the box down onto his table and she watched in fascination as his hands
stared to glow white. “Albania?” He asked with an absent minded hum as he
carefully reached into the box and pulled out a burlap sack.
“You mentioned luring the Paradox Chasers to Albania.”
“Ah yes, I went to retrieve something in the area and took advantage of the
opportunity.” He set the sack down and carefully pulled out a large book bound
in some kind of scaly hide. She frowned at what looked to be deep burn marks in
the cover and reached out to try and touch them. She jumped in surprise as Tom
grabbed her wrist.
“What-”
“The oils on your skin can harm the artifacts.” Hermione winced as the white
glow around Tom’s hand extended over to wrap around her fingers. The light was
incredibly cold to the touch, like dipping her bare hand into the snow. She
watched in fascination as the light inched over the flesh of her hand until it
covered all of her skin up to her wrist. It was like wearing an icy glove. “Now
the other one.”
“What is this spell?”
“A variation of the preservation charm, it keeps the artifacts safe while they
are being handled. I altered the original spell to make it portable and safe to
use on human skin. Think of them like gloves.”
“You invented the spell?”
He quirked an eyebrow as he took her other hand in his and let the white light
of the spell spread across her palm. “No, I altered it. Once you know the basic
mechanics of a spell changing it is a simple matter.” He looked down at her
hand and her gaze followed his. He slowly examined each appendage with a
raptness that made her uncomfortable. She flinched when his fingers started to
trace over her skin. “I was only looking for weaknesses in the spell. I have
not used it on others before.” He murmured as she drew away.
“I assume everything is in order?”
He gave a sharp nod and Hermione took that as permission to examine the book.
She reached out and gently touched the cover of the book. The hide the book was
made out of wasn’t dragon, the texture was all wrong, she noted as she drew her
fingers over the rough scales of the cover. The edges of the scales were sharp
instead of the smooth curves of traditional dragon scales, and she had never
seen the dull acid green color associated with any dragon she had studied.
“Do you know what the skin is made of?”
“Basilisk.”
A flash of reflected yellow eyes flared in her memory and she felt herself
tense up against her will.
“Is something wrong, Hermione?”
“Just a bad memory… do you know what caused the burn marks here?” She ran a
finger over the deep blackened groves that spanned the entire cover.
“It’s Parseltongue, roughly translated it says “The Book of Before.”
He gently nudged her out of the way and with great care opened the book to the
first page. It was made out of a giant banana leaf; she gaped as he carefully
started to unfold it. It encompassed almost the entire table when he was done
and looked as vibrant and green as if it had been freshly plucked. She gently
reached out and touched the corner, it felt waxy and new.
“How is this possible?”
“That I do not know. The preservation charm placed on this leaf isn’t something
I have seen before. The magic even feels different.”
He can feel magic? She thought as he scowled at the leaf. She had never heard
of anyone who was able to feel magic unless they had been hit by a spell, and
even then they were only feeling the effect of the spell instead of the magic
behind it.
“Why would someone want to preserve a leaf like this?” She wondered out loud.
“Look closely at the surface.”
She did. Etched across the surface in great swooping squiggles were charcoal
words. At least she assumed they were words, to her they looked like a toddlers
doodles.
“What does it say?”
“…I am not positive.”
She glared at him. “I thought you said you could read it!”
“I can, but it is difficult. This is written in a dialect I am unfamiliar with
and the words become… jumbled.”
The look of pure annoyance and frustration on his face mirrored that of his
younger self so precisely that for a moment the image of the little boy and the
teenager became one in her mind. Without thinking she reached out and smoothed
his hair back. “I am sure you are doing your best, just take it slow.”
He froze under her touch, much like he did as a child, before slowly pulling
away from her. There was something in his eyes, some aggressive lightning in
his expression that stole her breath before he fell into his neutral expression
once more.
“We don’t have time for me to make mistakes, but I admit to being limited by
the language barrier.”
“Language barrier?” She asked weakly, trying to get her heart beat under
control.
“Yes. In my experience all spoken parseltongue has a base universal sound. But
the written form takes on a bias from the speaker’s native language.
Parseltongue is a language that was always meant to be spoken rather than
written.” He let out a short series of hisses. “That was just the word for
food. Snakes do not have ears; they feel the magical vibrations a parseltongue
unleashes when they speak. The more mundane the serpent the more syllables you
have to add to get it to understand exactly what you want, it can make
conversations tedious.” He rolled his eyes and she gave a hesitant smile in
return. “I would have assumed it would be impossible to translate a language
based entirely on magical vibrations of various complexities into any kind of
text based form… at least not without bastardizing it so badly it isn’t
recognized as parseltongue.”
“So how do you know this is parseltongue?”
“Watch the words.”
Hermione looked down at the seemingly random squiggles and shivered when Tom
spoke again in fluid parseltongue. At first nothing seemed to happen, then a
few of the more prominent lines began to twitch and move and a faint sound of
breathy hissing echoed up from the leaf.
“What is it saying.”
“As I said, I am not sure.” He pointed to a few of the smaller marks
surrounding the larger ones that still gave weak twitches. “These are what I
have been calling accent marks. They add on to the larger base word to make the
exact meaning clear, but I have not been able to get them to activate properly
into a form I recognize. I can get a vague meaning form some of these sentences
because these large marks here all center from a universal parseltongue base
word, but without the accents I could horrendously mistranslate the entire
thing.”
“But what makes the accent marks so different?”
“That is indeed the question I needed answered, and I managed to with this.” He
carefully folded the banana leaf back into the book and opened it up to another
page near the end, this one made of plain parchment. Tom hissed again, this
time even more of the smaller accents lit up and wriggled wildly. This time the
hissing form the page grew louder and more… feminine?
“How did you manage that?”
“I used words one would only find in the German language.”
Hermione bit her bottom lip and frowned, slowly puzzling it together. “So, if I
understand this correctly, parseltongue has a core of words that is universally
understood.” Tom nodded. “But anything requiring more complicated speech is
directly affected by the base language of the speaker.”
“That would be my assumption, as I have never met another living speaker of the
language. This book seems to confirm that theory. As it is I can only clearly
understand the base universal wording, or anything with English, French, or
German accent marks of which I have only had luck with German and some old
English.”
“But how did they capture it in a written form?”
“That I do not know, although I suspect that the answer lies somewhere in these
pages.”
“Which we may never discover because the original spell could be written in a
dead language,” she said with a sigh and rubbed at her temples. “As fascinating
as all of this is how does a tome you can hardly translate help me?”
“Because the parts that I can translate go into some very interesting details
about time travel that sounds strikingly similar to your experience.” He turned
to another page and slowly started to read aloud. “The cold was nothing like I
had experienced before and the ice burned my lungs into stillness and in the
place where sound and light were meaningless I saw both the beginning and the
end of time, and trembled.”
“The beginning and the end of time…” Hermione muttered to herself before
frowning and trying to think back to the black and the cold that came with the
traveling. Had she seen anything like that? “Was there anything more?”
“That is all I have translated so far, I had hoped to have more before you
arrived but you were woefully early.”
“It’s a very good start, but where do we go from here?”
Both of his eyebrows shot up. “Where do we go from here?”
“You don’t expect me to just sit here and do nothing do you?”
A rueful smile graced his lips and Hermione felt her neck heat. “I suppose that
would be too much to ask of you.”
“Indeed.” She said with a haughty sniff.
His smile turned into something warmer, something she had never seen on his
face before, and her insides melted when he laughed. “I am not one to turn away
a mind as brilliant as yours,” his smile was all pearly white teeth and the new
sultry tone he had suddenly acquired was better than warm chocolate.Is he
flirting with me? What does flirting look like? Why don’t I remember what
flirting looks like?
She ducked her head so he wouldn’t catch sight of her burning cheeks. “Right,
well, no time like the present to get started right?” She cringed at the way
her voice cracked on ‘right’ but barreled right on and prayed he wouldn’t
notice. “Let me just grab this lantern and if you could get me some parchment
and a quill so I can copy over the basic parseltongue language I can start
translating-”
“There will be no need for that.”
Hermione frowned and looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
“I have enchanted an object that will allow you to speak and understand the
basics as long as you wear it.”
“I didn’t know that was poss-”
All the blood drained from her face and she was sure her heart had stopped as
she caught sight of the object he was holding out to her.
Tom frowned. “What is wrong Hermione? You look like a muggle who has seen a
ghost.”
She rather wished it WAS a ghost, for dangling from Tom’s fingers was
Slytherin’s Locket.
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