A/N: A big thank-you for Neyrs who created the Tomione Winter Weather Challenge on the Tomione Convention forum site! I had fun writing this.

Spinning, twirling, glistening gold. That was the last image in Hermione's mind when she realized the mess she had gotten herself into when her eyes opened just as the sound of the howling snow and the painfully cold air reached her senses. It shocked her so much, that both her wand and the Time Turner fell into the snow, instantly hidden by the thickness of what flew around in the air.

"No!" She cried out at the new realization as she dropped to her knees.

The snow immediately clung to her thin jeans, wetting them and bringing forth a coldness that had quickly turned into pain. Ignoring it, she flung her bare hands into the inches of snow, waving them around in hopes of finding the Time Turner and her wand.

She's screwed. She knew this. But her heart beat in her ears thickly as the adrenaline pumping through her veins kept her from realizing the frigid, fatal temperature setting into her bones.

"Hello?" came a loud male voice from behind her. She turned her head and squinted her eyes, trying to see through the blinding snow. The figure of a man stood nearby, holding out his lit wand.

Hoping he didn't see her, she turned back to the snow, trying to move further, but she's so cold. Hot tears stung at her eyes as she wrapped her arms around herself. Her thin jumper was already covered in an inch of the snow and she could hardly move her hands.

"Miss!" came the voice louder this time.

Before she even had the chance to turn around and call for help, she felt herself being picked up into the air, as if she were nothing more than a mere feather. Strong arms encased her and she fought with what strength she had left.

"My wand! My necklace!" She cried out, weakly trying to escape the arms of the stranger.

"Leave them. You can search for them when the storm passes," said the stranger. In the howling storm, his voice was sharp and loud, clear as a crystal.

"No!" Hermione cried, weakly trying to break from the stranger's grip, but he was so strong.

"You'll die!" The stranger sounded angry, frustrated, as if she were a burden to be saved.

She fell silent and closed her eyes, trying to tell herself that this was just a simple nightmare. Nothing more, nothing less. But it didn't help.

Cold, so cold... She was in pain and all she could do was whimper as she sought warmth from the stranger. All she found was the solidness of the slender man hidden behind a thick coat and the possibility that she would be saved.

The man was moving, quickly as he soon stopped at a door and entered in. Soon, all sounds of the winter storm were muffled and Hermione weakly opened her eyes to the silence of a small cabin.

The man sat her down on a chair by a crackling fire, immediately beginning to tear her clothes from her. First her boots, then her socks, then her jumper before she tried to stop him at her shirt when his cold and sweaty hands left their gloved encasing and found the hem of her soaked tee shirt.

"I need to take these off of you. You already have hypothermia. I need to treat you." The stranger's words were careful but persistent, but it was true.

Hermione sat almost naked in that chair after he had pulled her shirt over her head, shivering with a slow breath. Her lungs felt frozen solid, as if they were hard to even breathe with. She felt exhausted, tired, and she slowly turned her head around, her vision blurry of the tidy cabin.

"W-where am I?" she asked slowly, her voice coming out in almost a whisper.

"You're safe," was what the man answered.

She didn't feel him tugging at her pants, or her underwear, or even how her bra had been unclasped. She only noticed this after the fact that she sat there, naked and shivering violently with a thick wool blanket wrapped around her.

"I'm drawing a warm bath for you."

Her eyes closed as she tried to breathe as evenly as possible, focusing on the dryness of the thick wool blanket and the fire that sat before her in the stone fireplace.

"What is your name?"

Hermione wouldn't answer.

"Do you remember your name?"

"Of course," she said softly. Her voice crackled with exhaustion when the man put his hands on each arm and urged her up where he led her over to a polished wooden bath tub filled with steaming water hidden behind a thick curtained sheet.

She tried to fight him when he urged the blanket off of her, but she couldn't grip the edges of the blanket properly to keep it wrapped around her, to protect her nakedness as he discarded the blanket somewhere and urged her into the tub. As soon as Hermione's skin met with the hot water, she let out a cry of pain, trying to escape it, but the man's arms forced her to stay within the water as he had to nearly push her down all the way.

"I know, I know, I know it hurts, but you have to fight through it."

She curled up into herself, more tears blurring her vision as her cries slowly died down into whimpers as she shivered into the hot water and her body soaked in the new, strange temperature.

Hermione clamped her eyes shut, tears falling down her flushed cheeks as she managed to hug herself with what little strength she had regained. The tub was deep, allowing the water to reach her mid-shoulders as steam rose and reached her face. The man behind her had a cup, dipping it into the water and pouring it over her shoulders, causing her to let out a small whine.

Hermione was lost, helpless, and vulnerable. And she hated it.

The tent was quiet as Hermione sat staring down at her hot tea, stirring it slowly as Harry sat across the table. He stared at her, waiting for her to say something. Anything.

"Did you know it was him?" he repeated himself. His voice came louder this time, an inch above its previous casual state.

She closed her eyes for a moment before she sat her spoon down and let her brown eyes wonder over to her best friend's, replying with a simple, tiny, "No."

Hermione carefully picked up her mug of tea, and brought it to her lips, inhaling the sweet spearmint smell and for a moment, it made her think of him. Heartbroken over her choices, her hand shook as she sipped and ignored the burn the hot tea gave her lips after pulling the mug away and placing it back down on the table top.

A day had passed and she was still without appetite. Her stomach still sat in tight little knots as she sat at the cabin's small round table with the stranger sitting across from her, surveying her with particular green eyes.

"You need to eat," the stranger insisted.

When Hermione woke up that morning, doused in sweat and layers of thick blankets, her vision was clearer, as was her mind. She was able to move her hands better, and pay careful attention to the stranger. He was handsome with wavy dark hair, pale skin, dressed in comfortable camping clothing for this time of the year—whatever year it was.

"You need to give me your name," Hermione soon said in response as she looked down at the steaming scrambled eggs, hoping her stomach would get over its nonsense and come to its senses. She was weak. She needed food, but the idea of putting any food in her mouth made her head spin.

"Then why don't you give me yours?" he countered, picking up his fork and placing his scrambled eggs onto a piece of toast.

Hermione said nothing and picked at her eggs, sighing.

"Are there people looking for you?" he soon asked. His sharp, emotionless voice had an excited, curious edge to it today. It made Hermione wonder what this man was like, who he was, and why exactly he was here in the woods so deep and alone. "Can you at least tell me what you were doing out in the woods in a storm like this?"

She shook her head, pushing her plate away. The tin plate collapsed against her cup of water with a clang, spilling a few drops and darkening the wood it touched.

"Fine. My name is Tom."

Her ears perked up and her eyes went wide. She found the stranger's eyes and knitted her eyebrows together. "Tom...Riddle?"

He tilted his head to the side. "Did we go to Hogwarts together?" His green eyes darkened with not only curiosity, but suspicion, and it made Hermione's body go rigid.

After a moment, Tom dropped his fork to his plate. The sharp sound made Hermione jump as she looked away.

"You're a very peculiar, quiet girl."

She blinked down at the wooden table. "I assure you, sir. I am no girl." There was a sadness in Hermione's voice that made Tom stare at her a moment too long.

Harry shook his head, blinking with confusion as he soon shrugged at her, getting up from the table and adjusting the jacket he wore. Inside the tent, it was only about ten degrees warmer as it was on the outside, and Harry lit a crumpled up piece of paper in hopes of warming the place up a bit as he walked over to his cot, taking a moment to stare at the one that was once Ron's.

"Are you angry with me?" Hermione asked him as she turned her body to face him.

Harry was silent for a moment as he shook out his blanket and laid it out on his cot, his blue eyes soon meeting with Hermione's. "I should be, but I'm not," he answered truthfully, which allowed a certain weight to be pulled from Hermione's shoulders as she sighed and turned back to her tea.

The winter storm outside was still raging on a day later as Hermione was finally able to eat after what felt like forever. First she pecked at chicken broth, then she managed with the venison Tom had cooked for the two of them for that evening's supper.

"Hermione," she said after she pushed her empty plate away and picked up her cup of water to hold close to her chest, staring down at the ringlets she made with the movement of the cup. She took a sip and held it close to her chest again, her eyes moving up to Tom.

"I'm sorry?" He asked her, his dark eyebrows raising.

"My name," she murmured.

Tom's lips, which he always held in a careful, blank line, curled into a half-smirk filled with darkness and unspoken evil. "So now she speaks up," he muttered. "That's a start." His eyebrows raised in almost admiration.

They stared at each other for an unspeakable time. Tom sat back in his chair at the table as he crossed his legs and folded his hands before him to rest on his risen knee while Hermione got comfortable by crossing her arms before her on the table top with her back still straight but her shoulders slightly hunched, crunching up her untamed brown curls. In a way, they were challenging one another silently as minutes upon minutes passed and the logs in the fire had been burnt down into ashes.

Tom got up to put new logs into the fireplace before the burning flames went completely out and Hermione's curious brown eyes followed him.

Fast asleep, peaceful. That's what Hermione wanted to feel right now as she gazed over at Harry's sleeping form. For a few hours now, she had tossed and turned in her cot while the sound of the oncoming snow storm filled up her ears.

Needing the fresh crisp air to think, or maybe to calm her down, she put on her boots and headed outside.

The sun had just gone down, but she was still able to see clearly. She looked around, knowing that the barrier was still up before she tilted her head back and looked up at the angry black sky. Within minutes of just standing there, right outside the opening of the tent, the storm at come.

Suddenly, a sound caught her attention as she turned her head slightly towards the direction the noise came from. She raised her wand, the light spilling from the tent allowing her the availability to see a tall figure hidden by the thick, heavy snow just outside the barrier.

She gasped, her lips parting and her eyebrows pushing upwards together as the hand that held her wand slowly lowered a bit.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

The Tom Riddle.

Voldemort.

She blinked away tears as he, the very man who she should curse to hell, tore at her clothes with greedy hands and a heavy breath. A hickey had already began to show where her neck met her shoulder and her lips were swollen from his rough kisses. He knew she was crying, but he didn't say anything about it.

All he did was cup her face after the two were finally naked and return to kissing her lips hungrily with a feral need. He pushed her into the bedroom, her bare feet padding against the wood of the cabin as the distance from the fireplace left her shivering. His warm hands roamed over her body, leaving scorching sensations behind as he sat down on the bed and pulled her down to sit astride him with his erect cock pressed between his stomach and in between her legs. At the base, he felt how wet she was as she fought the burning desire to move her hips against him.

A sad, aroused sound left her throat when a hand grasped at her breast and pinched at the hardened nipple. A heavy, empty, sinking feeling sat in Hermione's stomach as she kissed this man back as he wrapped a warm, strong arm around her and easily turned them over so she laid in the middle of the bed and he crawled on top of her.

Her wet eyes opened and stared up at him. His eyebrows were furrowed, but his expression still unreadable as he stared directly into her soul and propped her legs open so he could position himself and push his way into her.

The invasion made her cry out as she gripped at his shoulders with her fingernails imbedded into his pale skin. She wasn't sure if her grip was so harsh that she drew blood, but she didn't care. The feeling of him inside her, fitting like a missing puzzle piece, made her cry further.

She pulsed for him and it fed on the self pity that sat in her heart as her eyes squeezed shut and her jaw tightened. She wouldn't moan. No. She couldn't allow herself at least that.

Tom's pace sped up, his hips bucking as he found her g-spot. He caressed it perfectly, making her squirm beneath him. She shivered as a cry sat in her throat.

His hand found her neck, gripping it threateningly as he leaned forward and kissed her violently. Only then, with the rawness of the moment, did a moan vibrate through her neck against his hand and Tom relaxed his body down against hers, crushing her breasts and pinning her to the bed as his hands found her hips and gripped them with a bruising force.

It didn't take long before her walls quaked around his thick member and an orgasm pulsed away at her core. She cried out, her arms going up to wrap around Tom and to hold him tight to her as her body went rigid and she rode out the orgasm.

Tom let out a guttural moan, breathing heavily against her neck as he finished off with a few more pounds and his seed spilled from him deep inside her.

The two remained frozen, wrapped up in each other as their breaths fell in unison, their heartbeats thick and heavy for a few moments before Hermione broke out into sobs and Tom just held her.

His red eyes flashed in the white of the snow. Shes stood there, frozen, without the memory to breathe as she watched him walk closer to her. He towered over her more than he did years and years ago...in his time.

A pale hand touched her cheek. His long nails dragged across the skin behind his smooth, ice-cold lifeless touch. A shiver ripped through her, not because of cold because of the unpleasant feeling his touch scorched into her skin as he drew his hand away and looked at her through his alienated eyes.

"Remember?" Voldemort began slowly. She refused to call him by his first name. This wasn't him. This wasn't the Tom she had given herself to that one night. This wasn't the Tom that had saved her life.

His eyes slowly looked around before they landed back onto hers and he said, "We met in a storm like this."

The wind howled and snow melted in her hair, causing her frizzy curls to turn slick and heavy with the water. She glared up at him and looked down.

"You're pregnant." His hand reached out as he stepped though the barrier as if it weren't ever there and hovered over her stomach. He could sense the new life source growing inside her womb.

She shook her head, slowly at first, and then quicker before she looked up to glare at him once more. "Monster," was all she said.

Voldemort drew his hand back, his eyes never leaving her face as he drew out the Elder wand, aiming it slowly at Hermione.

"I'm so very sorry," he told her. Whether he meant it or not, Hermione would never know.

She closed her eyes and held her breath.

Bright was the sun when Hermione blinked her eyes open, her cheek resting against the warm chest of Tom that slowly rose and fell in his sated slumber. The sun shined through the gray curtains of the bedroom and hit her like a spotlight, urging her to get up. Slowly, carefully, gently, she escaped from the arm that was wrapped around her torso.

Minutes later, she had on the clothes she had come here with, stealing a coat of Tom's and wrapping it around herself as she stole a pair of boots in addition. She escaped through the door and out into the sunny snowy morning.

Icicles that hung from the roof of the cabin dripped, one landing at the top of Hermione's head as she looked out at the patches of grass peaking through what was left of the snow. It was rare for Hermione to see such a sight, after the big storm that they had. She crossed her arms and in the back of her mind, tried to remember how many steps Tom had taken her to the cabin. It wasn't far, she knew. It could've been the only way he heard her when she yelled out her distressed "no" when she had first arrived here.

There, glinting in the sunlight pushing through the bare branches of the trees of the forest, was the Time Turner showered in droplets of melted snow. And near the Time Turner was her wand. She grabbed it first before the time turner.

"Hermione?" came Tom's voice from the door of the cabin. She looked up and saw him there, a confused expression on his face as his eyes landed on the necklace in her hands.

His eyes suddenly widened in realization of what exactly was being held by her shaking hands. "Don't you da-" Before Tom Riddle could even finish his sentence, Hermione twirled the time turner and was thrown back to her time with a sadness that would forever be buried away in her heart for such a man.