She noticed him in first year, because he, like her was quiet and studious and knew all the answers and-
She wished they weren't in opposing houses so that she'd have someone to sit in the library with.
They could discuss their homework and classes and -
He wasn't like the other boys in Slytherin with their cliques and sneering and -
The point is, she noticed him in first year.
In second year, they had more classes together.
They constantly overtook one another in class and spent more and more time in the library.
Never together but always in sight of the other.
He smirked and she rolled her eyes, but would smile at his antics none the less.
He was there when Malfoy called her a mudblood.
He didn't though.
In third year, forced to attend quidditch matches by her housemates, she was amazed to see he was on the team.
On the team and still able to keep up with and still occasionally best her.
She buckled down.
She didn't play quidditch and she was still struggling
"How do you do it?" She asked him one day in the library.
She'd run into him in the arithmancy stack and couldn't stop herself from asking the question that had been bothering her almost all year.
Tom had merely shrugged though, not turning to face her.
"Don't have to deal with Gryffindor foolishness in Slytherin" he murmured quietly.
Hermione sighed – he had a point.
Fourth year and the arrival of two foreign schools and an international competition the likes of which hadn't been seen in over 200 years, irritated Hermione.
Sharing classes with giggling French girls and amorous French boys.
Dour looking Bulgarian boys and Bulgarian girls who gave Pansy Parkinson a run for their money with their sneers and put downs and -
The library was infested with people there only to catch glimpses of those they fancied – not to do any actual work and it was annoying.
On more than one occasion she had to leave the library because she couldn't get any peace.
She wasn't the only one.
When Viktor Krum approached her and asked her to the yule ball with him she stood for a few moments and thought about it.
"No."
He hadn't ever approached her before and perhaps he thought the fact that he was an international quidditch player and a competitor in the tournament would be enough of a reason for her to say yes – it wasn't.
"You don't have a date."
Hermione looked up to see Tom Riddle standing beside her, quietly drinking his punch and observing the dancing that was going on around them.
"Neither do you" she replied, nervously tugging on one of her loose curls.
"Hmmmm. Want to dance Granger?"
The sound of her name, even though it was only her surname jolted her and she was nodding and putting her own glass down and placing her hand in his.
She slid her hands up his arms (arms that she could feel were muscles and firm and-) to rest on his neck.
His hands (calloused and rough and-) were on her waist, and guided her around the great hall.
When they broke apart after what only felt like seconds but had in reality been for close to an hour, Hermione felt the absence of his body against hers.
There had been no quidditch in fourth year but it returned with brutal force in fifth.
The entire school was alive with anticipation for the first match of the season, Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw.
Hermione, who'd previously had to be dragged to matches was eager.
She didn't want to think about why.
Harry glanced at her in amusement as they settled down in their stand and cheered on the teams.
She thought she heard him mention something about Riddle being Slytherin's best chaser.
But she didn't acknowledge him, or the truth in what he said.
Fifth year brought OWLS and harder and longer lessons and a yearning for a time-turner so that she could study more.
It also meant prefect and responsibilities and access to the prefect's bathroom.
She slipped into the room one night in January, eager to escape Lavender and her mooning about Ron (she loved them both, she really did, but if she had to listen to Lavender for one more second, she was going to forcibly remove the phrase "Won –Won" from her vocabulary.)
The door wasn't locked, so Hermione assumed the room was empty.
She was wrong.
"A picture would last longer" Tom sighed, not moving from where he was sitting in the bath.
Hermione blushed and looked away, "Sorry. I'll leave you to it" she muttered taking a step back towards the door.
She heard him sigh irritably and the sound of water splashing. She looked up to see him standing, the water waist high and had to bite her cheek to keep her mouth from falling open.
Hermione was not like every other girl at Hogwarts. She was not.
And she refused to become a drooling mess at the sight of Tom Riddle standing partially nude, water dripping down his torso, defined pectoral muscles and sculpted abdominal muscles and a trail of dark hair that started from his bellybutton and trailed into the water below and that angular V on his hips that had her clenching the muscles of her pelvis -
She looked away, again, but still caught his smirk as he stepped out of the bath and dressed.
"Enjoy your bath Hermione" he said, exiting the bathroom and leaving her alone and shivering and -
She didn't catch Tom Riddle in the prefect's bathroom again.
Didn't stop her thinking about it.
Her parents took her to the south of France the summer before sixth year to celebrate her outstanding showing in her exams.
She hadn't ever run into anyone from school in the muggle world, even Harry, whose mum was a muggleborn too, went on holiday to wizarding places.
She was pretty shocked to discover a bored Tom Riddle on the beach of Saint-Tropez.
A topless Tom Riddle, the sight of who made her momentarily forget that she was only wearing a bikini herself.
His expression reminded her though.
"Take a picture Riddle. It'll last longer" she smirked at him, finally moving from where she'd stopped dead at the sight of him.
Sixth year and smaller classes meant that on more than one occasion she was partnered with Tom.
They worked well together, two of the smartest students in their year, neither relying on the other to do all the work because they were both able to pull their own weight.
Hermione wasn't sure they were friends.
Dancing together at one social event and seeing each other one time outside of school and one accidental run in in the prefect's bathroom and several hushed conversations in the library hardly constituted a friendship.
And he was annoying in ways none of her other friends were. Cracking his knuckles, breaking the silence that the library enveloped them in irritated her and smirking at her huffing and -
She found herself watching him as they worked. The way he'd roll his sleeves up as they focused on their essays distracted her and the way he rolled his neck and stretched, his shirt rising a few inches off his hips and -
He'd been made captain of the Slytherin quidditch team and still made sure he had time to meet her – he didn't slack off because he could, because he knew she'd do the work for him even though he could. He -
They weren't friends.
Professor Snape had given them permission to gather ingredients from the forbidden forest for their potions project.
They decided to go one Saturday afternoon while the rest of the school was at the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw match.
The rain caught them by surprise as they were making their way back to the castle.
Tom pulled her into one of the greenhouses as they waited for the torrential hailstorm to pass.
Hermione was shivering, having forgone a jacket and rubbed her hands up and down her arms to try and get some heat into them, thankful that Tom had already cast a drying spell on their clothes – the sight of him momentarily in a wet black t-shirt that clung to him like a second skin had left her flustered.
She wasn't sure how much more she could take.
They spent so much time together when they were awake that Harry had already asked her one night in the common room if they were in a relationship and she'd blushed before firmly telling him no.
She didn't want to think about all the dreams she'd been having nearly every night that revolved around them actually being in a relationship and holding hands and kissing and tearing each other clothes off and him hitching her thigh against his wai-
She didn't know, didn't realise, that he was feeling the same.
Final quidditch match of the year. Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. Whoever won would win the quidditch cup and earn 500 points towards the house cup.
Hermione had had to help Ginny force feed both Harry and Ron that morning they were both so nervous, Harry mumbling about Malfoy being a better seeker than him and Ron complaining about how good Riddle was at out-manoeuvring him.
Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes at Ginny – she was on the team too but she wasn't acting like a ninny.
She sat, bundled up in layers of jumpers and scarfs and coats, between Neville and Lavender and hoped her friends would win even with the awful weather.
She watched them all fly about the pitch and prayed the game would end quickly.
And it did, Harry caught the snitch but Tom had scored so many goals for his team that it didn't matter.
Slytherin won 290 – 270.
She slipped into the Slytherin changing room when everyone except Tom had left.
She'd glowered at the girls that were hanging around the changing rooms fawning over the boys like they were pieces of meat before she checked herself and the fact that she was hiding out of sight too - 'it's not the same' she thought to herself, 'he's your friend. You simply want to congratulate him.'
Tom was peeling off his soaking wet jersey, 'RIDDLE' emblazoned across the back of it and Hermione felt her mouth go dry as she watched his back muscles ripple and -
"What did you forget this time Zabini?" He asked turning to look at the door and blinking when he realised it wasn't one of his team-mates.
Hermione couldn't stop staring but managed to say "hi".
Tom smirked at her, "Is there a particular reason you're in the Slytherin changing rooms Hermione?" He asked stepping closer to her, still shirtless.
Hermione shook her head and twisted her hands in the hem of her jumper, "Just wanted to congratulate you on the game" she said quietly.
He was still moving towards her. She still hadn't moved from against the door.
"Yeah? Couldn't wait to tell me no?"
Hermione frowned, but didn't look up from her hands, "I can go if you want" she muttered. She didn't realise how close he was until his feet came into view and she looked up to see him a hairs breadth away.
His hair was wet and sticking to his forehead and he rolled his neck and clicked his tongue before he closed the distance between them, his breath hot against hers, "I don't think so" he murmured before he kissed her.
He lifted her into his arms and she hitched her legs around his waist and his hands were on her bum, holding her up and gripping her hard and -
He pushed her against the door and she had half a mind to pull her wand out and cast a locking and silencing spell but then he was rolling his hips against her cunt and she was gone.
Her hands were in his hair and his lips were soft and his tongue was stroking the roof of her mouth and his hands were shifting her ever so slightly so that they were effectively dry humping.
She broke away from his mouth gasping and mewling as he moved his mouth to her neck and started kissing and licking and biting -
"Stop" she moaned, rolling her eyes when she felt him go stiff against her, "I just don't want to lose my virginity in the Slytherin changing room" she whispered against his shoulder and felt him nodding and setting her down.
When she was on her feet, her hands still wrapped around his neck and his now resting on her waist he smiled down at her and she felt herself smiling back.
"Of course. Let me get changed and we'll go back up to school together yeah?"
"Together?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
Tom smirked at her, "well obviously I want my girlfriend to come to the celebration party we're having in the dungeons."
"Oh" she murmured before realisation creeped back in, "OH" she smiled at him.
Hermione was waiting for Tom in his head boy dormitory on the evening of her eighteenth birthday.
They'd been dating for four months and hadn't gone further than heavy petting.
Hermione hadn't been ready and Tom hadn't pushed her, which was a relief if she was honest. She'd never had a boyfriend before.
Hermione had spent the day locked away in her own head girl's room across the hall, with Ginny and Lavender being pruned and -
She'd never felt as silky smooth as she did sitting on Tom's bed in only his quidditch training top.
She hoped that the sight of his name on her was an enticing image to return back to after escorting students around Hogsmeade all day.
She guessed that it was, when he stood slack-jawed for close to a minute when he entered the room.
She knew it was when he dived across the room, pushed her back on the bed and kissed her like it would be the last time.
"You look divine" he growled against her mouth, "I wish you could wear this and only this for the rest of our lives."
His hands slipped down her waist and under the jersey and against her wet cunt, "fuck" he hissed when he slid one, then two fingers into her and felt her clench around them.
He moved swiftly down the bed, his fingers still moving inside of her and nudging that spongy area he knew would have her falling over the edge, his thumb tapping her clit. He watched her for a second, placing kisses up the inside of her thighs as he did, getting closer and closer to her cunt.
"What are you doing?" Hermione gasped when she felt his tongue join his fingers.
Tom looked up at her, grinning.
"Giving you your birthday present" he smirked, ducking back down and latching onto her clit with his teeth, grinding his own erection against the side of the bed as she came undone around his fingers and tongue.
He noticed her in first year.
He noticed that she noticed him then too.
Not in third year when he joined the quidditch team.
Not in fifth when he took a growth spurt and was one of the tallest boys on the team.
Not in sixth when he was made captain.
No, she noticed him, not the quidditch robes.
Still, he thought as he smoothed the hair from her face, kissed her gently and thrust through her virginity, her hands gripping his arms tightly and her head falling back and his spare training top ripped down the middle to expose her creamy skin and her pert tits and hardened nipples, the quidditch had definitely helped.