Disclaimer: I could use a fairly odd parent – then maybe I could wish that I owned this. Alas, that is the stuff of cartoons, and owning something as magnificent as the Harry Potter universe is the stuff of dreams.
Rating: T, for violence, language, and sexual situations.
Summary: In the heat of battle, Hermione is flung back in time. Struggling to adjust, she runs in to the last person she ever wanted to see, the one person she seeks to destroy – the man she will ultimately learn to love. HG/TR.
Author's Note: I am extremely relieved that my Draco twist was so well received – I feared that a majority of my readers would abandon me for doing that. So, I'm on chapter sixteen and it's still only October. Something tells me I should get a move on with the timeline. Hmmm… I just realized that I forgot that I had Tom in Hogsmeade at the beginning of the story, yet wrote in one of the last few chapters that he'd never been. I'm going to have to rectify that somehow…
Draco wasn't happy. In fact, the unmistakable look of disgust marring his porcelain features spoke volumes of his distaste. Sitting stoically at the Slytherin table, breakfast untouched, he was forced to endure the company of his grandfather, who was preening as he prattled on about something Draco obviously had no interest in. Hermione smirked, winking saucily as she caught his gaze. He scowled.
"My, he doesn't look happy," Lucretia murmured as she gracefully fell on to the bench beside Hermione, eyeing the new Slytherin with partially veiled interest. Hermione turned her attention to the young woman and quirked an eyebrow.
"Oh, he's not," she replied matter-of-factly. Glancing at Draco out of the corner of her eye she nearly laughed when he began to cautiously slide away from Abraxas, nodding and smiling as if to appease a mental patient. A fitting description for the elder Malfoy, Hermione thought.
"Do you know him?" Lucretia broke in to her thoughts with a questioning look. Hermione nodded as she nibbled on a slice of toast. "He is very handsome," her friend continued, her interest now clear. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. 'Must be fighting with Ignatius again.'
"Yes, he is very handsome," Hermione agreed, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "And he knows it," she added, earning a playful swat from her friend. Draco looked up at that moment, catching Hermione and her friend staring at them. He quirked an eyebrow, smirking. Hermione grinned and shrugged while Lucretia turned an attractive shade of red and looked away.
"What are your plans for this weekend?" Lucretia suddenly asked, anxious to change the subject while looking like she wasn't fazed by her attraction to the 'new' boy.
"Tom and I are going to Hogsmeade together," Hermione replied automatically, for a moment forgetting that not many knew of the closeness she shared with the Head Boy. It was common knowledge that they were acquaintances, and many dared to toss around the word 'friend,' but everyone thought the cold Slytherin incapable of any positive emotion, so the notion that the unlikely pair's relationship may have evolved past friendship was never considered. It explained why Lucretia was now looking at Hermione as if she had three heads.
"When did this happen?" the raven-haired girl asked, agape. Hermione blushed furiously and refused to meet her friend's eyes.
"It's nothing, really," Hermione muttered in defense, forcing her emotions to calm. It felt like betrayal, this attempt at casually brushing off her blossoming relationship with Tom Riddle. She squirmed in her seat. "Neither of us have ever been, so we thought it might be interesting to explore it together, that's all," she added, schooling her features and smiling reassuringly at Lucretia, who looked doubtful.
"I don't know how many times I have to tell you," Lucretia began, setting down her spoon and leveling a penetrating stare on Hermione, "Tom Riddle is dangerous. Even more dangerous than Malfoy, because he has the brains behind the power." Hermione wanted to protest, but Lucretia held up a hand to stave off her objections. "Friend to friend? I don't want you anywhere near that boy. He's bad news. But I can't force you to do something you don't want to. You have possibly the most independent spirit I've ever known."
"Friend to friend?" Hermione countered, setting down her half-eaten toast, appetite gone. "Tom Riddle is unlike any boy – any man – I have ever known. He makes me feel things I never thought possible. Is he dangerous? He could be, yes. But he's not – not with me, anyway. He is seriously misunderstood and people judge him too harshly," Hermione looked up, eyes catching Tom's as he stepped in to the Great Hall. She smiled at him tenderly, earning a hesitant smile in return. She signaled that she'd be right there and turned back to Lucretia, who was frowning at her bowl of oatmeal. "You are right about one thing, though. You can't force me to do something I don't want to. And I want to keep seeing Tom." Hermione ignored the look of disbelief on the young woman's face and stood, grabbing the clutch purse that she had placed at her side. Her face softened as she once again met Tom's eyes.
As much as she hated arguing, she was beginning to realize that Tom was completely worth fighting for.
"Cormac!" Hermione shouted in glee, barreling through the crowd of eager teenagers and in to the open arms of the old man. She hugged him fiercely, tears stinging her eyes. She hadn't realized just how much she'd missed the old man.
"It's about time, lass," Cormac muttered, hugging her back just as tightly. Hermione had become like a second daughter over the months she'd spent at the Three Broomsticks, and their separation had been hard on him. "I was beginning to think they had you all under lock and key in there!"
Hermione laughed, pulling away. He hadn't changed a bit, and for that she was thankful. On the flip side, Hermione felt less and less like the lost little girl who had stumbled in to his life six months ago, and more like the young woman she thought she'd left behind.
"I was starting to go a bit stir crazy," she told him with a cheeky grin. She was about to tell him more about her new life when someone cleared their throat hesitantly behind them. Hermione turned, her face flushing when she realized that in her haste to get to the old man she'd completely forgotten about Tom. He stood stiffly, irritation clear on his face as the crowd of teens jostled him to and fro. She sent him an apologetic smile and held out her hand, which he took, his large hand warm and reassuring in her own.
And that's when the memory of her first encounter with the future Dark Lord slammed in to her mind.
"You told me you'd never been to Hogsmeade!" she exclaimed accusingly, frowning. Tom looked guilty, pulling her away from the crowd and a curious Cormac.
"I have been to Hogsmeade, but this is the first time I've actually had permission to do so," he admitted softly. His tone was apologetic but the mischievous glint in his eyes told Hermione that he was anything but. She was reminded, in that moment, of Harry. She smiled sadly. The glint in his eyes disappeared, concern flooding his eyes. "I am truly sorry," he said quickly, afraid that his untruth had upset or angered Hermione.
"I'm not upset," Hermione murmured, shaking her head. "You reminded me of a friend I lost – always sneaking around with no care for the consequences. I miss him. I miss them all," she explained softly, lost in her memories. Tom's eyes darkened with jealousy at the mention of this unknown man, but in her moment of grief, she didn't notice. She shook the moment away, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile on her face. "Thankfully, I have you. And Draco, now, too."
Tom glowered at the mention of Draco. He was still unsettled by this new addition to Hermione's life, his own position in it already precarious at best. Who knew how close the two had been before they'd been separated by war? Had they been childhood sweethearts? Did Draco expect to resume that relationship?
Anger surged through his chest, burning and tearing and leaving Tom with the feeling nauseated.
"You going to introduce your fellow?" Cormac boomed, ambling over to the couple. Hermione's face instantly brightened, her smile calming the burning in Tom's chest.
"Cormac, this is Tom," she said dutifully, looping her arm through the Slytherin's.
"Pleasure to meet you, sir," Tom said respectfully, dutifully holding his hand out. Cormac looked at him appraisingly, but did not take his hand.
"You are the young man who gave my Hermione a spot of trouble last June, aren't you?" he accused with shrewd eyes. Tom blanched at the memory.
"Yes, sir," he muttered, hand dropping to his side. He was slightly disgusted at the shame that flooded his body. What did he have to be ashamed of? Hermione had bumped in to him that day! He instantly felt guilty for the thoughts.
"What game are you playing, son?" Cormac continued, old eyes penetrating. Tom squirmed under the glare, fighting to keep his anger in check when all he wanted to do was whip out his wand and blast the old man in to oblivion for daring to question him. The only thing staying his arm was the feel of Hermione pressed against his side. She squeezed his arm, with reassurance or something else, he wasn't sure.
"I play no game," he bit out in reply, ire fighting to reach the surface. He took a series of deep breaths to calm his frazzled nerves. "Hermione and I have come a long way since that day," he added in defense.
Cormac stared hardly at Tom for a long moment. Hermione held her breath. She didn't know why, but the old man's approval meant more than she wanted to admit. Worrying her bottom lip, she glanced anxiously between the two men, urging them silently to speak. Finally, Cormac did.
"Do you love her?" The question shocked both teenagers in to stunned silence. Hermione's heart raced, afraid yet anxious to hear the answer that Tom would give. Would he say yes just to appease the old man? Would he say yes because he truly did? And if he said no? Would that mean she had failed – that he would never be able to love. Or would it mean that he wasn't ready, or hadn't quite fallen completely. Hermione's heart skipped a beat.
"No," Tom finally breathed out. Hermione felt her heart break in two and resisted the urge to cry. But then his hand was clasped firmly in hers and he was staring down at her with such intensity in his eyes that it took her breath away. "But I could," he whispered.
"Good answer, boy," Cormac laughed out, the hard lines of his face suddenly morphed in to an approving smile. Hermione and Tom broke gazes to stare at the old man in surprise. "If you'd said yes, I would have been worried. No young couple could go from hating each other to loving each other in only a couple of months!"
Hermione laughed softly, loving the old man all the more for his blunt honesty. Tom stared in incredulity, unbelieving of what had just happened. He'd been sure that when he admitted that he didn't love Hermione that she'd storm away with that amazing temper that had first attracted him. She hadn't run, though, and the old man had seemed to give his blessing.
He was still wondering on it hours later when they sat together in the kitchen sharing the meal that they had prepared together.
"What's on your mind?" Hermione asked, gazing at him over the rim of her goblet. Tom took a sip from his own and looked at her thoughtfully. Did he tell her what was on his mind or avoid the subject? He smiled hesitantly.
"You," came the soft reply. Hermione blushed under the intensity of his gaze, setting her goblet down. Tentatively, she reached across the table and clasped his hands. Around them house-elves bustled about preparing dessert while the unmistakable sounds of dinner floated down from the Great Hall.
"What about me?" she asked softly, squeezing his hand. He pondered the question for a moment before opening his mouth to answer.
"Wow! Something down here smells great!" a voice suddenly boomed as the portrait hole banged open. Hermione and Tom looked up in shock and irritation respectively, eyeing the newcomer. Draco waltzed over to their table and snatched up a roll, tearing a hunk out of it and chewing thoughtfully. "I didn't know you could cook Gra - Buchanan," he said, stumbling over her last name and nearly sending Hermione in to a panic. Thankfully, Tom didn't seem to notice the slip up.
Draco pulled over a chair and plopped in to it, ladling himself a bowl of stew before sitting back and kicking his feet up on to the table. Hermione scowled and pushed his feet off, causing the stew to splash on to his pristine white shirt.
"Awe hell!" he muttered, slamming down the bowl and snatching a nearby towel to scrub furiously at the mess before it could stain. What he didn't realize was that the towel was attached to a house elf that had been passing with a armful of pudding. When he dropped the towel, sighing dramatically, he looked up. His mouth dropped open.
Hermione had pudding dripped down the front of her blouse, plastering it to her chest. She glared, her face turning beet red with anger. Draco tried to suppress the laughter bubbling in his throat, to no avail.
"Draco, you prat!" she screeched, jumping to her feet. Her sudden movement caused a glob of pudding to fall to the floor with a noisy splat, making Draco laugh harder. Tom watched the entire exchange with an odd mixture of disgust and amusement on his normally cold face. "What are you doing here?"
"Yes, what are you doing here, Valois?" Tom echoed, raising an eyebrow at the other Slytherin. Draco scowled at the boy in return, earning a threatening glare.
"I don't need a reason to visit my friend," Draco hissed out, hackles raised. In all actuality, he was far less irritated than he was letting on. While he was still uncomfortable with the fact that Hermione was willingly cozying up to the Dark Lord in order to reform him, he knew it was the best way to save the future. Still, he couldn't resist a little goading.
A little jealousy could go a long way toward making a man realize his true feelings. He knew this from first hand experience. An image of Angel flashed through his mind, clenching at his heart. He missed her.
'Understatement of the century,' he thought to himself with a scowl. He didn't have time to dwell on his feelings. Hermione needed his help, whether she wanted to admit it or not.
"How did you know we were down here?" Hermione asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looked up, watching as she took out her wand and expertly cleaned away the mess both on herself and the surrounding area. "Nobody knows we come here," she added, her voice laced with confusion.
"The student population of this castle knows more about the two of you than you think," Draco replied with an amused smirk. Hermione blushed furiously, but Tom looked disturbed by this news. He had powerful friends who had the potential to become powerful enemies. This information in their hands could spell disaster for Hermione, and that was the last thing he wanted.
"How?" Hermione asked, her tone edging on hysterical. Draco frowned.
"Malfoy has eyes everywhere," he replied. Tom shot out of his chair, anger streaking through his gray eyes. Hermione jumped in fright.
"Malfoy has people following us?" he asked, though it sounded more like a demand.
"I overheard him gloating about it to Yaxley in the dungeons yesterday," Draco answered with a nod. If Tom didn't know the actions of his own 'subordinates,' they were in more trouble than Draco thought.
"I must go," Tom muttered, grabbing his bag and hurrying from the room before Hermione had the chance to speak. She watched him go with round eyes, frightened by the fury that was in his eyes. He was still powerful, and his anger had the potential to do awful things. Hermione never thought it possible, but she feared for Malfoy.
She didn't want to be the reason for another man's death. Not again. Not like this. Tom's soul was finally healed – he didn't need another murder tearing it apart again.
Noticing her distress, Draco stood and pulled her in to his grasp. Her tears soaked his shirt for a long time after Tom left.
"Ah, Riddle," Malfoy said, his smirk deliciously evil as he took in the appearance of the Head Boy. "Right on time," he added, making no move to stand from the high seat that had only ever sat one other man. It was Lord Voldemort's chair, and the fact that Malfoy dared sit in it spoke volumes of his wavering loyalty.
Tom fumed, sparks flying from the wand grasped in his white-knuckled hand. How dare Malfoy usurp his position? He raised his wand, ready to blast the boy to pieces, but his denizen of followers abandoned their posts to stand guard around the pompous blonde boy. Tom was shocked.
"Don't look so surprised," Malfoy drawled, idly twirling his wand between his fingers. His perch on the chair suggested he wouldn't willingly leave any time soon. "The second you started spending time with that filthy mudblood your allegiance to our group came in to question."
"You dare question Lord Voldemort?" Tom hissed, power nearly sparking around him as his anger morphed in to something dangerous. A gust of wind whipped through the small room, despite the lack of windows. The others were unsettled to realize it had radiated from Tom, himself.
"You aren't Lord of anything, Riddle," Malfoy spat, rising from the chair at last. "You are the son of a whore and a muggle – nothing more!" Abraxas stalked forward, his entourage following with wands extended, ready to protect their new master. Riddle was stunned. He grasped his wand tighter. "I, on the other hand, descend from royalty. When my father dies, I will be a true Lord." Malfoy stopped before Tom, his ice blue eyes wild and dangerous. He was unhinged, and the kind of power he now had in his grasp scared Tom. Madmen were unpredictable. They would do anything without fear, too crazed to understand and weigh the consequences of their actions.
He wanted to take a step back, but showing weakness now would surely result in disaster. Tom held his ground.
"I am Lord Saxalamoy," Malfoy nearly purred out, his own wand emitting sparks in its master's excited grasp. "My name will be feared for generations to come."
Tom resisted the urge to snort at the ridiculous name. Malfoy didn't have an original bone in his body. Voldemort had been made using the letters of his name and it was obvious that Abraxas had copied the idea. Saxalamoy, he thought with a mental snort. It sounded too ridiculous to fear.
"You tread on dangerous ground, Saxalamoy," Tom said with more courage than he felt. "You will never succeed. You don't have the brains or the power," he goaded. Deftly, he reflected the curse shot his way by Yaxley. Malfoy held up his hand to stave off further attacks from the group of teenagers surrounding him.
"Powerful words for a fool outnumbered ten to one," Abraxas replied, turning his back on Tom and waltzing back to the seat. If not for the circle of followers, Tom would have blasted the presumptuous bastard on the spot. He held his wand and tongue in check. They knew about Hermione, and as crazy as Malfoy was, Tom knew they wouldn't hesitate to use her against him. "Silence suits you," Malfoy remarked gleefully. Tom bit his tongue, tasting the coppery tang when sharp teeth pierced flesh. "I have no doubt that my plans will succeed – plans that were once yours. I admit, however, that my cause would be greatly aided by your addition to my followers, despite your dirty blood."
"No," Tom snapped out, wanting nothing to do with this man and the group of traitors he had once called his own. It unnerved him to think that his entire mindset had changed in such a short time and he knew it was because of Hermione. Her light and grace warmed his life and made him realize that power and dominance wasn't everything, and it was dangerous in the wrong hands. Hands like Malfoy's.
"That wasn't a request, Tom," Malfoy said, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. "If you do not join me, I will kill your precious mudblood. Stand by my side now, and I might allow her to live."
Tom closed his eyes and sighed heavily. Damn Malfoy. As much as he'd prayed that the evil git would leave Hermione out of this, he knew it was inevitable.
"Make your choice, Tom. Her or us. Glory and power, or love and weakness. Life or death." The words were spoken softly, which only served to punctuate the brevity of the situation. Tom's heart felt heavy and he wanted nothing more than to unleash the power boiling within and kill every last bastard in this room. Special torture reserved for Malfoy.
'You are better than that, Tom,' Hermione's voice sounded in his conscious, staying his wand. He fought against the words, but no matter how much he wanted to obliterate this room and everyone in it, he couldn't bring himself to destroy his soul and the man Hermione had helped him become.
Tom's shoulders slumped in defeat as he dropped to his knees, wand clattering to the floor.
Malfoy grinned.
AN: Damn that Malfoy. He is such an evil bastard. Leave me some love!