Hi there! Sorry for the long wait…my laptop kind of crashed around a month ago and I lost a bunch of documents and other research for this story and my other fanfiction. Thank you all for being so patient, and please review! RxR!

In other news, for those of you who are curious why I was inspired to give Tom Riddle glasses---well, it sort of underlies the Harry Potter-Voldemort connection---and guys with shiny glasses are just cooler. For reference, there is a title page thing in chapter 21 of Vampire Knight that shows Zero Kiryu reading a book with glasses---he still somehow pulls off that dark, broody air which fans adore him for.

Disclaimer: I wish I was a famous billionaire best-selling author. I read on TV Tropes that disclaimers are pretty much useless nowadays anyways.

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"A smile is the best way to get oneself out of a tight spot, even if it is a fake one. Surprisingly enough, everyone takes it at face value. I read that in a book."

---Sai, Naruto Shippuden

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"WHAT?"

Headmaster Dippet frowned severely and several portraits winced at her tone.

Hermione belatedly realized that shrieking at the headmaster would do little good to improve her situation.

She made an attempt to calm herself.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

"No disrespect intended, sir. But please, why himof all people?"

"Now Miss Granger, this is merely school policy. It's for your own safety and in your best interest if you wish to be allowed this excursion."

She felt her nails digging into the palm of her wand hand, and her voice rose about an octave higher with desperation.

"Sir, what if I asked Sophia to accompany me? Or Phoebe?"

"Miss Granger, it is not proper for two young ladies to go gadding about London, especially in these uncertain times. I'm sure your escort will provide the security this trip requires." Disapproval mingled with shock at her suggestion was evident in his words.

A new voice spoke, brimming with confidence and suffused with charm.

"I'll protect her with my life, if necessary, sir."

He actually sounded like he meant his words.

Hermione's glare was white-hot as lightning. If only looks could kill, or at least magically levitate the recipient into the lake with a ravenous giant squid. Was Dippet blind? The Head Boy's smile had no more sincerity in it than a certain poltergeist when promising to spare you from his dreaded ink-filled water balloons if you hopped on one foot squawking like a chicken for his amusement before he allowed access to a hallway that was the quickest way to Transfiguration.

"I think it won't have to come to that, Tom." The Headmaster's voice had shifted to a more grandfatherly tone.

"Now, Miss Granger, Riddle, both of you better hurry along to your dorms before curfew."

It was a clear dismissal from his office.

Drat. Now she was stuck on a shopping trip with a psychotic wizard. He could dispose of her quietly in a dark alley if he chose to do so and no one would ever suspect him capable of committing such a horrendous crime.

Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that there was probably someone up there laughing at her misfortune.

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"That'll be five Galleons and three Sickles, miss."

Hermione dug around her beaded purse before procuring the needed coins and tucked the brown package under her right arm. The shop assistant had been quite helpful and efficient in outfitting her with the school robes she had required, although there hadn't been much change in the style from her Hogwarts day; the hem was a bit longer and the fabric was of a rougher quality. The assistant—Sally Weaver wasn't it?—was rather chatty when taking her measurements; she seemed quite young, with light brown hair neatly pinned into a bun, and a slender build. In fact, she appeared to be not much older than Hermione herself—nineteen or twenty years of age.

As Hermione turned towards the door, laden down with another purchase in her hands, Weaver peered through a window near the front of the shop, and smiled slightly.

"Oh my…Is that handsome young man standing outside your beau, dear?"

"Ah!" With one hand on the door opened halfway, Hermione's other hand fumbled for several packages that had dropped from her arms when her grip on them had slipped.

When she had glanced outside at Sally's words, she only saw the familiar tall, dark-haired figure of her escort. His face was nonchalant, the same expression he had that morning when they both silently rode the horseless carriage to London, and traversed the Apothecary and Flourish and Blotts.

He was the one person standing quietly among the bustling crowds weaving around him, a rushing river passing an unmovable stone in its path. Realization crept over her thoughts slowly, like clouds drifting across a summer sky.

Oh. Sally had meant if she and Riddle were engaged.

"No! Definitely not!" fumed Hermione, her mind repelled by the very idea.

"I see," Sally looked a bit taken aback by the vehemence in her reply. "Well, he's quite good-looking, that's all."

She decided not to dignify such a baseless statement with an answer and knelt on the pebbled ground. Instead, she focused on picking up the rest of the packages that had scattered across the floor near the entrance of Madam Malkin's.

"One...more…left…" Her left arm juggled three heavy bundles as she reached for one package inches from her fingertips. A loose curl of chestnut fell over her right eye, clinging to her cheek.

Just as her fingers brushed the edge of the parcel, another hand deftly snatched it up.

"Thank…" The words fled from her mouth as she took in a swift intake of breath. A great mass of dark brown hair momentarily whirled willy-nilly in the air as Hermione scrambled to her feet at the sight of her mysterious helper.

Night-black hair and indifferent eyes the blue shade of dusk; his lip curled into an irritated look.

She turned away from his line of sight to focus on rearranging the bundles in her hands.

"Really, if you insist on making this trip such a burden to me, at least refrain from dawdling between the shops." He stacked the brown packet on top of the ones that she held between her arms precariously, like a mountain of rectangular blocks that could tumble at any moment.

"At this rate, it is unlikely we will be able to return to Hogwarts by sundown."

Fine. So he thinks I'm too slow; if that's the way he sees it…

Hermione unexpectedly smiled. Her demeanor had changed suddenly from frazzled to cheerful.

"Thanks for your help, Tom."

His lips twitched into something resembling a snarl at her words, than slipped back into his disinterested expression in a mere second.

"And Ms. Weaver, I really appreciate your assistance in helping me select my robes."

"Please come back anytime!" Sally responded; a trio of small bells clanged softly as the door of Madame Malkin's swung shut.

Riddle's jaw tightened a fraction when he realized that his charge had rushed out of the shop without waiting for him.

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"How dare he call me slow and burdensome." Hermione muttered as she swept through the streets at a whirlwind's pace, despite the heavy school supplies in her arms. "I didn't ask him to escort me; I'm perfectly capable of carrying out a simple shopping trip on my own."

She glanced down the cobbled path between several more run-down shop buildings and continued walking.

"We were supposed to leave on the Knight Bus in front of the Leaky Cauldron at 5'o'clock." Her arms were beginning to ache from the weight of her purchases. The satisfaction from ditching Riddle was beginning to wear off. She almost found herself wishing that he had accompanied her, if only to relieve her from carrying her packages herself.

The Leaky Cauldron, the Leaky Cauldron…it shouldn't be far from here…but I don't recognize any of these shops. Is this an area marked for renovation? All the buildings are marred with flaking paint and cracked windows.

This means that I exited down the wrong direction from Madam Malkin's!

"Oh!" In her distress, Hermione had collided with something solid and tall, which resulted in her dropping all her packages yet again. Most likely it was another visitor to Diagon Alley out for a window-shopping stroll.

"I'm sorry!" Maybe she should just levitate her supplies behind her; her right hand closed around her wand in her pocket.

"So what do we have here?"

She looked up; in front of her were a wizard with longish dull copper ponytail and two others behind him with eerily similar grey eyes and dark hair; twins, perhaps?

"It's rather unusual…"

"For a witch…"

"To be wandering around…"

"By herself…"

"Especially…"

"In these times…"

"Ah, these are my mates, John and Jeremy. You may call me Henry."

"I'm sorry for bumping into you, but I'm in hurry…" A flick and the brown packages all flew into her arms. Hermione turned on her heel, hoping that the Knight Bus hadn't departed yet.

"Well, what's the rush?" Henry had circled fluidly around and blocked her path towards the Leaky Cauldron.

"Surely, a lovely lady like yourself wouldn't mind joining us for a pint of firewhisky." He smiled, showing a glimpse of a pointy canine tooth.

"It's only polite after such a rude encounter." He actually dared to place his hand on her left arm.

"No thanks, I'm underage. Now get out of my way before I curse you."

Henry chuckled, as did the twins, in an echoic manner.

"A Hogwarts student, eh? Witches never learn anything useful there, besides household cleaning charms and other basic—Aaagh!"

He began slapping the sleeve of his robe, which, incidentally was smoking and charred with flames.

"I warned you," the trio seemed to be caught by surprise at the venom in her voice and unconsciously took a cautious step backwards simultaneously, "to let me pass!"

"Tarantallegra!"

Hermione twirled around the jet of blue aimed at her legs and swished her wand; one of the twins' arms and legs snapped together and he fell to the ground, his wand loitering uselessly a foot away.

Protego.

Two other beams of light—one red, one gold—deflected away from a three foot radius around her.

She let her shield down for a second; the second twin staggered with a dazed expression to collapse next to his brother.

Langlock.

The last wizard with the ponytail gestured wildly with his wand, but to no avail.

She allowed herself to flash one smug smile behind her before turning to walk away.

"Ow!"

She felt a hand roughly jerk back her hair, and a slim wand pointed directly over her heart.

In her line of vision, she caught a peek of rusted copper, and heard a few garbled and gagging noises for several pulses of time.

"You…you little…" he coughed, trying to shake off the effects of her last spell.

Adrenaline still coursed through her blood, a potent mix of anger that was eventually cooling to fear.

She did the only thing she could in such a situation.

Her lips curved into an arrogant grin.

"How cowardly. Are you too afraid to face me straight on in a duel?"

Hide your fear. Distract him.

It wasn't working. She still felt her pulse flitting madly at the side of her throat.

"I suggest you release the girl, if you value your skin."

Through the corner of her eye, she saw the tip of a wand hovering over the jugular vein of Henry's neck.

She never thought that she would feel such relief at the sound of that infuriatingly confident voice.

Henry's eyes flickered from the chestnut-haired witch to the cool smile of the youth with the dark eyes that glittered momentarily with red. The kind of smile that hinted at fearlessness necessary for carrying out his threat.

He let out a shrill yelp as another foot suddenly stomped heavily on his.

"That won't be necessary, Riddle."

The three wizards scrambled eager to get away from the troublesome girl and her escort.

The wizard with glossy, raven-black hair strode in front of the girl.

"We should leave. It'll be my neck that's cut if you run into any more difficulties."

She walked next to him in silence all the way to the Leaky Cauldron.

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They reached the castle just as the other students were scurrying towards their dorms before curfew passed.

They stopped in a mostly deserted corridor.

"You know, Tom," it gave her another bubble of satisfaction to see a flash of anger in his eyes, "playing the hero doesn't suit you."

Her hands adjusted their grip around the fruit of her excursion.

"But I suppose I should thank you anyways."

Was that the slightest hint of irony in her tone, a drop of mockery in her brown eyes?

He watched her slip away into the darkness.

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Please RxR!

Sorry again for the slow updates.

BTW does anyone know how old Argus Filch is supposed to be? I have a vague idea for him in this story.

P.S. I think I'm reading to many shojou mangas.