Hermione knew not what to think. The first few classes on this Monday were already over, and even though Riddle shared all of them, he had paid her no attention. He did not simply ignore her, either, as he had greeted her and glanced at her every now and then. But compared to last week, when he had bothered her at every turn, his current behaviour was just too strange.
“Miss Dumbledore.”
Surprised, Hermione stopped and turned around. Behind her, a boy from her year approached quickly. If she remembered correctly, he was a Gryffindor student with the name of Prewett.
“Yes?”
She waited until he reached her, then she continued her way to the Great Hall.
“Please excuse me for speaking to you without a proper introduction,” the tall student started. “My name is Ignatius Prewett. We just had History together. You left your quill in the classroom.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes, but took the quill from his hands. Her worries about Riddle really started to affect her, if she already started to be so negligent during classes. Smiling, she gave a warm thanks. “How very observant of you, Mr Prewett. I cannot believe I was so careless.”
“Indeed,” the brown-haired boy agreed, “You always appear mindful of your duties and very much in line with all the rules. Are you sure you’re not better fitted for Gryffindor?”
Hermione had to stop herself from laughing. “Since when are Gryffindors known for minding the rules?”
“Hey!” Ignatius’ protest was instant, though good-natured. “I like rules!”
“Then you surely must be the infamous exception to every rule,” Hermione shot back. Thinking about Fred and George, but also about Ron, Bill, and Charlie, who all were typical Gryffindors, she could not stop herself from grinning. Every Weasley had been in Gryffindor, and except for Percy every single one of them had been known for their penchant for mischief.
Hermione froze.
Molly Weasley’s maiden name was Prewett, was it not? Was she talking to an ancestor of Ron just now? Her gaze wandered up to the face of her tall companion as she tried to spot any similarities to Ron.
“Miss Dumbledore?” Ignatius soft words pulled her from her wandering thoughts. His cheeks had turned pink under her intense scrutiny.
Hermione felt heat creep up her face in turn and she quickly scrambled for an excuse. “I am so sorry; I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just– you reminded me of an old friend.”
A roguish grin replaced any sign of embarrassment on Ignatius’ face. “I sure hope it’s a flattering comparison?”
With a non-committal smile, Hermione resumed her way. “But of course, any memory of a friend is a good thing.”
She schooled her face to not show any of her emotions, but in reality, she felt her stomach flutter. After she had arrived here, all her thoughts had been focused on any potential ancestor of Death Eaters from her own time. It was only natural, though, that her friends had parents and grandparents, who might be attending Hogwarts in 1944. This realisation gave her a huge boost of happiness that she had a hard time not to simply pull Ignatius into a tight hug. Perhaps she should try and make friends outside of Slytherin? Surely, she would get along great with the ancestors of Harry, Ron, Neville or even Luna.
“You really helped me a lot today, Mr Prewett,” she told him slowly. “As far as I am informed, it is not the usual way for a Gryffindor to help out a Slytherin.”
A nervous glance was all the answer she received at first. Again, Hermione had to remind herself that in this time, direct questions and bold statements were considered almost an insult. She wanted to slap herself for falling back into old patterns, but luckily, the other student did not seem to mind too much. His voice showed no hint of what he was feeling when he finally replied. “You definitely are just like I imagined an American would be, Miss Dumbledore, even if your English accent doesn’t betray your heritage. I assume you’ll manage to cope when I repay your honesty with openness on my side.”
Relieved, Hermione nodded. Noticing that they almost reached the big doors leading to the Great Hall, she stopped and turned to Ignatius so they could continue their conversation in private for a moment longer.
The tall Gryffindor seemed to think similarly as he dropped is voice. “The relationship between Gryffindor and Slytherin students definitely is somewhat strained, you are right with that. I fear that is just the nature of our traits, so to speak. To be blunt, you seem to be a singular exception to that. You are a new student, a female at that, but you demanded respect from the very start. You didn’t hesitate to stand your ground against Tom Riddle, the beloved head boy of Slytherin. That is a very welcome exception indeed.”
Hermione felt her neck tingled and she rubbed it subconsciously. The last thing she needed right now was a future Voldemort suddenly popping up out of nowhere after having listened to her gossiping about him to a Gryffindor. They were the only students in the corridor at the moment, though, as everyone else seemed to already be in the Great Hall.
Still unsure of how to handle the situation, Hermione looked up at the other student. “Tom Riddle is an exemplary Slytherin student. My behaviour didn’t earn my any respect in that regard.”
Before Ignatius had any chance to answer that, the doors to the Great Hall opened. Tom Riddle stepped out. Hermione’s eyes widened in shock and she felt her heart beat too hard and too fast in her chest. She could feel the blood drain from her face and knew that the look of panic in her face would not do her any good.
“Miss Dumbledore, here you are!” Riddle sounded chipper as he greeted her, his face showing the brightest smile. “I see, you met Mr Prewett. I hope you don’t plan on keeping our esteemed new student from eating for much longer?”
Hermione did not need to look up at Ignatius to know that he was looking strangely at her and Riddle. She prayed that he was not like so many other foolish Gryffindors she had known in her own time and say anything to make this situation even worse.
“It was an amicable conversation, Mr Riddle, nobody is keeping anyone from anything.”
Hermione flinched when she heard the cool tone of Ignatius’ voice. She realised in this instant that Ignatius Prewett, if not perhaps all of Gryffindor, were not too fond of the head boy.
“Marvellous,” Riddle replied with a wide smile that made Hermione’s blood run cold.
She gave the Gryffindor a curt nod and quickly stepped towards Riddle. “How very kind of you to come and look for me, Mr Riddle, you have my deepest gratitude. Mr Prewett was just about to leave anyway. I was careless and left my quill back in the classroom and he was attentive enough to notice.”
“So very caring.”
Even though there was still a smile in place, Hermione could hear that Riddle’s words carried no friendliness in them. She shot a last quick smile at Ignatius and then accepted Riddle’s arm who almost dragged her back into the Great Hall. She did not fail to notice that Ignatius dropped his smile as soon as the head boy turned away, replacing it with a thoughtful, calculating expression. Again, she prayed that this Gryffindor did nothing foolish.
“You found her!” Abraxas greeted the two of them as soon as they reached the Slytherin table.
The blond boy scooted to the side so Hermione could sit down next to him. Still feeling sick to her stomach, Hermione started to fill her plate. Even if Riddle had not caught what exactly they had been talking about, it was unfortunate that he had seen her with a Gryffindor at all. He already questioned her being a true Slytherin, so she did not want to give him any further food for doubt.
Perhaps it was best if she refrained from befriending the ancestors of her friends.
“Our dear Miss Dumbledore was engaged in a deep conversation with Mr Prewett just now,” Riddle explained. “That gentleman is a student of Gryffindor, is he not?”
Hermione licked her lips and nodded. “As I said, I forgot my quill after class and Professor Binns asked him to return it to me.”
“I must have been exceedingly careless to not notice myself. Truly, I am very sorry for my negligence, Miss Dumbledore.” His tone was dripping with remorse.
Baffled, Hermione could simply stare at him. Nothing about the whole incident was his fault or had anything to do with him. Try as she might, she could not find his motive for showing excessive politeness and remorse, so she was unsure how to react.
“Oh, rubbish!” Hermione failed to hide her irritation at his words. “You left the classroom before me, however would you have noticed?”
“I am sure you are the only woman I know who always thinks rationally about every situation,” Abraxas injected himself into their conversation. His tone sounded friendly, but Hermione could see the worry in his eyes.
She longed for a true friendship like she had known with Harry and Ron. She truly wanted to show Abraxas that she noticed and appreciated his efforts to be nice to her. With a small smile, she replied, “Isn’t it logical to think rationally?”
“It might be logical,” Tom answered before Abraxas had any chance, “but that is exactly why it’s so surprising. Girls aren’t rational.”
Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She did not want to talk to Riddle, she wanted to talk to Abraxas. What was more, she did not want to talk to Riddle about a topic where she just had to refute him. She wanted nothing less than to provoke him again, but she could not leave his misogynistic remarks alone.
Deliberately slow, she turned to him. “I do not wish to argue with you, Mr Riddle. I respect your opinion and you are almost always right. But in this instance, I cannot remain silent, even though it pains me to disagree with you. There is simply no evidence for your claim that women are naturally less rational than men. On the contrary, don’t you think I am a living example that girls can compete with boys?”
A patronising grin showed on Riddle’s face. “Quite the contrary, my dear. Nature created exceptions to all its norms. I definitely would agree that you are extraordinarily talented, but that simply is not the norm. Furthermore,” he continued, his grin getting even wider, “just as you are an exception, so am I. So, if we follow your logic for a moment and take you as an example of all women, wouldn’t you say that my existence proves that even in exceptional extraordinariness, men are superior to women, as I am superior to you? Even if you take yourself as proof that girls are intelligent, I am the definitive proof that we are of greater intelligence.”
Hermione stared. How could anyone talk about themselves in such praising manner, especially someone like Tom Riddle who always pretended to be polite and humble. A quick glance to Abraxas showed that it was indeed strange for Riddle to talk this way. The blond Slytherin was staring at him just like Hermione herself.
Again, she tried to decipher what exactly Riddle hoped to accomplish with his words, but again she failed. Still, she could not let his insulting words slide.
“As of now, I am not really convinced of your superiority.” She chose her words carefully, trying deliberately to appear as unimpressed as she could. “Our grades should be rather similar when the year ends. Our duel at the start of the term did not end in your favour because of my weakness but because sweat ran into one of my eyes. So, what basis do you have for your contention that I am inferior?”
Another wide, glowing smile appeared on Tom’s face and his tone dripped with friendliness. “You are of course right, Miss Dumbledore. Your words tell me that I have not yet shown you exactly what I am capable of. As our conversation and our … our lesson yesterday don’t seem to have sufficiently impressed you, I will try even harder tonight. I assume that’s agreeable with you?”
A shiver rand own Hermione’s spine. She had provoked him against her better judgement and now she was neck deep in the grave she had shovelled for herself. She did not know what to reply.
It was Abraxas who saved her from it. “You’re studying together? How did that come about?”
“You sound surprised, my dearest friend.” Tom laughed. “Is it so strange to imagine that I wish to profit of the extraordinary mind of our newest student?”
“If you phrase it like that it’s hard to argue, but–,” Abraxas muttered, but stopped himself from completing his sentence.
Hermione knew exactly what he was on about. The signals Tom was sending were contradicting in a way that even his most loyal friend Abraxas started to question him. At first, Riddle appeared to be interested in her, then he scolded anyone who was nice to her or tried to befriend her. After that he almost forced Abraxas to be friendly towards her again, only to then declare her a persona non grata in public. And now he presented tutoring lessons with her as being the most normal thing in the world.
How could Abraxas not see that there was something wrong with Riddle? How could he close his eyes and look away from the truth? Hermione wished she could say these words to Abraxas, but she knew she would risk everything doing so.
oOoOoOo
Her heart was beating faster than could be healthy. For the moment, she was still alone in her room, but the panic she felt knowing that Riddle could open that door any second held her in a tight grip.
Following their conversation in the Great Hall, he had resumed his friendly ignorance treatment. Abraxas on the other hand had tried even harder to be nice to her, but Hermione never managed to shake the bad feeling that got. She knew exactly what her words had done. If only she could control her own temper a little bit. The 1940s definitely were not the right time for feminism.
“Good evening, Hermione.”
Her furiously beating heart almost stopped. Of course, Tom Riddle obviously thought it was no longer necessary to show her any sort of polite front. Knocking was no longer necessary for him.
Licking her lips and crossing her hands behind her back, Hermione stood from her chair. “Good evening.”
He smiled at her. He simply stood there, door closed, and smiled at her. Hands burrowed in his pockets, his school bag carelessly swung over one shoulder, he stood in her room and smiled.
“You’re good,” he finally said.
With slow, deliberate steps he approached her. “Nobody knows how to show me my own mistakes and carelessness quite like you. Actually, you are the only one to show me my mistakes.”
Hermione swallowed. She doubted that Tom was actually glad that anyone showed him his mistakes. Someone like him probably hated nothing more than failure. Even the smallest hint of a doubt that maybe he did not accomplish what he wanted would be unbearable to him. That he was able to say these words so easily and smile while doing it, made her fear him even more. The small knot of panic in her stomach that had already formed when she was alone in her room threatened to swallow her whole.
“Tom, I–,” she started but he interrupted her immediately.
“Hush, darling. You don’t owe me any explanation.”