She was fascinated, she could not deny it. No sooner had she spoken the last word of the ritual than the blood mixture in the shallow bowl had begun to steam. Drop by drop it rose, forming little rings of steam, while the engraved runes glowed black. Hermione could not explain how anything could glow black, but that was exactly what happened. The rings turned purple as the last drop of blood rose from the bowl, and began to spin faster and faster. Nervously she looked over at Tom, but he was as fascinated by the successful ritual as she was and did not pay any attention to her. A wave of energy forced Hermione to look back at the rings of steam. It was energy in pure form that shot through her body as the rings committed to close around the little Puffksein that now seemed completely frightened.
And then she felt it. As the rings touched the skin of the Puffskein, Hermione flinched with a feeling of elation never felt before. Instinctively, she knew that from then on, this Puffskein would no longer do anything she did not allow. It would not even breathe if she did not want it to. She had the power to make its little heart stand still right now if she wanted it, and this certainty was intoxicating.
She was not aware that she was smiling, but Tom Riddle next to her saw it all too clearly. When the rings had closed around the Puffskein, he had turned his attention to her and he had not been disappointed. The smile on Hermione's lips was not warm, not hearty. It was a smile that he himself liked to show. It showed superiority and the awareness of his own strength. He had not chosen this ritual for nothing. No one could escape the feeling of power that inevitably came about when one had successfully taken absolute control over another living being. The only uncertainty had been that he could not be sure if Hermione would be strong and determined enough to perform the ritual successfully. The fact that she had succeeded confirmed to him that she actually had the potential to become extremely powerful in the Dark Arts. And that she secretly wanted it.
Involuntarily, Tom smiled, too. Whether she liked it or not, now he had her. She could hate and loathe him as she wanted, she had made the first step and he would force her to make the next one, too. He had tried the same ritual with Abraxas, last year, and he had not succeeded. Tom had no doubt that Abraxas would be strong enough to do it, but obviously the inner conviction was missing. It was almost laughable that Abraxas, who always tried to impress him and prove that he had what it takes to learn the Dark Arts, failed, while Hermione, who always pretended not to mean any harm, succeeded on the first attempt.
The warm hand of Tom on her cheek tore Hermione from her fascinated rigidity. She looked at him with big eyes.
"You have done very well, Hermione," he whispered to her in a quiet but very serious voice: "It takes not only a lot of power, but above all determination to make another living being completely without will. Only a few people are unscrupulous enough for that. You have made me very proud today."
Tentatively, Hermione returned the smile. He had sounded sincere in his praise, something she would never have expected from him. Just as honestly, she replied, "Thank you. Praise from you that is sincere is rare."
Tom's smile widened even more. For a moment he looked her straight in the eyes, looked at her meaningfully, as if he still wanted to tell her something, then he bent over, one hand still on her cheek, and kissed her. It was not a kiss like before, not a kiss intended to humiliate her, on the contrary. His lips were warm and soft and tender, not hard and demanding like the day before. Content, Hermione closed her eyes and gave herself over to the kiss. She had exceeded his expectations, had made him proud, and finally he acknowledged that she could be as good as he was. They were equals.
"I'll leave you the Puffskein," Tom said after he pulled back from the kiss, "You're free to do what you like with it. A simple Finite ends the effect of the ritual, but maybe you want to have some fun with it first."
With a flowing movement, he got up from her bed, carefully put the book and bowl back in his school bag and walked towards the door before turning to her again: "I think I made my point today. We don't have to argue, Hermione. Keep on behaving yourself, and I'm more than willing to forgive your rudeness."
Hurriedly, Hermione rose from the bed, too. "I know, Tom, I know. I'll prove to you that I can be different too, I promise."
A wicked grin came across his face. "Remember these words, my dear. Not that you'll forget them tomorrow. I'll make sure you remember them."
And before she could understand what this cryptic statement meant, he went out the door and disappeared. With a sigh, Hermione lowered herself onto the bed. Never would she have thought it would be so much fun to study with Tom Riddle. The little Puffskein was still sitting on the bed, looking completely confused. With a forgiving smile, Hermione reached for her magic wand and said, "Finite Incantatem."
And as the small, fluffy creature leapt happily onto Hermione's lap, a horrified scream echoed through her room.
oOoOoOo
The grin on his face spoke volumes. It was barely noticeable, hardly different from his usual friendly expression as he sat at the breakfast table, but Hermione could see the difference. He had deliberately manipulated her; he had known exactly what effect the ritual would have on her. She felt even stupider than the night before. Her big speeches about how she knew the danger of seduction by the Dark Arts had been nothing more than empty words. The intoxicating feeling of power had clouded her senses, and it had been Tom Riddle next to her who had given her confirmation that it was good and right to feel powerful. And for a moment she had forgotten herself, bathed in the feeling of her superiority and the illusion of being his equal. Until she had finished the ritual and her access to her heart was free again.
"Did you have a pleasant night, Miss Dumbledore?" Tom greeted her with the same sneering grin, but Hermione was not prepared to admit defeat so openly.
Emboldened and unmoved, she nodded back, "Indeed, I slept splendidly, thank you."
His gaze rested on her for a moment, and Hermione held firm. She looked at him openly, without shame, without anger, but also without affection, trying to give the impression that the incident of the previous evening had had no effect on her. The mocking grin disappeared and made way for a knowing expression. He understood her intentions only too well, but he did not let it be known what he thought. That was fine for Hermione. She was boiling with anger inside; she was not yet ready for a confrontation. Should he decide for himself how to punish her for her serenity.
"Tom!" At that moment, Beatrix distracted his attention from her. "Tom, there are rumours about you! You must listen to what is being said and stop it."
Interested, Hermione turned to the girl. Whatever those rumours were, anything that could discredit Tom Riddle was only right for her.
"Rumours?" Riddle asked politely, "What sort of rumours?"
Obviously pleased to have roused his interest, Beatrix adorned herself for a moment, set her cutlery aside neatly and ran her hair through once. "Some of the girls saw you in the corridor to our dormitories."
"So?" Tom followed up without seeming the least bit shocked.
Irritated, Beatrix looked around. Obviously, she had expected a different reaction, as had most of the other students who followed the conversation. Surprised and worried looks were exchanged. Encouraged by the indignation of her fellow students, she continued: "Male students are not allowed to enter our corridor. Some of the girls claim they even saw you go into a room and not come out for a long time."
Hermione could see how the otherwise restrained Slytherin students stared in horror at their idol. Who would have thought that her so-called learning lessons could backfire for the esteemed head boy in such a way? With difficulty she suppressed a self-satisfied grin and expected the justification of Riddle.
But he still seemed to be unshakable. "This is absolutely right."
"Tom," gasped Beatrix, who by then was as pale as the rest of the students at the table. "Think about what you're saying!"
"What am I saying, dear Beatrix?", he now returned with a stern tone of voice. "As head boy, I am allowed to enter the girls' dormitories. There are magical barriers in front of them that make it impossible for the boys to enter, but for me they do not apply, so I have permission. And the room I have entered belongs to our esteemed Miss Dumbledore."
All eyes were on Hermione at once. Blushing, she glanced at her fingers - she would not have thought that Tom would so boldly admit his connection with her. With bated breath, she waited for him to speak.
"I don't expect the younger students to understand this," he finally explained, and his gaze lay on Beatrix with a mixture of disappointment and reproach. "But I would have expected more from you. Miss Dumbledore is extremely intelligent, enough even for Professor Slughorn himself to have invited her to his party. We learn together for the benefit of each other, and since we both work best when no conversation distracts us, we preferred to study in the privacy of her room. Is that a problem," he inquired, and now there was an unyielding sharpness in his voice. "Or were you suggesting something else, Beatrix?
Suddenly, there was silence at the Slytherins' breakfast table. Hermione could clearly see the aggrieved faces of all the students who were ashamed of having thought badly of their role model, even if for a second. Only Beatrix Parkinson looked less ashamed and more angry. Obviously, she herself had been the source of the rumour and obviously she had known exactly which room her beloved Tom Riddle had gone to. Hermione was sure that her housemate had tried to put her in a bad light with this rumour, but that had backfired and now Beatrix herself was the embarrassed one. Unsure, Hermione looked at the other students. She hoped very much that Beatrix's hatred would not be discharged against her in the future in another form.
oOoOoOo
"Miss Dumbledore, good morning.
Surprised, Hermione looked at Ignatius Prewett, who stood beside the door to the classroom and had obviously been waiting for her. She wished he had not addressed her, for Tom Riddle and Abraxas walked only a few steps behind her. She had no interest in having to justify herself again for her acquaintances.
"Good morning, Mr Prewett," she replied politely, then continued emphatically out loud, "Thank you again for carrying my notes yesterday!"
At that moment, Tom and Abraxas reached her. They stopped as well when they noticed the other boy, and stood next to her left and right as if to protect her.
"Mr Prewett," Tom said with a nod, "Is there a problem?"
"Why should there be a problem," Ignatius replied innocently, but Hermione noticed that his eyes looked very, very alert. She became even more uncomfortable when she heard his next sentences. "May a man not talk with a beautiful woman who caught his attention?
"I have already heard that Gryffindors are less formal than we are," Abraxas interfered in a cutting voice, "But I still expect you to show the necessary respect to members of our House. Apologise to Miss Dumbledore immediately."
"Have I said anything to offend you?" Ignatius asked Hermione.
Her mouth became dry. The look Abraxas gave her new acquaintance was icy cold, and although his face seemed calm, Hermione thought to discover a certain tension in Riddle's shoulders. Was it really such a crime during this time period to openly compliment a woman? She did not want to stab Ignatius in the back, but the reaction of Abraxas showed her that she had to be very careful. Nervously she moistened her lips. "I am not offended by you, Mr Prewett, but do you really think it appropriate to appear so brash in view of our short acquaintance?
For a moment, Ignatius simply looked at her, studied her expression, her posture, without reacting to her words. Then, as if he had discovered something he did not like, he took a step back and bowed deeply. "You are right, Miss Dumbledore. Please forgive my directness, I had no right to speak like that."
With a short nod of his head to Abraxas and Tom, Ignatius walked away. His uneasy feeling of the day before solidified into a suspicion. It had been so obvious that Hermione Dumbledore had chosen her words carefully and as diplomatically as possible, her whole body language had shouted at him that she was nervous and insecure. Why should any girl get nervous when the beautiful, clever, charming, intelligent Tom Riddle with the powerful Abraxas Malfoy at his side came to her rescue? Why did he feel, as he had the day before, that Hermione was trying to please Tom Riddle, but without being motivated by amorous infatuation like the other Slytherin ladies? Was she afraid of him?
"Markus," he whispered as quietly as possible, as soon as he had slipped onto the bench next to his best friend. "There is definitely something wrong with Miss Dumbledore and Riddle. I think she's afraid of him! Definitely."
"Don't you think you are overreacting," Mark replied just as quietly. "If she was afraid of him, she would not be at his side all the time.
"Or because of that," Ignatius hissed back impatiently. He threw a quick glance at the other side of the classroom, where Hermione just sat down between Tom and Abraxas. She seemed to have a friendly conversation with Malfoy, so Malfoy was apparently no problem. But Riddle? He sighed. "I can't explain it either, but as I said yesterday, something is wrong between them. As if she were a slave trying to please her master for fear of being beaten. "
"You're really exaggerating!"
Before he could formulate his thoughts more precisely, Professor Binns stepped in and began his lesson. Maybe he really should ask Augusta to talk to Orion Black. He just could not help himself. If he sensed danger, whether to himself, to friends or to strangers, he had to follow it up, see if he was right and, if necessary, avert the danger. And so far, his instincts had rarely betrayed him. Tom Riddle definitely had an aura that was uncomfortable for him. And Hermione Dumbledore definitely did not behave the way an intelligent, confident woman should behave in his presence.