Should he believe her? The change in her behaviour had been too sudden. What was more, she still had not told him any reason why she hated him so much. At least none that he could actually believe. Bad experience and general distrust were one thing, but it did not explain her outright hatred.
Leisurely, Tom flipped through his Potions book. He was not actually reading it, but the pretence allowed him to sit alone and in peace while observing the common room. From the corner of his eyes he noticed how Hermione was reading without any enthusiasm in a book of her own. He did not like how often he found himself thinking about her ever since the new school year started. Then again, every interaction with her only further solidified his resolve to keep an eye on her. Before, he only had to worry about one Dumbledore, as the other teachers and students never suspected his other side. He did not like that he no longer was able to use all of his attention and time for his plans.
Why was Hermione Dumbledore interested in the Dark Arts? She had sounded surprisingly confident when she declared that she was not doing anything illegal, but when he had mentioned the temptation and seduction of the Dark Arts, he had been able to detect some discomfort. Did she really think she could study the Dark Arts without being influenced or changed at least a little bit? Was it even possible that someone who would mention the Necronomicon without batting an eye could be that naïve? Yesterday, immediately after their conversation in the library, he had thought about getting closer to her. Today, though, after a whole night had went by, his doubts had returned. Her behaviour at the beginning of their acquaintance had been too extreme. He also could not forget how often she acted like a typical Gryffindor student, regardless of whether she was interested in the Dark Arts or not.
Impatient, he sat up in his chair. Why was Hermione so full of contradictions? How much was actually at risk if he decided to get closer to her, or even let her in on some of his plans? How much would he win if she turned out to be an ally? Tom did not like it when he was not able to measure risk versus reward, and never before had it been so hard as now with Hermione Dumbledore.
“Is there something on my face?”
Irritated, Tom looked at Hermione across the table. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve been staring at me for quite some time now, Mr Riddle, and the only conclusion I can come to why that is, would be that you noticed something strange about me,” Hermione explained dryly.
Tom did not miss how Beatrix, who was also sat at that table, curiously perked up her ears to listen in on their conversation. Annoyed that he appeared to have been to obvious, he leaned closer to Hermione and replied icily, “I just tried to figure out why my most valued fellow student would pretend to do her homework, while her thoughts so obviously were on very different things.”
Instead of being ashamed of it, an unnaturally sweet smile appeared on Hermione’s face. “I could throw that question right back at you, as you’re doing anything but reading in that book of yours. Which should not be too surprising, as that particular chapter was part of last year’s schedule, if I remember Professor Slughorn’s information correctly. Naturally, you would be bored by it.”
Disgruntled, Tom looked down on his book. He had paid so little attention to what he was actually reading that he indeed had not noticed that he had opened a chapter already known to him. He never was so careless and that Hermione was able to notice it, without him realising that she was watching him, irritated him immensely. It made him angry.
“Have you taken an increased interest in me or how come you noticed such a detail?” Tom raised an eyebrow inquisitively while trying to appear unmoved from her words.
“I really didn’t have to try that hard to notice it,” Hermione replied, her tone flat and bored, as if she too was trying to appear disinterested. “Just one glance sufficed. Do you really want to make me believe you find this power of observation outstanding? You of all people?”
Amused Hermione noticed the flash of annoyance in Riddle’s eyes before his usual mask of cool, detached politeness returned. Their conversation in the library had rebuilt her confidence. It was not that she had actually enjoyed their encountered, but the interest Tom had shown the previous evening was no longer of the kind she feared. That was why the more provocative, courageous part of herself resurfaced.
“What are you getting at?” Bellatrix injected herself in the conversation, obviously no longer content with being a silent listener.
Supressing the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione let her smile grow even wider, and turned to her classmate. “You sound upset, though I simply wanted to pay our dear head boy a compliment. I just meant to say that his focus and attention to detail is so great that even the smallest detail seldom escapes his eyes. That is why he is so good in reading people and solving conflicts.”
“Praise for Tom from you is a rarity though, Hermione, you have to admit that,” Abraxas suddenly offered. He was sitting at the far end of the table, seemingly invested in an essay for Transfiguration.
It did not escape Hermione’s notice how Riddle flinched at those direct words. She herself had to struggle for a moment to retain her smile while recovering from the jab. What did Abraxas think he would achieve with this? She tried to put as much warmth and admiration in her tone as possible when she finally replied, “You are doing me injustice. I have nothing but respect for Mr Riddle and everything he is doing as head boy. It really is unfair of you to publicly accuse me of disliking him.”
It was obvious to Hermione that her words confused Abraxas. She was no less confused by his actions. Tom obviously had intervened to prevent any deeper friendship between his closest confidant and her. To her regret, it had worked, as Abraxas was treating her less warm than before. He had, probably because of fear, yielded to Riddle’s will. So why was it that he now touched a subject, publicly no less, that inevitably would lead to conflict with the same man?
Before Abraxas even had time to form a proper answer, Tom again chimed in. “I have to agree with Miss Dumbledore. You are doing her injustice,” he said with a warmth in his voice that was so obviously fake that Hermione again wondered why no one else saw through his mask. “I fear you are misunderstanding our relationship. I absolutely see her intelligence and ingenuity, just as she absolutely sees laudable features in me. It appears you want to detect friction where none can be found.”
This time, Hermione struggled to not stare open-mouthed. Tom Riddle just publicly admitted to them being ill-disposed to one another. If even she was able to decipher that hidden meaning from his words, she was sure the other students, who were well-versed in the cumbersome verbiage of the time, would understand it, too. It was no surprise that a deafening silence followed those words. She could almost feel all eyes turning to her.
Hastily, Hermione collected her belongings. She needed fresh air, needed to get some distance to this group of students who suddenly understood that their beloved leader was not a fan of the niece of Professor Dumbledore.
She was just about to enter her room when she noticed that someone had followed her. Of course. For a single moment, she closed her eyes. Then, she turned to meet Riddle. “What was that for?”
“Whatever do you mean?” Tom replied innocently, but Hermione was able to see his malicious grin.
“You could as well have declared me an outlaw!” She could barely keep in her anger. “Why? Just yesterday you deem me important enough to offer help for my studies, and today you throw down the gauntlet?”
“Oh, now I understand where your confusion comes from,” he said in a bored tone, stepping right in front of her. “After our little talk yesterday, you assumed I’d suddenly give up on my distrust against you? How naïve!” he hissed, and suddenly there was the chilling coldness in his tone that again and again made Hermione freeze up in fear. “How very naïve of you.”
Obviously, she never had assumed for even once second that Riddle would stop thinking of her as a threat just like that. But his behaviour had made her hope that he would at least drop any active thoughts of murder. Was that really so naïve? Before she could fully comprehend his actions, he grabbed her, opened her door, and forcefully dragged her into her room.
“How dare you enter my room?” Hermione protested, but she clearly felt that she sounded more fearful than confident. Why was he able to enter the hallway leading to the girl’s dormitory in the first place? Was that an advantage of being head boy?
“I again and again notice that you’re missing vital features of a snake. How peculiar,” Tom mused deep in thought, not reacting to her question at all. “You’re accusing me that I could’ve as well declared you an outlaw – not recognising that that’s exactly what I was doing.”
Hermione’s breath caught. She had to concede what he was saying. She simply was not malicious enough to detect intent behind mean actions. In an attempt to regain some form of control, she put down her bag and her books on the little writing desk. Then, she turned back towards Tom, hands on the hips. “I truthfully have not yet felt the need to rely on others in matters that only concern me.”
A chuckle that almost sounded amused was her answer. “And that’s exactly your problem: It’s always advisable to know others will support you. And when you know that every single one of them supports you, you gain true power.”
She swallowed at his cold words. “So, you decided over night that you won’t get rid of me yourself but rather send some … bootlicker after me?”
“And again you’re stopping at the surface level, dearest,” Tom purred. With slow, calculated steps he moved towards her until he stood right in front of her and took one of her hands. “You’re so full of yourself, thinking you’re intelligent when all you have is education and knowledge. You lack the skill to connect the dots, to broaden your horizon – to see what’s underneath the surface.” He slowly raised their hands. “Your experience might have taught you to scrutinise my friendliness, but that’s your limit.” Softly, he placed a kiss on the back of her hand.
A shiver ran down Hermione’s spine. She suddenly was too aware of the fact that she actually was alone in her bedroom with Tom Riddle. Like a rabbit faced by a deadly snake, she stood paralysed, while he continued, “As long as I treat you with politeness, my friends will do the same. If I, however, find any reason to change my behaviour towards you …”
He did not finish the sentence. Instead, the hand that held hers suddenly closed painfully hard around her wrist. He did not need to finish it, though. Hermione understood the message perfectly well. Either she bowed to his will, or he would make the whole house of Slytherin bully her.
Remember! she ordered herself silently, Remember that you wanted to get on his good side. Show him you’re not a threat!
Determined, Hermione forced herself to lower her gaze. Just for this moment it appeared to be wise to let him believe he had won. With a tremble in her voice that she did not need to fake, she whispered, “I understand. Please, let go of me now.”
Very slowly, Tom lowered the hand that stilled clutched her wrist, then released it. Hermione was about to step away from him in relief, when suddenly she felt his cool fingers under her chin.
Confused, she looked up. An almost evil glimmer shone in his eyes, and it did not escape her how his eyes deliberately and blatantly wondered to her bed for the shortest amount of time. Then, with a derisive grin on his lips, he told her, “I would love to find out whether your lifestyle up until now was indeed as frivolous as Beatrix indicated.”
Shocked, Hermione jumped away from him. “You’re joking! You can’t be serious!”
“Who knows?” Riddle simply replied. There suddenly was an intense look on his face, as if he was able to see through her clothes. His gaze very slowly and very deliberately travelled down her body and up again. Involuntarily, Hermione wrapped her arms around her upper body, as if she had to shield herself from his gaze. His voice had changed when he finally added, “You have a very unique allure for a man like me. Who know what the future might bring?”
Before she could react, Tom had left in one swift motion and the door closed behind him.
Trembling, Hermione sank down on her bad. Ice-cold nausea engulfed her whole body while she thought about the implications of his parting words. She knew he was not actually interested in her. He had proven, though, that he knew very well that nothing could give someone as much power over another human as sex. He had very openly stated that he would not recoil from using it to bring her down to her knees. This was not about lust or love, this was about power.
What made the whole situation worse was that now she had no one left on her side. Against her will, tears forced their way down her cheeks. She could accept that she had a mission here, and she had risked her life for Harry before, voluntarily and knowing what she was doing. This on the other hand more and more grew into something she could no longer grasp nor control. She was alone, absolutely alone, and somewhere out there a man roamed the Slytherin quarters who would rape her just to prove his superiority.