A Devil’s Bargain
The tension in the air was palpable. Every passing second felt like it stretched into an eternity. Hermione stood in the dimly lit room, her back pressed against the cold stone wall, her fingers gripping the edges of a dusty shelf to steady herself. The weight of her own thoughts was suffocating. Outside the small, secluded library where they had met, the world seemed to go on in oblivion. But inside, there was only Tom Riddle—his presence a storm she had yet to weather.
He stood just a few feet away, his posture relaxed, but there was an unmistakable glint of something calculating in his eyes. The way he looked at her made her feel as though she were nothing more than an object to be examined, dissected, and understood. He hadn’t moved since he had walked in, but every inch of his being radiated an unsettling calmness, a confidence that made her heart race in the silence.
"Why are you here, Hermione?" His voice was smooth, like dark velvet wrapped around steel. "You don't belong in this time, do you? You’re lost, not just physically, but in every way. You came here for answers. But how long are you going to keep running?"
She clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to snap at him. But he was right—she was the one running. From the moment she had arrived in 1947, she had been trying to put distance between herself and Tom Riddle, trying to piece together how to get back to her own time. But now, more than ever, it felt as if the answers were slipping from her grasp. He was closing in, cornering her in ways she couldn’t predict.
"I’m not running from you," she said with more force than she felt. "I’m just... trying to find my way home. I don’t need your help."
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. "No, you don’t need my help, do you? But you’re clearly not making any progress on your own. The question is, Hermione," he took a step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "how much longer are you going to pretend that you can do this on your own? How long before you’re completely out of options?"
Her breath hitched as she took a step back, her mind racing. She couldn’t let him get to her. She couldn’t afford to fall into his trap.
But Tom Riddle was the kind of person who knew things—things about people, things about magic, things about the world that she couldn’t even begin to comprehend. And what terrified her even more than that was that she had no way of predicting his next move. He was like a shadow, always just out of reach, but never far enough to escape.
"You want to go home, don’t you?" His voice was softer now, coaxing, almost like a whisper meant only for her. "I can help you. I can help you get back to your time. But, of course, nothing comes without a price, does it?"
The words hung in the air between them, thick and oppressive, like the scent of a storm gathering on the horizon. Hermione’s heart pounded in her chest, her mind working furiously to process what he was offering—and what it might cost her.
"What’s the price?" she asked, her voice betraying none of the panic she felt clawing at her insides.
Tom tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into that same unsettling smile. "Simple," he said, his voice low and enticing. "You give me something in return. Not your body, Hermione. No, nothing so crude. You’ll give me... your mind. Your secrets. Everything you are. You will let me know you, inside and out."
Hermione froze, her breath catching in her throat. His words sounded almost casual, as if they were nothing more than a passing comment. But she could feel the weight of them. He wasn’t just asking for her trust—he was asking for something much darker, more personal. He wanted to break her open, to strip her of everything she was and leave her bare before him. And in return, he would help her return to her own time, to undo the experiment gone wrong, to reverse the impossible.
"You want me to trust you?" Hermione’s voice was tight with disbelief. "After everything you’ve done? After everything you will do?"
He laughed softly, the sound rich with self-assuredness. "Trust is a luxury, Hermione. You don’t have time for that. You’ve already seen where your path leads if you continue to fight me. So I ask you again—how much longer will you run?"
The question hung in the air, sharp and accusatory. Hermione’s heart pounded in her chest as she wrestled with the thought. She could feel the desperation clawing at her—every day she stayed in this time, she was at risk of losing herself. Of being discovered. Of making a single wrong move that would ruin everything.
And yet, the idea of bargaining with him, of offering him pieces of herself, of giving him what he wanted—it made her stomach churn. The very thought of letting him in, of becoming another pawn in his twisted game, made her skin crawl.
But as the seconds passed, and the silence stretched longer between them, Hermione felt the weight of reality press down on her. She had no other choice. Time was slipping through her fingers. Every day she waited brought her closer to an irrevocable fate. She needed a way out.
She needed him.
Her mind screamed in protest as she spoke the words that would change everything. "What do you want from me?"
Tom’s expression didn’t flicker. He already knew the answer. He had been waiting for her to ask.
“I want you, Hermione,” he said softly, his voice almost a caress. “I want everything you are. Your thoughts, your past, your magic. In exchange, I’ll give you your future. I’ll send you back to your time—safely.”
Her chest tightened as she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. The decision had been made.
In that moment, Hermione knew that there was no turning back. No escape from the choice she had just made. Tom Riddle had won. He had cornered her into a deal that would take more than she could give. She wasn’t just giving him her secrets—she was giving him control.
But as his eyes bore into hers, she saw the flicker of something darker there. Something that made her wonder if she had just stepped into a trap she would never be able to escape.
With a slow, resigned nod, Hermione whispered the words that sealed her fate:
“Alright. I’ll make the deal.”