Beautiful
‘September 1st, 1996
Dear Diary,
The train ride back was tense. Harry could not stop talking about the run in with Malfoy in Knockturn Alley and how he has to be a Death Eater. It would have been better to hear him talk more about his Ministry hearing, his feelings about the entire Sirius Black fiasco, and even the new potions professor we are apparently getting this year. He left to go to a meeting with said professor while Ron and I left for the prefects meeting. I could tell Harry was still smarting after not receiving the prefect's position– not to mention how my letters to him this summer were intercepted by Professor Dumbledore– but he refuses to speak about it with anyone.
After everything, it all goes back to Professor Dumbledore. It was Professor Dumbledore who cut off contact with Harry. Professor Dumbledore was the one who did not appoint Harry as prefect. And yet, he blames Ron and I; two people who have been nothing but supportive and listening to Professor Dumbledore for his sake. Harry is acting like Ron and I never support his ideas after we told him that Draco could not possibly be a Death Eater. After everything we’ve been through. It took months to recover from Dolohov’s curse. It still aches if I overdo it, and Harry thinks I never listen to his ideas? It’s fucked. Sometimes, Harry can be so stubborn sometimes. Some days, I want to tie him to a chair and yell at him that I’ve only ever been supportive despite thinking some of his ideas are absolute-’
“Hey, ‘Mione?”
Hermione looks up from her writing, her cup of evening tea cooling on the coffee table in the Gryffindor common room. Ron stands near the entrance to the boy’s dorms, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“It’s nearly two in the morning. You’re going to bed soon, yeah?”
Hermione sighs, brushing the quill she’s using across her chin. “Yes, I’m just catching up on my journaling. I didn’t realize how late it’s gotten.”
“Yeah, well,” Ron sniffed. “We’ve got to be up by seven to make sure the first years know their way back to the Great Hall, according to your schedule. Just wanted to make sure you got some sleep.”
“I’ll sleep in a bit, Ronald.” Hermione turns back towards the fireplace, gathering her thoughts. “Let me finish this entry and I’ll be off.”
“Do you want company?”
“No.” Hermione grabs her mug and casts a heating charm on it. “No, I’ll be alright. Thanks, Ron.”
“Yeah,” he turns to start heading back up the stairs. “Goodnight, ‘Mione.”
“Goodnight.”
Hermione takes a breath of tea before closing her eyes. She continues writing.
‘Despite all of this, I’m looking forward to this year. OWLs are finished, NEWTs are next year, which means this year is just preparation. I should have an updated study schedule by the end of this week, if everything works out. My other classes should be easy, but potions may be more difficult than before. Without most— if not all— the Gryffindors, I probably won’t have anyone I’m friendly with in the class. The Ravenclaws would be too territorial and the Hufflepuffs— if any— would be idiots. That’s not even mentioning the hoards of Slytherin who would be in there.
Riddle might be in the class, but even if he’s not one of the Slytherin insulting me, he may not even want to be seen near me. As an outcast in his own house, he might not want to make the bullying worse. Something I understand, but I hope he’s brave enough to even talk to me again. Third year was made easier by his constant presence during the tutoring lessons Dumbledore had me give him. Catching him up on two years worth of materials was hard, even with constant use of the Time Turner. However, he was friendly. I would even say that he was probably my closest friend at the time, or at least the only one I saw consistently. Fourth year saw him backing Cedric and studying in the library with me until Viktor Krum came along to edge him out of his seat. Fifth year was probably the worst between us, due to Umbridge. I wonder if he could forgive me for throwing him to the Inquisitive Squad to protect the DA. After that incident, it was like we'd never met. I don’t blame him, but I could only hope that we could fix it before the war gets even worse.
War is ugly. I can only hope that we’re able to keep it at bay until we leave Hogwarts. The wizarding world was so beautiful when I first saw it. I can only hope we can go back to how beautiful it was before I learned about blood prejudice. Some days, when I allow myself to fantasize, I picture myself as a pureblood. It would certainly make life easier…
But I won’t allow myself to think about it. For now, I’ll continue to fight for my respect because I know it will help those like me in the future. It will make the path from becoming hated to loved easier, although I hope that it won’t be necessary after this war ends.’
Closing her diary, Hermione stands and extinguishes the flames. Right now, she has more to focus on: Harry’s situation with Draco, Ron and whatever feelings she has for him, and then figuring out whatever secret Professor Dumbledore is keeping from them. She can focus on academics in between these, but the Riddle situation will need to be addressed sooner rather than later.
Her birthday is tomorrow and yet, she can’t find it in herself to be excited. So far, school has been challenging in a good way. Riddle has disappeared from the library this year, but he is in every one of Hermione’s classes. She gives him the space he’s clearly craving, not making any moves to talk with him. But Riddle is the least of her problems. Potions class with Professor Slughorn was interrupted on the first day by her boys. She sat between the large group of Ravenclaws and the two singular Hufflepuffs, content with being the only Gryffindor when Harry and Ron stumbled over each other, mumbling about Professor McGonagal and Auror training. The Slytherins across the room— the majority of the students in the class— laughed at their antics while Professor Slughorn went on about the properties of the potions in front of them. After the Halfblood Prince cheating fiasco with Harry, Hermione made it a point to leave Harry and Ron on their own. After a week separated, Hermione realized that if she had a book of some potion genius, she would also use it. However, she was nothing if not stubborn and so she’s in the Great Hall walking in with Ginny and Neville for dinner while Harry and Ron are sitting by Seamas and Dean.
“Hermione?” Neville asks. “What do you think?”
Hermione slides her gaze from them towards Neville. “About what?”
“Continuing the DA, but as a tutoring group instead of strictly defense,” Ginny smirks. “Neville can handle herbology and you can handle charms and transfiguration. I can handle the care of magical creatures and Harry can handle defense again. We’d just need someone good at potions, which would either be you again or maybe your study buddy.”
“Study buddy?”
“Tom Riddle.” Neville interjects. “Although, it might be hard considering the whole, you know, throwing him to Umbridge situation.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Ginny leans forward on the table, utensils and food forgotten in favor of the conversation. “Well, you’ll just have to make up with him then. You were the first person he was friendly with after the Lily Moon incident. It’s terrible that she’s still comatose but she’s also the one who released the bloody beast in the first place. Thank god Tom showed up after the whole ordeal, I can’t imagine what it must have been like to come to school while there’s a beast loose.”
Hermione scoffs. “Yes, because coming to school surrounded by Dementors and an insane criminal was much better, Ginerva.”
“That’s right, Hermione,” Neville picks off a piece of his dinner roll. “After he showed up as a transfer, you were the one to lead him to Dumbledore. And the one to tutor him so he was all caught up for third year. I still don’t know how you did that and took all those classes.”
“Not to mention he’s bloody hot now and has a crush on you.”
Hermione jerks back at that. “He does not, Ginny! Besides, he probably hates me now. I could have easily said that we both knew nothing about the Quibblers on our table instead of telling them that they were Riddle’s.” Hermione grabs the salad bowl on the table and fills her plate. “Godric, he probably is still mad that I got him four detentions for it. I would be.”
“Yes, well, I would believe that, too, if he wasn’t constantly staring at you like you hung the moon.” Ginny punctuates the sentence with a bite of her own salad. “I mean, Merlin! I definitely wouldn’t mind someone like him crushing on me. I don’t even care that he’s Slytherin.”
“You have to admit,” Neville says while looking towards the Slytherin table. “You could definitely do worse.”
Ginny points at Neville with her fork. “That is true. You could be dating Cormac McLaggin or even worse, Michael Corner.”
“Didn’t you date Michael Corner?” Hermione huffs. “Besides, I am not going to go up to Riddle and apologize until he’s ready. So far, he’s been avoiding me at every turn.”
“To give him some credit, I also wouldn’t want to come up to you after something like that. You have to be the one to make the first move because you were the one in the wrong.”
“Neville’s right, Hermione.” Ginny’s eyes soften. “Look, we can try and get Tom to meet with you, but he also is not friends with us like he is with you.”
“Gods, I know.” Hermione covers her face with her hands. “I just have so much else to focus on. I don’t know if I can find time to apologize to him.”
“Look,” Neville wipes his mouth. “Hermione, sometimes academics don’t matter as much as people.”
“It’s not academics that are keeping me busy.” Hermione reaches for another dinner roll. “It’s Harry and whatever Professor Dumbledore has planned for him. He’s been asked to meet with the headmaster every other week. When he came back from the last meeting, he became even more obsessed with Malfoy and him being a Death Eater. Ron and I have been trying to get him to stop obsessing, but with the whole potions debacle, he won’t listen to anything I say.”
“It’s not your responsibility to stop Harry from obsessing.” Ginny finished cutting her chicken. “I’ll do what I can on that end. Maybe we need more quidditch practices so he gets distracted.”
“I’ll see if I can get Harry to help me more with Defense. With Snape as the Professor, Merlin knows I could use it.” Neville takes a bite of his potatoes. “Maybe I can even ask Riddle for help. Get him to talk with me then have you join us one day to apologize.”
“That’s an excellent idea, Nev.” Hermione smiles. “I’ll try and find him this week. He hasn’t been in the library at all since we’ve been back. At least, not when I’m there.”
“He’s probably in his common room,” Ginny looks around Hermione towards the Slytherin table. “That or he’s outside somewhere. But he’s still looking at you, Hermione. I say if the apology doesn’t work, just bat your eyelashes and give him a kiss. He’ll probably faint on the spot.”
“I don’t know about that.” Neville looks in the same direction. “Although, he’ll probably be so shocked, he’d agree to anything you’d ask. Maybe that is a good solution, Ginny.”
Hermione sighs. “I’m not kissing Riddle. He probably doesn’t even like me anymore because I want to apologize but don’t know if I will be able to get him alone!”
Ginny smirks. “So if I say that he’s leaving the Great Hall— alone— right now, you would chase after him?”
Hermione spins around in her seat and, sure enough, Riddle is alone and heading in the direction of the Library.
“I’ll bring your food up to our dorms, Hermione.” Neville smiles and grabs her plate. “Go apologize, if not for yourself, then for Ginny’s potion grade.”
Hermione nods and grabs her bag. “Thanks, guys.”
Ginny is laughing as Hermione pushes through the doors to find Riddle.
It doesn’t take her long to find him, his tall figure standing out in the hallway full of first years half his height.
“Riddle!” She yells as she tries to maneuver between the kids trying to get dinner. “Wait up!”
Tom stops and turns around. “Granger?”
Hermione comes to a stop a meter away from him. “Can we speak in private?”
Tom breathes out his nose while looking around.
“Please?” Hermione straightens her shoulders. “We have a lot to talk about and I have a lot to apologize for.”
“We do?”
“Well, I do.” Hermione grabs the handle of her bag. “So…are you busy now?”
Tom’s mouth twitches, a sign Hermione had learned means he was amused. “Yeah, I can spare a moment.”
“Great!” She grabs his sleeve and starts to pull him towards one of the empty classrooms near them.
She leads them down towards the Hufflepuff common room, trying to find an unlocked classroom. Some portraits on the walls look towards them and mutter to each other, to Tom’s amusement. He wants to twist his hand into hers, but let’s Hermione continue to drag him towards the old Charms classroom he was used to going to from the forties. He wonders if the corner window is still broken, but doesn’t bring it up as Hermione throws one of her signature blue flames towards the front of the room.
“So,” Tom sets his bag down on the table, eyeing the corner window. “What did you want to apologize for?”
Hermione collapses in a chair. “Mainly for the Quibbler incident but for not speaking to you about it until now.”
Tom shakes his head. “There’s no need to apologize for that, Granger. If I were in your shoes I would’ve done the same, as would all of Slytherin and most of Ravenclaw.”
“That’s not as comforting as you think it is, Riddle.” Hermione runs a hand over her hair. “I didn’t mean for you to get in trouble like that, especially when it ended up costing you four detentions with that toad.”
“You would have received an even worse punishment if you came clean.” Tom leans back against the table, crossing his arms as he looks down at Hermione. “You knew she’s easier on Slytherins, especially purebloods but even the half bloods got off easier than most pureblooded Gryffindors.”
“I still needed to make sure you were alright with it, though. Just because she would give you less detentions doesn’t mean I should’ve done that.”
“To be fair, there wasn’t a great time to ask about it when Bulstrode found them. Can’t really say, ‘Oh, Millie! Please give Tom and I a moment before we give you an answer!’ Without looking suspicious.”
Hermione sighs. “You do have a point.”
“Of course I do,” Tom smirks. “I’m not at the top of our year for nothing.”
“Shared spot for most of the classes and second for Charms and Transfiguration.”
“But first for Potions and Defense.”
Hermione huffs a small laugh. “Piss off.”
“What else did you need to apologize for?” Tom raises an eyebrow. “The disappearing act you pulled right after that or not even responding to any of my letters I sent you in the summer?”
“Letters?”
Tom is caught off guard. “Yes? Honestly, I think that’s the most important apology I wanted from you.”
“I never got letters from you.” Hermione squints. “Although, I was in St. Mungo’s until the end of July. My parents probably…forgot…”
“You were in St. Mungo’s?”
“Yeah, but I’m fine now.” Hermione grabs her bag. “I should see what they did with my letters. I didn’t even realize-”
“Granger-”
“Maybe I should ask Molly. I was with them for the rest of the summer-”
“Hermione-”
“Maybe the owl got lost?”
Tom grabs her shoulders in an effort to get an answer. “Hermione, if you were hurt, then don’t worry about not responding. What happened that made you get checked in to the hospital?”
Hermione’s eyes widened. “Did you just call me Hermione?”
Tom lets out a startled laugh. “You weren’t listening to me!”
“No, I heard you.” Hermione looks down. “You sent me letters that never reached me. I’m so sorry, Riddle, if I had known I would’ve answered-”
“I don’t care about the letters anymore!” Tom sighs and releases Hermione’s shoulders. “I care about you.”
“I’m fine, as you can see, so I just didn't think about letting you know, especially since I wanted to give you space to be mad at me after the Quibbler incident.”
“Granger,” Tom shakes his head. “You need to get your priorities in order.”
Hermione scoffs. “I do have my priorities in order.”
“Is your own health and safety on the top of that list?”
“Well, no, but-”
“Then you don’t have your priorities straight.” Tom sits next to her, voice softening. “Tell me how you got so injured after OWLs.”
Hermione frowns. “Slytherins are staying quiet about the Department of Mysteries affair, then?”
“Malfoy won’t let anyone really discuss it.” He looks at her. “I’m guessing you were there?”
“It was Harry’s spur of the moment idea, of course I was.” She looks back at him, turning her body to face him. “It’s a long story as to how we decided to go there, but once we were there, it was an ambush. Death Eaters were everywhere. They killed Sirius Black, Harry’s godfather-”
“The criminal that escaped from Azkaban?”
“Yes,” Hermione pauses. “Although, he was innocent. He went straight to Azkaban without a trial over circumstantial evidence. The real perpetrator was able to escape and help You-Know-Who during the Triwizard Tournament. It’s something that never sat well with me, especially because of the lack of trial. I was looking back through old Ministry documents about the large lock-ups after You-Know-Who’s defeat and the majority of the Death Eaters imprisoned were imprisoned without a trial with the exception of the Lestranges, Barty Crouch Junior, Headmaster Kark-
“Sorry to interrupt this interesting lesson, but please continue your previous story before I completely lose you to another SPEW-like rant.”
Hermione glares at him before continuing. “Harry went on to the Death Room to find Bellatrix Lestrange killing Sirius Black. According to Remus, Harry was inconsolable afterwards. By that point, I was unconscious from the curse I was hit with before I made Harry run. It was…” she shook her head. “Painful is too small of a word. Even non-verbal, the curse was powerful.”
“Was it…” Tom looks towards his robes where the Slytherin .
“It wasn’t Malfoy’s dad.” She rubs a hand down the scar over her clothes. Tom’s eyes follow the movement in silent rage. “One of the other Death Eaters– Dolohov– if I heard Bellatrix right. I had silenced him when he was aiming for Harry and he retaliated. I was transported here but Madame Pomfrey could only do so much. I was transferred over there before the end of the year feast. From then on, I was in-and-out of St. Mungo’s until the end of July. We celebrated Harry’s birthday a week after I left the hospital.”
Tom raises a hand, as if to start tracing where her hand did. “Does it still hurt?”
“Sometimes. Mostly when I carry too many books or over exert myself. The healers told me I’ll feel worse in the cold but I’m sure a good warming charm would fix that.”
Tom purses his lips. “I just…I wish you would’ve told me. You could have died.”
“I didn’t. And I wouldn’t have, Professor Dumbledore had everything under control along with the Order.”
“You wouldn’t have been hurt if Potter thought out a plan.”
She shakes her head. “He came up with the best plan he could in the time he had.”
“You don’t believe that.”
Hermione leans back a bit. “Of course I do! He got a vision of his godfather being tortured by You-Know-Who in the Department of Mysteries. There wasn’t a lot of time to plan a rescue when emotions are running high.”
“But you just said Sirius was killed by Bellatrix.” Tom tilts his head. “If he was tortured by You-Know-Who, then why did Bellatrix kill him?”
“Because-!” Hermione grimaces. “It- You can’t blame Harry, really-“
“It was a fake vision, I presume?” Tom’s mouth twitches. “A fake vision to lure you all into an ambush?”
She purses her lips. “Yes,” she begrudgingly admits. “Although, he was so sure it was real.”
“But you weren’t.”
“I couldn’t know for sure,” Hermione rolls her eyes at him. “It wasn’t my vision.”
“But you were probably the one to come up with a better solution than Potter’s, huh?” Tom’s dark green eyes sparkled teal in the flames. “I would bet all my money on that.”
“I did suggest writing to the Order or Dumbledore to make sure Sirius was in Headquarters or with someone,” Hermione whips her head close to Tom’s. “But I was outvoted in that situation. Besides, it did seem like a good plan at the time, given the circumstances.”
“A very Gryffindor one, yes.” Tom’s mouth twitched up again. “But you always seemed more Slytherin than Gryffindor.”
Hermione shoves his shoulder. “Shut it! If anything I’m more Ravenclaw.”
“You would eat them alive, darling.”
“I would not, we share very similar interests.”
“Ah yes,” Tom flashes a smile at her that seems more condescending than anything else. “Books and intellect. Two things that only Ravenclaws are known for.”
“It’s a development of knowledge for knowledge sakes.” Hermione puffs her chest out. “Not something you Slytherins would know about, what with you all trying to one-up each other.”
“Ambition isn’t a crime, Granger. It’s one of the traits you are most known for.”
“I’m not going to go over this argument again with you, Riddle.” Hermione smirks. “It’s getting late and if it’s past curfew, I’m going to have to give you a detention.”
Tom clutches his heart in fake shock. “I get detention? Even though it was you who dragged me into this empty classroom during dinner?”
“Don’t make me take house points as well, Riddle.” She casts a quick ‘tempus’ to show that they have twenty minutes before curfew. “We have twenty minutes to get back.”
“It takes about fifteen minutes to get to Gryffindor Tower.” Tom stands up and offers his hand for her. “Will I still receive detention from Prefect Granger if I walk you back to your tower? Or will I have to beg on my knees for a pardon?”
Hermione laughs as she grabs her bag. “You on your knees would be something I need memorialized. Stubborn Tom Riddle begging forgiveness for his wrong doings.”
“I’d never thought I’d see the day Hermione “I’m right, you’re wrong” Granger apologizes and yet,” he smirks at her as he holds the door open for her, the blue flames disappearing as they leave the room. “Here we are.”
“Shut it,” Hermione laughs. “I admit I’m wrong.”
“Do you?”
“When it happens…which is rare.”
Tom laughs as they start climbing the stairs. By the time they reach the portrait of the Fat Lady, Hermione is glad that Neville and Ginny pushed her to make up with him. She missed him, as much as she hates to admit it. But with Harry and Ron not quite speaking with her, it certainly helps her feel less insane.
“Granger,” Tom says as she was about to step through the portrait hole. She turns towards him. “I know we still have about an hour left, but I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”
Hermione’s eyes soften as her lips curl into a smile. “Thank you, Riddle.”
“I wanted to say it before you’re bombarded by your whole Gryffindor pack.” Tom looks down. “Besides, I’m sure Potter and Weasley wouldn’t let me near you outside of the library.”
“That’s a bit dramatic,” Hermione pauses. “But probably true. Neville and Ginny would help me find an excuse if anything.”
“That’s good to know.” He looks back up to her before slowly walking backwards. “I’ll have your gift in the library, anyways. Have a good night.”
“I’ll see you then, Riddle. And sleep well.”
Tom nods his head before turning around and continuing towards the dungeons. Hermione notices a plate of food on the desk in the corner of the common room with a note from Neville and Ginny wishing her a goodnight and a big breakdown of what happened after her birthday celebrations. She smiles and casts a heating charm on it while going to her dorm. She doesn’t know who would be more excited by the development between her and Riddle: Neville or Ginny. After their conversation walking to the Great Hall, she thinks Ginny would be more vocal about it. With that thought, she finishes her food and tucks into bed after brushing her teeth.
Their last potions class of September came with the announcement of a partner potions assignment throughout the month of October.
“We will practice brewing the Draught of the Living Death and Polyjuice!” Professor Slughorn announces. “I’m sure Mr. Potter will have it down perfectly, but you’ll still need to help your partner, my boy!”
“Of course, professor.” Harry says, holding the potions textbook close.
“Now,” Professor Slughorn grabs a paper from his desk before standing in front of it again. “I have made a list of all the partners which will not be subject to change. These are based on grades in no specific order. Let’s start: Potter and Weasley!”
Hermione frowns.
“Probably because I’m bollocks at potions.” Rom whispers to Harry. “You’ve got the highest grade in the class so far.”
“Bulstrode and Malfoy!”
“Shite!” Hermione hears from behind her. She looks and finds Pansy Parkinson with her head in her hand. “I was hoping he would be my partner.”
“Greengrass and Riddle!”
Tom gives Hermione a look of resignation. They were both hoping to be paired but since their grades are so similar, there was very little chance of that happening.
“Granger and Parkinson!”
Hermione freezes. Pansy Parkinson?
“Professor?” Pansy says. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Miss Parkinson.” Professor Slughorn gives her a smile. “I’m sure you both will do great things!”
“Yeah, like killing myself to save myself a lecture,” she mutters to Greg Goyle and Vincent Crabbe as she moves to sit by Hermione.
Hermione moves her papers to her bag and makes sure to have one notebook and a quill out along with her textbook.
“Corner and Patil!”
Hermione glances at Pansy, seeing her testing her chin in her hand as she stares at the clock on the wall. She looks back down to her notes. She shifts through what they went over today, noting a few different variations to the recipe and why they still produce the same potion. Hermione doesn’t hear the rest of the parents, too busy trying to come up with a solution to work with someone who despises her. A truce of some sort may work, but what did she have to bargain with?
“Granger.”
Hermione looks up at Pansy. “Yeah?”
She flips her short black hair behind her ear. “Look, I don’t like you.”
“I would have never guessed.” She shoots back.
“But,” Pansy pauses. “I really need this grade. Not only that, but I need you to teach me everything you know as well so I could impress Draco.”
Hermione blinks at her. “You want me to tutor you?”
“Not tutoring me; I’m not a bloody idiot.” Pansy purses her lips. “Just…Giving me information that you know.”
Hermione scoffs as she crosses her arms. “So what do I get in return?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not just going to agree to tutor you during this project for nothing.”
“Don’t you lecture your friends for fun?” Pansy shakes her head. “Honestly, I thought you would want to share your knowledge without me even asking.”
Hermione’s eyes drift towards Harry and Ron, seeing them glare at Malfoy and Pansy respectively. “I’m not cheap, Parkinson.”
“With how you dress, I’m suprised.” Pansy drums her painted nails against the desk. “Fine, what do you want?”
Hermione leans back in her seat, contemplating. Pansy was never overly aggressive towards her about being Muggleborn, mostly aiming her contempt at her appearance. She would repeat some Muggleborn obscenities with Malfoy, but when he wasn’t there she stuck to picking at her hair and baggy clothes. She looks behind Pansy to where Riddle and Daphne Greengrass were working. He looks back at her, quirking his lip as if to say ‘It could have been worse.’ He’s right.
“How about,” Hermione fixes her gaze back to Pansy. “You help me be more appealing to you purebloods.”
“What?” Pansy laughs. “You want to be appealing to purebloods?”
“I could have certainly worded that better.” Hermione sighs. “I want you to teach me how I should be dressing and acting if I wanted to blend into pureblood society.”
“I don’t see how that is even remotely a fair trade.”
“Alright. Then I also want you to refrain from bullying me for the rest of this year.”
Pansy lets out a shocked laugh. “Salazar, you certainly are a haughty bitch.”
“Coming from the mythic bitch herself, thanks.”
Pansy folds her arms against her body before elegantly leaning back. “Alright, Granger.” She smiles arrogantly. “But you better help me make Draco fall back in love with me by the end of the year, otherwise I’ll tell everyone the reason you wanted to learn pureblood etiquette was to get Crabbe’s attention.”
Hermione laughs. “You have to be mental. You can’t tell a lie like that and expect it to be a punishment. No one would believe it. Just accept the deal, and I’ll try and help you get Draco’s attention in the academic setting. That’s what you wanted from the beginning.”
Pansy sticks her nose in the air. “That doesn’t sound like a guarantee.”
“You teach me pureblood etiquette,” Hermione writes this down on a blank page. “And I help you prepare to catch Draco’s attention in potion’s class. Exactly that.”
“Don’t forget that we have to finish these two potions before Halloween at the same time.” Pansy taps two of her nails on the parchment. “Together. Not just you doing it without me, because I do want to learn this. Especially since Draco already knows how to brew them both. He brewed Polyjuice perfectly in fourth year.”
“And I brewed it perfectly in second year, Parkinson. It’s quite an easy potion if you prepare the ingredients correctly and time everything right.”
“Second year?”
“Yes,” Hermione paused. “Although, I did use the wrong hair for the potion at the time. The counter potion is actually a fascinating potion to brew, as well. Perhaps, if you brew the counter perfectly, Professor Slughorn would point it out in front of the class and get Malfoy’s attention.”
Pansy smirks. “Not a completely useless idea, Granger. Maybe you have some potential to be the perfect pureblood with thinking like that.”
“Alright, class!” Professor calls the attention back to him. “This next month will be mostly you and your partner brewing these potions. I’ll leave class times to you and your partner to either plan or work on your potions. We begin next class, so have a good rest of your day today! Dismissed!”
Pansy and Hermione pack their things up before leaving the classroom in separate directions. Tom throws Hermione an arched brow. She mouths a quick, ‘Later’ at him before Ron drags her after Harry, asking if she wanted to join them because, “Harry’s Slughorn’s favorite, I’m sure he’ll let you if he asks.”
Hermione declines. “It’s alright, I think Pansy and I came to a pleasurable conclusion for the both of us.”
She’ll have to tell Neville when she gets the chance, he’d probably die laughing at the thought of her learning how to play nice with the pureblood society.
When she wakes up, her body is covered in a sweat despite the cold mid October chill in the air. She closes her eyes again to try and remember the dream. She was in the library researching for something– probably for Harry’s meeting with Dumbledore. It didn’t matter, but she caught an old journal with a name engraved in gold before she was sitting in one of the cushioned recliners near the area she normally studies at with a book in hand.
“Granger,” she heard from across the small alcove. Tom had given her a small smile as he approached. “I thought I’d find you here.”
“Where else would I be?”
“By the lake or with Potter and Weasley…or in your dorm.” He stopped in front of her, grabbing her book from her hands. “You told me to meet you– alone– and after our last conversation, I was shocked you even wanted to try it.”
She furrowed her brow. “Try what?”
He laughed deeply, which sent a jolt of arousal down her spine. “I was hoping you would explain it to me.”
Hermione had taken a deep breath at that. “What do you think it will be?”
“It could be anything, really,” Tom leaned forward, his arms resting on the chair Hermione was sitting in. “I was hoping it would be something a bit…risqué but I prepared myself for something academic if I was wrong.”
Hermione fisted her hand around his tie and pulled him closer so his thighs straddled hers on the recliner. “Well, I’m sorry for my dreadful etiquette. I should have let you know that I couldn’t stop thinking about doing this since we last spoke.”
“Hermione,” Tom leaned closer to her, their breaths mixing in the middle. “I didn’t think you would want this.”
She closed her eyes as she felt his hands graze her arms up to her shoulders. “Who wouldn’t? You’re so-”
“Enticing? My dear, have you looked in a mirror?” Tom brushed his nose against hers.”You have no idea the effect you have on those who aren’t afraid of a domineering woman.”
“Really?” Hermione dragged a hand through his hair before gripping it tight in her hands. “You find me domineering?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
She pulled his hair back, forcing him to look up at her as she moved to sit up straighter in the chair. “So you wouldn’t mind me giving you orders?”
Tom smiled arrogantly, tongue tracing his canines. “In the right setting, I could be persuaded.”
“Do you think this is the right occasion for it?” She dragged her other hand down his cheek, across his neck– giving it a light squeeze– and then across his shoulder. “Would you listen to what I tell you to do right now, Tom?”
He shivered before taking a large breath in. “It certainly seems like it.”
Hermione pushed him down from his shoulder with her one hand still tangled in his hair. He slid off the chair and onto the ground between her legs, his hands chasing where her skirt rode up as he did so. And then…
Hermione groans in her bed. She’s Hermione Granger, the brains of the so-called ‘Golden Trio’ and she was trying to remember the wet dream she had about her friend. Her male friend she just made up with a few weeks ago. Her Slytherin male friend that Harry and Ron didn’t fully trust. She finds her wand under her pillow and casts ‘Tempus’ which tells her that it’s only six in the morning. She was still feeling a bit horny after waking up. She tries to justify either going back to sleep or casting a silencing charm around her bed curtains to reach a conclusion she was satisfied with. With a shake of her head, she casts a spell around her and throws her covers off of her.
She closes her eyes and tries to imagine where her Dream Riddle was going to go. She tries not to picture him, imagining hands tracing where hers are. She lightly climbs her thighs, her hands dragging the fabric of her night shorts up, dragging her shirt up her chest to her breasts. She imagines this dream man kissing his way up her body, following where her hands went. One of her hands trails over her stomach while the other makes its way under her shorts.
She pictures this man’s dark hair poking out between her fingers as she leads him to her clit. His biceps would hold her thighs up so he could rest his hands against her chest and massage her breasts.
“Yes,” She whispers to her daydream. She could hear him groan as he licks a stripe against her vulva before kissing either side of her inner thighs.
“Please,” his voice, sounding so similar to Riddle’s. “Hermione.”
She drags her middle finger between her inner lips up to her clit, picturing his tongue in their place. She gives her clit some stimulation before sliding back down to her entrance. As she does this, she drags her other hand up between her boobs to her clavicle, imaging his hand raking his dull nails across her chest. She imagines him still in his uniform, his robe thrown behind her head as he rests his chest against her bed. Each dip of his head against her is synchronized with his hips thrusting against the bottom of her bed. She pictures him squirming against her bed fully dressed, his green tie snaking out of his vest after she clenches her thighs around his head. She uses her other hand to insert a finger while she continues to circle her clit. She wonders if his fingers would reach where she wanted them to.
“Hermione,” he softly whispers. His dark eyes sparkled with a green warmth and pupils dilated in arousal. “You’re divine.”
“Fuck-“ she mutters, trying to stifle her excitement in case her spell fails.
She adds another finger and speeds up her thrusts. She’s close, especially after dreaming of Riddle on his knees for her. Her hips are thrusting in tandem with her fingers and she imagines her man’s hand pushing down on her pelvis as his other moves in and out of her. She imagines his groans against her clit, his whines as his thrust catches on his belt. Would Riddle be loud in bed? She certainly hopes so. Throwing out her moral friendship code, she actively starts to picture Riddle debauched underneath her. Him looking up at her as his hand continues to thrust into her at the right angle, cheeks and chin shining with her juices. His lips would be ruined, his eyelashes wet with pleasurable tears as he tries to find his own pleasure in her sheets. If he were real, she would have grabbed his tie and pulled him up to her so she could taste herself on his lips. Instead, she imagines his broken voice whispering obscenities to her as he eats her out.
“Morgana, please!” She pants. Dream Tom smirks just like the real one. She could swear she’s seen the same smirk after he would correct her work during their study sessions. “Fuck!”
“Come for me, Hermione.” He would murmur against her clit before sucking it into his mouth again. “I know you want to, doll. You’re doing so well.”
The forties slang is what does her in. As she comes down from her orgasm, she’s reminded of the times when she was younger and masturbating to actors of old films her parents had shown her. ‘The Heiress’s’ leading man, Montgomery Clift, was her object of affection for a while during her third year.
As she remembers her fantasy, she tries to replace Riddle with Clift. Clearly, she was picturing the actor instead of her friend. He’s her friend; an academic rival. Not the object of her sexual fantasies…right?
She wipes her hands on her shorts before grabbing her wand to cast another ‘Tempus’. Six forty. Longer than she was expecting, if she was honest, but it still gives her enough time to shower and get an early breakfast. It was Saturday, so Riddle should be sleeping in today. She doesn’t think she can pretend to not have just wanked off to him if she sees him at breakfast. Give her a couple hours and she’ll recover.
Throwing open her bed curtains, she carefully tries to stand up without making the wetness in her underwear any more uncomfortable. She makes her way to her trunk to grab a change of clothes before throwing on a robe. If she uses the prefect bathrooms, she’ll probably run into someone so she decides to use the Gryffindor showers. If she quickly washes, she’ll try to schedule a time to use the baths to relax. She might even sneak Ginny in with her to talk to her about how Harry is doing.
In the shower, she scrubs her body hard, trying to wash the memory of Tom’s debauched face from her pores. She feels a little dirty the longer she thinks on it. He doesn’t feel the same. He can’t. Besides, she doesn’t have any time to focus on a relationship, no matter how much she planned for one this year with Ron before he started dating Lavender.
After stepping out of the shower, she dresses for her first fashion lesson with Pansy. Over the past couple of weeks, Pansy has been improving in her academics, seemingly having caught Malfoy’s attention in Divination due to her proving a tarot reading with the help of Ancient Runes. Since then, she became determined to turn Hermione into the perfect picture of a pureblood. Hermione was able to pick up on the history without issue but now comes the part she was dreading. Neville couldn't stop laughing when she had told him. He warned her– in between giggles– that Pansy would probably be more in depth about the fashion than the actual pureblood knowledge, but admitted it was probably worth knowing for the upcoming war. If she knew how purebloods work, then she could anticipate their moves.
She strolls into the near empty Great Hall at seven thirty, sending a quick thanks to whatever god let Tom sleep in this morning. She sits down and pours some tea. She can survive a fashion lesson. She’s Hermione Jean Granger, star student and avid learner. She can hear Lavender and Pavarti in her head, guiding her through a Witch Weekly magazine in fourth year to find her color before the Yule Ball. It won't be that bad…right?