Softly and Slowly

Hermione had not told her parents about what came to be that night. They were under the guise that she was with Astrid when she went to Hilton Lane, but she was actually with the orphan boy next door. Hermione had become a rule-breaker and strangely felt no guilt over it. She was lying to her parents, hanging out with boys, and was currently under tutelage so she could control her powers. 

"That was pathetic," Tom said with a bored expression. "You know, I'm almost starting to regret asking if you wanted lessons." 

Hermione threw her hands down, which had outstretched to the pallid gray stone in front of her. She was trying to push it with her mind like she was telekinetic. 

"I can't do it! It doesn't work like this for me! I can't do magic with a snap of my fingers like you can." Hermione felt small right now. When she tried calling her powers willingly, it never produced a viable result, but then she became angry and sore over it, and all of a sudden, her magic came forth like water gushing from a broken dam. 

She was acting like that again, like a toddler lost in the streets. Tom hated it when she behaved this way. He would huff and leave her alone to fume with a stupid rock or another inanimate object he wanted her to move. 

"You're just going to give up again? Nothing has come to me with a 'snap of my fingers.' Your problem is that you overthink it. You don't believe it until you see it." 

Hermione didn't look at him, instead focused on the rock, but his voice still resonated with her, even if she didn't want him to know. She knew she could do this, and she knew herself capable of doing magic! But the rock still didn't move, no matter how much she willed it. 

"Stop thinking and start doing, Hermione." Tom then concentrated on the stone, his brow creasing as he bore two holes into it. He tossed it across the lawn of the orphanage, and it bounced two feet away from them. Hermione sighed and began to shuffle closer to it when Tom stopped her. 

"No, do it from here," he said. "Don't ask the rock to move for you like it'll respond. Don't even think about the object. Think about your magic. Compel it, let it come, and then control it." 

She tried to do as he said, but it still didn't move. She tried to push down her petulance and emotion and draw her magic out by will, but it still didn't emerge. It hid in her, dark and lounging, unwilling to reveal itself. Was she still overthinking this? 

Hermione turned around and searched for Tom, but he had gone, probably off to eat dinner. He didn't speak a word, just silently left her to stew with this problem. 

She felt confused and alone, unable to control herself. The sun was already setting. How long had she been here? Three or four hours? It hurt to be left alone like this, and she could feel tears pricking in her eyes, her throat clogging up like a drain. 

She lifted her arms again, palms facing up, imagining she was pushing Tom, and tossed the stone a foot away. She did it again and again until she was exhausted. It was just another useless, emotional outburst of magic that was out of her control, but she didn't care. 

Hermione picked herself off the ground and wiped away a few lonely tears that escaped her. She walked towards Astrid's house with a lifeless gait, puckered out and wanting to return home where it was cozy, where there was hot chocolate, and where a meal was waiting for her. Unexpectedly, Hermione felt a spark of pity for Tom. She had seen the pasty mush they fed at orphanages and assumed he was eating a soggy bowl of government-funded rations. 

But why was she still brooding over him? He was so mean that he deserved every bite. 

Hermione knocked on the door of Astrid's house and waited. After a time, she rasped again but to no response. They must have left town. She slid down the house's wall and sat on the light gray pavement, looking out at the dark lodgings and sad street sides carrying leaves and litter. The sun was bright and hot on her skin. She was trying to be glum, but its heat glared down at her, casting shadows on the horizon with orange rays and pink clouds, leaving her squinting and not-so-sad. 

"I hate this!" she yelled at no one, then plucked herself off the ground with surprising aggression and walked with purpose to Wool's orphanage. When she was back at the lawn with the inconspicuous stone, she plopped onto the dirt and sat silently with closed eyes. Crickets chirped in the hush, cars moaned by on the street, and the chattering of children kept her surroundings clamant. 

What did Tom say again? 

"Stop thinking and start doing, Hermione." 

"Compel it, let it come, and then control it." 

But Tom said many things, and they all happened to be annoying. 

Hermione concentrated and imagined she was floating. She imagined lifting herself off the ground, not even thinking of the actual objective, letting herself visualize the task first. Hermione thought of the air around her, the wind, the breeze. The rock still lay in the background, and finally, she touched it with her mind, unfurling her thoughts. 

She touched the magic within her; the one that only spoke to her emotions would answer to the calm. 

And the stone rose, just a tiny bit off the ground before it dropped, but it rose all the same. With only one command, Hermione had broken the laws of science. 

Her face broke into a toothy grin, and she romped around feeling much more than happy. She picked up the stone and threw it as far as possible, over the fence and into another's yard. Hermione skipped to the orphanage's front entrance, not caring about the creepy yard and border or the bronze cockroach that scuttled from underneath the gray doors. 

Hermione entered, on the prowl for Tom Riddle, for she was as high as a kite and could care less about the staff inside. 

"Do you have business here, young miss?" an ample woman with penciled brows said, looking her up and down, waiting for a response. 

She smiled back. "I do. I need to meet a boy named Tom Riddle." 

The woman looked at her quizzically, evidently finding it bizarre that anyone would like to encounter what she believed was Satan's servant. But she nodded all the same. 

"Follow me." 

The woman led Hermione through a cramped hallway with a peeling wallpaper bottom and faded paint top. The oak hardwood floors possessed a mysterious residue on the dark brown boards. 

"Where are your parents?" the lady questioned. 

"They dropped me off. I'm here for a friend," Hermione said. It was a half-truth. She didn't have any friends.  

Hermione could tell that she didn't believe her, though. When they neared the dining area, the sounds of children's voices picked up, and they finally entered the closure of tables. The lady pointed to a rectangular table where a boy sat isolated, fair skin nearly shining in the shadowed light. The woman left, and Hermione met with Tom. 

"I did it," she said, a large smile still attached to her face. Tom stared at her with his usual bored expression. It seemed he was always in perpetual passivity around her, but not even his uneventful, flawless face could down her spirit. 

"You did," he responded as he moved slate-tinted noodles around his plate. There was meat as well, making it a kind of stroganoff, but the abundance of dressing caused it to look like soup. The side of assorted vegetables remained untouched on the corner of his plate. 

"Don't you care?"  

"Sure." 

Hermione's mouth became a thin line at his indifferent response. 

"I did it for you, and that's all you have to say?" she said with more emotion than she intended. Then, she pointed at the fork he used to play with his food.  

"Give me that. If you don't eat, then I will. I'm starving because of those tricks you made me do. It was so hot outside, and I had no idea where you went, either." she wiped it off on the brown napkin beside him, the gravy-like substance coming off in a glob.  

Hermione forked some vegetables off the plate, pretending they didn't look as mushy as they tasted. She didn't know why she was doing this, acting like the food wasn't bad as if Tom was a toddler who needed convincing to eat his peas and carrots. But, all the same, he didn't react very well to it. 

“That was my food, Hermione! That’s all I get for dinner!” he glanced around them, frustrated and glaring in hatred at every object in his vicinity, before standing up. 

She could only think that maybe he was a toddler. 

“You can’t even move a pile of rubbish, and the minute you pick up a rock, you expect me to praise you like a Goddess. You’re insufferable.” Then he left, the food untouched on his plate. 

Hermione sat there gaping, astonished at what had happened within five minutes of her sitting. She didn’t even have time to feel sorry over what he said, just startled and curious. Why was he so upset? 

After a few more minutes of sitting there in contemplative shock, she got up and asked the pencil-brows woman for a phone. Hermione dialed her parents, twisting the rotary on the black appliance over and over. She felt guilty but couldn't fathom why. She had hurt him and had no idea how. 

When her house line picked up, she answered their questions accordingly but was still unfocused. Then her parents' car came at dusk, and she got into the red and white vehicle, still thinking about what she could have done wrong. After some time of looking out the window, she fell asleep, watching the first stars emerge from the sky, lulled by the engine and muted chatter from the radio. 

Her parents must have carried her from the car to the house, for she woke up under the comforter of her bed, her blinds down and lights off. Hermione didn't feel tired at all, still remembering the events of the day very plainly, and she suddenly understood why Tom was so mad, other than him being his typical annoying self. 

She had overstepped a boundary, in a sense. Tom didn't have many things; she knew this, yet she had still taken his food with a careless swipe of her fingers. And maybe she was a bit annoying when she asked if he cared. 

She decided tomorrow- yes, tomorrow- she would apologize to him. Hermione would say she was sorry, for she was raised well. But she still felt regretful as she fell back to sleep, knowing Tom didn't have her twin-sized bed or soft covering to nestle in. She fell asleep, wishing night and day would pass and never arrive, all at the same time.