Chapter 2
The weekend passed away as quickly as weekends always did. While the letter had explicitly stated that Hermione did not need to prepare anything for the conference, she could not help but look over a few things. By a few things, she meant rereading all the House Elf legislation that had ever been passed in Wizarding history and all her notes and research on the matter for the umpteenth time.
Thankfully, not very many Acts surrounding Elfish rights had ever been passed in the Wizarding World, and so it was only the latter that ended up monopolising her weekend.
She was of course bringing her beaded bag that had an Undetectable Extension Charm cast upon it to enable Hermione to fit all the items that she could possibly need for a week long conference. This included a great number of things that people like Ginny, who had watched Hermione pack on Saturday morning, deemed utterly useless and irrelevant, but Hermione fervently disagreed. Who knew when one might need a camera and developing solution at the ready?
She had told Ginny of the conference in the morning, but said nothing about the letter nor how mysterious it all was. All Ginny needed to know was that she would not be there for seven days and so not to worry if she ever Flooed to Hermione's flat and found it empty.
Unsurprisingly, Hermione had been ready and waiting patiently by the fireplace for the past half an hour, glancing every minute at her watch to be certain that she would enter the Floo Network at exactly 5 o'clock.
Eventually, the second hand completed its thirtieth cycle and Hermione stepped into the fireplace, Floo powder at the ready, and said: "The Raddery".
Within an instant, she was climbing out of a dusty old fireplace into an equally dusty old room. It was completely empty, save only a small wooden table that had a piece of parchment on it, a jug of pumpkin juice and a goblet.
As Hermione approached it, dusting herself off in the process, she realised it was exactly like the letter she had received on Friday night, with the same sepia colour and black wax seal. Rather perplexed by unusual occurrence, she tore the letter open.
***
Dear Miss Hermione Granger,
We are so glad to see that you have safely arrived at The Raddery. Please help yourself to some complimentary pumpkin juice.
Once you are ready, apparate to Durlston Dock.
Best wishes,
The National Society for Elfish Welfare
***
Well that wasn't weird at all. Why couldn't she just have apparated straight to Durlston Dock? She supposed perhaps the distance might have been to great to apparate all in one go. Or this strange society was trying to somehow cover her tracks. She choose to give them the benefit of the doubt.
Her dry throat welcomed the pumpkin juice all too happily, downing two and half glasses of her favourite drink. Speaking of which, had they somehow known it was her favourite drink?
Hermione shook her head at herself. Pumpkin juice was a popular drink; it was quite clearly a coincidence.
~
Feeling slightly dizzy and disorientated after the apparition, Hermione landed at the apparition point and looked around her. Being a November evening, it was cold and dark almost everywhere, but nothing compared to dreariness of this dock.
It was completely deserted for one. Any hope of Hermione meeting the leaders of this society was once again delayed.
The wind against her cheek pierced her skin, hard as ice. No, hard as stone. She wrapped her pea coat around her more tightly, shuddering at the sensation and thanking Merlin she had chosen to wear her warmest scarf and gloves.
Where in the world was she? She had tried to look up The Raddery within her own books and at the local library but found nothing about it, which perhaps should have concerned her more at the time. Having not known that she would also be travelling to Durlston Dock, she had not been able to research the place beforehand.
Looking around herself, Hermione decided to walk up to the dock where a single wooden boat was floating beside it. It was completely unharnessed and yet it stayed perfectly still, not shifting in the direction of the current.
Behind her, there was a sudden crack of apparition.
Hermione spun around immediately, almost falling into the water in the process, finding herself looking at a person she had never once met in her life.
His eyes immediately locked on hers before shifting to their strange surroundings, analysing every aspect.
They remained in this awkward silence before the stranger spoke:
"I suppose you are to be my partner for this boat ride, Miss -"
"Granger. Hermione Granger," she said quickly.
The stranger approached her and extended his hand.
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Granger," he said in a low voice that tickled at her skin.
She accepted his hand and shook it cordially, immediately taking note of his firm grip. She wasn't sure whether she was glad to be wearing gloves in that moment or not.
Hermione was so transfixed by the stranger's appearance: his ebony coloured hair, the dark, reducing chambers of his eyes and his tall, self-dignified posture, that she could hardly speak.
Merlin, the handshake had lasted too long. Hermione quickly retracted her hand and laughed nervously. The stranger did not share her mirth. Instead, he merely looked at her. Hermione could not tell whether this was out of disapproval or intrigue.
"Let us waste no further time, Miss Granger. We have a boat ride awaiting us," he said. Even his tone was dark.
"Do you have any idea where we are going?" Hermione asked, following the stranger as he climbed into the boat and used the Locomotion charm to levitate his suitcase beside him.
He turned towards her, giving her the same ambiguous look he had given her before.
"Did they not tell you?" he asked, eyes narrowing slightly. He held out his hand politely, helping her into the boat, skin separated only by a glove.
"I'm afraid I know hardly anything at all about what delightful adventure awaits me," Hermione replied, coming to the realisation that perhaps she should have been far more sceptical of this supposed conference and supposed society.
What if she was taken to be killed? Hadn't her parents always told her never to speak with strangers? Hadn't this Mr - oh. She didn't even know the man's name. She hadn't even asked.
If she was going to be killed, she supposed it would be entirely her fault.
The boat had started moving entirely by itself, reminding Hermione of her first year at Hogwarts, except what she was experiencing in that moment was somehow even more unbelievable than the existence of a school of witchcraft and wizardry. In this time, the stranger had not replied to her and so she continued:
"I am starting to realise that perhaps I have been entirely foolish."
The same look. Yet again.
"You do not strike me as a fool, Miss Granger," he replied solemnly.
At this, Hermione chuckled.
"I'm on a boat, in the middle of nowhere, sailing to Merlin knows where with a complete stranger, and missing a whole week of work in the process," she cried. "If that's not foolish, then I don't know what is."
The stranger smiled for the first time since their meeting.
"You could at least tell me your name. Then I can pretend that you're not a stranger and feel a bit better about myself," Hermione continued. She as talking too much. Nervous word vomit.
"You had only ask. In fact, I was waiting for you to do so."
Hermione felt herself blush slightly.
"Well, go on then, Mr -" she began, crossing her arms indignantly and waiting for him to complete her sentence.
"Riddle," he completed.
"Mr Riddle," she repeated.
"Drop the honorific, if you will," he replied shortly.
Hermione was slightly taken aback, but quickly straightened herself up.
"Only if you do the same. 'Miss Granger' sounds like being at work or back at school again."
Riddle smirked back at her, only very minutely. Merlin, did this man ever show any strong emotions or did he experience everything to only the minutest degree?
"You have quite a character, Granger."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"I'm only making up for your own reserve. I'm doing the work for the both of us. Not that I don't tend to do that in my everyday life anyway."
"Yes, I figured you might be the type to overwork yourself," he noted, facing away from Hermione and towards the open expense of water before them.
"And how so?" Hermione asked, exaggerating her shock.
"If you don't mind me saying so, the bags underneath your eyes are visible even in the poorly lit conditions we presently find ourselves in."
"How did you know that had anything to do with being overworked? They could be from all my late nights out drinking for all you know."
Riddle turned back to face her.
"Are you not used to having people listen to you when you speak, Granger?" Riddle asked, his eyes not moving from Hermione's once. "It should hardly surprise you that I recall you being particularly upset about missing a week of work. You give me too much credit for an achievement within any decent being's capability."
For the first time since seeing Riddle, Hermione felt herself quite speechless. She decided to steer the conversation back towards something she felt far more comfortable with.
"'Granger' doesn't work either, you know. It reminds me too much of a horrid boy I used to know at school." She supposed that would have to do.
"I can address you in any manner you please. I simply request to be informed."
Hermione thought for a second. 'Miss Granger' was too formal. 'Granger' brought back some bad memories. 'Hermione' was too colloquial. It seemed as if she were very much stuck. None of the three appeared to be the lesser of three evils.
"You know what? Take your pick. It doesn't really matter at the end of the day."
Riddle thought for a second.
"Very well, Miss Granger, have it your way."
~
Illuminated only by feeble moonlight, the boat continued to sail along the expansive body of water. From Hermione's calculations, it had to be the sea. No lake in England was of these dimensions. Where on earth was the self-moving boat taking them?
"I have a sense that you know more than you're letting on, Riddle," analysed Hermione, hoping to get more information out of the taciturn man she was sharing a boat with.
"You do?" It wasn't so much a question as a means of avoiding the route that Hermione was attempting to steer the conversation down.
"Well you know more than I do and that is for certain."
"How rather of observant of you."
Hermione scoffed.
"Are you mocking me, Riddle?"
His face fell grave.
"Not at all, Miss Granger. Do not misinterpret me. I tend to mean what I say quite literally."
"Alright then, if that is so, tell me precisely where we are headed and why exactly we have had to travel in such an inconvenient manner."
Riddle took a deep breath, and nodded his head over to something that Hermione could not quite yet make out. All she could see was a vague shadow.
"I believe your answer lies right before you, Miss Granger."