Cor phlebotomans

“A corporal Patronus”, Slughorn said to Hermione, glee evident in his voice.
“Very impressive, Miss Granger, I really am glad to have heard it from your Professor. Very impressive, indeed. Tell me, Miss Granger, do you have an affinity for other subjects, too, or was this rather an exception and a one-time thing?”

Hermione looked at the younger version of the Slughorn of her time. There were many differences. The Professor’s hair wasn’t grey for starters, he also seemed fitter and his eyes were not as dull as she remembered. Maybe the alcohol that, as Hermione recalled, Slughorn always enjoyed too much had taken its toll over the years.
“I hope not, Professor.”, she answered with a smile. He nodded.

“Of course, I only heard the best from all your Professors. Also Professor Wick said how talented you were at charms…”, he smiled down her before continuing, “Well, on a completely unrelated note, I have this small thing called the Slug Club. You see it is just a small circle with the best of the best. It is for people like yourself to forge alliances with colleagues. I usually host a dinner with all participants every month. Coincidently, today is such a day and I would be absolutely delighted if you could come, Miss Granger.”
Hermione grinned again. She had already once been invited (or rather will be), some things never change.
“It will be my pleasure.”, she answered. She hadn’t liked the Club in her time, she probably won’t like in this, but if she really was to stay here in 1944 she better get herself connected. At some point she will have to take up a job and work to earn her living.
Slughorn clapped his hands with childlike glee. “Perfect, eight o’clock straight and Tom can escort you, he knows the way. Won’t you Tom?”, Slughorn said, his twinkling eyes turning to his favourite student.

“Of course”, Tom answered with a small smile. He was standing next to her and Slughorn, going through the ingredients acting as if he wasn’t eavesdropping. Hermione knew better.
“I find myself doing that quite often.”, he added with a smirk in Hermione’s direction, while putting some spider legs away.
“Yes, indeed”, Hermione said icily, “Tom seems to have an affinity for escorting women. In addition to other rather odd… affinities.” They glared at each other, Tom’s hand clenching, Hermione’s fingers twitching for her wand.
“I see…”, Slughorn said his eyes jumping from Tom to Hermione and back. He was clearly not sure what they were on about.
“I will see you both then, later. No stop Mister Lestrange, that is not how you do it!”, Slughorn angrily stormed off, leaving Hermione alone with Tom. Not a situation she was particularly fond of.
“The dress code is formal.”, Tom noted, looking at her from the corner of his eyes.
“I think I will manage.”, Hermione said in a sing-song voice. “Will you be needing that?”, she asked just as she grabbed the bottle of phoenix feathers that he had clearly every intention of using. Without waiting for an answer she turned around, returning to her seat.

The rest of the day went by without any problems which was a win in Hermione’s book. Although her mind kept going back to her conversations with Tom and every time she started grinning like a maniac. It was too much fun riling him up especially because it seemed like nobody else got under his skin like she did. However, she also kept coming back to his dark eyes. Even when his face was still as stone she could sometimes see the emotions reflected in the dark orbs. It was fascinating how much feelings Tom held inside of him, so much passion and so much magically power was just brimming under the surface. No wonder that Tom became… well, Voldemort.
Still smiling Hermione finally abandoned her schoolwork for the day, it wasn’t as if she didn’t know all those things already, and started to get ready. She still had an hour but if she wanted to do anything with her hair she would need the time.

“I heard you were invited to the Slug Club?”, came a voice just as Hermione was staring at herself in the mirror, wondering what she could do with her face and hair. She spun around.
“Well, yes”, she answered raising the brush she was holding in her hand as a kind of clarification. Lucretia was watching her with caution. The other girl wasn’t in their dorm. She usually is with her boyfriends, Lucretia had said as an explanation.
“Do you need help with your hair?”, the girl suddenly said. Silence descended upon them. Did Hermione hear correctly?
“You want to help me? Why is that?”, Hermione blurted, not trusting the woman in front of her. Flushing red Hermione looked away. That hadn’t been very Slytherin of her. Then again, she had once not been one, so wasn’t too hard on herself.
“So that is how we are going to do this. Refreshing your approach to things. Let’s just say that I have had enough of all the boys’ gloating about their exclusive club. I wish I could see their face tonight when they see you.”, Lucretia said, before adding “And you hair looks horrid, it really is for my benefit as much as yours. I don’t want to see that”, she waved in the direction of Hermione’s hair “ever again.”

Hermione laughed despite herself and nodded. She really could need the help and Lucretia’s reasoning seemed sound. She too was looking forward in a way to the Slug Club. Even if it was only to show Tom that she was just as good as him.

Forty-five minutes later Hermione’s curls were falling in soft ringlets, her face wasn’t as worn and sharp as it had been. Running and the lack of food had made her less feminine but somehow Lucretia had helped her bring a bit of softness back in her life. Hermione starred herself in the mirror. She thought of the Yule ball, Ron, Harry and even Viktor. How she missed those times. She missed how she used to laugh with her best friends, how her biggest concern was her little crush on Ron.
“I think this is formal enough.”, Lucretia re-entered the bathroom holding one of Hermione’s dresses that she had bought with Dumbledore in one hand. In the other hand she held a pair of shoes that weren’t Hermione’s. The dress looked fitting, Hermione noted. It was a tight fitting (but not too tight) blouse kind of dress that went a bit over her knees which apparently was all the rage now a days. The shoes were of the same colour and had an acceptable high heel without being inappropriate for such an event. Hermione assumed they were Lucretia’s. They were fancier than anything that Hermione owned, that was for sure but somehow Hermione wanted to wear them. They looked elegant in wizarding community way. Something that the Hermione Granger from the future would never entertain.

“I’ll let you change”, Lucretia said as she walked out, throwing one last smile over her shoulder. As the door closed, Hermione started to undress, cautions to not ruin her hair, as she pushed her jumper over her head. Her eyes instantly fell to her scar as she stood facing the mirror. The bright red lines were glaring back at her with silent accusation. The skin around the already healed wound was slightly raised, looking like the wound had been inflicted only the day before. It will never go away. The crimson of the letters, that spilled out that hated slur that she had heard too often in her life, looked somewhat amiss in her dreamy white skin.

What was she doing? Hermione had abandoned her friends. They were still fighting, or will be, she didn’t even know if they would survive. What was she doing? She was getting ready to eat dinner with Voldemort of all people. What was wrong with her? She was playing friends with people that would kill her future friends and allies.
Then again what should she be doing? Certainly not sulking around and hoping to be sent back. Dumbledore knew it, she knew it. She would never be able to return. She was stuck so why shouldn’t she take the chance to make friends even if that friend was a Black. (She didn’t dare think of Tom).

Her scar burned again, memories of the Malfoy dungeon and of pain, so much pain, flashed across her mind. Her whole body felt numb, she herself felt detached. What was she doing? The scar was hurting. Bellatrix and her crazy eyes were above her again, screeching. How did you get into Gringotts??
“Are you ready Hermione? Someone just knocked and I think it is your escort.”
Startled Hermione blinked at herself in the mirror, the edges of her vison blurrung. Who was she? What was she doing? Tom was here and she was going to the Slug Club with Tom. Yes, she would make the best of it.
“I will be out shortly. Tell Tom to wait for me in the common room.”, she called out, gripping the edge of the sink and taken deep breaths.
There was a silence before Lucretia asked in wary tone, “Tom Riddle?”
“Yes, the one and only. I will be ready in an instant.”, Hermione replied, pulling the dress on and trying not to rip anything. It was harder than it seemed. She heard footsteps retreating, indicating that Lucretia had left again. The light in the bathroom seemed overly bright as sweat broke out over Hermione’s skin. She could hear the screams of her friends ringing in her ears. Her vision blurred again.

She had to get it together. Slowly she closed her eyes and tried to let calm wash through her body. At first, it seemed impossible but after the tenth or so breath she could hear the things around her again. The weight that had been pressing down on her chest slowly faded away.
The floor was reassuringly cold under her bare feet, she flexed her toes to check if everything still was as it used to be, to check if she felt herself as she should.
The dress was a nice fit, as were the shoes. Head held high Hermione finally exited the bathroom. Lucretia was sitting on her four poster bed, her black hair falling down her back in soft curls.

“Hermione”, she said “I know it is not my position but I feel obligated to tell you. I have already noticed that you and Tom… well he seems to respect you which really is an exception in itself.”, Lucretia’s tone was barely above a whisper. “But don’t expect anything from him. Don’t think that you can be someone to him, at least not in that way…”
“Are you telling me that I shouldn’t expect any loving feelings from Tom? Thanks, Lucreatia, but truly I know.”
“It is just that I have known him for seven years. He is not like other boys, I think he has done stuff… That he shouldn’t. And Hermione don’t you dare tell that anybody, Tom is like… a prince here but not in a good way. Most people listen to him more than they listen to the Professors, he has them all under his thumb…”, Lucretia’s brown eyes reflected fear as she starred at Hermione willing her to understand. Of course Hermione knew that.
“Don’t worry, I won’t be having a torrent love affair with Tom, believe me and I am not stupid enough to run to him telling him stuff.” Lucretia nodded, looking relieved.
The common room was deserted, maybe it was because everybody knew that Tom would be there. Lucretia did just warn her effectively that everybody was scared of Tom. So it wasn’t a far stretch.

“Hermione”, Tom said as soon as she stepped a foot inside the room. His back was turned to her. He was fiddling with a ring on his finger. With a start Hermione realized it was that ring. So he had killed his family already, she thought to herself bitterly. She shouldn’t be surprised. He had taken the ring from the dead finger of his grandfather and had made a Horcrux out of it. That made two she mentally noted.

“Tom”, Hermione replied flatly, stopping at the piano and leaning against it. “Peculiar ring”, she said feigning nonchalance “A family heirloom?”
Tom turned to her smirking. She smirked right back. If only you knew, she thought smugly. His gaze flicked down her body in an oddly sensual way. It made her stiffen her back. Her fingers clenched. Why she didn’t know. Hopefully they were itching for her wand. Gracefully she pushed herself off the piano and took a step toward him, Lucretia’s words still ringing in her ears. What a preposterous notion. As if she would… no, never.

“Ready?”, she asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under his stare. His eyes were so black, darker than normal.
“Of course”, he answered smoothly, not breaking his gaze. He offered his arm. Hermione took it. Ron always had been so warm, even in the deepest winter he had been a furnace. Tom seemed to be the exact opposite, he seemed to be cold to the touch.
Amused Hermione thought what Muggle doctors would say to that. Too little blood, maybe? Even more amused Hermione’s mind went to blood transfusion. She imagined Draco Malfoys precious blood being sullied by some muggle blood. Her mind jumped to her blood, her blood on the stone of the Malfoy manor. Bellatrix standing over her, her eyes filled with pure hatred and just plain craziness.
She glanced at Tom, trying to distracted herself. Mudblood, Mudblood.
“So, Tom, it is hardly a surprise that you too have been collected my Slughorn.” Tom smiled and it was the most genuine smile she had seen so far. Mudblood, Mudblood, still rang in her ears.
“Professor Slughorn is most gracious to have such an interest in the future of his students and he tries to help achieve them great things.”
“Yes, I am sure receiving tickets to every Quidditch game and being on first name basis with the prime minister is just an unwanted side effect.”
Tom smiled again, watching Hermione out of the corner of his eyes.

“How you ever came to be a Syltherin, I am not quite sure.”, he mumbled under his breath.
“Well, you will never know what the hat said to me or what his reasoning was, now will you?”, Hermione said in a sing-song voice.
“Maybe I will one day.”, Tom said, his tone casual but his eyes boring into her. She came to a halt involuntarily. His eyes, don’t look at his eyes!
“Ah, Legilimens, that isn’t very gentlemen-like, now is it Tom?”, she said, glancing away.
Taken aback, Tom narrowed his eyes. “I never said anything of the like.”, he said, his tone just above a whisper.
“I will have to brush up on my Occlumency, won’t I Tom or can you keep you mind to yourself?”, Hermione said, anger rising in her voice.
“Oh, I would never dare, wouldn’t I Hermione?”
Hermione just raised one brow. They stared at each other, nobody backing down.
“You are most peculiar, Hermione. You don’t really strike me as someone who just recently lost her family.”
“Not only family, friends too.”, Hermione said, her heart aching.
“Interesting. I wonder what happened.”
“Maybe if you ask nicely, I will tell you one day” she would definitely not “but don’t just pluck it from my mind, will you?”
Tom lightly grabbed her elbow and started walking again.
“I always get what I want, Hermione.”, he said in a threating tone and for the first time Hermione felt true icy fear slither down her spine. She was back in the ministry of magic, facing the death eaters, facing Dolohov. Hadn’t he whispered something like that? She remembered Harrys face after Sirius died, the anguish clear in his green eyes. She remembered…
“We are here.”, Tom said, his voice too loud for Hermione. Her fingers twitched in the direction of her wand.

“Ahh, Miss Granger and Mister Riddle, the party can finally start. Welcome, welcome.”, Slughorn ushered them inside. The room was just like Hermione remembered. Everything was the same.

Other students, members of the Slug Club, were seated at the round table. With a start Hermione realized that she was the only woman in the room. So that was what Lucretia ment. Clenching her jaw she took the seat that Tom had pulled out for her. Of course he was sitting next to her. She should have known.
The air was uncomfortably still, everybody was staring at her. She realized that she was probably one of the first women in a very long time if not ever to be here.
“Thank you for inviting me, Professor, that was very gracious.”, she finally managed to say. Nobody moved. Well, that was bloody awkward.

“Yes, yes, of course Miss Granger, I only heard the best from all your other Professors. Tell me, Miss Granger, when did you manage the corporal Patronus charm?”, Slughorn asked as he himself sat down. Food appeared in front of all of them. She supposed it looked delicious. She wasn’t really hungry. She felt the gazes of all the men at the table on her and it made her uncomfortable to be under scrutiny. It made her hand go to her wand. Because she knew those men were the ones that would later fight in the first wizarding war but they wouldn’t be in the order of phoenix. No they would be following Tom. Ice took over her body, suddenly she felt as she was seeing reality for the first time since arriving. Tom was Voldemort. Somebody who had killed, had killed Lily and James Potter, had killed thousands of other people. But those men on this table were just as guilty, they thrive off the bloodshed.

“A few years back, Professor.”, she answered with a light tone not betraying her thoughts. She needed to stay away from Tom.
“Really, that seemed unlikely…”, one of the students at the table said.
“Why should I be lying”, Hermione answered hauntingly. The boy only raised his eyebrow. His hair was sandy blond and his face seemed like someone took it part and put it back together in the wrong way. He really wasn’t a pretty sight.
“Oh, I don’t know, Miss Granger.”, he answered in a smooth tone.
“As usual”, Hermione muttered, glancing away and concentrating on her food. She remembered the boy, he was in her classes and was exceptionally stupid. “It really isn’t that hard”, she continued louder “If you haven’t manged, maybe the problem lies in the happiness of your memories.”
The boy furrowed his brow, obviously not sure if that was an insult or not. He turned away not answering.

The atmosphere was still rather uncomfortable, even after the other students had started to converse with each other. She didn’t want to eat, she wasn’t hungry at all.
“Don’t let Edger get to you.”, Tom said lightly as he reached for something next to her and as a consequence leaned into her.
“He doesn’t. His weak attempts at insulting me don’t even scrap at other things I have had thrown in my face.”
Tom frowned, apparently surprised by her answer. His eyes flashed with interest.
“Trying to pick my brain again, Tom?”, she whispered so that only he could hear her. He smiled. It wasn’t his usual smile which was unreal and seemed more like a threat than anything else. No, this smile was slightly crooked and it nearly reached his eyes.
“I wouldn’t dare.”, he answered lightly. His thigh brushed hers. Hermione jumped, nearly pushing her glass off the table. She looked in a different direction. Her cheeks flushed red. She needed a distraction. She glanced to her right.

The boy sitting there was tall regal looking (like most of the Slytherins). He had dark hair like Tom but without a little curl to it. It was completely straight. His green eyes glanced back at her. Something was unsettling about that boy, his eyes, even if they resembled Harrys a lot, were filled with cruelty.
“Raymond Nott”, the boy said, leaning closer to her, his voice charming but devoid any emotion. Hermione shivered and not the good kind.
“Hermione Granger. Pleasure”, it really wasn’t a pleasure.
“Granger… Haven’t heard of that family before. How strange, Miss Granger.”
“Right, well I am from far away so I am not surprised.”
Nott only nodded but his green eyes betrayed his mistrust. She ate the rest of her dinner in silence.

~

Those dinners were held every month as Hermione had been told. She was sure she wouldn’t be invited to the next one, the first one had been bloody awful but she had taken it in stride. At least she could proudly say that she wasn’t on good terms with any of the other students present at that dinner anymore, so she counted it as a success.

Over the next three weeks the whole castle soon knew that Hermione Granger was academically speaking a one-of-a-kind witch. She knew the answer to every question, she always succeeded in casting any charm. They rumour going around was that she and Tom were on par in brilliance, though Hermione had to admit that Tom was truly astonishing. He had a natural understanding of magic that was missing in most wizards and witches. He didn’t just cast, no he ordered his magic to do his bidding and he used it to do whatever he wanted to. When Tom cast a charm the whole air around him seemed to vibrate with the sheer power that was simmering under his skin. Everything he did was effortless and Hermione was a tiny bit jealous but at the same time she was drawn to him, to his magic. He was such a brilliant young man, for the first time in her life Hermione felt like he would be able to appreciate her thirst for knowledge and not laugh at it. She felt as if Tom, out of all people, would understand her.

Even so Hermione tried to stay away from Tom as much as she could but it was hard. They sat next to each other in DADA and were always egging the other on. More often than not he made her so angry that she stormed out of class as soon as possible to escape his smooth voice. He often tried to engage her in a conversation but his tone was cutting and his questions deliberate. He still didn’t trusting her, Hermione guessed and it was hardly surprising. He knew that she was hiding something but didn’t know what.
With Tom having a rather unusual interest in her, all the other Slytherin tried to stay out of her way. They didn’t want to cross Tom. He truly had them all under his rule, Hermione mused, just as Lucretia said.

On weekends Hermione often ventured to Hogsmeade on her own but as she always seemed to accidently bump into Tom, she soon stopped her adventures through the village and opted to stay in the castle. He always seemed to be exactly where she was, which was unnerving. When she went to honey dukes, he was there, smirking at her. Once he even purchased another bar of chocolate for her in reminiscence of the first time they met. It was unsettling because Hermione wasn’t sure why he did it.
Probably to gain her trust but that seemed rather unlike Tom. He wasn’t one to do something so obvious. He knew that she wasn’t stupid and that she in turn trusted him as far as she could throw him. He always offered to escort her back, she always declined. He always stayed at her side and told her interesting historical facts about Hogsmeade and more often than not Hermione lost herself in his tales and listened with rapt attention. She usually caught herself and left as soon as possible for the safety of the castle. He was Voldemort after all, how could she be so civil to him… Harry, Ron and the others would be disappointed.

She hadn’t slept well since arriving in the past. More than once had she woken the other girls with screams while she was trashing in her own bed, caught in nightmares that kept coming and coming. She always dreamed of her friends, of them dying, of them being tortured, screaming in pain and agony.
Why aren’t you here, Hermione? They would ask. I can’t, I can’t, I am sorry, Ron! Harry! I AM SORRY!

The nightmares were always worse after encounters with Tom, guilt weighing her down. Lucretia didn’t comment on Hermione unusual sleep but she put a silencing charm around her bed every night.

One night in particular Hermione woke up covered in sweat, tears running down her cheeks. She had to get herself under control. This couldn’t go on.
With shaking legs Hermione dragged herself out of bed. She didn’t want to go back to sleep again. She didn’t want to see what lay waiting in her dream world.
Slowly and silently as to not wake anybody she crept into the common room, her bare feet not making any sound as the traipsed over the cold floor. Darkness lay over the usually light filled room. The water beyond the glass of the windows was a deep black that seemed impenetrable. She looked away, the darkness making her uneasy.
The piano was just as black, but the keys were even with only the dim light to guide her visible. Casting a silencing charm over the common Hermione started to play. She played every piece of music she knew by heart and some she didn’t know, where she only knew parts and bits. It didn’t matter, because it made her calm. It made her happy.
From that moment on she made it a habit to come down into the dark room at night-time. She wasn’t used to so much sleep anyway, it made her antsy.
After especially bad nightmares she would come down and play until the sun rose in the east or she finally gave up exhausted and tired.
In the library she read all the books on time travel she was able to find and they were absolutely unhelpful.

At breakfast she had started to read the daily prophet even if only to brush up her knowledge of the forties. It was hard to imagine that at the same time that she spent sitting in schoolrooms or in the great hall the Second World War was taking place in Europe. It was unimaginable. The wizarding world didn’t cover very much on that topic and Hermione was glad. She didn’t need another thing weighing down on her consciousness.

October came with cold weather and it made Hermione feel miserable. With thick wool socks she walked through the castle, alone as usually, deep in thought. The rain pounded against the high windows and made her sleepy with the rhythmic thrums. It was a gloomy day and she just wanted to get over with it.

The loud boom behind her made the blood in her veins freeze over and all thoughts of hers stop instantly. Suddenly she wasn’t tired anymore. She was in the woods again, the snatchers behind her, running, running, being caught, Malfoy manor, darkness… Breathing heavily she came back to herself, her hand was shaking, her sight was out of focus. Fight. At the tip of her wand were huge eyes, eyes filled with fear. Two girls, Gryffindor girls, Hermione noted, were staring at her, trembling too. A prank… A prank… it was only a prank, it must have been some kind of bomb, something to give her a small scare.

Mudblood, Mudblood.

Hermione smelled the smoke of the battlefield Hogwarts had become again. She could feel the pain, the fear that had kept her going even while bleeding. She could feel her muscles trembling in exhaustion.

Jerkily she lowered her wand. Everything was still out of focus.

“Don’t”, she hissed at the girls “do something like that again.”, she finished weakly, suddenly feeling tiered again. Just now she realized that everyone had stopped and was staring at her. She realized that she was still breathing too fast, her hands were still shaking. This wasn’t normal, everybody knew. Everybody was wondering what was wrong with her.
“Ten points from Gryffindor, for the both of you.”, a hand touched her shoulder. Hermione jerked away. Tom, Hermione wanted to whisper but she couldn’t speak. Suddenly she was being pushed along, Tom still had a hand on her shoulder. Where were they going? Nobody was around anymore. She was pushed in an empty classroom, bright light filtered through the windows. Hermione blinked a few times.
“You make me curious Hermione.” his voice said not unkindly, “Nobody knows you or your family, who are supposed to be all dead together with all your former friends.” Tom said, “Sometimes it looks as if you just click out of reality, your eyes glass over like you are somewhere else in your mind. I heard about your nightmares Hermione. Tell me, what makes you scream so viciously?”
“Who told you about them?”, Hermione whispered, her hands still trembling. She had to get a grip. Where was her wand? Ah, there it was. She gripped the wood hard enough to splinter it.

“Lucretia came to me, voicing her concerns. She said you always scream very worrying things.”, suddenly Tom was next to her, touching her, his breath tickling her neck. “You know you can tell me, right Hermione?”, he whispered. Hermione felt her body burning, everything seemed to be in focus again. Every breath she took made her mind clearer until she was finally ready to face Tom. Turning she gazed at his eyes, they were as dark as the night, watching her with heated intensity.
“Oh yes, I can trust you, can’t I Tom?”, Heat flushed her face. It was because of the anger rising in her, wasn’t it? It couldn’t be because his face was so close or because of his gaze ghosting over her face.

“What gave you the indication that you can’t? I haven’t done anything to you, Hermione.”
“Tell that to Myrtle”, Hermione snorted before realizing what she just said. Her blood froze.
“What?”, Tom whispered his eyes widening. Before she could respond, pain exploded through her mind. Memories were ripped from her, flashes of pain, so much pain danced through body. Malfoy manor, pain, pain, dead bodies, smoke, running, Sirius dying, Dolohov following her, running, running, her time turner…
Gasping Hermione pushed, pushed and pushed until she stumbled back, her wand in her hand, ready to be used. Her whole body was shaking, every fibre of her very being ready to fight.

“You foul little…”, tears pricked at her eyes, her voice a deadly whisper.
“You didn’t leave me any choice.” Toms own voice was rising, his eyes wild, slightly crazed. “I waited a whole month to tell me your secrets. That is more leniency than I would have granted anyone else.” Tom hissed out, righting himself. His hair was the most in disarray that Hermione had ever seen them in her life. His cheeks were flushed. Suddenly Hermione was grabbed by a undeniable want to pull him down to her lips and just make him shut up. She hated him so much.
“Oh, how gracious Tom.”, she answered instead, her voice dripping with venom even with heat pooling low in her belly. She was still gripping her wand tightly.
“Well, Hermione”, Tom said after a beat of smiling and he looked much too smug “I think the right question, I will have to ask this time, is when are you from and not where.”
She wanted to slap him. She wanted to kill him.

“You are from the future, aren’t you? That is how you knew about Myrtle. That is why you are so different, like you just don’t really fit in this reality. Why you already seem to be familiar with the castle upon just arriving. You went to Hogwarts didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did Tom.” Hermione answered bitterly, “I am from the future, I know about Myrtle and how her death was your fault because you opened the chamber of secrets. I know that your mother is a witch and drugged your father with love potions. I know that you grew up in an orphanage, I know that you have already killed your father.”
“Fascinating” Tom answered, his eyes burning with passion.

“I know Tom that life hasn’t shown you mercy and that is why you will never show mercy in the future. I know that you are a brilliant wizard using his power for all the wrong things. I know that I don’t despise you half as much as I should.”
Tom didn’t answer. Hermione laughed silently. Of course he wouldn’t.
“I know that I just want to go back to my time.”, she whispered.
“Fascinating.”, he said again. “So in your time there is a war going on, what is it about?”, he asked, taking a few steps in Hermione’s direction.
“Oh, of course I will tell you. Bloody hell I will. You will have to pry those memories from my dead body.”
Tom looked her up and down his gaze still unsettlingly heated.
“I apologize”, he suddenly said, his tone sincere. “I shouldn’t have but I was just so… “, he didn’t finish.
“Fuck off, Tom, before I stab your eye out with this wand. I don’t need magic for that.”, Hermione whispered.
Tom seemed taken aback by her use of language.
“That is quite violent for you Hermione, isn’t it? Wouldn’t have pegged you for cruel.”
“What shall I say, Tom, you bring out the worst in me”, Hermione said bitterly.
“I really am sorry Hermione that was uncalled for. I shouldn’t have.”, Tom said again, his tone wary, he was touching her shoulder again and spun her around so that she was facing him. His breath ghosted over her face and made her feel alive. He made her feel alive, even if it was with anger.

“Fuck off”, Hermione whispered weakly. He smiled lightly. Seconds passed, he was still touching her and was burning through her clothes.
“Hermione”, he suddenly whispered, his dark eyes on fire. It was too much, what was happening? Hermione pushed again for the second time this day. Out, she had to get out before she did something she would regret. She wouldn’t be played with, she wouldn’t fall for Tom. She was out of the door before Tom could say anything. Basically flying down the empty corridor Hermione could finally breath again but where he touched her didn’t stop burning for hours.