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Tempora Mutantur
AN: I apologize to everyone for the very, very late update. Yes, I know that it's almost a month late of an update but it has been a really hectic two months for me and will probably continue being chaotic so please bare with me if updates are a bit sporadic from now on. I promise I'll try for longer updates with each chapter though, if the wait is long.
Now…moving on to good news! drumroll plz!
Tempora Mutantur was nominated for Best Time-Turner Story and it tied for first place at Granger Enchanted!
Go see the banner on my profile page!
Moving on, THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REVIEWS! I really mean it. My eyes almost popped out from the sheer number of reviews I got from this chapter. And what's this? 300 reviews? dies and goes to heaven
Thanks to: bklyangel, MandaPandaAR, lovin potter, ombeline, Tom Riddle's reluctant bride, Tigger- 180, BitB21, JazzaAckles, teeeeej, Victor Krum's lazyllama101, Sandy, Gloria The Younger, puresilver, Addicted2love, hanvu, TohruHonda77, nelygirl, Sassy Chick 999, v1adiva, Sophiax, cdlowe8, Gueneviere, mandy-jg, .oOAurelieOo., Katheryne, moonlights desire, Nice, Riddles- kid- fifth -maurauder, amrawo, Huntress, amora bleu, Lalia X, ohmygoddess, miriel216, Sam, Blairwitch 17, sweet-witch, grounded angel2, LadySoftball, The Almighty Cheez It, heffy, , endless echo, Isolated Mind, Hoshi-Chan1, dogwood aka burnt, X-Yuriko-X, Lisa, lavya0393, kyane black, aGreatPenName, Cynthia 15, matchbookromance, Furies of Darkness, diane, Lucyferina, NoirEtoileDemeureCache, (thanks to the person who reviewed in Chinese), ccrawley10, HorseLoverTW, UnderTheRoseTree, Dagon ng Likha, RK012, mindwrung, Luna, spicy-eb, krachum, Dani JoAnn, bluelagoon, ShiZZle, alice
Thank-you so much for all your support guys. You've really all been the best.
Special thanks to my beta, the lovely and utterly wonderful- in way-words-can't-express beta, puresilver who actually ended up beta-ing this chapter three times because of paranoid old me.
Also, thanks to sweet-witch for her uh…multiple reviews. Sorry for the long wait, hun. I'll try to write up the next chapter faster.
Thanks to MandyPandaAR for all her support on LJ during my little crisis. I love you, darling!
And lastly but not least: Special Thanks to Heffy, who emailed me and made the nomination at Granger Enchanted! I love you darling!
Due to the very, long list of people I have to reply to, I'll be answering your questions to the last chapter at the end of the chapter again, sorry. Lol. Although…this chapter does answer some questions and requests.
Anyway, here is chapter 12. Hope you enjoy.
The Rolling Ball
Wiltshire, Headquarters, September 11, 1999. 17:00.
"Hannah, no we're not doing this. You don't even know—"
"I have it on good authorit—"
"Good authority, my arse! I told you not to trust him!"
They stood panting and huffing, the walls of the cellar creaking to the rising echoes of anger and frustration, which seeped along the vein-like planks of their underground headquarters.
To Ernie Macmillan, it felt more like a crypt—locking forlorn souls within clam-like walls never to see the light of day again. And indeed, it had been four months now. Four months since he'd last seen a dawn or sunset or the sky, plants…people...
"How can you be so—" She growled, curbing her words before they became too harsh, wounded too far.
Ernie smiled in response, a quick quirk of the lips that she missed.
No matter how bad things were, Hannah still had that beautiful spirit, the same kindness that first induced her to befriend an overly pompous, arrogant brat like him back in first year. He'd always known that he carried himself that way—couldn't really help it— had been brought up that way. And Hannah had been the first one to truly accept him – just as he was, without any change, even though he annoyed her often with his unconscious, condescending looks.
The dynamic of their relationship had changed so much over the years and he would have liked to say that he had not grown into a self-important, pompous man, but he knew from her occasional looks and shakes of her head, that as much as he tried to please her and stamp out the inherent pomposity, it was still there— a constant reminder that one cannot change what they are.
And what were they now, really?
Fugitives.
Branded criminals running away from the "justice" of the Dark Lord. Is that not what the Daily Prophet had called them?
"Hannah, please. I'm begging you. Don't go off and do this. You don't even know—"
Lips thinned and pressed together determinedly. "I'm going to try Ernie. Hermione's our only hope."
"Hermione is dead!" He huffed with exasperation. Why could Hannah not understand such a simple concept? They were in a losing war—no, the war was already lost. Now, the only thing that mattered was getting out alive.
Ernie knew his fate had been decided on the day of the battle at Hogwarts. They'd lost everyone in that battle. Everyone that mattered, anyway.
What was left were the broken pieces: those who had unwittingly joined the losing side and found themselves in far over their heads or those who had found themselves fighting someone else's battle, a battle far greater than their own purpose in life, and had realized only too late what their choices had meant.
Susan Bones, Terry Boot, Lisa Turpin, the Creevey Brothers…where were they all now? Were they also fleeing for their lives? Had they been caught?
Ernie knew they were all going to pay. Knew it was only a matter of time before they were caught. The Dark Lord was relentless in his search. After the last of the rebellion is wiped out, no one would ever dare defy him again.
Who would be left to try?
He wanted to buy them some time. That was the only thing left to do. They'd go to Switzerland, Brazil, Japan –anywhere. Whatever it took to stay alive. He'd protect her.
But with this new development…Hannah was deliberately placing herself in the Dark Lord's warpath. He could not let that happen.
"If there is even the slightest chance that they're right then it would be worth it! Besides, Professor Lupin's with them and he says—"
"FORGET LUPIN! I'M TELLING YOU HERMIONE'S BLOODY DEAD! NO ONE LEFT HOGWARTS ALIVE!"
He couldn't lose her. Not Hannah. It would break him.
She was quiet now, shocked at his outburst, but surprisingly silent, calm—and it was the soundless serenity of her gaze which unnerved him—the glint of steel resolve behind the warm, soft eyes he'd always cherished.
The room was ghostly quiet, reminding him again of the choking atmosphere, as if hands were slowly cutting off his air supply. Four months without daylight…it was no way to live and they both knew it.
He could see her decision—her words— in those warm, honey orbs even before she uttered a syllable.
"Ernie…you can't stop me. I've made up my mind. We can't keep going like this…I can't…life without purpose…it's no life at all…"
And those beautiful brown eyes were looking straight at him, brimming with unshed tears but glowing with newfound hope, imploring, begging...
"I know the chances are slim, but if Hermione really is alive then it might give enough morale to everyone to rally what we have left. Lupin mentioned a mission. They were doing something— her, Harry and Ron— that could have been the key to destroying You-Know-Who."
They stared at each other in silence, each knowing exactly what the other wanted to say. Finally, Hannah spoke again, looking away from him and casting her eyes towards the ground.
"Ernie…I know the dangers of doing this. And I know…" She hesitated and looked up at him, the question in her eyes as clear and the answer in his. But now wasn't the time. There was no place for love in war. "…I-I know that you're trying to protect me, because you're a good friend."
The words sounded rushed, hurried and rasping. A lie. But it would have to do for now. They had lived on lies for the past year. What was one more?
She looked away again. "But I'm going. Even if we run, You-Know-Who will still find us, right? And it's not like there really is any place we can run to, is there? So I…"
And again, the pleading eyes, the warmth that he'd always been captivated by. Did he have the heart to dash her hopes, deny her wishes?
"I want to help them find her. Even if I lose my life, it's okay. I want to do this."
"And if you die, what do I do? How can I live?"
The words rushed out before he could stop them, barely louder than a whisper, but her eyes widened as if they'd echoed from the mountains. There was silence again.
After a long pause, Hannah took a step forward and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Neither of them said a word, but it was an understanding, nonetheless. An understanding. A hope. For the future.
It seemed like an infinity before he pulled himself out of her arms. With a reluctant sigh, he muttered. "So…what's their plan?"
And as Hannah began her debriefing, Ernie closed his tired, worried eyes and prayed for the first time in his life that he'd made a decision he wouldn't regret.
Please God, let our last hope against the Dark Lord be alive. Please…let me live long enough to see blue skies again, with Hannah.
He really hoped that somewhere in the heavens, a God existed.
If someone had told her a year ago that she would one day stand in front of a mirror, girlishly modelling a dress, while a young Minerva McGonagall and her friends chattered away critiquing said dress, Hermione would have eaten Pixy dung and told them they were crazy.
Yet, here she was, standing in front of a large, overly ornate floor mirror, donning one of the many flowing full-length gowns Minerva's friend, Patricia, had set out for them.
It was the night of Slughorn's party and both had decided to go, although it was more peer pressure than anything that had induced Hermione. She had no inclination to see Tom Riddle, after all.
No doubt the silly git would be plotting sweet revenge by now. Hexing him with the Leglock Hex definitely hadn't been the best idea. He was probably still limping around from the after effects of the spell, and the more he limped, the harsher she could expect the retribution of his counterattack.
Tom had a habit of repaying everything in multiples, after all.
Hermione smiled at the thought. The bloody git was such a sore loser. But it served him right this time. He'd asked for it after all. Literally. And after that display of…licking or kissing, trapping her against a wall, or whatever it was…he definitely deserved it! Not to mention using it to his advantage! Actually having the nerve to ask her to join him while doing that!
"What's wrong Hermione? You look angry about something."
Hermione snapped out of her reverie to notice that all three of the girls, Minerva, Patricia and the seventh year Sophia, were staring at her in confusion.
"Do you not like the robe?"
"Oh, no, that's not it at all. It's very nice." She said hurriedly, and turned back to the mirror, examining herself.
It was true. The dress was beautiful, made with a light material of dark green chiffon she'd never seen before, and lined with intricate thread work of silver and gold patterns that seemed to sway and shimmer with her every movement.
"It's a special dress robe my uncle sent to me from Berlin," Sophia told them, as she fingered the sleeves on her own silver robe, which was equally gorgeous with its plunging neckline and layers of silk. "It's got a charm on it to make it shimmer like that. I outgrew it a few years ago, but it looks perfect on you."
"Aren't you glad we forced you up here now?"
Earlier in the day, the three girls had come gallivanting up to Hermione, with Patricia excitedly babbling about Slughorn's parties and asking her about her preparations and dress robes. When Hermione had come up with the excuse of not having a dress, the three had immediately offered to provide her with one.
Now it seemed too late. She couldn't refuse after they'd gone through all this trouble. As the only girls invited from Gryffindor, all three were excited, even the usually reserved Minerva, and Hermione didn't have the heart to break their merry spirits, even if it meant seeing Tom again.
Thoughts of Tom always provoked her confusion.
We can create our own world where this kind of prejudice doesn't exist. We'll make them see beyond our bloodlines.
She'd be lying to herself if she said those words hadn't been enticing back then, that they weren't still enticing…even now. It hadn't been simply how he'd put those words, with that air of charisma and the subtle commanding undertones; it had been…she didn't know what it was…something in his eyes, his gaze. Those words had sounded so full of conviction, as if he truly believed it.
We'll force them to acknowledge our power, our strength, our worthiness…
Was this where they differed? Was Tom trying to take by force what she merely wanted to prove? Hermione sighed.
He was wrong. Forcing people to act a certain way would never cease their own way of thinking. It would only incite violence and rebellion. He was wrong to impose his own will upon others.
But then, why were his words still so unsettling?
With another sigh, Hermione turned back to the mirror. It really was a beautiful dress.
When she'd first tried it on, she couldn't recognize herself. The bushy-haired girl staring back at her had somehow seemed a stranger. She'd changed so much over the last two years of war that she wondered, at times, if pieces of the old Hermione Granger were left at all.
"Alright, Jane, what do you think of this necklace?"
Turning back, Hermione flashed a smile and rejoined the girls.
Why are his words still unsettling you?
The question rang heavily in her head like the final tolls of a knell. Hermione vaguely wondered if this was also an aftereffect of the war. The old Hermione Granger wouldn't have been so easily swayed by Tom's words.
The old Hermione Granger.
Member of the Order of Phoenix. Best friend of Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. Enemy of Lord Voldemort. How much of that girl was left? How much of that girl had survived?
Tom-not this Tom- but the future Tom; he would slaughter them. He would be the one who would take everything from her. Could she really change that future?
Was she even capable of trying?
Hermione had always been so sure of herself, so determined and assured that whatever the past, nothing was worth the dreadful future in store for them.
But now, seeing Tom, meeting him and finally understanding him and his motives…she wasn't so sure anymore. What he'd said to her…they hadn't been lies, had they?
Hermione sighed as she turned to look out the window towards the clear blue sky.
We can create our own world where prejudice doesn't exist.
It was a beautiful dream…wasn't it?
A honeyed, sultry voice sang across the hall and Tom Riddle was snapped out of his wandering musings back into the sharply contrasted, black- and- white world of his pureblood brethren.
Or perhaps not so black- and- white.
Walburga Black stood in the doorway to the Common Room, clothed in the deep, rich hues of blood, waves of unbound curls the colour of midnight outlining the lascivious figure of a Greek goddess.
Tom eyed the girl appreciatively from the stairwell, knowing full well the girl had specially dressed up for him. It was no secret within the Slytherin Common Room that Walburga fancied Tom Riddle.
It was also no secret that Tom had never once accepted her offer, despite his many nightly outings and Walburga's consistent offerings.
Strategy was something Tom had always prided himself upon, and having the heiress of an ancient and powerful Pureblood family at his beck- and- call was always an advantage, in and outside of school.
Of course, such favour always came with a price, and Tom indulged the deluded girl with sweet words and praises to keep her happy. He was no fool and was well aware of the vast influence Walburga had over the female population of Slytherins.
He was also immensely aware of her father's influence over the rest of the Wizarding World.
"Tom, you're always so distant lately." The foolish girl cooed as she slowly descended from the stairwell of the Common Room, making her way slowly down towards him, in what Tom gathered to be her idea of seduction. Baring skin and hands drifting suggestively over an ample display of cleavage. Pathetic.
As if he could be won over by such means.
Nevertheless, Tom let his voice drop an octave, into a low purr as he called "Walburga", turning his eyes to purposely rake over her body in a way that brought a smile to the girl's lips.
He kicked off the stone steps in a smooth, elegant motion and carefully took possession of a richly adorned hand, kissing it chastely in the way he'd found girls giggled over.
"Shall we?"
Playing the role of an elegant, charming gentleman was one of the many facades he'd cultivated over the years. People would always go a long mile after a good first impression. Making his way down the stairs with his date in tow, Tom's thoughts invariably drifted to the only one who could not be won over by his charms.
Would Jane be there tonight?
He half wished she would be. Yet, wouldn't that throw a wrench in his plans?
Tightening his grip on Walburga's hand, Tom pulled her along into the torch lit corridor towards Slughorn's party.
This was the path he had chosen, the path he'd wanted to take since he'd first discovered his powers. Everything he'd achieved until now…it was all at its culmination. All he needed to do was take that final step…take the plunge.
And yet, as Tom walked closer and closer towards that door, towards the door of Slughorn's party, towards the door of destiny…he couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed.
As if he'd missed something along the way.
The hall was a wonder to behold, filled to the brim with magical fairy lights dancing across the ceilings of the large chamber to celebrate the arrival of spring. Along the walls, ivy vines had been magically planted to incense the classroom with exotic scents of foreign flowers. Butterflies flew near the walls, flitting from one wall flower to the next.
All in all, Hermione fleetingly thought Slughorn's classroom looked like a magical kingdom stolen from one of her childhood fairytale books. It was a picture of splendour, with the slightest touch of decadence to suit the nightly atmosphere. All around them, students were decked out in their best dress robes, extravagant dress robes adorned by almost all the eye could see.
Hermione knew it was no coincidence. Slughorn's "club" had always consisted of the best and brightest of the Wizarding Society, and that had always meant Purebloods, even in her time.
The thought was like a douse of water, momentarily pulling her away from the bewitching scenery and back into the reality she'd come to dread. Prejudice. It was everywhere, so interweaved into even the minutest details. Could she possibly overcome it? Fight and grapple with it her entire life? The bitter aftertaste of the thought lingered even as her mind pushed away the other possibilities.
She was pulled headlong back into the excitement, however, as the music began to play and Minerva dragged her towards the food table where Sophia was in a heated conversation with Patricia. The two looked at excitedly as Hermione and Minerva approached.
"Isn't this great? I heard Gideon Murphy is here!"
"I've always wanted to meet him!"
Hermione smiled and looked around the classroom. It was nice to have friends again and join in on the idle chatter of social interaction. Minerva's presence in the past few weeks had helped sooth away much of the loneliness that had haunted her since she'd first arrived desperate and friendless.
Yet, even as Hermione listened and smiled and tried to join in on conversation, she couldn't help but look for him.
As though the heavens had heard her inquiry, the double doors opened to emit Tom Riddle. He looked much as he always did. Absolutely gorgeous. The dark dress robes he wore hugged his figure well, and Hermione could clearly see that she wasn't the only girl whose attention had been caught by his entrance.
As Tom smiled and looked about the room, his eyes fell upon the sight of her and lingered for a while, slightly widening as if caught in surprise. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before Tom broke eye contact and turned his attention towards…an absolutely gorgeous girl dressed in red.
The girl was like a doll; a perfectly proportioned face with huge, beautiful dark eyes, pert nose and full, lush red lips. Around her, she could see that several boys had their mouths open, hanging in awe and Hermione felt a sudden wave of heat rush to her face as she saw Tom tenderly take the girl's hand and lead her to the dance floor.
She quickly turned, all too aware that she was reacting like a jealous lover and hardly knowing whether to feel angry or embarrassed about her reaction. Why was she acting like this?
Hermione quickly poured herself a glass of punch, determined to enjoy herself and put her mind off Tom Riddle. She gulped down the punch and poured herself another, ignoring the slightly burning sensation of the liquid running down her throat.
"You sure you want to drink that much alcohol?"
Annoyed and not really caring who it was, Hermione answered brusquely. "It's not alcohol, it's—" She took a whiff. "Alcohol."
Hell on earth had she mistaken rum for punch?
An amused chuckle and a hand lightly touched her shoulder. Hermione twirled around, meeting a pair of sparkling green eyes.
But not his. Instead, a very good looking boy stood in front of her, an amused curl of a smile gracing his features as he looked from the cup in Hermione's hand to her clearly perplexed features.
"Do I know you?"
The boy laughed; a crisp, carefree laugh.
"No, I reckon you don't. But I know you. How do you do, Jane Cacher? Christopher Blake." He held out a hand good naturedly and flashed another dazzling smile that Hermione couldn't help but respond to. This boy was really charming. And handsome.
Just enough distraction to keep her mind off someone else.
"Would you like to dance?" Christopher held out a hand to her which Hermione took gratefully.
"Love to."
Here was someone who didn't plot world domination or attempt to seduce her into submission through underhanded Socratic methods. She would enjoy herself tonight. Without Tom Riddle on her mind.
Ignoring the pointed looks from Minerva, Patricia and Sophia, Hermione took the hand offered to her and allowed herself to be whirled off onto the dance floor, completely oblivious to the dark glower coming from a corner of the room.
Hermione flushed red.
"Thank you." She and Christopher had been dancing for the good part of an hour and she was glad to have found a good friend in an unlikely place. Not only was the Ravenclaw boy quick-witted and clever, but he was also extremely knowledgeable in Tranfiguration, Arithmancy, Potions and A History of Magic.
Oh. Did she mention he had read Hogwarts: A History seventeen times? That was only three less than herself.
Hermione sighed happily, as a pixy flew by over their heads and sprinkled sparkles of glitter onto the dancers below. This was one of the rare occasions she'd been wrong. It had turned out to be a good night, after all.
As the pace of the music changed onto the next song, Hermione pulled Christopher off the dance floor and moved towards her friends again as the Ravenclaw went to get refreshments.
The girls were making faces before she even reached them.
"Blake, huh? Didn't think you two knew each other but from the looks of it…"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "We just met and I'll have you know he's very intelligent."
Patricia chuckled and exchanged a glance with Sophia, who broke out in giggles. "Right, intelligent. He's also incredibly handsome, Hermione, in case you're blind. And he likes you."
Both girls broke into giggles again, leaving Hermione a bit exasperated. This was why she hated parties. It had been the same way with the Yule Ball and Victor. Deciding to change the subject, she asked,
"Where's Minerva?" Looking around, the dark-haired Gryffindor was nowhere in sight.
"Wherever Riddle is, I reckon."
Hermione snapped her head around. She'd heard wrong.
"What?"
Patricia sighed. "Minerva fancies Tom Riddle. She gets red as a plum whenever she sees him. Been like that for the last three years now. It's like she's in love."
It couldn't be. Minerva. Professor McGonagall fancy Tom Riddle? No. Hermione felt as if someone had reached into her chest and snatched away the air in her lungs. She could hardly breathe. Minerva liked Tom. Minerva…
She could barely stutter out a response. Her mind was in chaos, and Hermione hardly knew why. "T-Tom Riddle? But she's never mentioned him."
Sophia nodded matter- of- factly. "I know, I know. She's too shy."
The girl looked over the brim of her glass and gave Hermione a stern look. "You didn't hear it from us."
Hermione could only nod. It was something she would never mention to Minerva. How could she?
Meanwhile, Patricia was saying, "Although, I do feel sorry for her. Tom's one of the most popular boys in our school. Every girl would love to be his girlfriend."
She looked over across the room and inclined her thumb towards the girl in red. "And compared to Black… well, it's hard to measure up."
The mention of Tom's date caught Hermione's attention again.
"Black?"
"Yeah. Heiress to the House of Black. Her father's got a lot of influence with the Ministry 's school board and all that, which is why she struts around Hogwarts acting like she owns it."
And again, another lump was making its way down Hermione throat, chocking the air out of her. "Then she's his girlfriend?"
"Oh, no. Oddly enough Tom doesn't date. You see him around with a girl or two, sometimes, but he's never gone with them."
"Oh."
The information was barely a relief, however. No matter how she tried to repress it, Hermione could feel the inklings of jealousy rushing through her system. And it had to be jealousy. The feeling…it was that same gnawing and restlessness from when Ron had gone out with Lavender Brown in sixth year.
Both girls must have noticed the look on her face, because Sophia immediately asked,
"Are you feeling alright, Jane?"
"N-No, actually, I-I think I'm going to call it a night. Goodnight girls. Tell Minerva that for me."
Taking the opportunity, Hermione quickly ducked into the crowd before either girl could say anything and headed for the door.
She was barely across the threshold before a hand grabbed her around the waist and another was placed over her mouth, muffling her screams. Kicking with all her might, Hermione thought she heard a grunt of pain from her attacker, as her heel met a knee cap, just before she was thrown against the wall into a dark oblivion.
The thump thump echoes of footsteps and then "lumos!" and Hermione found herself pulled to her feet roughly to stare into a familiar face.
Tom's eyes were flashing red, an instant warning for what was to come, and Hermione could already feel her blood running cold. Riddle wasn't the type to allow revenge to slip by.
"Come to get revenge, have you?" Her whisper was raspy and breathy, hardly her usual confident self, but Hermione knew there was no point in conjuring a façade in front of someone who was so skilled in breaking past them.
"Revenge…" His tone did not match the word, almost as if vengeance hadn't been the reason he'd thrown her headlong into an abandoned corridor. But Hermione knew better. Tom was just playing with her again. Like cat and mouse.
"Yes, I should take my revenge, shouldn't I?" And he was stepping closer towards her again, cornering her like he'd done so many times before, until all she can see and feel is him…until all that's left is him. She can feel her heart beginning to race, her breath begin to hitch; fear and anticipation running through her blood stream.
"How should I take my revenge?" There was a low resonance in his voice, a husky drawl, and despite herself, Hermione felt her spine tingle and shivered involuntarily. Why was she attracted to him? Why couldn't she overcome this attraction?
Tom's hands roughly taking both her wrists and forcing them above her head brought her sharply out of her reverie and into the situation at hand. She yanked and squirmed, hoping to free herself, only to find his grip tightening.
"Let go."
He scoffed and tightened his grip until Hermione let out a sharp hiss and grimaced. "You're hurting me. Let go!"
Instead, Tom leaned forward, his head resting against the stone wall, whispering just loud enough for her to hear.
"I told you before. I'm not someone to toy with." The words were cold and harsh, a detachment and sterility in his tone that Hermione hadn't heard from him since when she'd first met him. He was really, really angry about her hexing him last time, then.
She managed to glare back at him, meeting him eye to eye as she retorted, "You deserved it."
His eyes narrowed dangerously-glinting red -but she didn't notice. "I told you before, Tom, that your paltry tricks won't work on me. I'm not going to be persuaded by your—mmmphh!"
And his lips were on hers. Only it was completely different from before. Where Tom had been soft and…almost gentle, now he was bruising and demanding, as if he was trying to brand her. It was passionate, angry—desperate—and altogether unlike the Tom she knew who was always in control, cool, calm and collected.
He left her no time for breath, capturing her lips in wave after wave of onslaughts; grinding her hard against the wall to steady himself as much as her, all the while keeping a firm grip on her hands, denying her freedom.
He finally pulled away, gasping for breath, and it was only enough time for Hermione to gulp two breaths of air before his lips crushed hers again in another bruising, aching kiss.
Bunching her wrists together with one hand, Tom's other hand roamed her body, stopping at mid-thigh. Hermione let out a squeal of protest when his hand began pulling up the material of her dress by the fistful and his mouth moved on to nibble at her neck.
"What are you doing? Get off!" She screamed shrilly.
He ignored her, brusquely ripping the fabric when it wouldn't pull any higher. A hand slipped inside the newly made slit of her dress to slide up her inner thigh.
He found her wand, strapped to the edge of her stocking and ripped it out from its holdings, before tossing it carelessly over his shoulders where it landed with a loud clack, somewhere in the darkness.
Tom didn't give Hermione any time to react as he proceeded to rip the silk of her stockings like a greedy boy unwrapping presents on Christmas Day.
Hermione was filled with horror.
"Tom! Stop!" But his hands kept sliding up her thigh, and the harder she struggled, the harder he retaliated, keeping her still and steady with the strength of his body and the vice-like grip on her hands. She couldn't escape.
"Tom!"
He was completely ignoring her, as if in another world where all semblance of control had broken from their reigns. It was frightening, and Hermione found herself on the brink of tears.
The situation completely beyond her control. Try as she might, he was much stronger than her and Hermione had never felt more miniscule or weak in her entire life.
His intention was clear and she was powerless to stop him, as he forced his knee between her legs, insinuating himself between her thighs. "Tom! Please! Please stop!"
He looked up at her, the dispassionate gaze a perfect match to his earlier tone. Cold. Ruthless. And Merciless.
She felt hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she looked at him through a blurry haze, her entire body shaking uncontrollably and her voice weakly rasping, "Stop. Please, just stop."
He released her, and Hermione collapsed to the ground, shuddering, and hitching for breath; tears still rolling down her cheeks to land on a ripped and tattered dress.
Above her, Tom was breathing heavily, his hands fisted tightly in what seemed a silent resolve before he said softly,
"Don't go near him again. I told you before, Jane. You're mine. Don't go near him." He looked down at her, eyes as cold as steel. "Or I'll kill him."
Somewhere, somehow, Hermione found the will to stand up and race back up the corridor, into the light. A hand caught her wrist as she neared her final few steps and she turned back to see that Tom had caught up to her.
He stared into her eyes for a moment, something flickering in his forest green depths for the briefest of moments.
Quick as lightning, he pulled her into a hug.
"Cacher, I—"
A gasp was heard in the distance and both Hermione and Tom turned around to see Minerva and Walburga standing in the light of the corridor, figures silhouetted by the light, features twisted in shock.
Without thinking, Hermione wrenched herself out of Tom's arms and ran as fast and her legs could carry her.
She wished, now more than anything, that she had a Time Turner.
Yes, I know. My dark tendencies ran away with me again. Why did I make Tom look like a villain in this chapter? Because he is well on his way of becoming one, lest we forget. With everything, there is always a balance. Within Tom, that balance is disturbed. Voldemort is a socialpath without a conscience for his actions. It's this disregard for morality which makes Voldemort and Tom so dangerous to those around him. We've seen snippets of Voldemort in Tom up until now, but never really the extent of that immorality or the lengths of that ruthlessness. Voldemort is a character who is used to taking by force, a habit he adapted very early on in his childhood. It's second nature to him. Also, he is someone who prizes trophies. To Tom, that is ultimately what it means to "become his". His trophies are the things which, to him, define him as "worthy". At this point, he would definitely see Hermione as a trophy. She is someone who he finds "worthy" of him and he has invested a significant amount of time to acquire her. Like Hufflepuff's Cup or Slytherin's Ring and the extent that Tom went to acquire those items, I think he would also take any length to keep Hermione. When that territory became threatened by someone else, Tom resorted to the only means he knew since childhood, which was to 1)take by force and 2) to mark what is clearly his. Notice how he's infused his soul with the Hogwarts treasures to make Horcruxes. That in itself is a stamp of ownership onto the items themselves. Notice how Voldemort brands his Death Eaters. The Dark Mark is a sign of possession and ownership. Voldemort stamps/brands/marks everything he has because he began with nothing. When someone threatened to take his Hermione, well...his first instinct would naturally be to mark her as his too. That's my insight into his psychology, at last.
Now, answers/replies to reviews:
To:
Tom Riddle's Reluctant Bride: I think this is the second or third time you've suggested this idea. I'm really seriously considering if I should take you up on your offer, lol.
Hanvu: oh no! she's bringing out the troll again! runs for the hills
Cdlowe8: oh gosh, I completely fell off my chair reading your review. I definitely think that Voldemort would be a good poker player. The idea sent me into giggles, nevertheless. And you're right. His practices are often used in politics. It's one of the ties that I wanted to make, and again…you picked it up. :) Now…about that Death Eater…I'm still keeping quiet about him. Maybe you'll find out something next chapter. And what's this? I've stumped you? Oh no! The impossible has happened. The sky is falling! And thank –you for the compliment. Yes, I do consider being compared to Voldemort a compliment, muhahaha. Although, I think I'll have to brush up on my skills since you saw through me so easily…sigh I'll ask Tom for acting lessons…
Gueneviere: Those are really thoughtful questions that you've asked and you're right. Tom's desire to prove himself is definitely a weakness. In this sense, Hermione and Tom are similar creatures. They are both driven to prove themselves worthy and they both recognize that aspect of themselves within each other. Now…will Hermione use it to her advantage? That remains to be seen. And yes…lust is a good tool too. Especially when its in a fanfiction. wink wink
Katheryne: Don't worry about the grammar mistakes. Those were my own. I'm afraid I have a problem with the past/present when I write, especially in a Time Turner if you're switching time frames. I try to catch myself but there's always some that slip by. Thank you for your thoughtful review and no, I definitely plan on finishing this story, so don't worry.
The Almighty Cheez It: thank-you for the suggestion! I will definitely be reading it, although I'm a bit short of time right now as you can tell from my lack of update. But it's going into the "to read" pile!
Heffy: Yup. Hermione's definitely taking Tom out of his comfort zone. And it's getting to the point where Tom will soon realize just what that could mean. I wonder how he will react? cue sinister music lol. Thanks again for the nomination and all your support.
Lisa: Yes, you're right. My Hermione isn't really rational. It's one of the things I realize I need to work on myself. However, for some reason, Hermione has never really struck me as a rational girl to begin with. I think she tries really hard to be one, but really isn't. Like in the sixth book, where she went out with Cormac to get back at Ron. Hermione tends to react on her emotions, and I've tried to portray that aspect of her and how Tom realizes that and doesn't give her time to cover it up, like she tends to do, with rationality.
Alice: thank you for the critique. And you're right. I do tend to go into psychology a bit more because I find the brilliance of the mind to be enthralling (as you can tell since I write TR/HG). As for Hermione's love for Tom's beauty, I was taking a feather from book 2 there, when Hermione was smitten head over heels for Lockhart to the point of completely losing rationality and common sense for a crush. She seems like the kind of girl that falls hard for guys, even if it's based on looks. As for the nickname…hehe. It definitely wasn't meant as an endearment. More as something she'd termed him out of annoyance. Kind of like "idiot" or "dummy" as a replacement for a name. Thank you for the critique, though. I'm always looking for ways to sharpen my skills, so this was really helpful!
Love, Selenoliber
