I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You
Hi, my name is…well actually my name is kind of written above so I'm not even going to bother telling it to you. This is my first ever Tom Riddle/Hermione fanfiction, although I suppose it could be considered Voldemort as well. Whenever I read the books, I always felt that Tom was quite a tragic character, with so much potential, that was never allowed to truly shine. The idea of him being unable to understand love because he was conceived beneath the influence of a love potion struck a chord with me, but I never felt he was truly beyond redemption. He just needed someone patient and stubborn enough to teach him the error of his ways, despite whatever superior, typically arrogant views he might have to the contrary. Enter Hermione.
I've been a fan of Tom/Hermione for not very long, but one common denominator I noticed with almost every story was the use of time travel, either through the Time Turner medium or another alternative one. Now don't get me wrong, some of my favourite stories were time travel ones (Have You Ever and Masters of Manipulation) but this little niggle of an idea caught me when I was re-watching the Francis Ford Coppola version of Dracula, with Mina as his reincarnated love. So sit back and enjoy the emotional rollercoaster, as I add a base of reincarnated love, a dash of Hogwarts canon, a sprinkling of Founders history, and a generous helping of all our favourite characters….
Tom: Princess, stop going off on a tangent and focus your mind to the task at hand, please? Before we die of old age!
Me: You, die of old age? That'll be the day! You're making me write this bloody fanfiction, so just pipe down and suck it up, Snake-boy!
Tom: (some low grumbling)
Tom's my muse by the way and a bloody annoying one at that!
Tom: You know you love me, really, Princess. (Plants a sneaky kiss on my carotid artery)
Me: You sonofa-!
Tom: Now, now, now no swearing.
I hate it when he uses Legilimency, the sneaky, no-good, arrogant, domineering…
Tom: Princess, your mind's wandering again. Now stop typing this rubbish and start writing my latest idea…. (another kiss the all too sure of himself Slytherin) and maybe you might actually get some…..
Me: You did NOT just go there! Silencio! Finally some peace and quiet. Don't tell Mr- I'm-Always-Right-About-Everything-Over-There, but I really should get on with the story before I drive you all away with our little spats. TOM!
Tom: You really need to work on countering non-verbal spells, dearest. (Leans towards me seductively). Now let's start using that incredibly creative and ingenious brain of yours and let the magic flow!
Me: You and your godforsaken charm! (Tom starts to gently kiss up and down my neck) Fine, fine have it your way, you, you…..Slytherin!
Tom: And that's supposed to be an insult?
Me: God I hate you sometimes….
Tom: No you don't.
Yes I do
Tom: No you don't.
Thomas Marvolo Riddle, GET OUT OF MY HEAD!
"G'night Hermione!" Ron yelled as Hermione left the Gryffindor common room.
"Happy birthday, Hermione!" Harry called, as the door of the girls' dormitory shut gently. Inside the thankfully darkened room, a slender brunette stretched, yawning, as she stumbled towards her bed carrying the presents her two best friends had given her for her sixteenth birthday. For indeed, this was Hermione Granger, muggle-born witch and the most intelligent student of her generation.
A shaft of moonlight bisected her serious, gentle face as it streamed in through the open casement, making her wildly curling hair gleam silver. By Merlin she was tired!
Turning to her bed, she put her presents away. Harry had gotten her an exceedingly interesting book on the correlation of Arithmancy and Ancient Runes in conjunction to Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was perfectly fascinating; even though she had a sneaking suspicion Harry didn't have a clue as to what the title meant. He probably just picked up the thickest book in the shop that was written in English. Not that it would have mattered; Hermione could read Latin and French fluently as well. She figured it might come in handy with all the rubbish that toad Umbridge was force-feeding them.
Ron had given her a generous supply of Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, as well as the gift of a lovely hand-knitted scarf from Mr and Mrs Weasley. The owl had arrived with assorted goodies from the Order; a new Eagle feather quill from Remus, more sweets from Ginny, a set of books on advanced Charms from Tonks, and another set of books from Sirius all to do with Wizarding history and the four Founders of Hogwarts. She certainly wouldn't run out of reading material this year! And lastly, she had received an assortment of Fred and George's latest joke shop inventions, to her slight disapproval. But who knew when they would come in handy.
Hermione's lips quirked wryly at the 'when' in that last thought. Her school life had never been boring or uneventful, and she doubted this year would be any different. Stretching tiredly, she slipped out of her school uniform and into bed, closing her eyes thankfully. She had gotten all her homework done; yes the Arithmancy assignment was done, and the Potions essay finished. Flitwick's essay on the finer points of the simultaneous casting of Extinguishing and Summoning spells was ready…..
The cogs of her mind still whirring, Hermione fell into slumber.
Phyllida Raven smirked wryly as, for the fifth time in a row, her hand shot up at the exact same time as a certain, dark-haired young Slytherin sitting on the opposite side of the room. Eying him contemptuously, she waited for the Professor to indicate to her.
"Miss Raven, if you will. What are the exact origins of the Animaverrus Spell?" Professor Dumbledore asked, a twinkle in his ancient blue eyes as he regarded the two hands waiting in front of him.
"Sir, the Animaverrus spell was invented in 1746 by one Anika Burke, to transfigure animate beings into a totally random state of inanimate object. It must be pronounced non-verbally. It is therefore quite dangerous, both to cast and to undo, due to the unstable nature of the spell and its dependency upon the mental power of the caster, unless the exact counter-curse is performed correctly." Phyllida answered promptly, smirking when she saw the dark looks from the Slytherin benches. Dumbledore beamed.
"Well, someone has been doing their homework. Ten points to Ravenclaw, Miss Raven. Tom, what are the specific wand movements for this spell?" he turned to the Slytherin.
Tom Riddle straightened, took out his wand and demonstrated the tricky series of flicks and rotations needed to perform the spell. Phyllida rolled her eyes at the superior attitude of the Prefect, yawning theatrically behind Dumbledore's back.
"Excellent, Tom. Ten points to Slytherin. Now if I may have volunteers for this spell? Ahh yes, Miss Raven and Mr Riddle I think. Step up and let's see what you make of this spell," Dumbledore magically cleared a space for them, as the pair stood up and walked into the centre of the classroom, conjuring two monkeys from their cages and into the space provided. Phyllida could've sworn she saw a mischievous twinkle in the old man's eyes as she passed him to stand next to Tom. She shuddered, a movement she suppressed immediately at being so close to the Slytherin she loathed.
"Remember you two, that to cast this spell on an animate being such as these is extremely difficult, let alone the non-verbal nature of the spell. Fifty points will be awarded to the first to complete the spell," Dumbledore stepped away with a flourish of his robes, as the chattering of the classroom dulled down, all eyes on the two teenagers.
Phyllida faced her monkey, keeping an eye on Riddle out of the corner of her vision. His typically arrogant face was blank, cool, calm and collected, but his brilliant eyes bored into hers. They seemed to mock her, doubting her ability to even hold a wand, let alone cast a spell from the Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six. Setting her jaw, she shrugged off the enmity she could feel emanating from him, and concentrated.
Their hands moved as one, the thought echoing together in their minds, their power flowing together at the exact same moment.
Anima Verrus Adiutrix!
Phyllida was a second too slow. She opened her eyes to see her monkey disappear in a flash behind Tom's, both morphing into crystalline vases.
"Fifty points to Slytherin, and twenty five to Ravenclaw. Well done," Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling.
"Too slow there, Raven. You really need to speed up," Tom murmured out of the corner of his mouth, smirking triumphantly, as he turned away to walk back to his seat. Sensing Dumbledore turn to the blackboard, she concentrated fiercely.
Phyllida cast the spell non-verbally, her wand in her pocket, as Riddle's legs spasmed out of control. He tripped and knocked a desk over as she flounced past him, her eyebrows raised.
"Who's the slow one now, Riddle," she muttered, non-verbally casting the counter curse as she passed, smirking. Riddle's eyes narrowed, sure she had been the cause of the hex, but unable to prove it.
"Is everything alright, Tom?" Professor Dumbledore asked, as he turned around to face the class. Finally getting his legs back under control, Riddle, slightly red in the face, nodded as he dropped into his seat. "Homework, fourteen inches on the pros and cons of the Animaverrus spell…"
Dumbledore's droning voice disappeared in Tom's ears as he glared at the back of Phyllida Raven's brunette head. This rivalry had existed between them ever since their first day at Hogwarts, getting under the other's skin with ease. Despite Tom's effortless skills of intimidation, Phyllida was too hot-tempered to allow him to dominate her, and far too intelligent to submit to him. To the sixteen year old, she was the bane of his life, and Tom Riddle did not like having her there. Despite their mutual enmity, they always sought the other out, eliciting a strange tension between the two of them, making their collective hackles rise, snarling. He had to admit she was close to being his equal in power, much as he hated to do so.
His gaze fell on the young Ravenclaw's face, waves of unruly brunette hair framing the marblesque skin. Warm brown eyes were intently focussed on the parchment before her, her dark robes swirling around her hourglass figure. He wondered what she was thinking.
"Legilimens!" he cast beneath his breath, his wand pointed towards her beneath the table. He had quickly become proficient at this form of magic; it was useful in keeping his group of cronies in line when they dared to question Lord Voldemort.
Phyllida's thoughts ran through his mind, making him smirk.
Jumped up little git. I don't see what Miranda and the others find to drool over. Honestly, he's not….that handsome. Alright maybe he is, no point lying Phyl, but he's an arrogant, superior, far-too-intelligent, narcissistic, no-good, conceited…
Tom's eyebrow quirked. Are you quite finished?
He wondered to himself, as he withdrew from her mind, and quickly copied his homework down, snorting derisively. Hardly a challenge.
As his mind returned to the small matter of Phyllida, he found it strangely satisfying that her thoughts were on him. Suddenly, Phyllida stiffened and swung around in her seat, glaring at him. He looked into her chocolate brown orbs, and felt himself go rigid in shock. She knew he had been in her mind! But how was that possible, he had been as subtle and as gentle as the wind. She couldn't have detected his presence.
The bell broke their speechless battle of wills, as Phyllida broke eye contact and started flinging her books into her bag, Tom following more slowly. As she turned to walk off, they collided awkwardly, their bodies pressing against one another for a split second.
Fire rushed over Phyllida's nerves before she remembered who she was stuck against, and she flung away haughtily.
"Think you're so clever, don't you, Raven?" Tom inquired quietly, his tone derisive, hiding his own unease at his physical reaction to her. "It's not a fitting testament to your maturity if you seek revenge in such an infantile manner,"
"Revenge for what, Riddle?" she asked, one brow raised superciliously.
"For beating you, of course," he replied, with a wide smile. She narrowed her eyes, drawing herself up proudly.
"At least I don't think it necessary to poke around in people's minds, Riddle. Sad little boy," she muttered, trying to move past him. He grabbed her arm, pulling her back.
"What?" he demanded, one perfect brow raised arrogantly. Phyllida smirked back, watching him closely. He really shouldn't have tried to use Legilimency on her.
"A door, once opened, can be stepped through in either direction," she murmured. Tom's already pale face blanched slightly. She had looked into his mind, without him even realising it! He had been foolish, to let his guard drop. He'd called her his equal; she had sensed his presence. It was his own fault.
"Then you'd better make sure you don't step through it again," he murmured back, his tone low, dangerous. It sent shivers down Phyllida's spine, yet they were not of fear. Now she realised why they had never touched in the six years they had attended Hogwarts.
"Unhand me, Slytherin," she growled, her eyes flashing. She wanted nothing more to get away from him, before she punched him, or did something rash. Tom's grip on her arm tightened in the deserted classroom, as he pulled her close to whisper in her ear. Her lungs seized, her skin extra-sensitive where his cool breath swept over the silk.
Tom felt the hair beneath his cheek, and found himself relishing its softness. It was like cool silk, vibrant and as untameable as the girl he was holding. He smirked, feeling her discomfort, nothing to the sensation spreading over his skin.
"I'll see you at the Prefects' meeting, Phyllida," he deliberately used her first name, drawing the syllables out, an unconscious note of sensuality dripping into his words. He felt her shiver, knew it was against her will, as she tore herself from his grip and marched away, her back unbending and rigid.
Tom's smirk deepened. This could prove very interesting.
Hermione Granger awoke, breathing heavily, the coolness of the unknown boy's breath on her cheek sending shivers down her spine. Gasping for breath, she looked towards the clock and saw the time. And groaned feelingly. It was four in the morning. Muttering to herself, she turned over and went back to sleep.
Once outside the classroom, Phyllida slumped against the wall in an alcove, breathing hard. The arrogant little…
Footsteps outside her hiding place alerted her to her danger, as Riddle stopped before her, still smirking. Drawing herself up, knowing she was standing in a deserted corridor, with Riddle, wandless with no one to call for help. After she had humiliated him, and delved, without permission into his mind. But he did it first, the arrogant, presumptuous, far-too-handsome…..!
"So you do think I'm handsome," Tom muttered, stepping close. Phyllida's breath hitched, as he reached out one hand. "It's not very safe for you to be hiding in dark corners, Phyllida. Very dangerous, in fact, considering I have your little humiliation to pay back."
"Go to hell, Riddle," Phyllida snarled, trapped, but still defiant.
"All in good time, Phyllida," he murmured, smiling predatorily. Suddenly he was far too close for comfort, a strange hunger flaring in his dark eyes, making her lips throb. Tom leaned in-
The sound of voices reached them, as footsteps neared. The boy holding Phyllida captive sighed, as he stepped back and released her. She glanced at him in triumph, until she saw the flames in his eyes. She gulped; as he snared her wrist and raised it to his lips, urbanely charming and yet threatening as a prowling Manticore. Hard lips pressed against her pulse, making it jump, her lungs seizing. With a triumphant smirk, he stepped back.
"Until later, Phyllida," he murmured before he left her, shaking and confused in the alcove.
Me: There, happy now?
Tom: It'll do.
Me: Everyone's a critic. Go slither off, Snake-boy.
Tom: (Again being very annoying and placing a kiss beneath my ear) Now we both know you don't want that, dearest.
Me: You and your godforsaken-
Tom: You said that already. Shows how high your IQ is if you can't even come up with new insults and snarky remarks.
Me: Says the idiot who gave his precious diary to Lucius Malfoy. Not your smartest move, 'darling'.
Tom: Don't rub it in, or…..
Me: Or what? You'll hiss at me? (Snorts derisively) You're rubbish at the whole' intimidate and threaten a person' thi-
(Author shuts up due to the fact she is slightly busy at the moment)
Tom: I don't need to threaten you, Princess. You're way too easy to shut up.
Me: Oh, go screw yourself, Riddle.
Tom: I don't need to. I've got you for that.
Please R&R! I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, bar Phyllida Raven, or any of its associated trademarks. I do own the plotline however.
With the plotline, in case there is any confusion, Hermione is dreaming she is Phyllida Raven, which she is, or used to be, if you catch my drift.
Tom: Don't give everything away!
RIDDLE, GET OUT OF MY HEAD!