Chapter Text
It was a lovely day, really. It would have been far, far lovelier though, however, had Hermione not found herself in this predicament.
Hermione and the boys were no exception to the rush within the corridors, with everyone trying to make it from one end of the castle to the other in time for their next class. It was often difficult, if not impossible, to always band together as a group of four. Today was no different, save Hermione had found herself separated from the boys almost as soon as they had stepped into the crowd.
Again, she also did not expect Charlus Potter of all people to be a recurring antagonist in her time at Hogwarts. Yet, here she was, pulled into a small alcove by the Potter boy himself. He grinned at her, huffing for air. She twisted her wrist out of his hold, "this is highly-" she began, before the boy held his hands up in mock surrender, much like Harry.
She swallowed her anger instead.
"Look, I know this is weird, but I really need to know. Please, Hermione," his eyes glittered.
She pressed her lips together, and with a sigh responded, "listen, Potter. That boy was my friend. That boy is dead. I would appreciate it if you did not pester me about him."
He looked at her with widened eyes, taking a small step back. "I-"
"I don't think you should look for me again. I will be reporting this to our Heads of Houses," she cut in shortly, stepping out of the alcove.
It didn't take over a few seconds to spot the boys, who seemed to be balancing precariously on the wide skirting boards, scanning the crowds for the witch. She laughed at the serious expression on their faces. Theodore met her eyes first, and beckoned her over with an increasingly darkening scowl.
Hermione pushed her way into the crowd once more, doing her best to side step all the students all the way to the raised skirting boards the boys waited upon. "Where were you?" Abraxas scowled.
Hermione rolled her eyes, then gestured rudely towards the crowd. "God, 'Brax. Duh. Now, the dungeons?"
Tom nodded quickly, leading them all down wordlessly. Her heart raced at the thought of having lied to the boys. Sure, she had lied about most of her past and history, but never purposefully. Guilt rippled in her heart, but she hardly wished to have Tom hurt Harry's grandfather, as odd of a man as he was.
"Hermione," Tom called. She broke out of her stupor and looked at him, "will you be able to call another meeting with the Knights tonight?" his voice was low.
Hermione nodded. "Ugh, I cannot believe I have to see Goyle's face twice in a row," Abraxas mock gagged.
"Don't forget Dolohov," Theodore chimed in with a snigger.
Hermione looked at Tom wearily, heart easing only at the sight of his small smile.
"One of them is significantly worse," Tom added jokingly.
Theodore furrowed his eyebrow as if in deep thought, before finally agreeing, "you're right Tom, Dumbledore is worse."
Hermione snorted at the childish back and forth, unable to bring herself to defend the Professor.
The walk to the dungeon was animated, but not quite short. When they had finally arrived, nearly the entire class was already setting up their stations.
The quartet melted away into their regular set up, where Abraxas and Theodore took the station behind Tom and Hermione, one book open between each of the pairs. They were quiet while doing so, and Hermione took the opportunity to ruminate on her earlier encounter.
"Good afternoon, children," Slughorn's loud obnoxious voice interrupted with a loud and jolly clap. "I hope you have had an excellent day and are of sound mind because today we will be beginning the potions worth half our mid-term grades." Slughorn, ever the showman, walked towards his desk at the head of the room. It was neat, with only one vial stand placed in the centre, a gaudy magenta cloth hid it away from view, though. Slughorn, drawing out the anticipation, only kept his finngers pinching the tip of the cloth. "Any guesses?"
Tom leaned in towards her, "do you want to see something cool?" he whispered.
Hermione looked at his with barely masked confusion, but nodded nonetheless. At her agreement, Tom raised his hands. She watched him intently as he made a small flicking motion.
A small speck of glitter, much like the pixie dust she had seen in the Peter Pan films, shot out of his fingertips.
"No guesses? What a shame!" Slughorn chortled from the back, "we will begin brewing the Draught of Living death, also known as..."
Hermione drowned out the Professor's voice, but instead looking at the floating speck. It was a brilliant golden, and remained afloat. "What is it? A spell you're working on?" she asked curiously.
Tom laughed, "it's just a trick. Touch it."
She, as always, hardly had any reason to not listen. So, she prodded the speck, which sent a shock of electricity down her. Goosebumps ran down her skin. She gasped, pulling away, eyes widened at the childish trick.
Tom snorted, then quickly composed himself. "It is magic," he said.
"You don't say," Hermione responded dryly.
Tom rolled his eyes, "no, it really is just that- magic I expelled from my body."
Hermione gave him a silly look.
"Isn't that what all magic is?" Abraxas interjected from the back. Theodore smacked him.
Tom laughed, turning to look at the boys. He explained to Abraxas that it was not a spell, but a floating bit of his magic. And whilst Hermione stared at his back, speaking animatedly with the boys, a small grin visible on his face, she couldn't help but draw parallels. Tom's neatly kept curly hair, his smile, his eyes. Hermione thought of Charlus Potter.
If Tom sensed her apprehenshion when he'd returned- he did not comment on it. He smoothtly tuned back into the lesson, and the two quickly fell into a shared complementary pace.
They finished just moments before Theodore and Abraxas, leaving their cauldrons to simmer as they left the dungeons, the exhaustion of the day setting in.
"Good evening, Knights," Tom greeted, his voice stern. "It is oh so lovely to see you all," he smirked. Hermione shifted the weight from one foot to another.
"I have called upon you for a very, very interesting reason," he continued into the silence.
All around Hermione the Knights stood in silent respect. They listened intently, staring at Tom despite lacking the confidence to speak to him. "I have most recently come across a funny piece of literature, and I do not believe I quite understand."
The room remained silent.
Tom continued, "it was quite a peculiar read, and despite my apprehension. I wish for the personal library books you may own—anything and everything in regards to my ancestor, Slytherin."
Far from the back, a little boy named Orpheus, raised his hand quivering, "m-my Lord, what is it you are searching for? J- I just think I could help then," he cast his eyes downwards, shaking.
"The Chamber of Secrets."