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Tom Riddle didn’t quite know what to think of the unusual witch, but Hermione Dagworth-Granger certainly had caught his attention. Again and again, and wouldn’t stop catching his attention.
It’s not that he was uninterested in witches, he just largely felt as though they were a distraction from his true goals, and often watched his Knights make utter fools of themselves just to get a pretty smile.
And Dagworth-Granger‘s smile certainly was very pretty, but he had no intention of making a fool of himself.
As Head Boy he had been assigned the task of escorting her around the castle and helping her familiarize herself with its comings and goings. With both the Muggle war and Grindelwald at large, there had been several transplant students during his time, but she was the only one that never seemed frightened of her predicament. Most of the war orphans were also largely behind on the curriculum due to their insufficient homeschooling, but, begrudgingly, he had to admit that she was simply brilliant. Nearly an intellectual equal, in fact.
The only thing that marked her as a war orphan was the damage to her mind. Well, more accurately, her memory. The girl had no memories of her life at all, he had gently checked for himself just to be certain, and had simply become aware mid duel with Grindelwald’s forces, surrounded by fire and dueling fiercely while wearing only her cotton night dress.
The memory of her bare toes on the frosty grass as she fought and ran for her life had troubled him, and he couldn’t quite understand why. Even weeks later, it still gave him a sharp twisting sensation in his chest.
“The funniest thing happened today,” she said in a lighthearted tone, breaking him from his rumination. They were standing in a covered archway of the courtyard, watching a late summer rainstorm roll over the castle grounds. “Professor Dumbledore held me back after Transfiguration.”
“Yes,” he replied, as he watched her start to toe off her shoes with a sense of bewilderment. He had waited for her outside of the classroom, so of course he was aware.
She smiled prettily at his pinched expression. “Would you like to guess what he told me, Tom?”
Tom.
Typically he abhorred the common muggle name, but the way it sounded on her lips…
He cleared his throat. “I am certain you will tell me whether I guess or not, Dag—.”
“Hermione,” she cut across him as she rolled down and yanked off first her left and then her right knee sock.
He also hated being interrupted, but perhaps it wasn’t so bad when it came with sparkly eyed smiles from a funny little witch.
“Hermione,” Tom said, feeling his lips curl into a smile without him giving them permission to do so. “Why don’t you just tell me what it is that Professor Dumbledore said.”
She beamed at him and the sight gave him the sharp twisty feeling in his chest and made something roil in his stomach.
“Today is my birthday. I had no idea,” she said earnestly.
Tom sucked his teeth, unsure of what to say, but acutely aware that he was the only person she had chosen to share that information with. He could at least extend pleasantries.
He gave her his most charming smile, the one he used to gain favor with professors and the barmatron at the Three Broomsticks. “Happy birthday, Hermione.”
She scrutinized him for a moment and cocked her head to the side. “Hmmm, that was almost a real smile.”
Before he could respond, she stepped out from under the archway, taking several steps out into the soggy grass, and turned her face upwards. Most witches would squeal and flee from the raindrops, but Hermione certainly wasn’t most witches.
Tom watched as she closed her eyes and smiled to herself. It gave him the same sort of hollow longing feeling that he had in his younger years when he had been forced to return to Wool’s Orphanage for the summer holidays, when he would miss Hogwarts dearly.
Beautiful.
“What’s the point of living forever if you never have any fun?” She called out to him.
Yes, she was beautiful, and decidedly odd. This was not the first time she had made such a remark. In fact Hermione regularly made comments about things she truly had no business knowing. It had been the thing that had caused him to search her mind in the first place, and one of the reasons he did not mind his escorting duties.
He was nearly convinced that the funny little witch had some form of Sight, and intended to bring her into his service eventually. Due to the notoriety of her circumstances, and Dumbledore’s keen interest in her, he just need to go about it delicately.
“I have fun,” he smirked.
Hermione turned her face away from the rain to give him an incredulous look, then rolled her eyes. “Looming about the castle surrounded by cronies doesn’t count as fun, Tom.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, but he already knew it didn’t have the desired effect because the corners of his mouth kept trying to twitch upwards. “I do not loom.”
A carefree laugh burst from her as she turned her face back up towards the sky and wiggled her toes into the grass. “If you say so.”
Tom could not help but compare the frivolous image before him to that of her first known memory, where she had dueled, bled, and killed to save her own life. As… appealing as it was to see her use her power, he found that he preferred to see her like this.
“You’ll join me eventually. I thought that you might today,” Hermione said with exaggerated sadness, before slipping into a full, wide eyed pout. “It is my birthday after all, Tom.”
His lower jaw dropped just a touch at the blatant attempt to manipulate him.
You’ll join me eventually.
The words rattled around in his brain as he tried to make sense of them. Was that the Sight or over confidence speaking?
Either way, she was saying she hoped he would be with her, and that was quite pleasing to hear. After pondering it for a minute longer, he decided it must be the Sight.
If divine prophecy wanted them together, who was he to argue? Magic had never led him astray before, and he was certain that it would not start doing so now.
Tom held her gaze as he removed his outer robes and loosened his tie. By the time he was removing his shoes her pout had vanished, and she was biting her lower lip in an effort to fight her smile. She was also slowly stepping away from him.
He wasn’t a complete fool, so he bent to cuff his trousers before he stepped out into the sodden grass. Heavy raindrops immediately began to soak him, but he was undeterred.
A beaming smile broke across her face as he stalked towards her, and just before she darted out into the grounds, she taunted him. “I bet you can’t catch me!”
Tom couldn’t help but laugh as he surged forward, giving chase. She may not realize it immediately, but the funny little witch never stood a chance.
He always got the things he wanted.