#180 in Fanfiction || #1 in Hermione ||
In the language of literature, there exists a seemingly-concrete, antonymous relationship between good and evil, light and dark, hero and monster. And yet, we often disregard the transition from one to anothe...
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"I am far too skilled at detecting lies for traitors to go unnoticed," Tom remarks, finally meeting her gaze and this time, she does not back down, "though I still find you suspicious."
"Anyone with a brain would," she says simply, expecting as much given the history of Voldemort and all that she knows of his intentions, from Harry and her own experiences.
No more words are exchanged as they move into the Great Hall, taking seats across from one another and near neither the Knights nor Abraxas. They eat silently, heads downward and hiding their true personas under the pretense of eating and a comfortable silence. But after some time, Tom looks up to Hermione, watching her with a renewed coldness, yet curiosity at the unfitting consciousness living in the sweet-looking female. Everything about her--from the untamed hair to the unmade skin--screams of a bookworm who's never once applied her literary smarts to the world, innocent to experience. And yet, when she meets his eyes with an equal curiosity, Tom knows Hermione's seen near everything in her years of life, a stunning thought and one of great potential in the tasks he has for her.
"Is there something on my face?" Hermione asks, almost gruffly in her surprise at Tom's attention. And to the extent that her words are firm, the infinitesimal softness in Tom's expression is wiped away by the cold demeanor of the Dark Lord.
"Who did you get your hair from? It's horribly frizzy," Tom covers, prompting Hermione to scowl at him in a look typically reserved for the Knights and never for him. And though it really ought to infuriate the Dark Lord, he cannot help grinning at the petty expression and his ability to easily infuriate Hermione.
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"My mother always said that curls show intelligence," she responds proudly prompting Tom to release a humoured snort, surprising Hermione greatly. Who knew that Tom Riddle, the proper prick, could snort so lowly?
"What does frizz show then?" he counters, looking thoroughly humoured with her irritation.
"Courage."
"Well, you have enough courage for all of Gryffindor if that is the case." If it had been anyone else in Slytherin, there would have been laughter at his words. And yet, given Hermione's background, she only scowls deeper at the boy in front of her. She is a Gryffindor, and she is proud.
