Misunderstood Maledictions | Tomione

The Start - Part 2

The Slytherin didn't even bother to hide the suspicion that jumped back to his eyes. "Why?" he asked guardedly, no doubt remembering the several other instances in which his skin and Hermione's had made physical contact.
Delightedly, gleefully, Hermione realized that her best response was a question that she had been dying, dying to ask for weeks, but had never had the proper opportunity. Now, though, she seized her chance.

Giving Tom Riddle her most charming smile, feeling her eyes light up, her one dimple even sliding into place — that being a miracle in itself— she inquired in the most innocent, most charismatic, most sincere-sounding voice she had ever used on anyone, "Tom... Don't you trust me?"

Riddle's wary expression froze on his face. Thinking back on it, Hermione honestly couldn't remember ever seeing anyone go as still as quickly as Riddle had just then.
For at least a minute their breathing, the quiet whoooosh of the breeze, the distant student howls, the chattering winter birds, and the occasional heavy thud as a pile of snow fell from a tree branch to the ground were the only sounds audible to both of them.

Hermione's mind wandered back to her earlier years, her naive years when she had had no knowledge of the wonders of the wizarding world, wandered to her Muggle school literature classes where she had readily memorized the four conflicts of the human person: Man vs. nature, man vs. society, man vs. man...
and man vs. self.

She knew that her last rhetorical question had thrown another clash into the Heir of Slytherin's mentality. By going along with her original request, Tom Riddle would be giving out an extremely personal statement. Yes, he'd touch her hand, or no, he wouldn't?

Did he trust her or not?

Slowly, ever so slowly, with his grey, piercing gaze never losing sight of her face, Riddle stuck his Honeydukes bag into his cloak pocket and began to tug off the fingers of his right glove, removing them one by one. He took such a long time, Hermione wondered if he was repeatedly re-convincing himself, with each finger, to do what he was about to.
Finally, the dark glove was off. And with a final intense gaze into her expectant eyes, Riddle extended his hand.

Hermione watched, not moving an inch, her breath surprisingly coming in quicker, more vigorous bursts, as he reached out to her. His fingers hovered for a split second, indecisive... until they gave in and brushed against her soft fingertips.
At the exact moment Riddle made contact with her, she firmly closed her hand around his, waiting for the Strawberry Surprise to kick in. It didn't disappoint.
Almost immediately, his eyes squeezed shut, and a small, hardly noticeable jerk passed through him. Just as quickly, his eyelids fluttered open again, and he seemed a bit disorientated, his hand gripping hers more tightly.

"What..." His unsteady gaze finally landed on her, and he seemed almost surprised to see her standing next to him. "Was that yours?"
Hermione nodded, a smile breaking out on her face despite the overcast, dismal skies. Flicking a few snowflakes off her nose, she asked curiously, "What'd you see?"

Riddle distantly glanced off toward the forest, his eyes not seeming to stare at any one spot in particular, and caught his breath. "I saw... you, but you were younger, much younger, and a woman who looked like she could be... your mother?". Hermione nodded, suddenly grateful that her mum had always been one to tan easily and retain the colouring all year long. She had a vague idea of which happy childhood memory of hers the Strawberry Surprise toffee had given to Riddle, but she signalled for him to continue.

"Your mother, and, judging by the lack of space, your entire family was there, I assume... It looked to be Christmas..." Riddle furrowed his dark brow. "You were decorating, singing, eating... doing whatever else it is that people like yourself do at parties..."
'People like yourself...' Purebloods, you mean. Hermione couldn't help but give a little dignified snort at his last comment. If only he knew the truth.