11|| Knight to F3
If not for her intentions in the 1940s and the key players of this time, Hermione would dread the Slug Club dinner more than any other aspect of her time-travel. However, just the sheer fact that Tom Riddle resides down the hall, soon to be Lord Voldemort, has Hermione prioritizing her dislikes and taking to the dinner. She wears the black velvet dress, it's v-neck conservative though tempting to reveal cleavage and the skirt falling to her knees. She wears her high black socks of her uniform to prevent a chill before pulling half her hair up and adorning the Ministry woman's pearl earrings. Hermione takes extra care in hiding and warding the Time-Turner within her room, this being the first time it is off her body. It seems like she is parting with a portion of her soul, but Tom Riddle could probably assure her that it this act is far more painful.
Moving to the Common Room with the intention of being precisely on-time, other students look to her with slight praise. Despite the war-torn appearance that seems to follow her everywhere, the girl looks radiant in the darkness of her clothing, the men looking admirably and wantingly to her covered body. Of course, Hermione sees this, but she does nothing in response, accepting such looks from Slytherin teenagers.
Little trouble meets her as she arrives to Slughorn's classroom, entering behind some Ravenclaw prefect and slinking into the darkness like a trained assassin. From what she can tell, there are about one-dozen attendees to the feast, mainly Slytherins though a few are from other Houses. Two Gryffindors and two Ravenclaws stand in one corner, and there is a stunning lack of Hufflepuffs.
When the heroine enters the room, Tom Riddle is speaking in quiet tones with Lestrange and Avery, the only other Knight attendees to the Slug Club. And though the Dark Lord has previously zoned out on the conversation, watching an inebriated Slughorn, the boy's eyes latch onto the fetching form of Hermione Granger as she moves in. His expression towards her differs from all other males, as could be expected from a cold-hearted wizard, thinking over his future plans for Hermione with a sudden smirk. He follows her form easily, Hermione's eyes latching onto those of Clarence before her feet send her rushing to the Head Girl's side, a sense of comfort in the dark dungeons.
"Tom?" Lestrange asks, noticing Tom's focus, not on himself but on something else entirely.
The Dark Lord turns to him with a slow turn, eyes threatening and charming as ever as he answers with, "Yes?"
"Orion's been informed of the meeting," Lestrange repeats, prompting Tom to nod at the two before looking to the remaining dozen attendees around the room. Avery and Lestrange exchange a wary glance, knowing Riddle to be plotting, yet recognizing his focus revolves around the only female Knight. Whether they're worried for themselves, Tom, or Hermione, no one can be sure.
"Come and take your seats," Slughorn calls gaily from the head seat of the large table.
Clary pulls Hermione along eagerly, tugging her into a seat near the middle of the masses. And though Hermione intends to gesture for Abraxas's company on her other side, Tom Riddle swoops into the chair to her left, sparing Hermione not one glance. She cannot help the huff of irritation that escapes her lips, overwhelmed by the pressure of the future. Not only must she deal with the Dark Lord as a dinner partner, but now she has to act as the buffer between Clary and Tom, once again.
Hermione dissolves into silence as food appears and the attendees take to eating. Slughorn's questions revolve around familial ties, poking for connections and proudly exclaiming his own ties to power. Eventually, Hermione allows herself to zone-off from the conversation, figuring Slughorn will not ask her of her parents given Dippet's warning at the beginning of the semester. She takes to thinking of her friends back home, a smile ghosting her cheeks in a small bit of sentimentality that's been hidden away since arriving here.
A jab to the ribs from her right side has Hermione reeling to look at Clarence, only to see the entirety of the table staring at her. Blushing brightly at the attention, in a way that is becoming of her face yet new to Tom Riddle's eyes, Hermione obviously attempts to hide her confusion at their attention. And, at this, Riddle can only grin, humoured.
"I am sorry, Professor, but can you repeat yourself?" Hermione promptly and properly requests, her easability in grace obviously due to experience.
"I was asking about the vocation of your parents," Slughorn responds, sounding slightly bitter towards her ignorance of his words though it is likely the liquor talking.
Freezing at his words, and not for the reasons she's explained, Hermione fights to overcome the shock of his prodding, responding with, "They were Aurors."
"Impressive," Slughorn quips, his grin returning as he asks, "And now?"
It comes as a shock to both Riddle and Hermione when Tom visibly tenses in anger at the questions of Slughorn. Overcome with beating fury, Tom feels a direct need to choke the man for his utter ignorance and idiocracy, nevermind his pride. And though it may seem unfounded in Hermione's wary eyes, Tom knows his reaction to be a sure consequence of Slughorn's lack of slyness and his direct need to protect the only valuable follower he has.
"Now, they are dead," Hermione responds without a hint of emotion, her mask firm with the struggles of the future and becoming more convincing to all the watching parties. Of course, only Tom knew of her parents' fate, and thus, the entirety of the room freezes at the coldness of the female and utter despair of the news.
"Miss Granger, I am so sorry for your loss," Slughorn says, looking with warm eyes at the woman who simply wants to scoff at the professor. He's not even apologizing for his own noseiness.
"It is no matter," Hermione responds with equal composure, dropping her head in her act as she mutters. "I just hope Grindelwald is killed soon enough.
If possible, the awkward silence becomes even more unbearable with the reignition of conversation moments later, Slughorn avoiding Hermione for the remainder of the night. From across the table, Abraxas looks pityingly upon his female friend, a look she despises for weakness. Clary, to her side, takes to making silly comments for the remainder of their dinner, no notion of pity in her voice and making Hermione appreciate her all the more.
Eventually, near an hour later, the room clears from company and Hermione is left to her lonely departure, Clary and Abraxas having run off minutes ago. Having no fear for her safety, Hermione happily takes to walking alone back to the Common Room, her shoes resounding through the corridors with a melancholy tap. And though she's as sly as humanly possible, given her tasks in the future, Hermione is beaten again by the enigma of the dark wizard, a pale hand reaching out to pull her into the shadows of an alcove adorning the wall. Clothed in a simply ring and cold to the touch, Hermione knows it to be Tom before his face even becomes present in that darkened space.
"Slughorn is an idiot, an imbecile. He should never have brought that up," the boy remarks angrily, his hand gripping to Hermione's forearm with present power and darkness. And yet, the grip is not as surprising as the words of the Dark Lord. If she did not know better, Hermione would have expected Tom to be expressing concern, and yet, she knows his reaction to be one of darker intentions. She watches him warily.
"No, he should not have," Hermione responds slowly, his shadowed face looking blank to her eye though emotions surge beneath the darkness of his irises, the color indistinguishable though not red. "Is there anything you want, Tom?"
They are rash words, Hermione knows, and yet, she is overcome by fiery emotions from the last few hours. And, as she expected, Tom's jaw clenches in anger and his eyes spark red, tempted to curse her for such a loose tongue yet choosing to only grip her arm tighter, bruisingly. "I need you to inform the others of our meeting tomorrow."
The meeting of the Knights of Walpurgis had been cancelled days prior dues to the Slug Club dinner, and yet, it comes as no surprise to the girl that Tom intends to resurrect the meeting this week. "Very well, Tom. Consider it done."
The words are precise and respectful, reaffirming her devotion to his cause and inferiority to the Dark Lord holding her. But it comes as a surprise to the girl as he keeps his grip, his eyes battling internally as he furrows his eyebrows in question. Who is Hermione Granger?
"Is there anything else?" Hermione asks calmly, though with a wary tone to her voice as Tom recognizes his grip on her arm, letting go slowly and without care for her bruising skin.
"No. You may go," Tom says, watching her every movement as Hermione takes to her previous homeward path, shoes tapping down the hallway. She moves with the grace of a snake, the dress slithering around her knees. And yet, he sees the tension of her muscles, like a lion ready to pounce on prey. To Tom Riddle, the girl is an infuriating enigma of cunning and bravery, causing his blood to boil and eyes to linger in redness. He storms off in the opposite direction, intending to torture someone if only to calm his fire.
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The next morning, having spent many hours in the library during the previous day, Hermione finishes her studies by the earlier hour of nine. And though she is tempted to just return to the library for necessary reading on horcruxes, Hermione turns to her new task of informing the Knights of the meeting this night. She moves from her room in graceful strides.
Finding Mulciber, Nott, and Rosier in the Common Room, Hermione is sly in informing them of the plan, quiet enough to hide from the prying eyes that follow her wherever she travels. After the subtle nod of their heads, she moves to the Great Hall, finding Lestrange and Avery eating breakfast though they become more interested in Hermione' presence as soon as she walks. Despising the attention of these two specifically, she makes quick work of informing them, sitting only for seconds as she butters come toast. And--given Lestrange's wariness towards her--Hermione is not surprised to see him looking at her strangely, eventually nodding at her words once Avery sends him a look. She flees quickly after that, eating as she goes, off to search the library for Dolohov.
But, as she probably should expect, Hermione does not gaze upon the boy in the library, but flying at the Quidditch pitch, visible from the windows of the stairwell. Huffing slightly at the reminder that Dolohov's the Slytherin beater, Hermione turns on her heel to retrace her steps down the stairs, only to run directly into the elusive Abraxas.
"Woah!" she mutters in surprise, almost falling back before he grabs and forearms and steadies Hermione, grinning widely.
"Careful there, Hermione. I won't always be here to catch you," the Malfoy heir remarks, prompting Hermione to huff in irritation at his words, needing no one to help her succeed. But, overcome again in her duties to the future and consequently Tom Riddle, Hermione takes down the stairs, gesturing for Abraxas's company. They move outside with quick feet.
"We have a meeting tonight," Hermione informs her genuine friend with a note of seriousness, his head nodding in understanding. "I've been tasked with telling everyone."
"You never explained to me why I had to go out with Clary," Abraxas remarks, looking to Hermione with a hint of skepticism, only now realizing how much she's hidden from his ears in this semester of companionship.
"I needed to speak to Tom in private," the girl replies, turning to him with a mischievous grin. "And besides, I think she likes you."
"Well, if her kissing me is not a sign of infatuation, I do not know what is," Abraxas quips with humour in his tone, but prompting Hermione to stall in a note of serious question.
"She kissed you?" Hermione emphasizes, turning to Abraxas with complete shock at the brazenness of Clary.
"Pretty fervently. Not that I was complaining," Abraxas snidely remarks, grinning as if proud of his charm and setting Hermione into a snarl.
"Do not play her, Brax. She's a nice girl," Hermione harshly commands, continuing her strides to the Quidditch stands as Abraxas follows a few feet behind her.
"I do not plan on it. When you get her alone, she's not nearly as irritating," Malfoy says, not looking completely enamoured, but affectionate towards the thought of the Head Girl. Hermione turns to smile back at her friend, moving easily into the Quidditch stadium before gesturing to a watching Dolohov to fly down. He does so with foreign grace, his face emotionless as ever, as he takes to hovering near the two new Knights, his eyes looking mainly to Malfoy.
"Yes?" his accented voice rises, looking bored by the two.
"Meeting tonight in the R.O.R.," Hermione remarks quietly, keeping up her air of secrecy despite the lack of any audience nearby.
"Alright," Dolohov acknowledges, flying back to the skies without a word.
"Well, that was easier than I was expecting," Hermione mutters to herself, then turning to Abraxas with an ease that communicates the end of her task-focused vibe. "Are you doing anything?"
"I think I am meeting Clarence in the library soon. You're welcome to join," Abraxas offers, prompting her to chuckle slightly at the mere notion of joining them.
"No thank you," she responds, turning on her heel and leaving the boy to his lingering eyes on the Quidditch overhead. And though Hermione is tempted to go to the library, now that she's completed both academic and 'extracurricular' tasks, she knows she cannot. Not only would it be rude to do so given Brax's invitation, but she has no desire to see him and Clary alone. It might just be more scarring than Lavender and Ron, she realizes, wincing.
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It comes as no surprise that Hermione and Abraxas are the first to arrive at the meeting that night, a usual occurrence for the female and often dragging the Malfoy heir along. They chat in quiet tones upon the right-facing couch, Orion Black and Lestrange entering soon afterwards and taking to the couch opposite them, like a challenge to Hermione. The time-traveller eyes the boy wearily from her seat, the others walking in as the minute arrives to start the meeting. And, right on time per the usual routine, Tom sweeps in last, exactly as the clock chimes midnight.
What does come as a surprise, however, is the boy's demeanor. Usually, the Dark Lord is the epitome of seriousness and darkness, but today, he exemplifies a wide grin and mischievous eyes, not always good attributes yet better than the usual. It is clear to everyone that the Head Boy is up to something as he stands in front of the fire, but it is only explained as he scans the room, finally landing on Hermione's form.
"Hermione, come stand next to me." To say she is startled might be an understatement, but it does not prompt his suspicion as Tom expected this exact reaction. Dropping her head in respect, the girl stands in her perfected school uniform, moving to Tom's side with grace and avoiding the stares of others and Tom himself. But, taking to his side, away from his direct and penetrating gaze, she looks upward, catching the wariness of the room as she stands to the right of the fire, the only Knight standing next to the leader.
"Nott, what is it you have to report?" Tom asks, as if he did not just make such a significant command.
"The delivered artifact to the Department of Mysteries was indeed what Abraxas claimed it to be: a Time-Turner," Nott manages, still alternating his gaze to Hermione on occasion as Tom becomes the only one to understand his own motives. And though both Abraxas and Tom are looking for it, Hermione does not flinch at the mention of the device, not even showing emotion. She will not be caught again.
"Malfoy, from now on you will be working with Nott and Mulciber to collect data from the Ministry," Tom orders.
"Yes, my Lord," her friend says, dropping his face to avoid eying Hermione with concern. It would only serve to hurt them both.
"Anything else, Mulciber?" Tom asks, still unmoved from his upright and proper position, feet from Hermione yet almost united with her in leadership.
"Grindelwald has been spotted in northern Scotland. People suspect that he is recruiting followers up there for his attack on England," Mulciber remarks, his eyes switching to Hermione's figure along with the entirety of the room. Flinching fakely, Hermione looks to the ground with a refirming cold expression, only then raising her face to the others. It would seem that the 'news' of her parents has travelled the school, not that this is surprising given the infamous rumor mills of Hogwarts.
"Interesting," Tom mutters, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he continues staring forward, away from Hermione. Looking up at Nott, he asks, "I assume that is all?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"I see you've brought Orion," Tom remarks to the proud Lestrange, only then revolving his eyes to the strong Black child. "Are you willing to do my bidding, to protect my secrets, and work for the end of blood-equality?"
"Yes, my Lord," the boy voices, strength and pride evident and prompting Tom to grin widely.
"Good. I expect much from you, Black," Tom says, turning to Lestrange again with a look of seriousness: "Continue your task." And, looking to the remainder of the group with his eyes firm in conviction, he says "From now on, Hermione we be my messenger. Anything that she tells you comes directly from me. I expect you to listen to her and respect her. Understood?"
"Yes, my Lord," they chorus, Hermione having to hide her confused expression behind the veil of her coldness. Obviously, Tom has made some decision about her, but given the wily ways of the boy, she does not know if this is due to his trust in her or lack thereof.
"You may leave," Tom concludes, prompting the male Knights to shuffle from the room silently, many questions stirring in their minds. Slower in their movements, they all wonder why Tom failed to perform the Cruciatus today, this being a first for many years. And, to the same extent, why has Tom given Hermione such power?
But only Tom Riddle knows these things, the torturing aspect of the questions unrecognized in his mind. With all the plots forming in regards to Hermione, he's more focused on the future of his Knights than that of their present. He may be a powerful and devoted wizard, but even Voldemort can be distracted.
"My Lord," Hermione voices, lingering near the fireplace where she previously stood and struggling with her curiosity and bravery. "I hope you do not think it is brazen of me to ask, but why have you chosen me for this task?"
Tom Riddle, his face illuminated beautifully in the green flames of the fire, turns to Hermione Granger with a wide grin that does not explain the spread of his plotting. With his high eyebrows and cheekbones, nevermind his chiseled jaw, masked in shadows, Hermione's breath catches in her throat, fearful yet entranced.
"You will be influential in the coming years--you will have power in the Ministry," Tom says with complete conviction. "Hermione, you are obviously of higher worth than the other followers. Take this as a reward, and one I hope you will repay in the years to come. I expect great things from you."
"Thank you, my Lord. I will not fail you," Hermione somehow manages to catch her breath, heart racing at the progress she's miraculously made, whether or not Tom does trust her.
"No, you will not," Riddle seemingly threatens, turning back to the flames in a signal for her departure, which she does so with gratefulness.
And yet, his 'threat' was not so much of a threat but an act of faith by this time. It is clear to the young Voldemort that Hermione Granger has an untapped potential, great magical power surging through her veins and underneath her smooth skin. He knows her to be capable of great feats, maybe excluding flying from what she's said. And though he is alone to his thoughts, imagination rampant and growing, Tom can only grin at the thought of the girl's flying weakness. He turns from the fire and past the couches, turning the Room to nothingness as he moves from the door, faithful.
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