Don't Smile At Me

Chapter 6 - A Change of Plan

Chapter 6: A Change of Plan

Tom Riddle stepped out of his car in the desolate parking lot, a bunch of white roses in one hand. He closed the car door and locked it, then trudged through the snow toward the rows of gravestones a few feet away. The late afternoon sun glinted brightly off the sea of pure white, glittering as he moved. It was a relatively small site, with perhaps two hundred or so graves lining the lawn. His family lay in the middle, with large, white marble tombstones to mark their resting place. Riddle stepped forward and placed the bouquet gently atop the stone, wiping away the snow that had covered the engravings. It was an annual visit, one that always stirred up memories of the past.

He blamed it all on that. That was why he had practically spilled his entire life story to Granger. No, Hermione. That had to be the reason. Riddle had never told anyone about his past. Only those from Little Hangleton knew of the Gaunt murders and his connection to them. It was a small town, and quite a drive away from the bustling city of Hogsmeade. Only Parkinson knew of his past, but not all the details, not nearly as much as he'd shared with Granger. Hermione. Somehow, he didn't regret it.

Hermione. She really was something else. He never would have expected to have a normal conversation with her, what with her absurdly rigid moral compass and bleeding heart and wild hair. But it was surprisingly easy to talk to her. Aside from her obvious initial attempt at learning more about the Gaunts, she didn't pry for information or pester for more details. She simply listened. She had even cried for him. Yet, he didn't think that she pitied him. She just felt so much. That was why she was championing a forest and park when it was a losing battle. That was why she had joined the Order of the Phoenix, and why she had started her own non-profit.

It was becoming increasingly harder to think of her as just a bug to be squashed. She was so much more. She was passionate and driven and stubborn and there was a light in her eyes that gleamed brighter than any star when she was talking about what she believed in. She had lost her own parents a few years ago, and she still managed to keep that light.

Riddle sighed and looked down at the tombstone. "I'm working on a case right now." He knew it was silly, but he still talked to their graves every year. "Well, I've basically finished with it. The hearing is tomorrow. I'm going to win." The words were hollow, and somehow left a twinge in his stomach. "She doesn't think I am, but she's a terrible optimist. You would have liked her, I think," he told his family. "She's a fighter. And smart. She always manages to put me in my place, funny enough." Only the wind responded, rustling through the empty branches of the trees around the little plot of land.

What was that twinge he felt? He had never felt it before when dealing with a case. Because that's simply all this was. Another job. He'd be onto a new one next week. But then why did it feel so different? The thought of victory actually left a faintly bitter taste in his mouth. It wasn't pity. He would never dare feel pity for her, the gods knew she would tear him up again. What was it then?

He hated to admit it, but deep down, in the trenches of his soul, Tom knew that she was right. He knew that what she was fighting for was likely better for the people of the town. But a mall complex would bring in more visitors, it would stimulate their economy more and provide another avenue of entertainment. The other benefits were undeniable. It simply came at the cost of tearing down one forest. So why did it feel like so much more?

Thinking about the look on Hermione's face if a tree were ever ripped out of the ground for commercial use was enough to make him reconsider. Those brown eyes would fill with so much hurt. For the first time in a long time someone seemed to actually care about him. Even if she was the last person on Earth who should. She had given him a genuine present with no ulterior motives. She had listened to him ramble about his past, and had felt sympathy for him and understood his struggles. He was quite sure neither Malfoy nor Nott would look twice at him had he not been in a powerful position at Borgin and Burke. Parkinson may like to banter with him here and there, but they had never had a conversation of any substance.