Breaking Hermione

Defence Against The Dark Arts

Hermione

I pocketed the galleon, directly disobeying Tom by keeping it distinctly separate from the others he had given me instead of concealing it, although I wasn't entirely sure why I had done so. This was Dark Magic. This couldn't be good. Anything to do with Tom Riddle was never truly a good thing, even if it appeared so at first. Even if it were presented as a gift. I knew that. So why did I feel so comfortable, so safe, returning to Hogwarts with him? Had he charmed me out of my mind? Had I lost my senses? I was curious to know if Tom had provided me an open door to use as a way of communicating using a less important, insignificant galleon of no apparent importance.

He had multiple ways to communicate with me. The only tyrant governing the School was him. What did he expect could happen where I needed to become more diligent, and resort to secret means of communication? Who from this time could pose a threat to Tom? I was thinking over every tiny thing he said to me. All of our past conversations. I began combing through them so meticulously I didn't notice that Headmaster Dippet was standing in the Great Hall, anticipating the both of us. After I had entered, Tom turned, closing the door of the Great Hall in our wake. Manually, he slid the bolt across, and a dormant fear sparked within me, searing my consciousness.

Trapped.

"Miss Granger." Headmaster Dippet inclined his head. "Mr Riddle."

"Headmaster." Tom had clearly expected this, considering he didn't look taken aback at all. On the contrary, he simply stared levely back at the Headmaster as if coldly surprised but unaffected overall. This was no revelation, Tom had never respected Headmaster Dippet through all of his schooling years. He was quite vocal about that fact. There were fair few authorities he did, as he considered himself so highly above them all. I watched as the pair exchanged a few amicable words between them, and before I could fathom what was even happening Headmaster Dippet had turned to address me. Yet all I could focus on was Tom in my peripheral vision. Watching. Waiting.

For what?

"Miss Granger. If you would follow me back to my office. I would like a private word."

The Headmaster gave me a meaningful look. I knew at once what it meant.

Alone.

I looked over at Tom, who looked mildly amused at the sight of fear in my eyes. That response was enough to tell me I was overreacting.

Out of the three of us, I was the only one shaken by the situation. Startled. My emotions had been in overdrive for a long length of time due to splicing Dark Magic, abusing myself just to achieve more power all in the name of greatness. I looked back at Tom, finding him still standing there, observing me with that sharp, analytical look that told me immediately that he was reading deeply into things. Reading deeply into me. I would know that expression, after all. I often wore it myself.

"Of course, Headmaster." I tried to act nonchalant, unaffected like Tom, but my hands were beginning to shake. I could feel the presence of fear stir deep within me. Uncertainty. In this world of Magic, I liked stability. Certainty. Which so often came in the form of a tall, dark-

"Hermione. I'll meet you back in the Common Room when you return." Tom's low voice registered in my ear, his tall form now standing before me, those wicked hands lingering on my waist in a way that instantly commanded all of my attention. My heart was pounding. He was all I could see. He was all I could comprehend. He damn well knew it, too.

He left quite an impression, from his appearance, down to his manner. Even his cologne. Yet in his words I was more transfixed on the knowing, his certainty that I was safe. That I would return. It gave me the subliminal assurance to leave him, following Headmaster Dippet up to the third floor. Tom must have fallen back, as I didn't see him following after us down any of the Halls. He was smart enough to have the tact to allow us through, undisturbed. As I walked, I couldn't help but wonder why. Or what the nature of this spontaneous meeting at the later hours of an inconspicuous night could mean.