Taming The Serpent [Tom Riddle/Tomione]

18. Mistletoe

Hermione had always thought people were exaggerating when they called her an insufferable know-it-all. Something insufferable cannot be bore; it is not tolerable in any way, shape, or form. Hermione now knew that Tom Riddle, was an insufferable know-it-all.

Despite the very heavy load of homework that the Professors had given for the holidays, Hermione was in no mood to work while she sat at her usual table at the very back of the Library, watching glumly as Riddle wrote his now fifth piece of parchment, whereas she hadn't even completed her second.

The Library was hardly less crowded now than during term-time; it seemed to have shrunk slightly too, as its inhabitants were being so much rowdier than usual – perhaps it had something to do with the missing Librarian, who had taken the day off. Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds now. Once in a while, Hermione would take occasional glances at the boy a couple tables across from her, and each time she did though, she felt like hexing herself all the way back to her time. What was it that made him so...irresistible?  So appealing to her eye? 

Students would be returning the very next day and classes would be starting the day after, and Hermione was drowning in work, she had yet  to complete. Never in her life has this happened to her...She just couldn't focus. She grimaced at the thought of getting a lower grade and almost felt like crying in desperation.

"Aaargh!"

There was a sudden awkward silence in the room when Hermione let out a loud frustrated groan: everyone had stopped and glared at her like she was some madwoman. Hermione sent her Transfiguration book flying in panic, looking at all the faces embarrassingly;

"Sorry!" she mumbled, as a few Slytherins (she recognized amongst them the Carrows siblings, and Lestrange) snickered quietly. One by one, the judging faces ignored her and returned to their previous chattering, raising the volume on the Library once again.

She stood from her chair and searched around the floor in panic, trying to find the book so she could finish at least one of her essays.

"Looking for this?" sounded the voice she least expected to hear. Hermione turned slowly and stared at him, her fingers absentmindedly clawing the tip of her wand. "Yes." Said Hermione in a muffled voice. "Give it back."

"I don't think so, Lockhart" said Riddle. "Where are your manners?"

She reached for the brown leathered book with a golden star on the cover, but Riddle was faster than her as he held it above his head, where she could barely reach it – even if she were to stand on the tip of her toes.

"Well," said Riddle, not looking at Hermione, who had taken a few steps back, and stood glaring at him with her arms crossed above her chest. He fiddling with the hem of the cover, tracing each letter distractedly. "Until you ask nicely for it, I won't give it back."

"I don't quite understand why you're acting like this, Riddle" said Hermione impatiently. "What are we? Eight?"

His voice was carefully controlled, but Hermione could sense his anger. "Well, no we're not eight." He paused to glare at her, "but I know what you are... You're a liar. "

"...And I hate liars."

Hermione's face crumpled, but Riddle's fury was now apparent; his eyes were narrowed on her, the red tinge adorning the dark colour of his pupils was back, and Hermione suddenly felt scared for her safety.

"I never lied to you." she said uncomfortably, "I never told you I was a pureblood, or a halfblood have I? "

He threw her the book, which she barely caught, his hard glare never leaving her. "Give it back Riddle." She was now on the verge of a panic attack; every muscle in her body ached, her breathing was embarrassingly loud and uneven, her hands were trembling not with fear, but desperation. But Tom... Tom stood quietly in front of her with a blank expression.

"I saved you ", she grunted. "From those dementors."

"Saved me?" spat Riddle.

"Yes, saved you." said Hermione rapidly, "And do not tell me I only did it to save myself as well, because that's not partially true—"

"Then why did you do it? Do enlighten me!" said Tom. They were standing alone at the back of the room, behind a high shelf full of books about Dragons. Most students had left by now, the two of them and a couple Gryffindors were the only ones at the Library.

"Because I wanted to help!" shrieked Hermione. "Because believe it or not, I did not want to see you harmed. And I don't know why and it disgusts me because... because..."

"Because?" Pressed Riddle.

"You're vile" She whispered. "And I must be out of my mind." Hermione threw the large book on top of a nearby table and sighed, running her hands through her tired facial structure. In that moment, Hermione felt something soft and cold touch the skin in her forehead, and she glanced up quickly to see a small Mistletoe magically appearing above their heads.

Riddle had moved closer. Hermione's brain seemed to have been stunned. She could not think. A tingling sensation was spreading through her, paralyzing her arms, legs and brain. He was much too close. Much too close to her liking...

"Do you know the story behind Mistletoe, LockHart?" She shook her head slowly and uneasily.

"For its supposedly mystical power mistletoe has long been at the center of many muggle folklore." Said Riddle. "One is associated with the Goddess Frigga. The story goes that Mistletoe was the sacred plant of Frigga, goddess of love and the mother of Balder, the god of the summer sun. Balder had a dream of death which greatly alarmed his mother, for should he die, all life on earth would end. In an attempt to keep this from happening, Frigga went at once to air, fire, water, earth, and every animal and plant seeking a promise that no harm would come to her son. Balder now could not be hurt by anything on earth or under the earth. But Balder had one enemy, Loki, god of evil and he knew of one plant that Frigga had overlooked in her quest to keep her son safe."

"What happened then?" asked Hermione curiously.

"It grew neither on the earth nor under the earth, but on apple and oak trees. It was lowly mistletoe. So Loki made an arrow tip of the mistletoe, gave to the blind god of winter, Hoder, who shot it, striking Balder dead. The sky paled and all things in earth and heaven wept for the sun god. For three days each element tried to bring Balder back to life. He was finally restored by Frigga, the goddess and his mother. It is said the tears she shed for her son turned into the pearly white berries on the mistletoe plant and in her joy Frigga kissed everyone who passed beneath the tree on which it grew. So who should ever stand under the humble mistletoe, no harm should befall them, only a kiss, a token of... love." 

He was strictly closer now, Hermione could feel his hot breath on her cheeks; she gulped loudly and prayed to Merlin he hadn't hear it – the redness in her cheeks were embarrassingly enough. "I've...erm -- never heard that story--"

All her senses were much too aware of Tom's close proximity; his minty breath hitting against her skin. Her eyes closed on instinct, breathing ragged as an unknown feeling rushed through her, chilling her to the bones. But before she could process what would happen, she felt his presence retreat. Opening her eyes, Hermione watched as Tom grabbed his wand and pointed it at the Mistletoe. "Evanesco." 

The plant disappeared, and so did the handsome Slytherin wizard.