Veal & Venison {Tomione || 1940s/1990s}

3 || Pawn to C4

3||Pawn to C4

The day-and-a-half of sleep serve Hermione plenty as she readies herself for her newest task of convincing a Dark Lord to tell Hermione his secrets. She tucks her white blouse into her skirt, bearing the insignia of Slytherin rather than the comfortable Gryffindor. A thin sweater, far too thin for this weather, lies across her shoulders, tugging at the collar of her shirt. She pulls on the collars, straightening them as she takes in her new identity. No longer does she bare that straight look in her eye...the one that spoke of her bravery and friendships. This one she now wears is foreign looking for such a familiar face in a mirror. Her features lay in the same places, yet the way her eyebrows hang around her tortured brown eyes give her an air of cunning. And with her mouth tilted upward, just slightly, she appears power-hungry, like any good Slytherin. Then again, is there such thing as a 'good Slytherin?'

Before she can second guess her choice in expression, Hermione sweeps from her room with much less of a skip than that of a graceful slide. She rolls her shoulders back, confidence reassured, as she moves through the empty Common Room and out into the halls of Hogwarts, up and up. Her feet pad softly in the donated shoes on her feet, not much of a sight but likeable for their comfort. And they seem to be eye-catching, at least to the terrified, yet stone-faced, woman, as she cannot seem to find the courage to look up. This will not due, and thus, she raises her head, shoulders then slouched and now straight. The facade is harder to keep up than Hermione has expected. Just one more thing counting against her.

Moving through the corridor to the Great Hall, Hermione perceives the mindless pranks of some boys--Slytherins, Hermione notes--down an intersecting passageway. They seem to be having great fun in transfiguring some Gryffindors' hair into snakes, much like the Muggle story of Medusa. Hermione almost cracks a grin at the Slytherins' ignorance, but is reminded of her task. Cold, you are cold.

Hermione Granger sits alone at the Slytherin table, starved from her sleep and travels with Ron and Harry. She makes no move to sit with others, wishing not to make company with Slytherins and needing to plan her strategy to confront Riddle. She butters some toast mindlessly, taking small bites as she stares at the worn wooden table, entranced in her own thoughts.

She will need to join the Knights of Walpurgis--the early Death Eaters--if she is to get close to Tom Riddle. Therefore, that is her first task. She must not ask, but draw Tom's attention to her in order to prevent suspicion. But Tom Riddle has yet to be seen, and Hermione expects him to be busy. Furthermore, he seems capable of detecting her every lie.

She'll need to draw the attention of his follower's then, in such a powerful way that they speak to Tom about her. She won't have to be as covert this way, but still, she must make some impact.

Hermione is reminded of the stunts of those boys earlier, pranking the Gryffindors. Sure, mischief does not seem like much of an attention-grabber, but given the timing of the 1940s, Hermione doubts many women 'pull pranks' in these halls. It'll make her unique, that much is certain, and Hermione is certain that this is the best way to get the boys' attention.

Nodding her head in agreement with her mental plan, Hermione brushes the crumbs off her lap and onto the floor, meeting eyes with a group of Hufflepuffs, already looking at her strangely. No wonder they think her strange--she's now nodding as if agreeing with an imaginary presence.

Huffing, Hermione stands to her feet, moving quickly from the room to avoid the stares. How ironic that Hermione does not wish for the attention of the Hufflepuff house, yet she needs it from the Slytherins. Almost laughing to herself in another bout of insanity that certainly comes with loneliness, Hermione nearly runs into a ghost of her future, Dumbledore, as she moves through the hallway.