Thursday, December 2, 1944
2:59 P.M.
Hermione had forgotten Dark Arts Curses, A Description of on the bookshelf in her room.
Ravenclaw had booked the Quidditch pitch that afternoon, so Harry, Ginny, Lavender, Ron, Celene, and Draco (who had fully recovered from his broken arm) had agreed to help her search for more information on the elusive Anima spell. Hermione had been suprised when Celene had kept talking to them. After all, she was the school hot girl.
Muttering "Stuffed Pepperjacks," to Sir Cadogan, she didn't bother to waste time chitchatting with the knight or to look for Tom Riddle, as the latter had missed every day of classes since Monday. Hermione couldn't understand his absence. When Riddle had opened her gift on Sunday night, he had seemed to be fully recovered.
She had mentally run through every hypothetical curse that Riddle could have, given the additional information Dumbledore had let her read before she had come back in time, and she had crossed each one off with an obnoxious X. They all appeared to be blatantly incorrect.
Yeah, right, who'm I trying to fool? she mused as she energetically took the stairs up to her room two at a time. Nothing here was ever simple. She wasn't that lucky. Everything, every appearance was continually turning out to be completely deceiving.
Deftly weaving her way through her bedroom, past her professionally organized desk, her Ravenclaw spread, double bed, and all the way to the farthest, floor-to-ceiling bookcase, Hermione grabbed the aged book off the shelf exactly where she had left it—
And saw, unmistakably placed in the dead centre of her coffee table, a small piece of yellowed parchment.
Parchment that looked remarkably familiar.
This time, though, she picked up the paper without any fear of hexes, or any suspicion, for that matter. Curiously, she flipped it over, shocked to see more than one line of writing. As she read the elegantly scripted words, her surprised eyes widened, and her curiosity turned to absolute astonishment.
Ne (here the beginning of an 'f' was written, but the ink only made it a third of the way down the line before its author scratched it out and changed directions)
Hermione-
Sometimes I do, do formalities.
Thank you.
Tom
Hermione blinked and quickly re-read the writing to make sure she hadn't made some kind of mistake. And re-read it again. And again. She needed about two minutes to fully absorb the true nature of Riddle's words. It was a Thank You card, she thought in numbed disbelief. Granted, the simplest kind imaginable, but a Thank You card nonetheless.
Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Heir of Slytherin and quite possibly the future Dark Lord... had written her a Thank You card.
Hermione's hand dropped to her side, limply holding the scrap of parchment, and her eyes darted around her bright, sunny bedroom, wondering when Riddle had brought the note; if he was still there, even... Somewhere...
And, with a start, she realized that she and Tom Riddle were on a completely different level than they had been when they had first met so many months ago.
A/N: HI guys! So I decided to come off my break a bit early! I have been doing many mental health exercises that have really helped. This chapter is pretty small and sorry about that! The next chapter will be live in two days. Yay!
xxxCassi
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