Dedicated to my best friend Gaby ♡

Thank you for understanding Tom Riddle.

It was midnight. I was standing alone in the great maze in the Triwizard tournament, my entire body was so cold it was numb. It was absolutely freezing. My feet were aching with pain, and when I looked down I realised why. I was in my heels from the Yule Ball. I yanked them off my feet quickly, throwing them aside into the dark greenery. A flash of scarlet, and they had disappeared into nothingness.

It was as if the hedges went on forever, in endless towering rows. I walked ahead slowly, trying to gauge the situation. My heart was pounding in fear - although I had no idea why. There no one around, the maze must have been entirely empty it not been for me.

Or so it seemed.

I suppose you could never be too sure in a place like this, could you?

I picked up pace, breaking into a light jog. It was hard to run in a long dress, I wasn't moving very quickly. I might as well have been going nowhere. I stopped, tearing the silk from the knee downward. Now I could actually run. The wind picked up, leaves and the scraps of pink silk I had discarded flying past me. Was it going to storm? It looked like it. My hair came undone from its pins, copper coloured curls falling down across my face.

I rounded the next corner- and froze. What looked like a black shadow was lying directly in the centre of the pathway, sprawled out as though it had descended from above. There was no mistaking the tall figure, even from here. Tom Riddle. My eyes were drawn helplessly to him, and as much as I tried I couldn't look away. He lay motionless on the ground, his pale face appearing even paler in the moonlight. I approached warily, becoming increasingly stricken the closer I got.

He was unconscious. Blood shone beneath him on the dark earth.

I knelt beside him, my robes falling over him. Without really knowing what I was doing I reached out a shaking hand to touch him.

Who possessed the power to bring this man down? I wondered.

"Tom?" I said quietly. "Tom."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Someone said.

I looked up. I knew that voice. I turned to see who it was, and my breath caught in my chest. Albus Dumbledore had materialised out of thin air, suddenly standing right there on my left in dress robes of deep Prussian blue. He was peering down at the both of us pityingly through his half moon spectacles, his long white hair glowing in the moonlight like a white aura.

"Appearances can be deceiving," He said all-knowingly. "Even to the well trained eye. But to love one who has never known love is a tragedy all on its own accord."

"What do you mean?" I looked from Dumbledore back to Tom. "What happened to him?"

"Someone was beginning to learn how to love him." Dumbledore said simply. "That is all."

"What?" I stared down at Tom's bleeding form, and felt rather stupid all of a sudden. "Professor, I don't understand."

"Do you think that Tom Riddle has ever been loved?" Dumbledore said seriously. "You are in the process of turning darkness inside out, and are you claiming to be ignorant to the violence this incites?"

"Hang on a second. I don't love-"

Dumbledore raised a hand, and a sound in the distance captured my attention. I didn't hear it at first, but it was becoming increasingly louder. Music. It was was issuing from out of the hedges. The sound was powerful, yet soft as bell chimes. The ground itself was shaking very slightly as the first few notes of song were heard.

"First think of the person who lives in disguise,

Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies."

I was dumbfounded. I knew those words. That wasn't a song - at least not to begin with. It was a segment of the riddle Harry had been asked by the Sphinx when he had gone through the maze. Before I could do so much as blink, Dumbledore morphed. The long white beard was gone, he was gone. In his place was the very same Sphinx from my time, and it was speaking to me in Tom Riddle's patronizing tone.

"Do you really expect me to believe you have been unconscious for six straight hours, Hermione?"

...................................................

My eyes shot open.

I sat bolt upright in fear, sweat dripping down my forehead. The dream seemed so real, I expecting to see Tom Riddle right there, breathing down my neck. The presence of him in my world seemed to be the key that opened the door to the more unstable parts of mind, like a trigger to a release of pure negative energy. His voice was so real. He sounded so close. Yet, looking around, there was no sign of him. It was essential to know where he was, I was terrified of him, struck helpless and left to live on the receiving end of whatever horrors he had in store for me. It was more than I could handle.

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. But where was he?

I felt uneasy, as if I was being watched at this very second. The likelihood of that being true was extremely high, this was Tom Riddle we were dealing with after all. I blinked, focusing very carefully. The room I was in was beautiful but it was hard to appreciate anything when I was in danger. Or when danger himself was literally stalking me. Over by the stone wall I saw him, my eyes flickered past him at first, mistaking him as a shadow but upon a second look my chest constricted. It was definitely him, there was no denying it. He was standing over by an elaborate arched window set into the stone wall on my left.

He sighed, very quietly. If I wasn't watching him, I wouldn't have witnessed this tiny, small detail, one of the tiny threads which, when woven together, created this highly elaborate network of emotion that was damn near impossible to solve. He was something that could only be born from the artistic eye and careful hand of a Muggle painter. Tall and pale, beautiful and terrible, Tom Riddle was both heartbreakingly cruel and inhuman and...

I focused on him, paying close attention to the blank expression, the dead look behind his gaze.

Sad? Tired?

There was no mistaking the dark shadows beneath Tom's dark eyes. Not that he would ever expose himself to anything that inconvenienced him, let alone his own emotions. I felt a sudden, unwanted pang of pity for him. If I felt extremely alone in the world, how did he feel?

Surely he had to feel something.

Why do you have feelings for this heartless monster? My mind screeched. He is EVIL.

"For a second I had to entertain the idea that you would never wake up again." Tom Riddle said. My heart skipped a beat, he was now standing at the foot of my bed. How did he even get there so fast?

"Funnily enough, I certainly wouldn't have been surprised in the least. Don't look so scared." He said, almost softly. His eyes flickered with something that almost was reminiscent of concern, "I assure you, the worst is over now."

The worst.

"How nice to know." My heart started pounding and a wave of nausea sweeping over me. What the hell did he mean, the worst?

"Aren't you going to ask me how the initiation ended up?" He demanded. "Or are you still determined to hide from the truth?"

I didn't say anything. I didn't feel any different which was probably the worst sensation. It was the most unusual feeling, it was all rather unsettling, I could only remain silent as I struggled to compose myself.

"Cowardice is for those lacking valour." Tom pressed. "Of course, I have never known a single person in Slytherin to possess such a repulsive trait. More than any else it is those damned to a lifetime of service to Hufflepuff House. And speaking of which, there's another question. Why was Helga Hufflepuff spared a portion of authority at this School at all?"

Footsteps receded, and he disappeared into a tiny room that led off mine, possibly an elongated cupboard. Tom Riddle was wrong about many things, that much was for sure. Yet it was the little quip about Cedric Diggory's House that pissed me off.

Hufflepuff House was NOT an abomination. Nor were any belonging to it.

I heaved a gasp of air into my lungs, mentally preparing myself to face the day or whatever time of day it was. I wasn't in a good mood, and I could tell what type of mood Tom was in already.

There were things I desperately needed to know.

What had happened to me?

Where was I?

Where did Tom just go?

I focused on my breathing and quickly realised after a bit of time mulling over my fears that something had changed - Tom seemed to have undone the spell that binded my thoughts. Maybe it was an act of kindness - I had no idea of his motive. I should have been happy, but I didn't get to enjoy my newfound freedom of thought at all. My whole body was aching, as though I had been beaten to a pulp by the branches of the Whomping Willow. My legs felt like two planks of wood, my head reduced to a weighted block of ice. I was lying on my back in a bed within the confines of what looked like a tower room. The blanket above me was heavy and had me pinned like a butterfly to a board. I hauled myself upright, supporting myself with my right elbow.

Eyes wide, I simply stared out through a nest of unruly curls to observe my sadistic tormentor. He had come back into the room with a bag. "New robes. I destroyed all of yours." He walked over on the other side of the room, dropping the bag on a small desk over by the wall. By the looks of things he was watching something happening out the window, his sharp gaze mirroring that of a prison warden supervising operations.

I eyed the bag as if it were a bomb. Madam Malkins.

Just as well she has enough Slytherins keeping her in business for all of these years. I thought bitterly.

I scanned the premises. No one else was with us.

We were alone.

My heart rate spiked, my body tensed - over the course of many months Tom Riddle had damaged my mental health to the point I was extremely unstable, more so than I'd like to admit. Seeing him sent my emotions into a whirl, I needed some space, but that in itself was a joke because as if I was ever going to get it.

Entirely oblivious to my silent plight, Tom walked back over to the other side of the room and stood resolutely by the window, stance relaxed as he watched things happening fastidiously below us. The angle of his jawline was pronounced against the shadow, his slender hands pale white against the dark stone window sill.

It was sunset, judging by the amber and pearlescent tint that was bleeding through the stained glass. The colours washed over the room, bathing everything in an eerie red glow. I didn't know any parts of the School to have stained glass windows, but then again this was a different time, wasn't it.

I felt like trash.

Tom Riddle appeared quite the opposite of how I felt. Even his tie was perfect, tucked into his robes with that detailed precision I associated with artists, or that of devious intellectuals. The Slytherin emblem caught my eye, stark green against his black uniform robes. He was in a good mood, and seemed to have the air of one trying to carefully contain a frenzied excitement- most likely born from another fresh opportunity to crush my spirit.

If the initiation was complete, why did I still feel the same? Did that mean I was already wicked to begin with?

On the end of the bed I saw something familiar. My beaded bag. My entire mind was consumed by thoughts of doom and terror, of flashes of bright green light and shadows that moved in the dark, that seeing something of mine was like a good omen.

The Time Turner was in there. I reminded myself. The urge to grab it and go back home into the future was overwhelming.

Control yourself.

"You mentioned me in your sleep again." Tom said. "Well, when you weren't pretending to be dead, that is."

I smiled blandly, gritting my teeth. "Pretending to be dead?" I croaked, rolling onto my side. "Do I look that stupid to you?"

A jolt of pain stabbed up my arm and I winced.

"You just rolled onto your broken arm. So, with all things considered, my answer is yes."

MY ARM WAS BROKEN?

Sure enough, my left arm was binded by a white cast. I peered down at the gauze.

"That was to teach you a lesson." Tom said smoothly. "Because you seem to be having difficulty learning."

He leant against the stone wall, tall and dark like a shadow. His eyes were glittering, even from over in the corner I felt immobilized by the intensity of his gaze on my confused features.

What was he thinking? I wondered. What was going through his mind?

"Your attitude toward behaving irks me. Your looks may be enough to cause a stir amongst most men in Slytherin, however I am not the sort to fall for such..." His eyes roved over me with lazy contempt. "Feminine charm or the lack thereof."

"How people react to me is none of my business." I snapped. "Besides, it's not in my best interest to care. I know that the only reason you are here is because you just want to torment me."

"No." Tom corrected. "It isn't enough to just torture you. It never is." He said. "There is just something so wonderfully entertaining about being the curator of your psychological terror."

"You're the custodian of my chaos." I said. "What a dismal existence I lead."

"Spare the rod, spoil the child." Tom reached into the pocket of his robes and produced a black flask. He popped the top and took a swig, staring directly at me the entire time.

"Discipline shouldn't be confused with the abuse of power." I said coldly.

Tom put his flask away. Whatever he was drinking must have been heavy, I saw his jaw strain.

"Discipline? You of all people do not know it." He said finally. "Your life is too leisurely. And you can lie all you want - it's just another thing we have in common. You enjoy having me around." Tom said, of on another one of his tangents. "I'm certain of it. You always just so happen to constantly be around me. You are careful to maintain that air of helplessness... however I know better. You always stand directly in my line of fire. Deliberately. You seemed hopeless when I first met you. Now I know that I was wrong. The truth is that you are calculative and cold."

From a distance, Tom's dark eyes were shining very brightly. "You know what I am saying is correct, don't you?"

"You are right." I said, taking satisfaction on the look of momentary surprise that crossed his features. "I am calculative," I admitted. "And I am cold. Pass me that blanket, would you? I'm absolutely freezing." I gestured to the thick, woollen throw folded neatly on a chair on the far side of the room. Tom didn't retaliate, but two spots of colour appeared high on his cheekbones.

"What if I said please."

Tom quite literally looked like he wanted to kill me.

"I considered refraining from using certain Dark Magic during the initiation ceremony because the side effects included brain damage." He said. "I can see now that it wouldn't have mattered either way."

"I don't understand," I said, "The fact that there are women in this School that are obsessed with you blows my mind. You're repulsive."

"You're not repulsed by me, but by the truth of your desire." Tom stared me in the eye. "You forget that your willful ignorance has nothing to do with me. Besides, know you find me attractive." He stared directly at me, "No woman hasn't."

"Your ego is ridiculous." I scoffed. "Not all women could be attracted to you. It's just not possible."

"You're right." Tom said. Eyes bright, he clapped his hands together. "That's exactly it. And it goes both ways, too. I don't desire every woman. Some of them are Muggle scum, aren't they? Though even they do have their uses too, I will admit."

He reached into the inner lining of his robes and withdrew a wand. My wand. He threw it across the room and it landed directly beside me. It was actually a decent throw, but I would rather have died than to let him know that.

"Your arm is broken, not your legs." He said rudely. "Use your other hand and summon the blanket to you." Tom observed me silently, his expression blank of all traces of emotion.

Arguing with the Dark Lord was never a smart idea, plus I was feeling queasy with the stabbing pains in my arm. I took hold of my wand and raised my hand, mentally willing this all to be over soon.

"Accio blanket." I said clearly.

It didn't take long, the blanket unfurled from it's neatly folded square, I raised my hand and caught it with ease. Tom raised his eyebrows but still didn't speak. Relishing in his silence, I became petty, taking extra care to have each side of the woollen blanket evenly over each side of the bed. Doing all of this beneath Tom's keen eye and only with one hand was rather strenuous, and as soon I had finished I slumped backward against my pillows.

Tom hadn't moved an inch, he just stood there, analysing me with the sharp judgemental look of someone witnessing an exotic breed of insect on exhibit.

"Was that fun?" He asked me.

"Yes." I said. "The time consuming process of covering myself with a blanket using my only functioning arm was highly enjoyable. Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity."

I looked around, suddenly not wanting to meet Tom's deadpan stare and realized that I had to have been in the Ravenclaw tower, the unfamiliar colours of silver and bronze hanging bold against the stone walls all around me. It wasn't a small room, but it wasn't exactly large either. On the wall directly opposite was a woven tapestry of the eagle emblem.

Why am I here, of all places? I thought. Why not the Slytherin Common Room?

"The initiation was almost as successful as I'd have liked." Tom started telling me. "It is partially done. You are now a lot more open to my power, which is what I needed. You were too unwilling before."

"What does that mean?" My heart began to race again, and Tom shot me a look.

"You will find out." Was all he said.

"You can't just say that." I was outraged. "You have to tell me what-"

"Some of the others" - Tom said, raising his tone well above mine, "- who I had mistakenly thought were loyal - had a sudden, stupid idea to play the superhero and attempt to rescue you. They didn't realise that in doing so, that the Residuam Runes I had drawn in the earth would be disturbed. There was an outburst shortly after you lost consciousness. Xavier tried to pull you out of the circle resulting in my defensive Magic expelling the pair of you. You think I'm the big, bad monster for breaking your arm?" Tom laughed out loud.

"I broke Xavier's fingers." He said, all traces of humoured gone unnervingly fast. "One by one. In front of all of the others."