Don't Repeat History

Don't Repeat History

By Clairvoyant Snake

Chapter 7~1^st of September, 1942

..."OK, fine, I'll take a guess." She gulped and prepared herself for the inevitable. All the while, Tom and his grin could not be wiped off his handsome face -- And she found her stomach protesting with loud noises, proclaiming its need for food. When it came to what she wanted, nothing, and no one could stop Hermione Granger.

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"You ask it politely to open up?" she asked meekly, trying and accomplishing to make it seem like she was genuinely ignorant. Hermione even went as far as to add a little squeak to her voice as she fibbed.

Hermione figured the only way she could get away with anything and still fill her stomach with much wanted food, would be to lie to Tom. He would get suspicious of her, if she somehow 'guessed' the right answer, and she could not afford to have the luxury of being smart around him.

Cautiously, she stole a quick side-glance towards the man standing so close to her, the man that was now causing a fluttering in the depths of her soul...

It made her want to blush and look down at her feet, but she pretended not to notice; which was very difficult.

Maybe it has something to do with the way Tom's looking at me, idiot!

Tom, had indeed garnered his hypnotizing black eyes, and latched them onto Hermione, much to her dismay. Her heart was telling her otherwise. His hand reached out for her body, and he triumphantly smiled as he saw her try to take a step back - and only being pushed up against a wall in the process. Gods, his eyes! Stop looking at me like that, you'll make me actually want you...

He, oblivious, placed his hand on her shoulder; having drawn Hermione as close to him as possible, he leaned downwards a bit and whispered in her ear, "I win".

Such a simple statement, formed with even more simplistic words, yet it never failed to create problems for Hermione's heart to handle. She could feel it speed up when he approached, and slow down as he declined back. More than physical pain resided inside her; an insatiable hunger filled her eyes as she took in the dark wonder in front of her. Just how dangerous could he possible be?

She had no idea, that what Ginny Weasley had thought once of Tom, was exactly what Hermione now was. And indeed she was being played with invisible strings that tugged her heart in many different directions -one telling her to stop, for this was after all the man who later murdered her best friend's parents, and the other part of her telling her to give in. To stop fighting herself.

She leant forward into his embrace, hardly being told to do so by his persistent hands, the flickering flame of passion only increased inside of her, and it confused her mind even more. Could he be using a love potion? She randomly thought, knowing it was impossible for him to affect her like so, especially when no opportunity had been presented for him to administer said potion.

Licking his lips, he waited until she shut her eyelids. What followed could only be described as the most passionate, caring, and desirable experiences Hermione had ever had. His lips melted around hers, as his body and hers melded together to fit tightly, ensuring that the only way they could draw breath would be from each other, and that was only possible by kissing. Tom's hands cascaded soothingly across Hermione's taut back, and she in turn moaned into his mouth, causing his eyebrows to raise. After coaxing his way into her mouth and making her relax, he played with her tongue and made sure she knew just how attractive she was to him.

"Tom..." she moaned out, "We have to stop. I'm still hungry, and if anyone saw us -we'd be in trouble". Hermione's stomach confirmed her reason for wanting to get away from him. He was causing a virulent storm inside her, and if left so utterly perturbed, how was she to deal with everything whilst distracted? She still had to tell Professor Dumbledore, in words that would not betray the future, which she was indeed from, the whole truth and about the time-turner incident.

"Ah, please...?" he whined into her ear, sending even more confusing feelings through her system, "Just one more kiss before you eat?"

No surprises how he got so many followers...He's too damned charming!

"Fine, but don't expect anymore from me, today," she replied flippantly, as if snogging Tom was just a privilege on his part. Why did I have to say today? Now he'll assume I want more from him later... Which Hermione did, otherwise she felt lying to herself was only going to make matters worse by denial. There was no way she could let on that Tom had control over her, no matter how easily she could deflect his affections with a simple excuse; Hermione in no way doubted he was smart enough to figure that out, but why rush it?

He knelt in and she followed suit, while the kiss had begun slow, steady and a simple chaste kiss on the lips, it was now a full-fledged snog. His hands raked through her brown hair, and she herself could not chasten herself to keep her hands off him. Only after repeatedly trying to stop, and the chiming of Hermione's Wizarding watch that said, "Its' late! It's late!" Did she realize she still hadn't ate any dinner and it was going on twelve thirty.

"Come on -" Hermione was about to say, 'let's tickle the pear and get inside!' but stopped herself just in time. Instead, Tom took it upon himself to do just that for her.

Tickling the green pear, until it chuckled, and entering the dark kitchens, Tom lit his wand with a quick Lumos. The wand-light shown across the floor and over the many dishes, pans, and baskets filled with food. Hmm, carbohydrates... Hermione thought vaguely, she was less conscious of her weight than she was of how much food-intake she could handle and not want to puke it all out later. Like those girls in my dorm...ergh...they puke their food out after eating! How vile... Hermione frowned.

Why would they want to be Bulimic? And does Wizarding medicine even know how to cure it? Hermione already knew the answer to this, and with no help from a textbook. Her Mom's sister, Karen, had a daughter, who was Hermione's cousin, Rachel, and she was Bulimic. During her older cousin's stay with Hermione's family during the holidays, she wondered why Rachel spent so much time in the washroom, with the water running constantly.

Hermione now knew perfectly well, what happened behind the muffled sounds of water being poured, five gallons a minute into the very sink that would dispense evidence of Rachel's purging habits. Maybe I should help those Slytherin girls out a bit when I get to know them better, she thought altruistically. And even if it did change the future, it didn't seem to be all that drastic.

Tom pulled her inside to the corner where the house-elves slept.

"Wake up!" he ordered of the slumbering elf.

The elf, with its non-descript clothing, quickly rubbed the sleep out of its huge brown eyes and wearily asked, "What is Sir wanting at this hour?"

"I want the best dinner for Tori here, and a blueberry scone with chocolate milk for me," Tom said with a slightly airy tone, which Hermione didn't like all too much. However, the fact alone that he liked his scones with chocolate milk, was very endearing; She had had no idea that evil villains had favourite foods too.

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After eating to her fill, Hermione and Tom snuck back to the Slytherin common room, and of course he had snaked his hand into hers. She didn't protest this time, but that was only because it was so dark, she would have gotten lost without his guidance.

"G'night Tori," he said, and this time it seemed as though he were shy -this was something new to her, and she quirked a grin in his direction before heading towards the Girl's side.

"Bye Tom, sleep well," turning her back to him and making her way to her own dorms, she failed to see his eyes follow her every move. If she had, she would have gone running back to him, and held him in her arms.

His gaze was one of need and most of all vulnerability. But that was only a look he reserved for a possible chance that she would turn around and look at him, since she did no such thing, his more familiar, and actual look appeared on his face.

One of hatred, disgust, and self-sorrow. Undoubtedly, he was playing with much more than just Hermione's heart, as he pulled the diary back out and continued his experiments in preserving himself in the pages.

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Hermione slipped back unnoticed into her bed, wincing at the cold that seeped through her thin nightgown from the green sheets. The dungeons were apparently cold year-round, whereas Gryffindor Tower's dorms were warm at least during the fall and spring, Slytherin was proving to be already colder than what the Tower became on its worst December night.

Shivering slightly, and degrading herself for not remembering earlier, she muttered a warming charm on her bed and sleep came much more quicker and easily to her.

Hermione could hardly wait to see how her classes were going to be starting the next day -If anything good came out of her being stuck in the past, it was the amount of studying she could accomplish. She smiled in the familiarity of the words, study, and she dreamt that night of books in the library actually telling her the stories instead of her having to read them herself. Now that would be an invention of most ingenious usefulness. What Hermione had no clue about, was that Tom Riddle himself had similar dreams; Dreams of his diary telling his tales to an open ear, when he himself would not be available any longer.

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TBC...