Pairing: om Riddle Jr./Hermione Granger
Summary: he lives to destroy the greatest man alive. And dies to uplift the most villainous man of them all. AU.
Note: Christmas gift for Miya || prompt: Destruction
Few people know much about Tom Riddle. Where he came from, whom his family was. Questions rose when a man such as himself rose into the ranks of Slytherin House—someone with a surname that sounded more Muggleborn than Pureblood. However, as the years passed and the darkness lingered in the halls of Hogwarts, the questions ceased and his power behind the shadows ever grew.
That is why it is a surprise when she came and defied his power openly. When she dueled with him for minor offenses and shouting at him openly at the Great Hall. Most of his underlings shivered at the sheer audacity she manages to show them but he only looked at her with amusement, secretly relishing the attention he’s gotten from her.
“Join me for Christmas.”
For most of the time, she actually can surprise him.
“Pardon me?” He placed his book down and watched her as she sat in front of him, her lips curved into a smile. They had always been at each other’s throats and an invitation for Christmas dinner isn’t something he was expecting.
“I said,” she smirked as she saw her little victory—the emotionless Tom Riddle can feel shocked, after all. “Join me for Christmas. At Little Hangleton.”
A muggle town. Tom’s eyes hardened as he realized that she was—indeed—a mudblood. The scowl on his face replaced his surprise and he was about to brush her off when he realized the chance underlying beneath her offer.
Little Hangleton is his father’s muggle town. It is a chance to exercise the power he’s gotten over the years, to finally fulfill the first step of his revenge.
“I never knew that I was fit enough to be introduced to your parents as your lover, Granger,” he teased her once more, closing the book he’s been reading.
Riddle chuckled and faced Hermione, his eyes back to their mischievous glinting. Hermione scowled and poked his forehead, standing up as a blush began staining her cheeks.
“I’m not introducing you as my lover,” she replied haughtily before walking away, Tom chuckling right after.
They were a small family, the Grangers. Tom acted aloof yet polite as they ate, rarely engaging himself in conversing with the filthy muggles that Hermione called parents. Hermione watched him in silence, thankful that he was able to restrain himself from being a Slytherin.
He went out after dinner and came back a few hours before midnight, his black cloak riddled in snow and water.
“It’s late,” Hermione handed him a towel before going inside her home, her parents already fast asleep. “My parents thought that you went home but I knew better. No pureblood would go off wandering alone in a muggle town, after all.”
The smirk on his lips was already there the moment she said the word pureblood. After all, no one knew about his past—about the poisonous blood that flowed his veins, which tainted his very existence.
“And yet I did,” he chuckled and hang his coat to dry, scowling when he realized that they still are unable to perform magic outside Hogwarts.
Tom fingered the relic he’s gotten from his little trip, watching Hermione as she tended to the fire. She ushered him closer and offered her a warm drink, something he accepted without even muttering thanks.
“Granger,” he called to her, the ring still in his hand. “Open your palm.”
Hermione did as she was told and blinked twice as Tom handed her a ring—its intricacy encased in pure gold and right on the middle lies a dark gem, something that resembles obsidian. He watched as Hermione ogled at the ring with surprise, her mouth hanging open before she realized that it might be a trap, glaring at him right after.
“What is this for, Riddle?” She asked warily, though her fingers were already caressing the ring.
He needed to protect it. To hide it from eyes as sharp as Dumbledore’s the moment they returned to Hogwarts. News of the death of the family he loathed would have spread and the old man would have easily figured out that it was his doing. The ring is evidence and evidences shall remain hidden. The dark charm he placed on the ring would kill the person wearing it—any person except for its bearer.
And for now, that would be Hermione Granger.
“Happy Christmas,” he leaned closer and smirked, watching as she grew stiff at the close distance. “Hermione.”
The winter night grew colder and Tom left without another word, opening the room prepared for him and taking a deep breath. He smirked as he lied on his bed, feeling the quell of power rising, the start of the era where he ruled amongst muggles and wizards alike.
And as he slept, he dreamt of his dreams, his ideals and his visions. As he slept, he thought of the rumor about eternal life and the person who could tell him whether it is true or false. He shall grow stronger, more powerful and ever invincible. No one would dare to cross him, would dare to stand in his way. However, one thing had not crossed his mind.
That by the fireplace, he had unwittingly found his weakness.