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Tom was awake bright and early on Monday morning, ready to put some renewed effort into his rounds as Head Boy. He caught a couple of second year students
kissing behind the Astronomy Tower on the way to breakfast, and deducted points from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff respectively as a result.
Tom usually would have found deducting points for naughty behavior invigorating because it gave him a sense of control. Yet, for once, he did not feel as
satisfied about it as usual. His mind was far too occupied with thoughts of Hermione Granger.
He barely paid attention to the teacher in Ancient Runes, though he was fairly certain the woman had said nothing of great importance anyway. He was half
tempted to get himself excused by saying he was ill or something, but Tom had never missed a class due to illness unless he was strapped down to a bed in
the hospital wing to keep him down.
He supposed he was a bit of a perfectionist, really. Neatness and uniformity suited him best, and made the most sense to him. The way he saw it, having a
sense of order was necessary to progress in any endeavor—after all, if a building had no foundation it wasn't likely to stand long.
All right, he finally admitted. Forcing his brain onto other paths didn't help either. All he could do was wish the foundation he was building would help
him build a house for two. He was well and truly disgusted with himself. He would not be some lovesick ass who followed around the girl of his dreams just
as surely as if she had ahold of his leading string. It was barely even the middle of the day, but he found himself standing outside the entrance to his dorm,
saying the password that would let him in.
"Cattus obtinuit lingua," he said. He smirked as he thought about the meaning of the words—"cat got your tongue". The animal symbol for Gryffindor was a lion,
and he most definitely wanted his little lioness to "get his tongue". A shiver of delight passed through his body at the very thought as he visualized the two
of them locked in a kiss, their tongues dancing around each other as the tension built up to fever pitch.
"Stop it!" he commanded himself as he mounted the stairs up to his bedroom three at a time. He was certainly glad no one was around to see that. Tom Riddle
never took shortcuts, never skipped out on classes, and most certainly never shouted at himself in a vain attempt to make his mind cooperate.
He had not expected Hermione to be there at this hour, and especially not with another person as well. Tom hid himself with the flick of his wand, and sat
on the edge of his bed to stare through the full-length mirror at the scene as it played out before him.
"Ginny, what's this all about?" Hermione said to the pretty red-haired girl.
"Well, it's nothing, really, I guess," Ginny said, blushing slightly.
"I know better than that," Hermione insisted as she sat down on the chair beside her desk. "You never come to see me in the middle of a school day for no good
reason. Besides, I can tell you're upset about something."
"It's kind of silly," she admitted as she sprawled out on Hermione's bed so that her feet were practically over top of her head as she waved them in the air
behind her. "It's about Harry. It seems like every time we go somewhere, there's always someone there saying 'there goes the boy who lived'. It's getting bloody
ridiculous. I mean, he's not even a boy anymore, you know?"
"Fame sometimes makes for an uncomfortable bedfellow," Hermione commented with a rueful chuckle. "Unfortunately, it can also make for having no bedfellows at
all."
"Oh, Mione, I'm sorry," Ginny gasped. "I know you must be so lonely, now that Ron's gone. Maybe you should try to find someone new—someone who will actually
give you all the things you wanted but didn't get from my toad of a brother."
"Things?" Hermione repeated with a laugh. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, come on, you know exactly what I'm talking about," Ginny said with a blush. "You did tell me you two never—um—joined forces. Don't make that horrendous
face, you know that I'm trying to say you're still a virgin. Why do I have to spell it out for you?"
Hermione's eyes went wide, and she glanced over at her mirror with a wince. She must not have seen him, Tom decided, because she turned back to Ginny again. If
he'd been hot for her before, learning about this little tidbit put Tom very near to exploding. He began to stroke himself as he realized something
important—Hermione Granger would be his, and only his. He intended to make certain of it.
"That's true, I am most definitely a virgin," Hermione said lightly. "But Ginny, we're not here to talk about my problems. We're trying to solve yours—and
believe me it would be much easier to do if you would just get around to telling me what the devil it is."
"Harry fell asleep," she blurted out.
"Asleep, as in—?"
"You know—during," she said, blushing profusely.
"Oh, okay," Hermione said with an uncomfortable look on her face. "Well, you know, Harry is working really hard training to be an Auror. Maybe he was just
really tired."
"Well yeah, but he's never done it before," Ginny complained. "You know that we had sex the first time before he killed the Dark Lord, and ended the war, and
in all that time since then we've been completely mad for each other. Why would he suddenly lose interest now?"
"Ginny, I know Harry better than that," Hermione insisted. "He is not going to lose interest in you. He loves you very much. Why else would he want to marry
you?"
Tom stopped stroking and just stared now, with a gaze so intense the two young women would have certainly been frightened if they could see him. He wanted to
know—needed to know—just what Dark Lord the redhead had been referring to. If he could have asked them straight out, he would have felt much better, but he
could just imagine how that scenario would play out.
"I've always been a little insecure, I guess," Ginny conceded. "But still, I hate to imagine what my life would be like without Harry. He has touched the
lives of almost every wizard alive today, and they all owe him a debt of gratitude for killing Lord Voldemort in the end."
Tom's heart skipped a beat. Hermione looked over at the mirror yet again, obviously worried about whether or not he had heard anything. He willed them to
continue with every ounce of his being. He needed to know what would happen to him, how he would die by this Harry Potter's hand.
"Ginny, you have no reason to be insecure," Hermione told her friend. "Harry loves you with all his heart, and he always will. No matter what happens you can
always count on that. He must simply have been tired. I'm quite certain of it."
"Oh, I know," she conceded. "I really shouldn't have bothered you with this in the middle of a school day. I just—I miss you sometimes, Hermione. We used to be
together all the time, sharing secrets and such, but anymore these days I'm lucky to see you in a month."
"I'm sorry, Ginny," Hermione apologized. "I guess I've been so busy lately that I have been neglecting my friends. I promise you that I'll try to do better
when I'm able."
Hermione stepped over to her full-length mirror and looked right into Tom's eyes, a small smile playing about her lips. Tom smiled, not for the first time
wondering how she could still see him after he'd cast a disillusion to hide. Was it something she did to the mirror, to herself, or to him personally? For
that matter, she might have done all three.
Tom began to pace a little bit as she continued to gaze at him. He had realized a few things since this mirror had begun to see glimpses into the future, not
the least of which was the fact that his heart was not as dark as he wished it to be. It was thudding in his chest even now just because of this girl. And of
course, it didn't help much to recognize that part of it was also a reaction to having knowledge of his own death. He needed to know the particulars. Was there
not some way he could find out?
With a sigh, Tom turned back to the book of Mirror Spells he'd left on the desk when he'd last read it. Perhaps he could find other mirrors into Hermione
Granger's place and time. Maybe he might even be able to find some way to follow her throughout the day—just to learn more about her time, of course. It
certainly had nothing to do with the fact that he missed her so much whenever they were apart. A notion like that could prove that Lord Voldemort was capable
of something as human as love—and he could not possibly acknowledge something like that!
As he thumbed his way through the book, he sat on the edge of his bed so Hermione could see him. He wished Ginny would either go away, or drop a few more
clues about the future. It looked like she was never going to leave, and Tom would be forced to go back to class without being able to relieve the aching between
his legs. Unless, of course, he went to visit Myrtle in her bathroom, he added with a wicked chuckle. The ghost had asked him often enough in the past, he was
sure she'd welcome him if he tried.
"Well, Ginny, I've got to get ready for my next class," Hermione said briskly after she looked at her clock. Tom looked at the thing she held in one of her
hands with interest. Of course, he thought with a grin, he could always cast the mirror spell on the tiny mirror she was about to put into her book bag. He
should have thought of that before. Even if he couldn't see her beautiful face unless she took it out, the compact would put him in a position to hear everything
that was happening around her.
Quickly, before she could leave on him, Tom whispered the words to the spell and saw a bluish glow of light for the briefest of moments, and when she turned
back around to grab the bag the glow had already faded away. He had no doubt the spell had worked correctly, so all he needed to do now was keep tabs on her
with a mirror of his own.
It was almost a little exciting to think about what would happen next, and Tom tried to tamp down the emotion resolutely. This was not some joyride, this was
business. He needed to find out some specific things before he could decide what to do. And he needed to do it as soon as possible, in case these mirrors ceased
to function for any reason. One never could tell about the fickle nature of an inanimate object, after all.
Still, he chided himself, he ought to just let himself succumb to the temptation his heart was feeling now concerning Hermione. It might be good for him to have
a girl to call his own, and it sounded very much like Hermione needed him, too. Whoever this Ron was, he had been a fool to let her go. Tom was no fool. He
didn't know precisely when he'd made his decision, but his mind was apparently made up. No matter where they might find themselves in the future, one thing
was always certain: Hermione was his.
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