Hermione couldn't sleep.
Her brain was a complete mess.
She'd finally met Tom face-to-face, but they'd barely said two words to each other.
And she had almost died.
While it was happening she'd been too terrified to feel the full weight of it. Now, safe in her own bed, she yanked the duvet over her head and curled into a tight, trembling ball.
She sat up, stared at the moonlight pouring through the window, grabbed a book from the nightstand, opened it… and just stared at the pages.
---
The next morning.
Hermione was up before dawn. She dragged her carefully packed trunk onto the Hogwarts Express.
Crookshanks was back in his cage at home—had been the whole time, actually. Dobby just hadn't let her notice.
Platform 9¾. The scarlet engine whistled cheerfully.
Red-headed kids were making a racket just outside—definitely the Weasleys.
She also spotted a black-haired boy with round glasses. Half the platform seemed to be staring at him.
Hermione didn't care. She just wanted to get on the train.
Once inside, she discovered exactly how famous she was.
Whispers followed her down every corridor.
Everyone knew her name. Everyone knew Hermione Granger had won Gilderoy Lockhart's competition two weeks ago.
The admiring looks made her chest tight. She hurried faster, carriage after carriage, until she found an empty one.
And there he was.
Tom sat by the window, one elbow propped on the sill, the other hand turning pages. His eyes flew over the tiny print, scribbled quick notes in the margin, then flipped to the next page. Rinse, repeat.
Hermione dropped her trunk on the rack with a loud thud and plopped into the seat opposite him.
Tom glanced up, saw it was her, and went straight back to reading.
"Tom!"
He finally closed the book. "Hermione, why are you wearing that patterned shirt underneath? That one was for summer. With the robe over it, it looks awful—way too flashy, you know?
You should've gone with the beige—"
"That's not what I want to talk about!" she snapped.
She clenched her teeth, ready to explode, but noticed people still glancing their way. She slid over to sit right next to him and dropped her voice to a hiss.
"About what happened between us. Don't you have anything to say?"
"About what?"
"The body swap!"
Tom shrugged. "Nothing to say, really. The wizarding world is full of weird wonderful stuff. Those weird wonderful things are what build friendships, right?"
"Then pay me back! And where are Lockhart's signed books? I know you won the championship!"
"Miss Hermione, why don't you guess where all those pretty new clothes in your closet came from? I already threw out those frumpy little underthings. And why does your hair look less frizzy? It's shinier, smoother… you really didn't notice?"
Hermione's head sank lower and lower, cheeks burning crimson.
Tom rubbed his temples.
How little does this girl care about her own appearance?
"But you—you actually picked out my underwear… Tom, you absolute bastard!"
"Sorry about that." He didn't sound sorry at all.
"How much did you sell them for—the Lockhart books!"
Tom held up five fingers.
"Fifty Galleons? Oh my God, you… I thought you were smart!"
"Wrong. Fifty pounds. I'm an orphan—what do I need Galleons for? Better to buy the orphanage kids something decent to eat."
The silence was so loud it hurt.
Hermione stared at him like he'd grown a second head.
Fifty pounds?
Ten Galleons. He sold the entire signed collection for ten measly Galleons?
"Bastard!"
"Thanks for the compliment." Tom suddenly grinned. "Actually, Miss Hermione, I've got an even more bastard request."
"I refuse!"
"Just hear me out…" He smiled wider. "Once we're at Hogwarts, can I leave all my homework to you?"
Hermione: "?"
What the hell is this guy saying?
She had never met anyone so shameless.
"Look, since you saved me, I… I can let you copy. But don't you love Hogwarts classes? Why are you asking me to do your homework?"
"No copying. You write it for me. We're good friends, right?"
"Good friends don't do that! It's against the rules! Against the rules!" She was no longer registering the "good friends" part.
"Miss Hermione, you wouldn't want your body getting yelled at by every professor for not turning in homework, would you?" Tom stared at the ceiling, voice perfectly casual. "Sigh… yesterday I was about to fall asleep, but I was so worried about a certain idiot that I spent every last Galleon racing to her house and nearly got eaten by Acromantulas saving her.
And now… she's being so cruel she won't even help with a little homework."
"Tom. Are you threatening me?"
"Yes."
Hermione slowly curled her hands into fists. She glared at him, cheeks puffed out, and punched his shoulder twice. Feeling how rock-solid the muscle was, she pouted even harder.
Bastard!
Even though he'd admitted it was blackmail, she had zero comeback.
She knew Tom was besties with half the staff and strong enough that they'd probably let him skip homework entirely. She didn't have that luxury.
"Alright, cheer up, kiddo." Tom patted her head. "Your hair's a mess. Got a comb? I'll fix it for you. Today we're celebrating our first proper meeting—I'm buying you dessert."
"No need!" Hermione shot back to the opposite seat like a startled rabbit.
"Fine, just once. I'll help you once."
(Once always becomes twice…)
Tom thought it but only smiled. "Thanks, Miss Hermione. By the way, when you boarded did you happen to—"
"Hi, have you seen a toad? It's small, cute, really friendly…" A new voice cut in.
They turned. A red-haired boy, a black-haired boy with glasses, and a shy round-faced kid stood in the doorway.
Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, and Neville Longbottom.
"Hello." Tom leaned forward with a friendly smile. "Maybe don't worry too much about the toad. It'll turn up once we get off the train. You should enjoy the ride with your friends, yeah?"
"But I'm worried about it," Neville mumbled.
"Nothing to worry about. It'll come back."
"Okay… thanks anyway. Harry, Ron, let's check the next carriage." Neville still wasn't giving up.
Harry had frozen, staring. He snapped out of it and hurried after Ron.
"Harry?" Hermione finally caught on after they left. "Was that Harry Potter? The Boy Who Lived?"
Tom found her delayed reaction adorable. "Yep. And he was staring right at you. Maybe Harry likes pretty girls."
"Tom, if you want to call me pretty, just say it."
"Hermione, you're really pretty."
Hermione went quiet, turned her face away, cheeks the exact color of the sunrise.
A long moment later she brushed her fringe aside and sulkily buried herself in her book.
Kids are so cute.
Tom rested his chin on his hand, watching her with quiet amusement.
After a while she huffed like a tiny troll. "Tom, you should be reading, not staring at me!"
---
The train pulled into Hogsmeade station. First-years still had to take the boats across the lake.
Waiting on the platform was the massive, friendly half-giant.
"Tom!"
Hagrid spotted him and swept him into a crushing hug. "Lad, I'm so glad you're safe! You've no idea how much I've been thinking about you every single day at Hogwarts."
"Hagrid, you look thinner!" Tom grinned, hugging back as best he could around the giant's barrel chest.
"Hey, Tom, you're sharp! I have lost a bit. Come on, into the boats. This is Hermione?"
"Hello, Mr Hagrid." She smiled. "You're much gentler than you look."
She wasn't a stranger—she'd met him while in Tom's body.
"All aboard, children!" Hagrid beamed, clearly delighted by the compliment.
Good kids, the lot of them!
"Hermione, that was a bit gross. You wouldn't have said that before."
"Who do you think is to blame? And Hagrid really is a good person—not like Professor Snape. And if I'm gross, you're way grosser!"
Tom just smiled and stayed quiet.
Actually, Professor Snape is a good person too… at least to me.
Two other first-years were already in their boat: Ron and Harry.
They chatted while the boats glided across the dark water.
When the castle finally came into view, every first-year's eyes lit up with pure wonder.
Hogwarts!
They'd finally made it.
After the boats docked, it wasn't long before the Sorting Ceremony began.
Tom seemed distracted. Hermione noticed.
"What's wrong?" she whispered, leaning close. "Decided which house yet?"
"As long as it's not Azkaban."
"Azkaban is for dangerous criminals! You're not going there." She was practically vibrating with excitement. "I didn't expect the Sorting to be done by a hat!"
Tom only hummed in reply.
He was scanning the staff table.
Where's Professor Snape?
Why hasn't he seen him yet?
"Hermione Granger."
She was still sorted into Gryffindor.
Hermione took a seat with Harry and the others, chatting and laughing. Harry kept sneaking glances at her but didn't dare speak. Ron was talking nonstop, and when he mentioned Tom, Hermione glanced over, mumbled something, and quickly looked down again.
"Tom Riddle!"
Almost every professor lifted their head at once. Snape arrived late and, as he passed the line of students, gave Tom a long, careful look.
Professor Sprout clenched her hands together, silently praying he'd join Hufflepuff.
Tom walked up confidently and sat on the stool.
The Sorting Hat settled over his eyes.
"Hmm… relax, child, relax. We've met before, haven't we? Good, you're not surprised. I like your calm.
Brave, hardworking, clever, cunning—you've got plenty of all four. Let me think where to put you…
Little Tom, what do you usually like to eat?"
"As long as I can get full."
"Hmm, good lad, not picky. I like you… I think I'll put you in—"
The hat's voice suddenly stopped.
Several professors held their breath.
"Azkaban!"
Tom: "???"