Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Tom and Hermione were putting the equipment away after their first Potion class. The instructor had examined their effort and pronounced it excellent.

Buoyed by success, she asked, "Do you want a coffee, Tom? We can go over the next assignment."

"Wow, you Ravenclaws have stamina," said Tom. "I need to recover from this session."

"Of course ... recover ... have a coffee to recover," stammered Hermione. "We can have another coffee later ... for planning ... if you like."

Planning? wondered Hermione, I'm making plans?

They strolled out to a patio where Tom remarked that he was quite plebian and preferred the ordinary coffee the elves brewed. Hermione quickly agreed with him although she added cream and sugar to hers. She was glancing around and thinking this generation with its patios and with the gazebos she could see and with its coffee service was doing a good job of countering the gloom of the old castle. Or was this a gilded age with students part of a privileged class? Speaking of class, or the lack of it, was Minerva spying on them?

"There you are," said the other three girls, joining them.

Mary leaned forward and whispered, "Is it just me, or is Minerva giving us the eye?"

"She's jealous of Tom," suggested Elizabeth.

That old hag? fumed Hermione.

Tom shook his head. "I'm one of her suspects, along with the Potions professor she considers dodgy. You've incriminated yourselves by being seen with me."

When Hermione looked confused, the others jumped in with an explanation. There was a rumor that a gang of wizards was illegally supply potions to the non-wizards. Not only that, but the trade was carried out during the school terms and was nonexistent during the summer. Most students thought it was a mom-and-pop enterprise that flourished when the youngsters were away.

"If it's a pain killer, then during these times it would be a mercy," offered Draupadi.

"If it is, we would expect the chivalrous Gryffindors to be the source," said Mary.

"I suggested that to Minerva," said Tom, "and once again, I discovered our Head Girl has no sense of humor. Rules are rules."

"Could someone be disguised as a faculty member and using a secret chamber in the castle?" asked Hermione.

"Disguised as a faculty member? Secret chamber? I never thought of that," said Tom.

"Could one flush out the gang by pretending to be disguised as a professor and pretending to know about secret chambers?" asked Hermione. "The gang would reveal themselves when they tried to eliminate their competition."

"A cunning plan and obviously a job for our bravest house," said Tom, jabbing his finger into the air for emphasis. "I shall recommend it to Minerva."

"Wouldn't it break the rules?" asked Elizabeth.

"I'm certain Minerva's rules allow duplicity," said Draupadi.

They all nodded agreement.

They all also agreed that the gang behind it was brilliant in both Potions and clandestine operations. Hermione was thinking that such brilliant people might find a cure for her affliction. Was that why she was here? The more she thought about it, the more reasonable it seemed. She hadn't noticed it at the time because it was an absence, but the Potions class had proceeded without a hitch – no accidents, no botched concoctions, just quiet competence. She had landed among one of the most talented generations in centuries where Tom Riddle was merely above average. She brightened. Feeding on their auras would be incredible.

The next day, after classes were over, the four girls were having tea and comparing notes when they heard a commotion. They looked up to see Tom swaggering in, wearing an eye patch and earrings, and singing lustily

Oh, I'm a jolly good smuggler

As smug as he can be.

So, bring me all your potions

I'll sell them for a fee.

"That should lure the potion gang out into the open," said Draupadi.

"Cleverly done," said Elizabeth.

"Subtle," said Mary. "They'll never suspect we're on to them."

"Why didn't we think of that?" Hermione asked the other girls.

Tom plunked himself down at their table. "A fifteen year-old witch on a hairy man's chest. Yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum."

"It'll take more than one bottle," said Draupadi.

An elf appeared. "Did you wish a rum, sir?"

A gilded age, thought Hermione.

Tom managed a stage whisper out of the side of his mouth. "Avast, me heartie, a weak tea will do, but bring it in a flagon. Gotta keep up appearances."

The girls were not happy. His little drama had scuttled any chance of a sting operation. He admitted he had ruined the chance for a group to students to risk life and limb by taking on a gang of professional criminals. Hermione's brighter side was wondering if there was more to Tom than met the eye.

Hermione's darker side was wondering if there was more to Tom than met the eye. Late night searches for an illicit potion lab would have given her a perfect excuse to roam the halls and sample the emotional passion of couples. He hadn't deliberately thrown a spanner into her plans, had he? She hadn't given herself away, had she? Well, she would just have to hunt unencumbered by pretense.

She soon discovered the reason for Draupadi's indifference to Tom. There was a Hufflepuff, a humorless soul, but one with family connections and business plans. He factored everything through the lens of his own advancement, but Hermione was certain he wanted to advance with Draupadi.

That Friday night after dinner, fantasies were racing through Hermione's mind when she followed the pair as they wandered outside. What would he do? What has he already done? Has he already unbuttoned her blouse? Before she could spy on his doing so? That inconsiderate cad. She could see his fumbling fingers, hear Draupadi's mild protests. But Draupadi would see his shining eyes, eyes eager to feast on her, eyes that would say she was beautiful, eyes that she had dreamed about, eyes only for her, and she would let those eyes see what they wanted and her excitement as her blouse opened and her breath as his lips grazed exposed skin and her confusion as his lips moved over silk until she sighed and ran her fingers through his hair and pressed into him and the wild feeling of something new and wonderful and dangerous.

Hermione came out of her reverie long enough to realize she wanted to position herself to see Draupadi's face as she felt hands roaming over her, but an appraisal of Draupadi shattered this prospect of refined feeding. That feisty lady was going to skip down to the shore, kick off her shoes, and wade in the water. Her beau would glimpse her legs up to her knees as she stepped gingerly through the ripples, rippling higher and higher as she went deeper and deeper, her skirt higher and higher, returning to shallow water, her skirt not lowering, her legs dancing, rippling with the rhythm, golden skin in the moonlight, twirling, her skirt twirling, the drops of water flashing, legs flashing, flexing, Draupadi flashing, shape of her legs, roundness, smoothness, firmness, Draupadi caught in her dance, moving, teasing, rippling, promising.

Draupadi would be the very devil. She would come out of the lake and haul the boy behind the bushes and pull him down to the soft grass. Her leg would drape across him, her leg with the drops of water, glistening in the starry night, smooth as he had imagined. All of her pressed against him. Legs, breasts, warm breath, warm Draupadi. He wouldn't have a chance. Arousal. Her thigh on him. Moving. All of Draupadi moving. The boy under her no longer resisting anything. Her hand snaking down. Gripping him. Stroking him. He couldn't stop her. Couldn't get away. Not wanting her to stop. Irresistible. Spurting in his trousers. Draupadi's eyes gleaming. Triumph.

Hermione's nostrils flared. She would watch.

"I can't figure it out," said a voice behind Hermione. "I thought you were looking for secret chambers, but Draupadi and her boyfriend aren't going to lead you to them."

"You've been following me," said Hermione, turning to face Tom.

"Whatever you're doing, you're dragging me into it," said Tom.

"How is that, pray tell?"

"Easy," said Tom. "Minerva has noticed you skulking about, and she's concluded that you and I are pulling a double bluff. After my smuggler's performance, no one would believe we'd be stupid enough to search for a secret potion lab. Hence, that's what you must be doing, and I, of course, am your accomplice."

"Well, you're not, so you can just leave," said Hermione.

"Would you rather watch another couple than be with me?" asked Tom.

"It's not that simple," said Hermione.

Tom was about to ask what she could possible get out of watching a pair snogging when the moon came out and shone on Hermione's face. He gasped as he saw the hunger. He stepped back when he saw the yellow eyes.

"I've never met a vampire before," he said. "Did you intend to bite them?"

"I don't bite," she said. "I need their emotions."

"A vampire," said Tom. "What'd you become a vampire for?"

"It was an accident."

"Are you really immortal, except for accidents?" asked Tom with a feverish gleam in his eye. "Is that why you became a vampire?"

"I told you it was an accident. I didn't want to. I don't want immortality."

Tom was giving her a funny look.

As Hermione wondered what was going through Tom's mind, he appeared to recover. The feverish gleam left his eyes and was replaced by another funny look. It might have been affection except Hermione wasn't familiar with that look.

He took her hand. "What kind of emotion?"

"I think it has to be the emotion of others. I'm a parasite. Vampires are parasites." She took a breath. "Go ahead, run away in disgust."

"Could you generate your own emotion?" he asked. "Could someone spark your emotions?"

"I don't know."

He was still holding her hand. She wasn't letting go. He told her that her hunger was still visible, but it was no longer desperate. She said she felt calmer. He asked if Ravenclaw Tower had a good view of the lake in moonlight, if it had comfortable couches and a warm fire, if she could sneak him in if he put on a glamour. He had always envied the Ravenclaws for their view of the world.

"I wondered why you were making nice to me," she said.

"You found me out," he replied, "but it may not matter since you will want to show off your magnificent view and enjoy my frustrated envy."

Well, now that he mentioned it, that was tempting, in fact, irresistible. And thus it was that Hermione snuck Tom into Ravenclaw Towers, plied him with hot cider, and, in exchange, insisted he act like a boyfriend and listen to her as she sat beside him on the couch and prattled on about everything that had happened to her last week, all the things she had been dying to tell someone, till at last she had unburdened herself and she sat quietly holding his hand into the wee hours, whereupon he had to sneak back to the dungeons while she retired, feeling at peace with the world and dreaming of dancing for him in the rain.