Hello! This is the story I wrote for the Secret Santa Challenge 2014 on Tomione Convention. It's a gift to waterflower20, and I was happy to find out that she enjoyed it. Therefore, I'm posting it here in the hopes that more people will. And yes, this one is Tomione, so everyone who misses their Tomione action in Serpent of the World will find it here! Told you I'd write more Tomione ;)

A special thank you to Nerys for taking the time to beta this story!

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Hermione Granger, the best and brightest student in her school for decades, had managed something few her age ever did. She had got into Hogwarts, one of the most prestigious universities for postgraduate students. Most didn't succeed to get in until they were over twenty-five, she was only twenty-two.

It was cause for celebration. At least, that was what her friends had told her, and since she would soon leave for Scotland, she had decided to oblige them. They had gone to The Leaky Cauldron, their usual pub in London.

"I can't believe we won't be able to hang out every day," Ginny Weasley pouted. She was one of Hermione's closest friends and they had been going to school together since Hermione was twelve.

"We hardly see each other every day now," Hermione said, laughing. "Not since you decided to drop out of college for that football club."

"Yeah, but now, instead of being five streets down, you'll be five hundred miles away!" Ginny complained.

"What are you two talking about?" Harry Potter asked. He and Ron Weasley, Ginny's older brother, had just got back to their table with another round of drinks.

Ginny threw an arm around Hermione, pulling her closer. "I don't want her to go!"

"Okay, no more drinks for you," Ron said, taking back the glass he had put in front of her.

"No!" Ginny wailed. "I want the alcohol! Hermione, tell your ex to give me my alcohol back."

"I'm cutting you off," Ron said sternly. "I'll get you some water and chips so you'll sober up."

"Oh, chips, yes please," Ginny said, letting go of Hermione, at once in a better mood.

Ron went away again and Hermione caught Harry rolling his eyes. Ginny had never been able to hold her liquor.

"But it will feel a bit empty to not have you here," Harry said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Yes, well, I will come down to London at every school break," Hermione promised vaguely. Ever since she and Ron broke up over a year ago, Hermione noticed Harry acting a bit weirdly around her. Blushing when she touched him, not quite meeting her eyes when they spoke and often just acting … strange.

Ginny thought he had a crush on Hermione, but that he didn't want to say anything because she was Ron's ex. Hermione was frankly happy about not having to break his heart. Not only because she just saw him like a brother, but also because she had a feeling that Ginny still liked him. Everyone knew she had been in love with him when she was eleven, but they all assumed she had grown out of it. She regularly had new boyfriends. However, Hermione suspected that the reason she never managed to stay together with any of them was because she still had feelings for Harry.

Therefore, it would be nice to get away from them for a while and just focus on her education. Studying political science at a postgraduate level would be hard enough without the drama of romantics.

Luckily, Harry didn't try anything tonight either, and he and Ron disappeared after another hour. Hermione agreed to stay with Ginny, who had sobered up and was eyeing a guy in the bar. He was tall, blond and very muscular, Ginny's usual type and not at all Hermione's. If anything, she'd prefer the man he was with. He was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, with a face that looked to be carved out in marble by the most skilled sculptor. His black hair framed it gracefully, making him appear even paler than he probably was. Next to his friend, he appeared small, but he must easily be just as tall as him.

He must have sensed her gawking because he glanced over in their direction, and she quickly looked away, blushing. She hoped she hadn't been drooling.

Ginny, however, had no such inhibitions. When the dark-haired man nudged his blond comrade, Ginny waved at him.

"Hello, handsome, wanna buy us the next round?"

"Ginny," Hermione groaned.

"'Course, love, if we may join you?" the blond's voice boomed cheerfully.

Ginny nodded, and the next thing Hermione knew, she was sitting pressed between the wall and the dark-haired man with a new pint in her hand. They had introduced themselves as Tom (the dark-haired one) and Thorfinn (the big blond).

"So what brings you two to town?" Ginny asked, though her focus was mostly on the blond. "I haven't seen you here before, and I'm a regular."

"Business," Thorfinn said. "Tom has dragged me to meetings all week long and I can't stand talking about it anymore."

"You were the one who begged me to take you on as an assistant this summer. Something about being broke?" Tom said, his voice dark and sensual, but with a hint of amusement, despite the stern expression.

Thorfinn waved him away. "You needed the help, and no one of our friends wanted to help you because you are such an anal arse."

"I still haven't paid you for this month, you know," Tom reminded his friend, bringing his pint up to his mouth.

At once, Thorfinn looked a bit uncertain. "I'm only joking, Tom. Don't embarrass me in front of the ladies."

"I didn't pull out the pictures from our days in university, did I?"

Thorfinn roared in laughter and turned to Ginny again. "What about you, love, what do you do?"

As Ginny and Thorfinn started talking about football, Hermione noticed that Tom didn't seem very interested in football. Drawing courage from the pint, she decided to start talking to him.

"What kind of meetings have you been on?" she asked.

"At the parliament," Tom said with a smile. "But I won't bore you with it, I do have other interests as well."

"Oh, but I don't find it boring at all. I study political science and I'd like to work in parliament, too," Hermione said. "It's terribly interesting. I've just finished a paper on the under-representation of coloured people from the lower classes in politics and how no one really lobbies for them, since there isn't so much money in it, and done parallels with the difficulties of Marxists acting in a capitalistic world."

She lurched into a long explanation of what her view on the subject was. Tom seemed amused by her interest and argued against her, as any well-trained politician would have done if it were a real debate.

Time flew by, and before she knew it, Ginny kicked her under the table.

"What?" she asked, annoyed to be interrupted.

"Thorfinn wants to look at my … er, stamp collection. Should I call Ron back to follow you home?" Ginny asked, her face red in what could only be arousal.

Hermione snorted. "No, that's fine. I'll text you when I get home."

"Make sure that you do," Ginny said, and then, let Thorfinn help her up.

"Later, Tom!" he called his friend before they disappeared from the pub.

"Must be one interesting stamp collection," Tom remarked.

Hermione laughed. "Ginny actually did collect stamps when she was younger. And she did use that excuse to bring up boys to her room when she was still living at home, too. Until her mother found out, that is."

"You two have known each other for a long time, then?"

She nodded. "Since elementary school. I used to date her brother."

"Used to?" he asked, leaning in closer.

"We started going out when we were fifteen, but once we began different colleges, we drifted apart and decided to end it over a year ago." She suddenly noticed just how closely they were sitting. His foot was between hers, the inside of her right leg lying at the outside of his. He had his elbow on the back of the booth they were sitting in, and he was leaning against it, so his face was at the same level as hers.

"And no one else has managed to catch your eye since then?" His tone was dark and soft, almost purring.

Was he flirting with her?

"Not really," she said, not at all sure how she was supposed to act.

If it had been Ginny, she would probably have said something about "not until now", but she was Hermione and she had never been good at flirting. But if he were flirting, then she wanted to flirt, too. It wasn't often that she got hit on by someone as handsome and clever as Tom. It didn't matter if it were only a one-time thing, she was not against casual sex, she just hadn't been inclined to try it.

Until tonight.

"What about you?" she finally asked. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No, luckily enough. If I did, I would have felt very ashamed over how much I want to see your stamp collection."

Stamp collection?

"Oh!" Hermione said, realising what he meant. "Right. Eh. Yes. I don't think mine is as spectacular as Ginny's is, but—"

"I'm sure it is," Tom interrupted her with a smile, grasping her hand. "Do you feel like showing it?"

He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist.

She shuddered all over, never having realised how sensitive she was there. "Very much."

"Excellent," he whispered and pulled her up.

They left the pub, still holding hands. Once they were outside, he stopped and leaned in, kissing her hotly.

Hermione felt her knees go weak by the passion of the kiss. She couldn't remember ever being kissed like that. He knew exactly what he was doing, and she hoped desperately that she was able to match his level. No one had ever complained about her kisses, but she had always been a perfectionist.

They let go of each other, and with hurried steps, she showed him the way down to the flat she shared with a few other students. It wasn't far, but they still stopped several times to kiss.

Once they made it up to her room, there was no need for words. She pushed him inside, not remembering being this horny ever before. He pulled her down on top of the bed with him, and his kisses became even deeper. His hands were under her shirt in no time, opening her bra.

Instead of going straight to her breasts as she was used to boys doing, he pulled his fingers down her back, stroking every inch of her skin. She had never known how erotic that could feel. She moaned into his mouth and started to grind her groin against his.

He let go of her mouth and pulled her shirt and bra off, throwing it on the floor. She helped him off with his, and then, the snogging resumed. Now, his hand finally went up to her breasts, stroking it. She moved her fingers through his hair, loving the smooth texture.

When his hand moved down and started to unzip her jeans, she withdrew.

"Condoms," she gasped and slid off the bed. "Need condoms."

She had bought some when she had been out with Ginny a few months ago. Not that she had expected to use them at once, but she rather had some home. Now, she was very happy at her foresight.

As she ransacked the top drawer in her dresser, Tom came up behind her. He brushed her bushy hair away and kissed her neck, his hands going down to her zipper again. Just as she found the package of condoms, he managed to open her jeans and pulled them down, together with her knickers.

His hand then moved in between her legs, two fingers pressing against her clit.

"Oh dear," Hermione gasped as lightning of pleasure shot through her body.

She heard him opening his own trousers with his other hand, but didn't really care, because the way he manipulated her clitoris was out of this world. She had had good sex before, but never like this.

Too soon, he removed his fingers and pulled her back into the bed. He turned them around so he was on top and pulled the box of condoms from her hand.

She took the opportunity to admire him. Even though he hadn't been as bulky as Thorfinn, he still had muscles. It was the lean kind of someone who ran rather than someone who lifted weights. He was also surprisingly hairless for a man, but it seemed to be natural rather than shaved.

And then there was the cock. Her attention was drawn to it as he slowly put on the condom. It was impressive in girth, which she had always preferred to length. But there was nothing to complain about in the length department either. It had to be a good six inches.

"My eyes are up here," he said with a chuckle.

She blushed and looked up to his face, once again caught gawking.

"But I take it you like what you see?" he continued.

She nodded, feeling a bit shy despite her horniness.

"Good, because I'm going to fuck you now."

He lowered himself onto her and guided himself into her wet opening. She inhaled sharply at feeling filled again after so many months without sex. But it was a very nice feeling, so she closed her eyes and just enjoyed it.

When he was fully inside, he leaned in and started to kiss her again. She moved her legs around his waist, making him sink even deeper into her. He moaned in pleasure.

"You strike me as the kind of girl who likes it hard and fast," he purred into her ear.

She hadn't reflected over it, but when he began fucking her, she figured he must be right. Because she really, really liked it. She had to move her feet down on the mattress again so she could meet his strokes, otherwise he would have fucked her into the wall. Every hit into her made her see stars. Wonderful, exhilarating stars. She screamed as the orgasm washed over her, and it was prolonged by his continued thrusts.

When he came, she had lost all sense of time. He fell next to her side, and they lay in silence a few minutes, catching their breath.

As she came down from the high of the orgasm and started to become aware of her surroundings again, she suddenly realised she had no idea what she was supposed to do now. She had never had a one-night stand before; what did you talk about afterwards? Did he expect to spend the night?

He appeared to have read her thoughts, because he leaned over her again and kissed her, more sensually this time.

"I will take my leave. I guess you have a lot to do tomorrow," he said and gestured at her stack of packed and unpacked boxes, which she had completely forgotten about.

"Oh, yes. I'm moving tomorrow night," she said, modestly pulling her cover around her as he got off the bed.

"I figured," he said, getting dressed. "Good luck, then."

"Thanks," she said, realising there wouldn't be any cuddling or exchange of phone numbers. But she was too tired to over-analyze that. The alcohol and the orgasm still made her feel high. When he shut the door and her head met the pillow again, she fell into a blissful sleep.

"You shagged, too!"

Ginny only had to look once at Hermione to come to that realisation. She had come over at noon to help Hermione with the last of her packing, but it was clear they would now speak about other things.

"Yes, and so did you, big night for us," Hermione said, not feeling as chipper as her friend. She had a hangover.

"You have to tell me everything," Ginny ordered. "What was he like? Who came on to whom? How big was his cock?"

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing a pair of socks at her head.

Ginny giggled and caught it, putting it in the box she was packing.

"Fine, then just tell me this: did you enjoy it?"

Hermione thought about it, and despite the hangover headache, she smiled. "Immensely."

Her parents came by that evening and picked up her and all her things. They'd move everything up to the school in Scotland the following day and install Hermione into Hogwarts. Unlike now, she would live in the school. Her parents had paid for a single room, telling her it was cheaper than renting a house with others in Hogsmeade. And on the plus side, she would be close to the library and got all meals served to her.

Even though she would miss the freedom she had now, she did look forward to being able to focus only on her school work for the two years she was going to stay. Not having to cook was the big upside. The last years in the student room had made her come to terms with that she would never be a good chef.

Though, some of the rules were a bit extreme, in her opinion. Apparently, you couldn't have a member of the opposite sex in your room after ten o'clock (didn't say anything about what to do if you were not heterosexual, though) and relationships between students and faculty members were strictly forbidden. Other rules were more reasonable. You could not have pets, because of allergies, for example. Though, that rule did sadden Hermione. She had always loved cats and owned an old, grumpy one named Crookshanks. But he would have to stay with her parents.

It was evening when they arrived at Hogwarts. The school yard was filled with cars from students who were also moving in. She was shocked by how many there were. Even though it was an exclusive school, it did admit people from all around the world. And judging by the size of the school, they would certainty fit.

She said school, but really, it was a castle. She had seen it on pictures, of course, but it was nothing to seeing it in real life. A real castle! With towers and everything!

The inside of it was just as magnificent. It was decorated in a way that made her think of medieval times. Old portraits of famous academicians, politicians and royalty hung on the walls. Stone figures shaped as both real and imagined animals stood in the niches, and here and there were old armours.

They followed the stream of people into the great hall where the information about the rooms were. Hermione gasped. Tall windows had coloured glass in them, creating beautiful patterns. The ceiling was painted, like in a church, but instead of religious motives, it looked like a blue sky with some clouds. Since that was how the weather had been, it was almost as if there was no roof at all.

"I think we have to go there, honey," Mrs Granger said, interrupting Hermione's inspection of the room.

She followed her mother to a designated table marked "Students in Political Science". A woman not much older than Hermione and clearly a student gave her a map of the castle and a pile of information papers as well as a key to her room. It was on the seventh floor, in a tower called "Gryffindor". From her readings, she knew that Gryffindor had been one of the founders of the school. She knew students got assigned rooms at random, but she couldn't be happier. Some unlucky people had to live in rooms in the dungeons.

Though, walking up all the stairs to the tower, Hermione started to think that maybe she wasn't that lucky after all. It would be a pain going up and down every day to get to the Great Hall for food, and then, her classes.

The room was small, with just a four-poster bed, a dresser and desk standing by the window. However, when she and her parents had put up her books and some paintings, it felt a lot cosier.

"We'll see you at the Christmas, love," her father said, hugging her. "If you need anything, just call. You must have reception here, right?"

"Thanks, Dad," Hermione said. "And yes, both mobile reception and internet. If you learn how to use your computer, I can even email you!"

"Let's stick with the phone for now," her mother said, giving her a hug as well.

Her parents left, and Hermione continued putting away her clothes and other things. Once she was done, she left the room to check out the common room.

There were several common rooms in the castle, and students could come and go to whichever they wanted. The closest one to her was just down the hall from her room. It was named Gryffindor's common room, just like the tower.

She made herself a cup of tea with the electric water boiler and looked around. There were several students there, some sitting alone, drinking tea or coffee. Some were talking happily to each other in one of the many seating groups. At once, Hermione felt herself becoming shy. She had never been good at taking the first step with new people.

Should she just go back to her room and try to make contact once she knew who were in her class? That would probably be an easier opening, talking about class.

Before she could make up her mind, a woman sitting alone in an armchair caught her eye and smiled. Hermione took it as an invitation and went over.

"Mind if I sit here?" Hermione asked, gesturing at the armchair next to the woman.

"Please," she said. "I'm Angelina Johnson."

Hermione shook her offered hand before sitting down. "Hermione Granger."

"You must be new here? I don't recall seeing you last year."

"Yes, I just got here. How long have you been here?" Most students only stayed to take their master's degree, but Hermione knew that some got to stay on for a doctorate program.

"This is my fourth," Angelina said. "I'm a doctorate in the Sociology department. What will you study?"

"Political science," Hermione explained, relieved to have found someone friendly right away.

"Oh, you are in for a treat then," Angelina said, her smile widening. "Professor Riddle will teach the first term this year. He is yummy."

Hermione tried remembering if she had ever read the name anywhere, but couldn't recall. "Is he new here?"

"Not really. He was one of the youngest Professors ever, but last year, he agreed to join the prime minister, Mr Thicknesse as one of his advisers. I heard Thicknesse practically begged him to help him out at the beginning of his turn in office. But now it seems Thicknesse can manage on his own, because Professor Riddle is back. It was just decided."

"Strange, I can't remember reading about him," she said. "And I have followed a great deal about Thicknesse's policy making. I don't remember his name turning up."

Angelina shrugged. "Professor Riddle doesn't seem interested to be in the limelight. I've heard other teachers wondering why he doesn't become prime minister himself. He supposedly has all the right connections. But it seems like he doesn't like the spotlight. At least not the public spotlight. He is one of the best lecturers I've ever listened to. And easy on the eye as well."

Hermione was still baffled that she hadn't read anything about him, but became very curious. However, there would be plenty of time to find out more about him in class. Instead, she decided to change the conversation and asked about Angelina's research in Sociology.

They spent another half-an-hour together, until some of Angelina's friends came to them. Angelina introduced Hermione to them, but sensing that they wanted to catch up, she excused herself, claiming tiredness.

She was indeed tired. The bed was very comfortable, and it didn't take long until she had fallen asleep, not waking up until her alarm went off.

With the map, she managed to find her way back to the Great Hall for breakfast. It was already filled with students, eating at four long tables while the teachers ate at a fifth one. Today was the first official day, though there were mostly going to be introductions and information regarding the school and not so much lecturing.

Either way, Hermione was excited and even more so when she saw Angelina waving at her to come and join her.

She was halfway through her porridge when Angelina nudged her side.

"There he is, Professor Riddle," she said in a low voice.

Hermione looked at the direction she was pointing and saw a tall man with black hair walking towards the teacher's table. He looked very familiar—

She dropped the spoon into the porridge, creating a splash.

No, it couldn't be!

Once again, it was almost as if he sensed that she was looking, because his eyes fell on her. And she was sure he recognised her, too.

Tom.

The man she had fucked just two days before. Who had made her muscles work so hard she still felt sore. Who had given her a love bite on her shoulder, which was thankfully covered by her blouse.

She had had sex with her professor.

Professor Tom Riddle had no problem recognising Hermione Granger. She hadn't given him her full name, but he had seen it on the door to her room. He sighed, but decided to ignore her for now. It was just typical. He rarely picked up women at pubs, but of course, the one he did turned out to be his student.

He had only slept with her because he thought she would be a political force to be reckoned with in the future. Fucking her had been just a precaution. Either she turned out to be an asset and he could use their night together to bind her to his projects, or she would be a rival. In that case, he could use the night to blackmail her.

And if she didn't turn up on the political field at all, but decided to pursue another career, it was not like he minded fucking a young, beautiful woman. He had thought he couldn't lose.

But now she was in a position to harm his career. If she told anyone they had fucked, some of the other teachers as well as politicians and the media would start asking questions. They wouldn't be able to kick him or her out because it had happened before she was officially a student, but it would make them suspicious. It wasn't like she was the first woman he had used that tactic on. If the media found one of them…

He ate his breakfast in silence while thinking of a way to make this problem go away before it even happened. He could make sure the media never found the other women; that would be the easiest thing to handle. Some blackmail here, an imprisonment there, some gifts… no, none of them would trouble him.

Hermione would be the only troublesome one. He just didn't know enough about her. After they had fucked, he had thought it would be years before she became interesting to him, politically. He hadn't bothered to read up about her at all after their night, having more pressing matters to attend to, like the start of term. Now, he would have to collect information before he came up with a plan.

Finishing his breakfast fast, he went back to his chambers in the castle. He picked up the pre-paid mobile phone he used when he didn't want to be able to be traced and put in the number to one who would be able to help him. At the same time, he put on his computer and sat down by his desk.

"Rookwood," a soft voice answered.

"Augustus, it's me. What do you have on Hermione Granger?" he asked, getting straight to business.

Rookwood was a contact within the very centre at the Ministry: the archives. He could get information on anything and anyone, whether he had the right security clearance or not. It was a nice little bug in the Ministry's security system.

"Let's see…" Tom could hear Rookwood's fingers on the keyboard. "Hermione Granger, born September 19th, 1979 in Dartford. Graduated Cambridge with highest honours this spring. Accepted into Hogwarts for the postgraduate program in Political Science… a student of yours, then?"

"So it would appear. What else?" Tom said, his tone indicating that he didn't want any personal comments from Rookwood.

"Right. Hm… she did an internship here at the Ministry a year ago for Mafalda Hopkirk's office. Arthur Weasley recommended her, stating she is a long family friend and dedicated student. Hopkirk was one of the people who later recommended her to Hogwarts together with … oh, Shacklebolt. How on earth did she meet him at Hopkirk's office?"

Rookwood was quiet for a moment, and Tom could hear him typing.

"Here we are, Granger helped coordinating a case about some half-criminal kids. Shacklebolt makes it sound that without her intervention, the kids' case would have fallen through the cracks in the system. He says that she is remarkable in her compassion and resourcefulness and will be a great asset to society."

Tom mentally sighed. If she got the praise of people like Shacklebolt, it would be hard to convince her to join his party's ideology. Not impossible, but hard. Perhaps it would be better to just discourage her. Make an embarrassment of her politically so she would have to start another career.

"Oh, now this is interesting," Rookwood said, interrupting Tom's line of thought. "She has figured in some police reports. Never convicted though, but she has been the interest in some investigations. A girl in her high school was scarred for life after an accident. However, the girl in question blamed Miss Granger because … Oh my, this is linked to the Dolores Umbridge case. The girl claimed Miss Granger had been behind the leak."

Tom got interested at once. Dolores Umbridge had been a politician who had taken over as Headmistress in a high school in central London. There had been a political witch hunt on the former Headmaster, who was also a political adviser. Headmaster Dumbledore had been forced to step down during an ongoing investigation. However, he had quickly been reinstated again when the media and police found out that Umbridge had used physical punishment on students who she thought disobeyed school rules. The evidence had been overwhelming. Film and photography from the punishment themselves, but that was not all. Someone had even managed to gather records about tax evasion. It had been enough to send Umbridge to prison for a very long time.

"E-mail me all the files," Tom ordered.

It wasn't just about getting information about Hermione now. No, now he was actually intrigued. He had been behind the scheme to take down Dumbledore. The Headmaster had been just like Shacklebolt, socialistic goody two-shoes who were all about high taxes and destroying the classes in society. Dumbledore was a shadow player, just like Tom, but Tom very much wanted to take him down. Alas, that plan had failed when Umbridge came out as the villain. But then, Tom shouldn't have left it up to the likes of Fudge to appoint the right candidate for the job.

Well, Fudge had paid for that mistake dearly by losing his prime minister post to Tom's hand-picked candidate. You didn't thwart Tom Riddle's plans and got away with it.

In the end, everything had worked out for the best, though. Dumbledore had passed away, and Tom could leave London to his colleagues for now. He still wanted to teach at Hogwarts. And if it took poisoning an old man to do it, then so be it.

However, if Hermione had something to do with exposing Umbridge, he wanted to know. Not that he was sure what he would do with her if that were the case. No, the mistake had been to let someone as pitiful as Umbridge take over the post in the first place. It was ancient history now. But if she had managed to unravel a lot of information about Umbridge at such a young age, not to mention informing the press without anyone finding out, then maybe it would be worth trying to recruit her after all.

Rookwood sent the files to him, and Tom hung up. As he read through them, he became even more intrigued. The girl who had tried to rat Hermione out had had a chemistry set explode in her face, leaving scars on her face. It had been written off as a terrible accident (perhaps because of Umbridge neglect in school safety), but the girl had consistently blamed Hermione. The police had even questioned her together with some of her friends.

But there seemed to be no motive behind it. However, as Tom read, he started to see another picture. He recognised the girl's surname as belonging to one of Umbridge's allies during her time at the Ministry. It must have been her mother. The girl claimed to have overheard Hermione and some of her friends discuss how to get rid of Umbridge and had taken it to the Headmistress. It had resulted in detention for one of the friends, but not Hermione. The friend, one Harry Potter, had got permanent scarring from the lashing.

However, since Hermione hadn't been the one getting in trouble, and Mr Potter hadn't been one of the cases filmed, the police could see no ties between the two incidents. Besides, how could you rig a chemistry set to go off when one specific person was going to use it?

Tom was cleverer than most and definitely cleverer than the police officer who had conducted the investigation. This was no accident. It was vengeance, cold and vicious. And that made Hermione a woman of his taste.

Though, it could be that she felt guilty about it and that was why she seemed to work so hard for all these goody two-shoes projects. It was too early to tell, but she showed potential.

When classes started, Hermione was still at the back of his mind. He didn't know exactly how to approach her and decided to let her take the first step. Therefore, when he held an introduction for her class, he treated her as if she was no different than the rest of them.

He could feel her eyes at him at all times, though. As if she was trying to get his attention. But she wasn't the only one. He was used of having the undivided attention of all his listeners. She wasn't even drooling or making goo-goo eyes at him, like a couple of her classmates. Though, he was used to that, too.

"I know that today is just supposed to be an introduction," he finished his introduction of the course and himself. "However, in politics, you are often forced to make fast decisions and roll with the punches. Therefore, you'll have an assignment for tomorrow. I want you to pick a political ideology, or a variation you can think of, and write down pros and cons of a society built on that ideology. But, it can only be five hundred words long."

Some members in the class groaned, but he was pleased that Hermione wasn't one of them. She wanted to prove herself. Good.

"Bring me a copy of your assignment to the beginning of the lecture tomorrow. And I can't believe I have to say this, but do make sure to add your name to it. You'd be surprised how many student fail each year just because they've forgotten that."

The class gave a nervous chuckle.

"That will be all," he said, dismissing the class.

Most of the class left at once, including Hermione. Some hung around, trying to ask him more about the assignment.

"You have been given the premise of the assignment, if you forgot to copy it down, ask a classmate," he merely told them.

They weren't supposed to know what he was after. If they were to ever survive in politics, either as an adviser, politician or researcher, they would need to be able to think fast with little information. It was his way of finding out who had what it took to make it in this field.

He also got an inkling which ones worked together and which ones worked alone. With so little information, most students talked about it together, and thus, their papers got a similar approach.

When he had waved off the last student, he went back to his quarters. He was planning to spend the rest of the afternoon finding more information about Hermione. However, he had only just shut the door to his office (which led to the rest of his quarters) when there was a knock on his door.

Hermione must have followed him at a distance. He was surprised; he hadn't seen her on the way, and he usually noticed the people around him.

"We need to talk," she said, her tone bossy, but he could see that she was nervous.

He gestured for her to come inside and closed the door behind her.

"Miss Granger, what can I do for you?" he asked, strolling over to his desk before turning around, leaning against it.

She crossed her arms. "You know who I am?"

"Of course."

"And you remember the other night?"

"Naturally, otherwise I'd assume you were here about the assignment, and then, I'd dismiss you like I did with the others."

She scoffed. "The assignment was pretty clear. Catching us off guard like that and the secrecy of what the assignment is for. You want to know what we are made of. Force us to think like politicians instead of students."

He was quite impressed, but didn't deny or confirm it. "I take it you want to talk about the other night, then?"

"We have to, don't we?" she said, at once looking more uncertain. "I had no idea who you were. I don't expect any special treatment or a higher grade or something. I was just …" she trailed off, looking at the ground.

He studied her in silence for a moment. "I hadn't heard of you either. I assumed you were too young to risk being one of my new students, even when you told me what you studied. But you needn't fear, I won't give you a higher or lesser grade because of your sexual talents."

Her face flushed red. "Good. I didn't really think you would, I was just— I wanted to make sure."

"Of course. Then I will ask you: are you planning to attempt to blackmail me if I don't give you the grade you think you deserve?"

She looked up in shock. "No! Of course not. Why would you think that?"

He chuckled. "I teach political science and I've worked with politicians for years. If you think that inquiry is shocking, you are in the wrong line of work."

A flame of anger flashed through her eyes. "Oh, I'm well aware what some politicians are willing to do for power. I want to earn my grade."

Then, as an afterthought, she added. "Besides, it's not like I have any proof that we slept together. Ginny only saw us talking and so did the others in the bar. It would be my word against yours."

"Indeed. More likely than not, you will be the one expelled from Hogwarts for spreading rumours about me," he agreed, though he wondered if Hermione was thinking of Umbridge when she said some politicians. Did she hate those kinds of politicians so much? That didn't exactly bode well for his hopes for her.

Hermione just huffed.

"Well then, it seems we have reached an agreement," he concluded. "You won't tell and I won't give you an unearned grade."

"Yes. Good," she said, still looking a bit annoyed by his comment of her being in the wrong line of work. Well, if she couldn't handle a personal attack, then the same was true. Politicians fought dirty.

However, if his suspicion about her were true, she already knew that.

Hermione wasn't sure what to make of her exchange with Tom. He hadn't threatened her, but at the same time, she just knew that he wouldn't let her ruin his reputation.

However, she had no reason to tell anyone about them. If it weren't for Hogwarts rules about no intimate relationships between students and faculty members, she wouldn't have had any problems with what had happened as long as he didn't. They were both adults, and he had in no way forced her to have sex with him. She had enjoyed it, and he didn't seem to regret it either.

So why had he acted like he was toying with her? That quirk about her being in the wrong line of work if she didn't understand how dirty politicians could be. Or had that been an indirect threat?

Not feeling like socialising with all the thoughts about Tom swirling around in her mind, she headed straight for her room after dinner. She did have his assignment to write out.

Normally, she hated having to write so shortly about something she was so passionate about. She wanted to research and support any claim she had with at least three footnotes. However, this wasn't a research paper, this was an opinion paper. She had learned the difference early on when her old Professor, Lupin, had sat down with her. He had told her that she had a lot of potential and had a better grasp on facts than most teachers. The thing she lacked was trust in her own opinions when she knew someone was going to grade them.

"If you learn to trust what you know, without having to look it up in a book, then you will have the bravery to put forth your own opinions. The only time you should verify right away is when your decision directly affects other people's well-being."

Lupin had then given her a special assignment. "These are the subjects I will hand out to the class tomorrow, which you'll then have time to prepare to the next seminar. However, I want you to take half-an-hour now, pick out one subject, and write down your thoughts, without even looking at a book. I'll stay here and do some grading. Then, you'll hand it in to me. I won't grade you on it, you'll get to do the assignment with the other students tomorrow. However, once we are finished, you and I will sit down and go over the differences in the papers. I think you'll see what I mean, then."

It had taken her the better part of her undergraduate years to get the hang of it, but she was now confident enough to put her own opinions on paper for a teacher to see. And she particularly wanted to show Tom that she wasn't scared of whatever remark he would give her.

Putting on her laptop, she began to work.