Disclaimer: these characters are not mine – they belong to JK Rowling

AN: Here is another Tomione Fic I am working on - I have 13 chapters written so far, and I'd say it's at least 3/4 completed! Just a few things to note: I took a few liberties with this fic on purpose. I didn't stick entirely to cannon, because I wanted this to play out a certain way...in other words, this takes place in Hermione's seventh year; they are not on the run hunting horcruxes but still taking classes at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore is not dead. Also, I took a LOT of liberties with what time turners can actually do. Most fics say that they can only go back in time, not forwards, and I have no idea what the canon actually is on that, so I basically just made it do what *I* wanted it to do. Lastly, I don't typically write fluffy Tom...but, because of the course this story takes (when you read it you will understand) he is not the Necessarily the evil monster that Voldemort is due to...reasons. I did try to keep him as close to in character as I feel he would be based on the situations I put him in. I'm not going to explain it all here, so I'll let you all just read it. There is smut in future chapters (Hence the M rating), and I would LOVE to read your reviews! This story isn't fully finished, so reviews will help!

~~{0}~~

"That is Lord Voldemort?!" Hermione asked incredulously as she pulled the old yearbook from Harry's grasp. She had never seen what he had looked like in his youth, as she was not privy to Professor Dumbledore's memories, nor Tom Riddle's diary as Harry had been. It had never occurred to her to pour through Hogwarts old yearbook archives to see what the Dark Lord had been like as a student.

"And he was the bloody Head Boy?!" She shrieked, her voice raising an octave of its own accord.

Harry rubbed a hand through his messy hair, cringing at her reaction, "Hermione, I thought you knew that?"

"No, I bloody well didn't know that, Harry James Potter!" she chided, "How would I have known that? All that I was ever told about him was that his name was Tom Riddle before he became Lord Voldemort, and that he killed your parents, along with countless others, and has been terrorizing the wizarding community for the last few decades. So no, Harry, no one told me he was once a Hogwart's 'Golden Boy'." Hermione spat.

"Hermione, why are you so upset about this?" Harry asked, not quite understanding her anger.

"Because, Harry, I am the Head Girl this year, and as I'm sure you well know, I have been dreaming about this since the day I ever picked up Hogwart's: A History as a first year. Did you know that every Head Girl and Head Boy since the inception of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is named in this book? Well, with the glaring exception of course, of one Mr. Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"Why would he not be listed?" Harry asked in confusion.

"Why, indeed, Harry. Maybe it has to do with the fact that he has disgraced the school with his dark deeds, and they wanted to obliterate his name so as to not tarnish the honor that such a position holds. To think, I now have the prestigious honor of sharing a title with the Dark fucking Lord."

"Oh…" was all Harry managed to say, understanding now that Hermione felt her accomplishment was cheapened somehow from this revelation.

"For what it's worth, Hermione, You will be the best Head Girl Hogwart's has ever seen, and Tom Riddle never should have been given that honor." Harry said gently trying to soothe her anger.

Hermione blew out a breath of air she had been holding and snapped the yearbook shut, "Its fine, Harry, it was just a bit of shock is all." She said.

He managed a weak smile as he squeezed her shoulder before he stood and picked up his bag. "Well, I have to run; Ginny will have my head if I'm late for Quidditch practice."

"See you later, Harry" she said as she watched him walk out of the library. She glanced down at the old yearbook in front of her, and against her better judgement, she stuffed it into her bag and made her way to the Head's quarters.

It was bliss having a bedroom and private bathroom to herself this year. She had got on well enough with Parvarti, Padma, and Lavender…well, with the exception of course for a stretch the previous year when Ron and Lavender had parted ways and she summarily blamed Hermione for it…still, having her privacy, and peace and quiet was a Godsend.

That was, until she found out that Draco fucking Malfoy was named Head Boy. Of all the slimy gits, it had to be that one. They had to share a common room, but thankfully, Draco mostly kept to himself. She imagined he hadn't wanted to spend any more time in her presence that was strictly necessary, and for that, she was grateful.

She walked through the empty common room, and waved a hand to part the wards allowing her access to her private room. Once the door clicked shut behind her, she collapsed on her bed with a sigh. It shouldn't bother her as much as it did finding out that Tom Riddle had been made Head Boy back in 1944. It did however, bother her that, to her horror, she had found him to be incredibly handsome. A fact which she vowed to keep utterly to herself. She couldn't help but wonder what had happened in his early life that could have lead him down such a dark path. He didn't even have a nose anymore for Merlin's sake…how does someone even allow that to happen to themselves?

It was in that moment, that Hermione decided she wanted, no needed to find out as much as she possibly could about Tom Marvolo Riddle. Lord Voldemort, she knew…Tom Riddle though, remained a mystery. Suddenly, a quote from a muggle book called The Art of War she had once read came to mind, "Know thy enemy". Maybe if she dug deep enough, she would uncover a weakness…a chink in his carefully crafted armor.

Hermione picked up the tattered old yearbook from her bag and once again flipped to the page that held the Head Boy's photograph. The smile that held perfectly white gleaming teeth, never reached his eyes. His eyes were a truly beautiful greyish blue, unlike she had ever seen before. His features were perfectly symmetrical and with unmarred pale skin, black wavy hair perfectly combed, and a strong jaw.

She continued to read his bio that was printed under his picture, and her jaw dropped once again:

Hogwart's Head Boy, Class of 1944

Tom Marvolo Riddle

N.E.W.T. scores: 9

Favorite Subject: Defense Against the Dark Arts

Hobbies: Researching rare magical artifacts

Post-Graduation Goals: To one day become Minister of Magic

He received NINE N.E.W.T.s?! she thought to herself.

He had to have been unbelievably intelligent. As it stood, Hermione had a full course load of 8 NEWT courses, and at times, she thought even that may have been too much to take on. How could he have managed 9 NEWT level courses and his Head Boy duties? Being the Head Girl came with a lot of responsibility that did, regrettably, cut into her study time, however there was no way she would have turned it down. If he managed all that, he must have either an eidetic memory so that he didn't need to study as she did, or he must've never slept.

As she continued to think about the young Tom Riddle, an idea began to form in her mind. One that she knew she should dismiss immediately, but she couldn't help the niggling curiosity and the thought that doing this absolutely crazy thing might possibly be the key to Lord Voldemort's downfall.

She pulled on the silver chain that had hung around her neck since her third year, though she had not used it since. Meddling with time was a dangerous practice, but one that she felt may be necessary to give them the edge they so desperately needed. She would adhere to her principles: She would not be seen. This was a reconnaissance mission only.

She grasped the small hourglass between her finger tips, and set the little arm to "decades". Before she could talk herself out of the insane thing she was about to do, she gave it five and ¼ turns.

~~{0}~~

The room around her seemed to change, although she remained in the same place. She was currently still sitting on a bed in the Head Girl's room. The décor was very different from her own, and immediately she panicked. She hadn't even thought about whether someone would be in the room when she appeared seemingly out of thin air…Thankfully, as it was in her own time, it was currently dinner time at Hogwart's, and most of the students would be in the Great Hall. She took the opportunity to look around the room, and could see it was furnished very simply, with a few text books and parchments sitting on the writing desk. Hermione made her way to the desk and saw that there was a copy of the Daily Prophet tossed there from the morning's delivery. The date read September 27, 1944. Essentially, from what she gathered, the time turner had taken her back the price amount of decades, but on the same day at which she had used the time turner. For Hermione, before going back in time, it had been the start of dinner time, September 27, 1997. She was exactly 54 years in the past, to the day and time.

She pulled her wand, and listened at the door to see if she could hear anyone in the common room. Thankfully, the room was empty. She opened the door quietly, and crept along the wall, her heart pounding in her chest. The common room was also very similar to how it had looked in her time, though the furniture looked a bit less worn. She moved towards the other door that she knew belonged to the Head Boy. This was Tom Riddle's bedroom. She had no idea if he was in there, or if he was in the Great hall along with the rest of the student body, but she desperately wanted to have a look at his personal space. One some level, it felt a bit wrong to be intruding as she was, but she quickly reminded herself that he was the enemy, and this wasn't all that different from hunting for his horcruxes as Harry and Professor Dumbledore had begun to do.

She decided to be cautious and cast a disillusionment charm on herself, before she pulled out a blackened hunk of rock from her pocket that Fred and George had given her from their shop; it was Peruvian instant darkness powder. She would test his wards, if he were in the room, she would use the powder to make her escape when he opened the door. If he were not inside his room at all, nothing would happen when she attempted to breach his wards.

She took a deep breath, and cast Alohamora on his door. After a moment, when nothing happened, she knew the room was empty. She kept her disillusionment charm on, and crept as quietly as she could, closing the door behind her.

His room was not at all what she had been expecting. It was furnished with the usual Hogwart's furniture, but there was barely any décor to the room beyond that. There were not even any books on the bookshelf. It was as if, he owned nothing at all, beyond what Hogwart's gave to all students as standard issue. There was a trunk, that was extremely old and worn, that was partially obscured by the bed. She bit her lip, and once again shoving down any scruples at this invasion of privacy, she opened the trunk to see what was inside. There were used Hogwarts text books, a book on wandless spell casting, an old coin, and a small silver box. She cast a few spells on the box to see if it was cursed, but it wasn't all that surprising to see that it was just a plain silver box. After all, Tom had not expected anyone to be in his room going through his things, and therefore would not feel the need to curse it. She picked it up, and what she saw inside made her blood run cold; Tom Riddle's diary, already a horcrux, and the Gaunt family ring sat inside along with a curious small silver harmonica. How odd. Hermione knew better than to touch the diary or the ring, knowing what they were, however, she had never seen or heard about a harmonica before. Once again, she tapped her wand to it, and nothing happened. It was not cursed, just a plain harmonica. Interesting.

Before she could ponder it further, she heard the door to the common room open, and her heart began to hammer in her chest. She glanced around wildly, thinking about what she should do, when her eyes landed on his armoire. She crept inside quietly, practically holding her breath as she was able to peak through the small crack in the doors. She had no doubt that if she was caught, he would kill her. The fact that he already had horcruxes meant that he had already committed murder.

She covered her mouth with her hand, sure he would be able to hear the frantic beating of her heart as he opened the door. He entered the room, seemingly unaware of her presence. She had the presence of mind to close the trunk leaving it as she had found it before climbing into his armoire, but what happened next sent a bolt of panic through her. Tom Marvolo Riddle was beginning to take off his clothes. She watched in fascinated horror, as he unclasped the black robe and carefully placed it on the bed. His hands swiftly moving up to loosen his green and silver tie before pulling it from his neck. His eyes fell shut briefly, as he breathed in deeply while unbuttoning the white oxford shirt exposing the pale expanse of his toned chest.

Hermione felt a rush of warmth settle in her stomach as she couldn't help but admire how beautiful he was as he unintentionally revealed himself to her.

His hands suddenly stilled on the button of his pants, and Hermione froze. He opened his eyes with suspicion clearly written in them, and his familiar yew wand was suddenly in his hand. She watched as he took a few more deep breaths through his nose.

He could smell her.

Shit.

Of all the days she decided to wear perfume…

She scrambled for the time turner as quickly as she could giving it exactly five and ¼ turns forward, praying to merlin that it would work.

Thankfully, she felt the familiar spinning of the world around her, and now, she could see that she was out of immediate danger. She was still huddled inside an armoire in the Head Boy's room, however, she could tell from the opulent décor that this room clearly belonged to Draco Malfoy.

She climbed from the armoire after determining that he too must be still at dinner, and she made her way back to the safety of her own room in record time. That had been an extremely close call. If the time turner hadn't taken her out of there right when it did, she had no doubt that only moments later, she would have been killed.

As she laid across her bed once more, she thought about all that she had seen. It didn't make much sense to her that someone who wanted to assume the level of power that Voldemort had achieved would have so little in the way of personal possessions. She recalled that even in her panicked state while hidden in his armoire, she could smell his scent on his uniforms that had been hanging up inside; it was a very clean earthy scent that under any other circumstances she would have found quite pleasant.

She huffed out another breath, relieving some of the tension that had built up in her muscles, and resolutely thought about how she might be able to persuade Professor Dumbledore to view some of his memories of Tom Riddle. She most definitely couldn't tell anyone what she had done, but, if she could provide some reasoning why it would be of importance for her to see, then maybe he would allow it.

As the wheels in her brain turned, it occurred to her that she could use the very book she had thought of earlier, The Art of War, to build her strategy to help her convince Professor Dumbledore that it was of vital importance to their mission of finding Voldemort's horcruxes if she could view every memory he had of him…maybe something in one of the memories would clue them in. She absolutely would not tell him that part of the reason she so desperately wished to see the memories was selfish in nature, and that she simply had a need to understand him.

And she most definitely wouldn't risk using the time-turner again to spy on him…maybe.