I am so sorry about the very long wait! Everything decided to hit at one time and stay for weeks. It's not an excuse, but hey *shrugs*. For those of you who have waited patiently for chapter two of this story, I made some very minor alterations to chapter one (mostly grammar and word choice). I will try and update more regularly, but between AP English essays every other night, GSP applications, calculus, helping to start a GSA in BFE, and piano lessons, I'm pretty stretched.

It is very important to remember that our favorite Dark Lord doesn't know Hermione's real name. Also, this is the second half of Hermione's first day in forty-six.

I do not now, nor have I ever had any claim to the magical world of Harry Potter.

Hermione leaned against her windowsill, deep in thought. She had never hoped that finding Riddle would have been so easy. She had thought she would have more time to research and plan, but there was nothing she could do about it. She knew Tom now, and he knew her. And where she was staying. And since the barkeep had given him the key too her room today, it was very likely that he would do it again if Tom asked. Not that Tom needed to ask. He could just blow-

She couldn't think about that anymore. It was making her panic.

"I need a distraction," She declared aloud to her empty room as the sun sank below muggle London's skyline, which was much lower than she remembered it being. She turned and walked out the door, grabbing her bag and locking the door as she left.

Diagon Alley wasn't very different. There was still an Apothecary, a quidditch supplier, an owlery, and a book store. However, where she was accustomed to seeing Madam Malkin's sign, there was a small cafe, with little tables spilling out into the cobblestone street. That seemed as good a place as any to get her mind of Riddle. She sat down at the table closest to the window and ordered a hot chocolate as the waitress passed.

She spent a good deal of her time watching the other patrons. Some, mostly couples, were sitting side by side, laughing and talking quietly. Others, much like herself, sat in their booths silently, observing their drinks or the diminishing crowd of the cafe. Soon, there were only a few stranglers and a server or two left in building. Hermione relaxed back into her seat and took a long drink from her mug. When she lowered it, a hooded figure sat in the booth across from hers. He removed his hood with a flourish, and smiled at her.

"Fancy seeing you again, Ms. Baggins."

"Good evening, Mr. Riddle," She said tightly, completely aware that she'd been caught with her guard down twice in a day. It unnerved her. "What brings you to out so late in the afternoon?" She asked.

"I was walking home from work when I saw you in the window. It's much too late for you to walk back by yourself."

Hermione baffled. The only thing she had to be afraid of was the man sitting across from her. "I'm quite capable of walking myself back to the Leaky Cauldron. It's not like I needed an escort to get here," she replied.

Tom, however, insisted that it was indeed necessary for him to come along. "You're a new, attractive young woman alone at night. You will not be out on the street at this hour with out an escort."

"I can-"

"I will not allow it. If something happened to you, and I could have prevented it, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. As you seem to be prone to fainting, you probably wouldn't be much of struggler where you to be attacked. Finish your chocolate, and then I shall escort you back. No arguments."

Hermione didn't like his tone. She did not like the way he commanded her, like he was in charge, like she was his. Not one bit. So she told herself. Her insides weren't really listening, but that doesn't mean she wasn't trying.

Instead of starting an argument she was sure to loose, Hermione drank her hot chocolate quickly and stood from the table, straitening her cloak. Tom offered her his arm, and she hooked her's around his elbow to passify him.

Outside, the night was cold and a few snowflakes were starting to fall from the black sky. It was almost entirely dark, and each alley they passed seemed to hold the promise of thieves and murderers. Hermione was almost happy to have Tom with her. He himself was a thief and a murderer, but for some reason, she felt safer with him. It is simply the female part of my brain acting up. I'm here alone, and this big, strong man has offered to be of service. Really, I would probably feel safe if Malfoy were walking me home in the same situation.

As they walked, Tom talked about each shop they past, telling her the basics of each, occasionally giving her tidbits of gossip about a store owner or a clerk. He pointed out his apartment above Obscurus Books. Hermione made a mental note of that, asking plenty of questions to learn more. All the little blurbs she learned would help her complete her task in the end. Still, it was fascinating to hear everything he knew about the place. And his eyes lit up as he spoke- he truly loved Diagon Alley and the magic it possessed. Where had that passion gone as he aged?

When they reached the wall between the Leaky Cauldrons courtyard and the main street, Hermione moved to release his arm. Tom caught her hand as it drifted down. "Bonne nuit, Madamoiselle Baggins," he said with a slight bow.

"Bonne nuit, Monsieur Riddle," she replied with a slow smile.

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Miss Jean Baggins was very... intriguing to him. He could tell she was hiding something from him, and he didn't like secrets. She had suffered some sort of trauma, of that he was sure. Perhaps she had been abused. Was that her 'business' she had told him of? Tom was confused. He didn't like that, either. He walked to his apartment in befuddlement. Jean was often terse with him, or at least she had been in the few encounters they had had. No one was ever terse with Tom Riddle. Except for Dumbledore. But surely this little girl was not as keen as Albus, to have seen through his rouse. That simply wouldn't do.

When Tom finally settled down on his couch after a half hour of pacing his loft, he looked back thoughtfully at the inn. He could pick out her window easily; a light shown out brightly despite the late hour, and he could see her silhouette. She was perched on the window seat.

"What on earth could she be doing still up at this hour?" he asked aloud to his empty loft, checking the mantle clock. 12:30

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Hermione looked up from her reading as the clock chimed once. 12:30. She would still be in the library at this time if she were back in the year two thousand. She would be actively contributing, in some small way, to the defeat of Voldemort, instead of being walked home by him. What was he playing at, anyway? She new he had this alternate persona, but why was he taking so much time out of his time to be with her?Caring for her and walking her home after dark. It couldn't come from the goodness of his heart. Vol- Tom had to have an ulterior motive.

"What could he possibly want from me?" she asked aloud to her empty suite. With that question in mind, Hermione climbed under her covers and extinguished the lights of her room with a wave of her hand. It had been a long day.

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