dark// tom riddle⚡️

xiv

   Hermione entered the Potions classroom with her books clutched at her chest as she made her way to an empty seat. She looked around the classroom, wondering if she knew anyone in the class. Most of the people she saw were only acquaintances, until her eyes landed on Draco Malfoy who looked like he didn't want to be in the class. He turned and silver and brown eyes met. Draco narrowed his eyes before realizing who he was looking at, Hermione Granger. He visibly gulped and turned back around. Hermione was confused at his reaction but let it go as the professor came in. 

   "Good Morning class! I'm your new Potions teacher, Horace Slughorn. Welcome to NEWT level Potions. Let's get started, shall we?" The walrus looking man said with a large grin on his plump face. After he said that, everyone got up and went to the front of the room where three large pots were visible and a small flask with a silver liquid in it. 

   "Can anyone tell me what is in this cauldron?" The professor said pointing at the last cauldron which had a distinctive mother-of-pearl-sheen and spiral shaped spirals of steam emitting from it. As always, Hermione was the only one who raised her and as always, the professor picked her, "Yes Ms-?"

  "Hermione Granger sir, and the potion is known as Amortentia. The most powerful love potion in existence, but this does not create actual love since that is impossible, instead it creates a powerful infatuation. It also smells different to everyone." she recited, feeling proud of herself as Professor Slughorn clapped at her smart response. 

   "Very good Ms. Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor. Ms. Granger can you please come up and tell us what you smell?" he smiled. 

   Hermione hesitantly walked up to the gold cauldron, powerful fragrances hit her nose like a tidal wave. Slughorn gestured to her to come closer and she did as he said. The odors were so distinct, yet so foreign. One of the scents smelt like the Slytherin dungeons, like the fresh smell of the earth after it rained. The second was burnt wood or soot, it smelt like something was burning and Hermione didn't know if she liked that smell or not. The third smell was something so strong that it almost overpowered the rest of the scents. Almost, but not completely. It was the rough smell of cinnamon. It reminded her of the times her mother used to make apple pie when she was younger but that was only twice since Hermione despises cinnamon. 

   "Hermione?" Slughorn questioned, snapping the brunette out of her thoughts. 

   "Erm, yes. I-I smell, erm, burnt wood, cinnamon and, erm.." she couldn't bring herself to say "the Slytherin dungeons" or "damp earth" because if she did then everyone would think she liked Draco Malfoy or one of the other Slytherins which was not true so Hermione decided to shade the truth a bit, "The last scent is, erm, Drooble's Best Blowing Bubble Gum." and with that, Hermione turned and went back to stand at her place. She was so into her thoughts that she didn't ever see the silver eyes following her every move. 

   After that moment, Hermione was consumed into her thoughts, "Who even smells like cinnamon? I hate cinnamon, why do I find that attractive?" she was so occupied that she didn't even see Harry come in and grab a seat next to her. 

   "What did I miss?" he asked her, snapping her out of her irrelevant thoughts. 

   "Huh? Oh, I don't really know. I wasn't listening myself." she whispered back. 

   "That's so unlike you 'Mione." 

   "I guess I've been occupied with... how hard NEWT classes are." she lied, he couldn't know anything. There are just some things that Hermione needed to keep from Harry. He didn't need to know everything, right?

   "Really?" Harry hummed, not buying a single word she was saying but let it go and decided to concentrate on what the professor was saying. Neither of them checking to see that there were two pale, prying ears listening into their conversation just two seats away from the ebony haired boy and the brunette girl. 

~*~

   Draco Malfoy didn't have a choice. He was raised to be superior than others. That mudbloods, half-bloods, and blood traitors were inferior, but he soon started to realize that they were all wrong, that magic was given to the people who deserved it. But he couldn't do what he wanted, he couldn't defy his parents who had sacrificed so much for him. He didn't have the heart to and he certainly didn't have to heart to kill Dumbledore and spy on Hermione Granger. But he didn't want his parents to suffer for the things he wouldn't do, because Draco Malfoy didn't have a choice. 

   He watched Harry Potter and Hermione Granger conversing, longing for a like the Golden Trio's. Where they understood each other and just friends because they were pureblood and not blood traitors. He listened carefully, not missing a single word because he had to report what he heard or saw to the Dark Lord. After Potions, he luckily had a free period and Draco intended it to use it wisely. Not to study for the exams, no, he would figure out a way for the Death Eaters to sneak into Hogwarts without anyone knowing and kill Dumbledore because Draco certainly didn't have the heart for it, but he was too stubborn to show it. 

   Draco took out a piece of parchment and a spare quill and he wrote everything he heard or saw about Hermione Granger. He didn't know why The Dark Lord wanted information about her but he would do anything if his family would stay alive in return. So Draco wrote, remembering everything and not missing a single word or detail. When he was finished, he opened the dorm room window to welcome the fresh, cool winter breeze and called his owl and told it to deliver the letter to The Dark Lord. After he was watched his bird fly out into the distance and shrink like a small dot in the sky, he climbed into his sheets and laid in there for a dire need for rest. 

~*~

   On the other side of the country, the letter that Draco wrote was placed into long, white, bony fingers. The man, or creature, scanned the letter's address with his crimson eyes and ripped open the letter. Within reading the first sentence, a creepy smile sprawled onto the man's thin lips. 

   'My Lord, Hermione Granger had smelt cinnamon, soot or burnt wood, and Drooble's Best Blowing Bubble Gum when she smelt Amortentia.'

   The plan was working.