profane divinity [tomione]

two.

two: cobwebs.

Tom looked like he was resisting the urge to laugh. "A job, in this place?"

She nodded, her lips pursed in a way she hoped looked serious, and a bit annoyed. This was her only chance to get closer to him, seeing as he clearly didn't attend Hogwarts anymore. This inconvenience was a major problem, and her plan needed to be remodelled as quickly as possible.

Tom studied her once more, but she ignored him and squinted at a copy of the Daily Prophet laying on the counter. Hermione discreetly stepped closer until she was able to make out the date. 30.8.1947.

She'd landed four years later than planned, and she desperately wanted to find out the reason behind the mishap. His voice pulled her attention back to him as he spoke, however, "Follow m-"

He was interrupted when an older man stomped down the frail-looking stairs, a pipe hanging lazily between his lips. His oily hair was greying and stuck to his head like a slimeball, and she noticed how dull he looked next to his employee. To put it nicely, he was disgusting.

"What does the young lady want, Riddle?" He asked gruffly, taking a drag from his pipe before leaving it on the table. He seemed to come all the way down to grab a stacked file, and paused by the staircase, awaiting Tom's answer.

"She wants to work here."

The owner scoffed, grabbing his briar and heading back up the stairs. "Tell her to go to that old hag across the alley, perhaps she'll employ a girl!"

He spoke as if she wasn't standing with them, causing Hermione to scowl at his retreating figure and jump when he slammed the door upstairs.

"You heard him, love. Maybe Mrs. Selwyn at Cobb & Webb's will let you work with her," said Tom haughtily, amusement flickering in his eyes. "She is quite. . ripe, after all."

He's definitely Voldemort.

Hermione wanted to glare at him until he withered beneath her gaze, but she couldn't afford getting on his bad side already, so she only flashed him a tight smile.

The heroine stomped out of the shop without saying another word, the door clinking after she heard a faint "Have a good day!" from Riddle. He was blatantly mocking her and she wanted to hex him into oblivion, already.

If she were being honest, she hadn't expected the young Dark Lord to act in such a manner, let alone look like that. The image of him in her head was more of a grumpy and depressed orphan, hair greasy and clothes mismatched because he didn't care about anything. So basically Snape. What she hadn't expected in the slightest, however, was a sarcastic young man that looked like royalty and acted. . normal. He didn't seem like a psychopathic murderer at all.

That's what makes him a psychopath in the first place, dimwit.

The shop wasn't hard to find for it was right across Borgin and Burke's, and she immediately pushed the door open, already noticing an old witch inside through the glass. The latter didn't look up from her book upon Hermione's entrance, oval spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose.

"How may I help you?" Her voice came out as a drawl, and Hermione almost groaned at the amount of disrespect  she'd been treated in during the last few minutes.