Hermione's Riddle

Mary's Letter

Tom shuffled his feet across the floor as bustling students parted at the sight of him. Tom didn't shuffle; he glided with an air of confidence. Bit this was the one class that he did not share with Hermione, so he shuffled.

He entered the classroom and came to a stop. It wasn't uncommon to see students from different houses mingle together. It was actually a frequent occurrence. What wasn't a frequent occurrence was the sight of two particular students acting all chummy. Well, scratch that. If it was any of the previous years, the sight wouldn't have caused Tom to stop in his tracks. But this wasn't any of the previous years. Sitting in the front, where Tom normally sat, was Fleamont and Abraxas with their arms flung over each other's shoulders' and their heads together. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Those two were planning something.

Puffing out his chest, he glided over to them. No shuffling this time. He wanted answers and looking like a lovesick fool would not get him answers, that trick only worked with Hermione. And Dippet, when he needed information on Hermione that she would not give him, like her favorite place to travel to, her hometown, and so forth. It saddened his soul to know that his little witch still would not confide in him. It also irked him deeply that she chose to trust Dippet, instead of him, her boyfriend and the only person who knew she wasn't Hermione Norris, but Hermione Granger, a muggle born.

Tom shook his worries out of his head. Right now, he had more pressing concerns. He will return to his worries over Hermione after he dealt with Fleamont and Abraxas. "What are you two whispering about?" Tom's voice was quiet and commanding but turned softer with a lighter tone with his next statement. "If you two lean any closer together, you'll meld to each other." He turned toward Fleamont. "Never knew you swung that way, Potter."

Fleamont and Abraxas burst into laughter. "He isn't my type," said Abraxas as he wiped away the tears from his eyes. Tom was pleased to see Abraxas returning to his old character. He had been right in following Hermione's wish in not reversing the spell over him. Tom even went out of his way to convince Dippet not to reverse the spell when the elderly wizard had asked him about the change that had overcome the young Malfoy.

Fleamont removed his hand from Abraxas' shoulder and held his hands over his heart. Tom was impressed with the look of genuine hurt that crossed his friends' face. Fleamont was quite the actor when he wanted to be. "I'm hurt. And here I thought how attractive you were." This caused the three of them to burst into another round of laughter.

Parkinson picked that time to strut in. He rolled his eyes at them. "Knew you swung that way, blood traitor."

Tom bristled at the remark. It shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did since he had acted similarly not all that long ago. "How can you even stand to be around that guy?" Fleamont asked Abraxas.

Abraxas shrugged and a mischievous smirk curled his lips. "He lets me copy off his work."

Tom shook his head. "You don't need to copy off of someone. Your grades prove that you don't need to."

"I do for this class. Professor Brugsley is boring."

"You can always copy off of me," suggested Fleamont.

Tom quirked an eyebrow at the Gryffindor. "You have the worst grade in the class," deadpanned Tom.

Professor Brugsley, a portly man, shuffled to the front of the room. He huffed, trying to catch his breath. Abraxas got up and took his seat next to Parkinson while Tom slid in beside Fleamont. It was an unusual arrangement but one he came to enjoy. Tom leaned over to Fleamont, "what were you two planning before I interrupted?"

Fleamont hid his grin from the professor behind his quill. "Not planning, discussing. We both agree that Hermione deserves to be taken on a real date instead of those library outings you two seem so keen on."

"What would be considered a real date?" scoffed Tom. He preferred those library outings and he was pretty sure Hermione did too. Then there were the more private 'dates' in their private dorm that the others did not know about.

Fleamont rolled his eyes. "A real date consists of taking the girl out to the town for a nice meal then maybe a walk. It also involves you giving her flowers. Not dusty, old libraries and even older, dustier books."

Tom absentmindedly took notes as he mauled over Fleamont's words. It couldn't hurt to change things up a bit, could it?

Fleamont was correct in his early statement about professor Brugsley. The professor was rather boring and it did not help that the man talked slowly and huffed as if he ran a marathon after each sentence. Seeing no need to pay him much attention, though Tom had been taking this class more seriously ever since he found out Hermione's secret, he mauled over Fleamont's and Abraxas' idea about a 'real date' some more. By the time class ended, Tom had a plan for Saturday night that involved a bouquet of roses, a dinner at the Three Broomsticks, and a nighttime stroll around the Black Lake.

Instead of waiting for Fleamont like he normally did, he decided to leave the Gryffindor with his new buddy.

How should he ask Hermione for this particular date? Should he tell her tonight or make it a surprise? Surprise, definitely a surprise. He loved the way her chocolate brown eyes would widen and her mouth would slightly part into an 'oh' shape when she was pleasantly surprised.

Tom flashed his badge to the portrait guarding his and Hermione's dorm. The painting swung open and Tom entered half expecting to find Hermione on the couch. She wasn't. What he found instead was a grinning Dippet holding a small, lumpy envelope. "This arrived for you during your evening lessons. Since you were in the middle of a lecture, it came directly to me. I hope you will excuse the curiosity of an old man." With that, Dippet laid the envelope down on the coffee table and left. Tom was still standing by the entrance of the dorm flabbergasted with the fact that Dippet had read over his letter. It was something he would expect of professor Dumbledore, not the kind, and very oblivious headmaster.

A few seconds after the portrait sealed shut, Tom made a beeline for the envelope. He picked it up. There were no obvious signs of tampering but he could still detect trace amounts of magic. Why would Dippet reseal the envelope then tell him about it? It didn't make any sense.

Tom tore open the seal and slid out a letter. There was something else in the envelope. He decided to read the letter first before looking at whatever else resided at the bottom of the envelope. He unfolded the letter to find the neat script that belonged to his grandmother.

My dearest Tom,

I was pleased to receive your letter. Even more so with the knowledge that you seem more open and less secretive. You have a subtle change about you and I can assume that it has to do with this girl.

I am pleased that you have found someone who can break you out of your shell. I am sending you my mother's wedding band with the hope that you will be needing it shortly. I hope you treat her well and cherish her. It is my wish that the three of us may have a proper lunch during one of Tom's poker sessions.

With love, Mary

She sent him a wedding band? Was it that obvious that he was in love with Hermione? And did he really change that much for his grandmother, who he wasn't actually that close with, to detect in writing?

Tom shook the questions out of his head. He would return to them at a later time. He picked up the envelope once again and flipped it over. A small, gold band fell out into his waiting palm. Tom held it up for a closer inspection. The surface of the band was not smooth like most. On the surface were raised, interlocking wreaths with intertwining leaves. It was gorgeous. Hermione would absolutely love it, he was sure of it. But was it too soon to propose? No. Maybe. Ugh, he didn't know. The only thing he knew for sure was that she was who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.