The little farce at the school was not worth mentioning before his ultimate goal.
In the dim room, Snape murmured as if in a dream, his voice hoarse yet resolute.
"I don't care what becomes of the wizarding world, nor do I care whether there will be a new Dark Lord."
"If there is, perhaps that would be even better. When a new king ascends the throne, he ought to forge his own throne from the old king's bones."
He slowly raised his head, his gaze obsessive as he said each word distinctly, "I only want Voldemort dead."
After leaving Snape's office, Tom was still wondering why that old bat's attitude had suddenly changed.
Then, from the corner of his eye, he spotted a mass of dark brown bushy hair poking out from around the corridor bend.
At that height, he didn't even need to think to know it was Hermione.
He walked over and, sure enough, found the young witch frowning, her fingers twisted together as though she had some enormous worry weighing on her.
"Hermione? What are you doing here?"
Startled by the sudden voice, Hermione jolted and nearly jumped, her head shooting straight for Tom's chin.
Luckily, Tom dodged in time. "Tom?!"
She steadied herself and rolled her eyes hard. "You're the one who startled me! What do you mean, what am I doing here?"
Though her hair was a mess, first-year Hermione was soft and fair, and even her eye-roll carried a hint of playfulness.
Tom sighed inwardly. Now this was what a cute little girl should be like. Much easier on the eyes than those dark-skinned and brown-skinned ones.
Just don't know if she smells nice. I've never gotten close enough to smell her, so I can't judge.
"Don't change the subject." Tom reached out