March 18, 2016
Five Days Since the Subject was K.I.A.
"Okay, Agent Granger, I'm going to ask you some preliminary questions to test the polygraph and then we'll get started, alright?"
Hermione stared blankly at the two-way mirror where she was sure the directors were standing - watching her, inspecting her, judging her.
"Agent Granger," the man prompted again.
She blinked once and nodded, never taking her gaze from her reflection in the mirror.
"What is your full name?"
"Hermione Jean Granger."
There was an awkward pause as the machine made a noise.
"Agent Granger, it says here that you are lying."
Tom would be so disappointed in her. She could almost hear him whispering to her that her heart was beating too fast and she needed to just breathe.
She forced herself not to fidget.
"My apologies. My full name is Hermione Jean Granger-Riddle."
The man waited for the machine to respond and then looked at her sharply when it didn't oust her as a liar.
She could feel his judgment and she gave him a sardonic smile before he continued, maintaining a professional facade.
"When were you born?"
"September 19, 1989."
"Who are you employed by?"
"MI6, Order of the Phoenix task force."
"As is protocol, please give me a very purposeful lie."
"I attended Yale Law three times, once to actually become a lawyer, once for fun, and once during a mission."
The polygraph beeped and she was asked to clarify.
"I only attended Yale Law twice, to become a lawyer and for fun."
The man nodded once more.
"Okay. Now that we have that out of the way; when did you first meet the Subject?"
She stared adamantly at the two-way mirror and wondered if Harry was therem if they allowed him to watch her interrogation.
"I met the Subject five years ago on a recon mission," she answered passively, ignoring the anger that flushed through her body at the dismissive way she was forced to refer to him.
Her hand twitched at where it was placed.
"And where was this recon mission?"
They already knew this. They already knew everything. Why were they questioning her?
Why were they reopening old wounds?
She could remember every detail of that day as if she were experiencing it for the first time again.
Expensive colognes and perfumes mixed with the smell of decadent horderves wafted up her delicate nose the moment that she stepped through the large, French doors.
Thick, lush carpets lined the mahogany floors and opaque, silver curtains were strategically placed over the open windows so that just enough natural lighting highlighted the lavish decorations throughout the ballroom.
A classical quartet played Mozart and a frenzied energy pulsated in the air as people arrived at the first social gathering of the summer hosted at the Malfoy Manor.
Hermione's eyes met those of the most handsome man she had ever seen and she realized that he was staring intently at her while strolling casually towards her direction.
He had a face of sin, and she knew that she was no angel, but she felt as if he was Satan coming to collect her soul.
Hermione didn't know it then, but she would give him everything in the end.
But her interrogator wouldn't care for that answer.
She smiled tightly as she asked, "What clearance level are you? This information is available to all of those above seven."
The man did not respond and so, she sighed out her answer, "At the Malfoy Manor."
"Was this when you began your intimate relationship with the Subject?"
Hermione wanted to snap at the interrogator that the Subject's name was Tom but she bit her tongue instead, thinking back to that day.
He brushed his lips against her knuckles and stared at her with bright eyes, a lovely smile on his face. He didn't leave her side for the rest of the evening as he flirted with her and attempted to woo her. Being one of the few men who were able to keep up with her in a conversation without belittling her, Hermione struggled to keep herself from falling for his pretty face and sharp mind.
She was an assassin-spy.
She was on a mission.
If she got involved with him, he would become collateral - a tool used by enemies to force her hand.
He had stepped up to her when the evening drew to a close and she smelled his cologne. The light scents of frosted grapefruit, blood mandarin, and peppermint were alluring and she could feel herself leaning to his heat. He left her a chaste kiss on her cheek.
"I hope you had a great evening, Miss Wilkins, and I hope to see you again soon."
She prayed that they didn't.
The thought of putting him in danger just by association made her stomach turn.
She prayed that she wouldn't ever see him again in her life.
She may have met him then, but that wasn't when it started.
"No," Hermione stated.
That wasn't when it started at all.
"So when did it begin?"
"Bulgaria," she murmured as he inhaled abruptly.
"Bulgaria?" he repeated in shock.
Perhaps, the agency didn't know everything.
The red phone in the room rang shrilly and Hermione flinched in surprise at the sound. Her interrogator quickly answered it and after a series of 'yes, ma'am', he hung up the phone.
"I will need you to tell me everything that happened in Bulgaria," the man ordered.
That was unlikely, but she played along and retold her tale.
She was on Bulgaria for a recon mission. The agency had received a tip that there was Death Eater recruitment and activity in the capital as seven government officials had gone missing - the M.O. of the terrorist organization. She needed to collect information on the missing officials, from mistresses to policy positions.
The mistress of the missing Minister of Finance was three meters ahead of her, wearing a black, fitted jumpsuit with her long, dark hair swaying with each step she took. Hermione had been following her for an hour and 15 minutes at this point but was sure that this was just another dead end. A familiar figure raised a hand, gesturing to her and stepped in her path.
"Miss Wilkins," he said, pleasure filling his tone. "What a lovely surprise to see you here!"
"Hello, Mister Riddle. My firm had me fly out to look into a case for them," Hermione mumbled hurriedly, checking to make sure that her target was still in sight.
"Are you busy? I'm on the way to lunch with some associates of mine and would love to introduce you to them."
Hermione took in the tailored, designer suit and how it hung off of his lithe body as if he was a model. A soft smile stretched his lips and she ignored the guilt that reverberated through her. He wouldn't be able to survive if they got together - he was too soft for a woman like her.
She indulged him anyway.
"I'm so sorry, but I'm late for a meeting of my own and need to run." She rifled through her purse for the right business card and handed it over. "My number's on here. Please feel free to text me. I'm not busy tonight."
She rushed off as she eyed the woman in black who had turned right and glanced at her watch.
"We had dinner." Hermione carried on. "And he asked to see me again whenever we were both back in London. I agreed."
"Is that all?" the interrogator questioned.
"Yes," she lied.
She didn't tell him how she spent more time than necessary trying to figure out what to wear.
She didn't tell him how she went on that date and found herself enjoying immensely.
She didn't tell him how she was certain that she had started falling for Tom that day.
The interrogator breathed out, "So, you were compromised by the Subject beginning May 28, 2011?"
Hermione took insult to the way the question was phrased as she spat, "A relationship began between him and I that day, but I was not compromised by him."
Hermione was loyal to a fault, and sometimes that loyalty change, but it had been steadfast then.
The man looked down at his clipboard and made a few notes before gesturing to Hermione to continue.
"I had some issues with some of the locals the next day and Tom helped me. He demanded to know what was going on."
Her feet pounded harshly against the cobblestone streets as she ran from her assailants. She forced air in and out of her nose while her heart attempted to break free from its boned cage. She didn't know if they had discovered that she was an agent or if men couldn't seem to take no for an answer, but she knew for certain that she didn't want to find out.
Right as she was about to turn the corner, she crashed hard into what she thought was a moving wall but turned out to be none other than Tom Riddle.
"Hermione! Are you alright?"
Hermione glanced back and saw the men gaining on her.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered before pulling on the lapels of his suit jacket and molding her lips to his. She stroked the warm seam between his lips, asking for permission when he pulled her into his embrace and spun the both of them around, pinning her to the wall.
He swallowed her moans as he devoured her lips and she knew that whoever was chasing her was long gone by now, but she couldn't bring herself from pulling away from the man who had her pinned between the wall and his hips, a very obvious erection grinding into her pelvis.
Tom broke the kiss first and her eyes flicked from his swollen lips to his tousled hair.
She smiled sheepishly at him as she gave a nonchalant shrug, "Sorry about that. A jilted lover. Can't seem to take no as an answer."
"I'm not the only one?"
He pouted playfully and she thought that it looked out of place on him. After their night together, she had realized that he was more of a Hades than an Apollo - a quiet darkness that crept up on you and surrounded you.
"You're the only one that matters," she winked at him.
She knew that he didn't believe her but he nodded all the same and walked her back to her hotel.
He had left her a second kiss that day, something sweet and chaste on her cheek, and her skin still tingled from that kiss if she thought about it hard enough.
"Did you give in to the Subject's demand?"
Hermione stopped herself from rolling her eyes, "No."
The interrogator didn't apologize for questioning her competence. But, then again, this entire interrogation was about her competence and whether or not she had endangered the agency.
"Did you know that he was responsible for the murder of Minister Igor Karkaroff and the other Bulgarian officials?"
Bile surged into Hermione's mouth before she swallowed it and answered softly, "No, I did not."
The man made a lackadaisical sound as he wrote down more notes and waited for the polygraph machine to analyze her answer. When nothing consequential occurred, he resumed his interrogation.
"Tell me about September 25th."
Hermione took in a deep breath to calm her nerves as she recalled the memories of their fourth year anniversary.
The door to his townhouse opened soundlessly as she let herself in with the key he had given her. As she settled onto the couch, she noticed that his work computer was on and that his iMessage application kept pinging.
She was curious.
Tom was rather tight-lipped about his job which she always respected since it prevented him from asking her too many questions about her own occupation. She would have to kill him if she told him anything about what she actually did and she was too attached to him to do that.
Hermione crept up to the computer and realized that Tom was responding as well.
She knew she should respect his privacy but she snooping had been forged into her nature, made into a weapon and, if she was being frank, there was nothing wrong with a little bit of knowledge.
She was so fucking wrong.
She glanced at the contact.
Antonin Dolohov, it read.
Of course, Tom would be in contact with the Russian ambassador.
However, Hermione ignored the messages as she perused through his files, surprised when she found high-level encryptions on everything - from pictures to documents to sound bites. Realizing that she had at least another hour before Tom would arrive home, she set herself towards getting into the files. Another glance at the clock showed that forty-five minutes had passed and she grimaced. Only one file had been successfully decrypted.
As Hermione read through the file, her stomach dropped, dread pouring from her lips before a numbness began to creep in.
Plans.
That was what the encrypted file was.
Plans that set Tom as the leader of the Death Eaters, as the person responsible for the bombing in Moscow a month before.
Plans that indicated that the man that she was in love with was the man that she was meant to find and assassinate.
She understood, now, why some considered ignorance as bliss.
"You discovered that the Subject was your target on September 25th?"
"No. I had suspected for two years that he was the target. I pursued a romantic relationship with him to earn his trust and find solid intel that he was Lord Voldemort," Hermione lied again.
"And so you did not kill the Subject immediately upon the intel received? Nor inform the agency of the intel as well as to the fact that you had been compromised?"
Hermione bristled in obvious irritation.
"He was my target," she snarled. "I do not fail and I would not have failed my mission just because I had been in a relationship with him. That is why I didn't inform the agency."
The interrogator looked at Hermione skeptically before jotting down some notes. Hermione went back to staring into the two-way mirror, forcing her heart to stop bleeding and to compartmentalize her emotions.
What her interrogator didn't know was that her heart broke each morning after, what she calls, The Day as she left for work. Tom had made it a tradition to pull her into his lap right before she left and would try to convince her to call out and spend the day with him. He always ended his pleas with a kiss that would come very close to breaking her self-restraint but calling out had never been an option in her profession.
Those kisses wouldn't stop just because she knew, because Tom didn't know that she had discovered his identity. But she couldn't deny that she never pulled away even after she knew because Tom always touched her as if he couldn't get enough of her. He touched her like a man who had been starved for days, his fingers everywhere, finding anything to grab. He touched her as if any moment could be their last and he was desperate to memorize the feel of her on his fingertips.
And maybe he did so because he knew that there was a bounty on his head but she loved it anyway - his kisses and his passion with just her. Hermione's self-hate had been at an all-time high.
Every night after The Day, when he fell asleep by her side, Hermione would lay there, contemplating what to do next. She was an agent with a duty to protect her country, to protect the people in it, but she was also a woman in love. So every night, she slept with her heart in his hands while she held a Glock and a dagger in each of her own.
One night, Hermione had been sloppy and almost blew her entire mission but she wouldn't tell the interrogator that either.
Tom was a man who slept like a corpse on his back, rarely moving unless it was to reach out for her and landing a kiss on her cheek. That night, he had startled her by turning onto his side and before Hermione realized what she had done, she had straddled him, pressing her dagger to his throat and her Glock to his forehead.
With wide eyes that turned from shock to understanding, Tom began laughing, something that came deep from his belly, rattling her to her core.
"I knew the agency had sent people to search for me and kill me, but of all the people in the world," he whispered quietly, his voice ringing in the silence of their bedroom,"it would be the one person who holds my heart. How long have you known?"
Her throat hurt from holding back sobs and she felt like she could collapse like a house of cards, but her hands remained steady as she answered him, "Two months."
She hadn't realized that she was crying as she stared down at him until he slowly reached up and wiped her tears away, his warm hands cupping her face despite the immediate danger he was in.
Hermione shook her head rapidly, "Why, Tom?" she rasped out, holding back sobs, "Why? It could have been perfect. We could have been fucking perfect! WHY?"
Tom sighed softly and she watched his pink lips part, "It's too long of a story, Hermione."
"Don't condescend me," she snarled.
An elegant and careless shrug.
"Power," he stated simply, "for the power. Disrupt governments and disrupt the people's trust in their governments, have them turn to someone else. That's why no one knows who I am. I can't have them know that I'm the reason why there's chaos when I want them to turn to me."
They stared at each, eternities seeming to pass by between them before he broke the silence.
"Are you going to kill me now?"
The question was poised and measured as she continued staring. The silence was so incredibly loud as it dragged on. When minutes had passed and she had yet to answer, he reached for her hands and tried to move them. Without blinking, Hermione pressed her dagger even harder against Tom's neck. A thin line of crimson emerged just as she turned the safety off of the Glock.
"Stop," she demanded through gritted teeth, her breath coming out harsh. "Just fucking stop, Tom."
He froze and gave her a sad smile, closing his eyes before he ran his hands down to her hips, rubbing circles onto her bare flesh.
"At least it'll be you," he whispered, "I should've realized it sooner, but I guess love blinds us all."
Hermione realized, then, that despite her training, she wouldn't be able to follow through with this one mission. For the first time that she could remember, she chose her heart over her duty.
Turning on the gun's safety, Hermione tossed both of the weapons onto the nightstand. She quickly inspected the injury that she gave Tom and, with confirmation that it was just a minor scratch, she crashed her lips against his and ran her hands through his hair, pulling at it roughly while arching her body into his.
"Hermione," he murmured against her lips when he pulled back, threading his fingers into her hair.
She cut him off, "Make me forget. Make me forget who you are, who I am."
He pulled at her hair, exposing her neck before nipping at it.
"Please," she whimpered as he continued his way down her chest until he was upright and she was sitting in his lap.
Tom nodded to her before he set to make her cry out his name for the entire night.
"Did you end your relationship with the Subject?"
Hermione blinked, forgetting herself for a moment before regaining her composure.
"I killed him," she clipped, doing her best to keep her emotions at bay. "So, I guess that is one way of putting it."
The interrogator nodded approvingly.
"Tell us how you killed him, Agent Granger."
Her breath caught in her throat.
Despite the fact that her primary mission was to assassinate Lord Voldemort, who turned out to be her lover, Tom, Hermione was sent to Ukraine with Harry on a small and simple surveillance mission.
Or, it was supposed to be small and simple.
Until they realized that the village that they were surveying was manufacturing specialized guns for the Death Eaters. Before they could inform anyone of what they discovered, they had been captured and held together in iron manacles.
"If I break my left thumb and get out," Harry started, "do you think you can cover us both?"
Hermione scoffed, "Hush, Prongslet. We can get out of here without resorting to those methods. They want the cell leader to interrogate us and it might take a while for him to get here. Besides, we were supposed to check in with Padfoot four hours ago. The agency probably knows that something's amiss."
A few moments of silence before, "Is it true that you can kill a man in twenty different ways with a bobby pin?"
A rich laugh filled the air, "of course not," another voice chimed in, replying to Harry's question, "she can kill a man in thirty-eight different ways with a bobby pin. Give her two and those numbers will double."
The two of them turned towards the source and Hermione's stomach dropped as she watched Tom stroll towards them, donning another designer suit and leather loafers.
He shouldn't have looked so gorgeous.
"Her - Lux, is that, is that Tom?" Harry whispered in disbelief.
Hermione couldn't deny anything as she slowly nodded, her eyes locked onto Tom's. He stopped right before her and squatted, reaching out to unlock her handcuffs.
"Hey, love," he greeted quietly, murmuring under his breath so that only she could hear."I'm going to get you out of here alive, okay? You just need to follow my lead."
Another nod before he pulled her up and kissed her cheek gently, wrapping an arm around her waist.
"What is this, Tom?" Harry demanded furiously. "Lux?" he turned to her.
Hermione shook her head, "You don't understand, Prongslet, but just know this isn't what it looks like."
"Is Tom the one? Is Tom your target?"
Harry's face was flushed a deep and ugly red as he trembled with rage. His mother had been in the C.I.A. and his father, the MI6, and the two of them went M.I.A. four years ago when following a lead on Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters.
"You don't understand!" Hermione tried again.
"Then make me bloody understand," Harry practically roared, "tell me why you are fucking standing there with him without chains on your wrist while I am still chained."
"That is no way to talk to a lady, particularly mine," Tom snapped, finally addressing Harry. "Speak to her with respect or I'll have your tongue."
Harry spat at Tom, prompting one of the guards to backhand him across the face.
Tom smiled condescendingly at Harry as he pivoted to have Hermione in his embrace."Let us go then. We have dinner reservations in a few hours."
Hermione blinked.
That was right.
But, Hermione took in their current location and the hostage situation that had been created. It was very off-kilter, the entire situation, and it was only her training that kept her from causing a scene and demanding to know what was going on.
Hermione pressed up on her toes to give Tom a kiss by his ear and breathed into it, "What about Harry?"
He pulled back, his eyes flashing. "I don't have a mistress. You know I only care about you. No one else matters."
Hermione tensed at his answer and glanced around, taking in the number of guards in the building that were watching the two of them intently. She gave Tom a nod, signaling that she understood his response, and followed him. As soon as they turned a corner across the building, he pinned her to the wall and leaned in as if he was going to kiss her.
"Listen to me carefully, Hermione. All of these men here know who you are to me and will protect you but none of them know what you are. That protection might change if they do. Don't worry about, Harry. I will take care of it."
He sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "The mole said nothing about you or Harry."
Hermione barely had time to contemplate that there was a mole in the agency before the side of the building exploded. Tom pulled her to the ground and covered her with his body.
She heard him curse violently as he inspected the damage before he got up and pulled her to her feet.
An extraction team had arrived to rescue her and Harry and the telltale red-hair of Ginny drew her like a moth to a flame. She felt herself be jerked back into Tom's embrace before she got far.
"He is going to tell them everything, Hermione," he snapped, "You are the agent assigned to kill me and I'm not dead. You will be blacklisted."
"No," Hermione stated firmly, "They'll listen to me."
"Are you willing to bet your life on it?"
She must have hesitated too long because he pulled at her arm again, the two of them running to an unoccupied area.
"What are you doing?"
"You will be getting out of here alive, Hermione. I don't care at what costs."
"I am a 007 agent, Tom! I have duties!"
Tom rolled his eyes as he pulled out his Beretta and tossed it to her.
"It has 16 rounds. Show me that 007 status, Agent."
He gave her a smile before he disappeared and Hermione wanted to scream in frustration and anger. Instinct took over as she aimed and took shots at guards that were filing in and attacking her colleagues, not missing any of the fourteen shots that she took.
The sound of a safety clicking off stopped her as Hermione dropped Tom's gun and placed her hands in the air.
"Slowly, Agent," the person commanded. Hermione did as she was told before slowly turning around, a scowl on her face as she realized who it was.
Bellatrix Black had it out for Hermione, believing that Hermione stole Tom from her, and did her best to convince Tom what he was missing out. It would make sense that Tom would tolerate her if she was a part of his organization.
"Hello Bella," Hermione acknowledged.
"Who would have known that Tom's bookish girlfriend would be an agent?"
"Wife," Hermione corrected primly with a smug smile.
Without letting Bellatrix respond, Hermione moved to disarm her, grunting harshly when the taller woman landed a hard blow on her ribs. Her knuckles throbbed as her punches made impact and Hermione ached from the ones she received. Hermione was able to wrap her hands around Bella's gun and wrestled with her for it, finally wrenching it from Bella's hand. It skidded several meters away and Hermione took the opportunity to pull a bobby pin from her hair. Quickly, she jabbed it into Bellatrix's jugular before dragging it down.
"It's nothing personal, Bella," Hermione said softly as Bella choked on her blood, "but most women don't like it when other women flirt with their men and most people don't like it when a gun is pointed at their heads."
As a familiar yell of outrage filled the room, Hermione spun around and saw Harry straddling Tom, his dagger pinning Tom's left hand to the ground. Before she had time to rationalize her actions, Hermione grabbed Tom's Beretta and took a shot at Harry's arse, watching with satisfaction as her friend toppled over in pain.
He would be fine.
Hermione ran over to Tom and knelt by his side, watching with morbid satisfaction as he sat up and pulled the dagger out of his hand.
Their eyes met and, as cliche as it sounded, the world slowed down.
Hermione took in every detail that she could, drinking him. She memorized the curve of his lip, the angle of his jaws, and the breadth of his forehead. She imagined his face when he was happy, when he was sad, when he was in ecstasy, and when he was in love - with her.
Her heart stuttered.
It was time. This was it.
He was being taken away from her and she would be the one doing it.
"I love you," she told him, her voice never wavering.
He nodded and leaned over, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"And I love you, Hermione."
He placed his hand over her own as he pointed the gun towards his heart. He pulled the trigger for her and then he was gone.
She didn't remember anything after that.
"Just a few more questions, Agent Granger. Did you love the Subject?"
The way he asked the question was so clinical – so detached. No regard was given for how intimate such a question was.
Hermione wanted to lie.
She wanted to scream.
She wanted for honeyed words to spill sweetly from her mouth, stating quite firmly that she didn't ever love a Tom Marvolo Riddle ever in her life and that her marriage to him was nothing but a farce - a way to trick him into trusting her but her heart jumped wildly and she couldn't lie about this one thing.
The word was anything but honey but it still felt thick and heavy on her tongue as it slowly dripped out.
"Yes," she whispered so softly, barely able to hear herself. She looked away from the two-way mirror and truly stared at the man questioning her since she first sat down on the cold, metal chair. She almost held her breath as the polygraph took in her response, noting faintly that it had not accused her of lying
Her interrogator looked at her with unadulterated surprise and she gave him a wry smile.
They could take anything but this from her. She would keep this without shame.
"And finally, did the Subject tell you anything else before he died?"
Hermione finally met the interrogator's eyes as she bared her teeth at him, uncaring at this point of who was watching.
"No, Tom did not."
She was dismissed from the room then and quickly made her way out of the building. She didn't stop until she was back into his townhouse, curled up on his side of the bed and inhaling his scent. That was the way she fell asleep whenever she did actually sleep.
December 31, 2017
324 Days Since the Subject was K.I.A.
Her final mission with the MI6 had been in Argentina before she retired. Retiring at 28 might have been too young, but she had been with the agency for ten years now and she was too tired. The kind of tired that seeped into her very bones and made her feel heavy all the time. The kind that made her feel exhausted even if she spent days laying bed.
Assassinating people for the agency and spying on other countries for the Queen was a high-paying job. She had enough to live more than comfortably and she was done with sacrificing herself for everyone else.
After Argentina, Hermione didn't even bother returning to London. No one above Clearance Level 7 had forgiven her for knowing who Tom was and not killing him the moment that she found out.
That included Harry.
Hermione took several flights, trains, and boats, jumping across the world and changed her identity seven times before she finally flew to the south of France under the name Rhea Anderson with dark, brunette locks and a new nose. She reveled in the quiet, scenic drive to the private villa that she purchased under another one of her identities.
Only grabbing a suitcase and a box labeled kitchen, Hermione let herself into her new home. Her heart ached as she remembered when she bought this place.
"You bought us a house?"
She fidgeted nervously, "Is that okay?"
"I'd follow you until the end of the world."
She scrunched her face in distaste, "That's cheesy."
A light peck on her lips, "It is, but it's the truth, my love."
Hermione fished a wine glass out of the box and poured herself some Chardonnay. As she took a sip, she heard quiet footsteps approaching her. Without hesitation, she pulled Tom's Beretta from the holster on her hip and turned around, clicking the safety off immediately.
She should have known that it would be much more difficult to leave her former life.
"Hello, Mrs. Riddle."
She woke up to him running his hand over her arm.
"Marry me," he demanded.
Hermione scoffed, "You're supposed to ask me, Tom."
"Please?" he amended. Hermione forced her way into his arms, wriggling until she could comfortably lay her head on his chest and intertwine their legs together.
"Why?"
"I've adjusted my will and it'd be much easier if you were my wife."
She stilled at that. Last night was still raw on her mind. She took a look at the wound that was already scabbing at his neck.
"I don't want to talk about your death, Tom," she stated quietly.
"Then just marry me."
"Give me a better reason," she requested. He started running his fingers up and down her shoulders. Her eyes fluttered shut at the familiar touches.
"I'm a simple man in love with a woman and I want to make her mine for the rest of my life."
Hermione made a small noise as she contemplated her decision.
"My name's Hermione Granger, not Wilkins," she told him.
Tom snorted, "I'm still Tom Riddle and I'm not just a trust fund child."
She nodded and gave a long sigh, "I guess you'll do."
"Good. I have Abraxas coming in the morning."
"Abraxas?" she repeated. She imagined him smirking.
"Yes, apparently, he got drunk one night and became a clergy online."
"Ah," Hermione intoned, "Of course. Will he be marrying us then?"
"Why else would I have him come?"
His voice was low and familiar and she watched him smirk at her, his face amused.
Hermione lowered his gun and placed it on the countertop as she stared at her handsome husband, taking him in with her eyes greedily.
"Hello, Mr. Riddle," she greeted back, feeling happiness for the first time in a long time.
"It's been a long time."
"Too long," she sighed before she launched herself into his waiting arms, clinging onto him tightly.
"Does anyone know?"
She pulled back and allowed him to inspect her face, noting his look of surprise at her new nose.
"No one bothered to know. They're all still upset."
Tom kissed her forehead. "It's their loss. And when the war starts?"
"We can take care of ourselves, can't we? It'll be fine. Besides, my training was facilitated by both the U.S. and the U.K. on how to disrupt other countries and create chaos while protecting my own. They'll see it for what it is."
"You're the perfect asset."
Hermione swatted at him, "I'm the perfect fucking wife, Riddle."
He chuckled.
"The agency is pressing me. They want your head and they want it now."
Tom waved her off as he continued typing on his computer. Hermione huffed and stomped towards him, pulling his computer from him.
"Are you even listening to me?" she shrieked.
Tom sighed as he pulled her into his lap and grabbed his computer. He clicked on a video and made her watch him interact with a carbon copy of him.
She turned and gaped at him, "What? How? That is technology that is light years ahead."
"You're married to a powerful and intelligent man, Mrs. Riddle."
Hermione scowled, "It is Mrs. Granger-Riddle!"
"My sincerest apologies, Mrs. Granger-Riddle. But, as I was saying, about that intelligent part, you'll know when it's time to kill that version of me."
"What do you mean?"
"People will be able to witness it, clear your name officially of being a traitor so that you don't get too much trouble for your relationship with me."
"You're stressed," she commented as she reached over and brushed his hair from his forehead.
"Trying to take over the world is a trying job," he responded, waving her off without looking at her.
"Perhaps you're too ambitious."
His eyebrows furrowed together and he paused his typing.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, right now, you're only causing fear through small-scale terrorist attacks and kidnappings. I think you should do something more dramatic. Hit the more powerful countries fast and hard, topple their governments. Confusion and chaos will ensue and, if you have a puppet in place when it happens, have them take advantage of that and reign in the chaos. Once everything is a bit more stable, reveal yourself."
Tom gave her a feral smile as he closed his computer and placed her in his lap, "Has anyone told you how brilliant you are?"
"Almost every day, but that wasn't brilliance, Tom. That was simplicity."
"Tell me a specific plan."
Hermione hummed as she thought, bringing her fingers to her lips in concentration before talking.
"If we want to take the States, for example, destroy their Congress. They have to gather each January 3rd on Capitol Hill, so, that would be a perfect date to do so. I'd suggest a series of bombs. The president may call together emergency actions and use Executive Orders, but the Americans are all about their checks and balances.
With a third of their government missing, they'll be completely unbalanced. Take into account that all of their officials are elected, it will take a long time for there to be new representatives and senators. By the time they are holding elections, we will have someone installed and heralding over it. Attack other major cities at the same time, too."
Tom was silent as he stared at her and Hermione curled into herself, feeling self-conscious.
"What is it?"
"You said 'we'," he remarked with smug satisfaction. Hermione thought back to what she said before giving him a small smile.
"Perhaps, I did."
Inspired by the Gallagher Girls series (which is such amazing and if you slide into my DMs, I will tell you precisely why I love the series so much). Thank you for reading and please feel free to find me on Tumblr under the same pen name!