EvilAngel-001: Okay, so this will eventually become a Hermione-Tom story. It doesn't sound like it, but it will. Also, everything after the fifth book has been changed slightly.

Prologue

"Mummy?" came the small voice. Hermione shifted uneasily in her large bed, rustling the covers. She opened an eye and stared out into the darkness. The silhouette of a small child eventually became clear and she smiled sleepily.

"Yes, sweetie?" she asked.

"Can I sleep with you? I had a nightmare…" he told her as he placed his hands on the edge of the bed, ready to climb up. She moved further into the center of the bed and lifted her arm and the covers up. He crawled in and slipped into her embrace, resting his head in the crook of her neck.

She reached a hand up onto his head and began to twirl his honey colored curls with her fingers. They sat there in silence for a moment before the boy shifted and sat up, looking at his mother. "Mummy," he said again.

"Yes, Payton?" she said, closing her eyes once more as she felt herself nearly succumb to sleep.

"Why don't I have a daddy?" he asked, his voice barely audible in the quiet of the room. Her eyes shot open as she sat up, moving him away from her body in the process. She turned to him, her golden hair falling over her shoulder.

"What?" she asked, hoping she had heard him wrong.

"Why don't I have a daddy? James has a daddy. And so does Hailey," he asked, his voice growing more urgent.

"Sweetie, now's not the time," she told him, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach as he muscles clenched and tightened.

"But mummy!" he cried. "Why? Why am I not good enough to have a daddy?"

Hermione woke up with a start, her heart palpitating from the dream she just had. She looked to her side and saw the huddled form of her son sleeping beside her, his head nuzzled against her chest.

She reclined her head back, sighing heavily as she recovered from the dream. Ever since those six years ago she always feared what might happen if Payton were to ask about his father. She could never tell him, even though he heard about his father all the time. In the news, on the street. He always heard about him. He just didn't know that Lord Voldemort was his father.

She moved her arm out from under his body and sat up in the bed, her feet dangling over the edge. She sat there for awhile, staring out the window as she thought about anything and everything. She didn't think she would ever tell him about his father. No, she never would. She stood up, stretching as she raised her arms high above her head.

The sound of her son's peaceful breathing filled the room, and she couldn't help but smile as she left her room. She came into the kitchen, organized neatly as was the Hermione way. She came to a cupboard and grabbed the handle of a coffee. Suddenly, a vision crossed her mind, startling her. She dropped hold of the cup, letting it fall to the ground where it shattered into a hundred pieces.

She grasped hold of the counter to steady herself as she pressed a sweaty palm to her forehead. 'Dammit,' she cursed as she thought about the vision that shattered her stance. It was a flashback, to those six years ago. The day she was raped by Lord Voldemort.

Hermione sat up in bed, her heart beating heavily in her chest. A layer of perspiration had formed, separating her body from her clothes. She had sworn she had heard a noise. The noise had sounded like a giant thump from downstairs, shaking the entire house. She whisked away some hair from her face and reached over for the bedside table, where he wand sat idly, placed haphazardly as if in a hurry to put it there.

She raised it, muttering a spell as the lights turned on. She looked around, her soft brown eyes taking in every inch of the small bedroom. Her desk in the corner, laden with books. A bookcase nearby, filled with large tomes and volumes. A dresser and then her large, king size bed. Nothing was there. No intruder.

At least not in here room.

Taking in all of her courage, she got up from the bed, her bare feet touching the cold floor. She raised the wand parallel to the floor as she marched purposefully from the room. She heard whispers as she approached the landing, knowing that they were not her parents. She swallowed hard as she closed her eyes, running down the stairs, bearing her wand.

She opened them only in time to aim and yell, "Expelliarmus!"One Death Eater released his wand and fell against the wall with a grunt of surprise.

She looked to her next potential victims, and saw Among them a smirking Lord Voldemort.

"Ah," he said as if he weren't surprised by her attack at all. "Miss Hermione Granger. How kind of you to join us." Some snickers evolved from the group of Death Eaters. She got a terrible feeling, as if there wasn't something she wasn't aware of.

"You are, after all," he said, rising his voice above the snickers, "our special guest."

Swallowing her fear and anxiety, she asked, "What do you mean?"

Now the laughter exploded. Even Voldemort gave a light chuckle. He approached closer and she couldn't help the flinch that shook through her body.

"We came here, to get to Harry Potter." He looked at her through his speculating, red eyes. "Through you."

"Your parents," he said, picking up his close and moving it away, "tried to protect you." She looked down and gasped as she saw the corpses of her parents, their limbs bent at odd angles and their mouths gaped open, as if they fried trying to scream for help.

She felt tears push through her eyes as a terrible hole broke through her body. She wanted to scream, too wake up and find out it was only a dream. But it wasn't. It was real.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, her voice small and fearful.

He gave a little chuckle, looking amongst his follows. Then, he swooped down, grabbing hold of her neck and pushing her to the ground. She struggled against him, her fingers gripping tighter around the handle of her wand. He grabbed her hand and pulled free the wand, flinging it across the room.

He hovered above her and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"Do you see this Harry?" he said, almost dreamily. "Do you see your Mudblood Bitch?"

"NO!" she yelled, and in her defense, she did the only thing she could think off. She spat at him. Indignant and angered, he said once more:

"I hope you see what I'm doing to her."

Hermione came to again, placing a hand to forehead as if to rub the bad thoughts away. But they wouldn't go away. They were still there, as powerful and as clear as ever. That had been a horrible night, one she had somehow managed to trick Harry into thinking nothing happened.

'He must've tried to trick you, like he did with Sirius. Nothing happened,' she had told him and after some kind persuasion, he believed her. He was reluctant too, but she had tricked him into it. The hardest part was explaining her parents' death. She had waited about two weeks later to finally tell them, saying that it had been a different night, other than when he had the dream.

And then came Payton. She had explained him by saying she got drunk one night to deal with the death and ended up having a one-night stand. They had bought that as well, even though they still commented on how un-Hermione-like it was.

But so long as they bought it, she was happy. She was taken from her thoughts when she heard the gentle padding of feet on the floor. She looked up to see Payton standing in the door way, his thumb stuck in his mouth.

She forced a smile. "Yes, Sweetie?"

"I can't sleep. I had a nightmare…Can I sleep with you?" She smiled, despite the thought of her dream that floated to her mind.

"Yes, of course," she said as she walked over and grabbed his little hands, leading him to her room.

There, they fell asleep. Hermione slept fitfully, with dreams and flashbacks of that night those six years ago.

xXx

"Come on, Payton," Hermione said as she tightened her hold on his hand. Payton hurried his footsteps to keep up with her long strides. His tiny fingers grasped around her hand, tightening the hold.

"Mummy, where are we going?" he asked as they walked through the streets of Diagon Alley. They snaked their way through the witches and wizards that blocked the way. They finally made it to their destination, The Dragon's Tail, a recently constructed restaurant and bar. They entered and asked the waiter where the Weasley Party was.

He led them past the tables until they came to an area where the tables were pushed together to make the table longer. There sat the Weasleys and the Potters. Hermione smiled as she approached them, grabbing hold of a chair for Payton and then one for herself.

"Hey, 'Mione!" Harry said as he placed down his bottle of Fire Whiskey. She could tell by the faint blush to his cheeks that he was slowly making himself more and more drunk.

"Hey," she replied as she propped up her menu and promptly ordered some food. Payton did the same and immediately started to play the mazes on the place mat.

"How are you doing, Bud?" Harry asked Payton, running a hand through his mess of honey-colored curls.

"Good," he said, taking a large sip from his water. "You?" he asked as he set his glass down.

Harry laughed. "I'm good."

Harry dismissed the conversation, turning to Ron as they began to talk about the hunt for Death Eaters that the Ministry had commissioned. From what Hermione could gather, it was not going well. They had lost a total of five aurors in three days and were no closer to their goal than before. It seemed as if, Voldemort was winning.

"The worst part is," Harry said, gaining the attention of all sitting at the table. They found Draco as 'not guilty' in the ministry ruling. The shrugged away all his petty crimes for the fact that he holds a position as a magistrate." Harry was exasperated now, flailing his arms up in the air for emphasis.

Hermione shook her head. "It's things like this that make me feel sick," she told them as she leaned back in her chair. Payton looked to her with questioning eyes.

"What happened, Mummy?" he asked.

She turned to him and said, "A very bad man who works for Voldemort was freed a few days ago." Color drained from his face as he knew what that meant.'

"So he'll just kill more people?" She gave a sad nod and he looked down at his placemat sadly, his eyes following the marks he had drawn.

George looked up from his plate and nudged Fred in the side. He looked up and rolled his eyes. "Speak of the Devil," he began.

"And he shall appear," George finished. They turned around and saw Draco Malfoy sauntering over, looking quite pretentious in his green silk robe with his hair slicked back. Harry sneered, his countenance falling into bitter dislike.

"Well, well, well," he said as he placed a manicured hand on Hermione's shoulder. She flinched at the touch, still frightened of what could later become of the contact. "If it isn't the Mudblood Defenders. How nice it is to see you all." The sarcasm dripped from his voice like poison.

"Go away, Malfoy," Hermione said, her voice shaky as she recalled the last time she was touched by Death Eaters.

He looked at her, leaning down so that his face was right next to hers. She stiffened at his close proximity, shying away from him. He grabbed hold of a lock of her hair and began twirling it in his fingers. "You know Hermione, you've become awfully pretty for a mudblood."

"Leave Mummy alone!" Payton roared, dragging the attention of everyone in the restaurant. Malfoy jumped and looked to him, startled.

"Mummy?" he repeated, as if the idea of Hermione Granger becoming a mother was unfathomable. He looked to her, then to the boy, almost dreamily. The boy looked like her, very much so. His hair was a neat pile of honey colored curls and his face was smooth and pale. The only difference between them was his eyes, which were dark blue, growing darker as the irises met the pupils.

"How old is he?" he asked.

"None of your business," Hermione said firmly, strength returning in her voice.

"I'm five but I'll be six in three months!" he said proudly.

"Five…" Malfoy muttered. He then turned around and hastily left, his footsteps pounding on the wood floors.

"What was that about?" Bill asked as he watched the blond man leave.

Ron shrugged and said, "He's a bastard. Don't pay attention to him."

"Ronald!" Hermione yelled as she looked to Payton. "Don't swear!"

Ron blushed at her chiding and mumbled an apology. Slowly, the table developed into a debate over which Quidditch team was going to win the world cup and Hermione slunk away into the background.

"Mummy," Payton said. "What's a bastard?"

"Don't say that word!" she scolded. "It's a bad name for people born from wedlock," she explained and he mouthed an 'oh'.

She turned away and cut into her steak. As she chewed on a piece she heard Payton say, "Am I a bastard?" The entire table immediately quieted and turned to see how she would handle this. Too shocked by his question to chide him, she simply sat there, her mouth gaping open.

Finally, she said," Well, technically. But that doesn't change the fact that I love you." He looked down at his hands, biting his lower lip as he debated whether to ask the question.

"Mummy," he began, his voice shaky. When he looked back up, she realized he was crying. "Does Daddy love me?"

Hermione's mouth fell open and closed, unsure of what to say. Did she say yes? She made small noises and shook her head. "Well…of…well, yeah…I mean, of course he does," she finally said as he shoulders slumped forward.

He shook his head and said vehemently, "Then how come he never comes!" Her heart pounded as she watched him push away from the table and jump down, running towards the bathroom. Hermione turned around and looked to her friends, her family.

"You should talk to him," Ginny suggested, by Mrs. Weasley gave a hefty laugh, throwing her head back and everything.

Once she composed herself, she turned to Hermione and said, "Just give him time. Trust me, I raised too many kids to not know how to deal with them." Hermione nodded, turning back and biting her lip. What was she to do? She always feared the day this would come, but she never expected it so soon. She rested her arm on the table and slouched forward, resting her head in the crook of her arm. How was she to tell her son that his father was inattentive because he was Lord Voldemort?

xXx

Lord Voldemort reclined in his chair, throwing his feet up on the desk. The young Tom Riddle, pulled from his own time, to aid his future self, stood beside him, his posture perfect and regal. "Things are going well Tom. Soon, we will overthrow the ministry. We've already infiltrated them and as soon as Knott wins the election for minister, we will win the war yet," Voldemort said enthusiastically.

Before Tom had a chance to respond, the door swung open and Draco Malfoy ran towards them. His hair was in disarray and his robes were falling from his shoulder. He grasped hold of the desk, trying to regain his composure as he took deep breaths. Tom and Voldemort exchanged glances, eyebrows quirked in curiosity.

"Draco, what is the meaning of this intrusion?" Voldemort asked, trying to control his anger.

He looked up to him and said, "Do you remember, six years ago, when you raped Hermione Granger?" Tom turned to Voldemort, his eyebrows furrowed. Voldemort smirked and gave a light chuckle.

"Of course I remember. How could I forget?" he said, recalling the moment and the fear in her eyes. Somehow, she had tricked Harry into disbelieving what he saw but it was still worth it all.

"Yeah, well, nine months later she had a kid," he said rather bluntly. Suddenly, and quite comically, Voldemort fell back, his entire chair giving way as he fell with a thump on the ground. Tom and Malfoy glanced at each other before running over and looking at him. Tom offered him his hand but he shoved it away. He picked himself up, brushing off his robes and straightening them. He then turned to Malfoy, his eyes red flames.

"You mean to tell me that she had my kid?" he asked, his voice poison to the ears. Malfoy swallowed.

"Well, it makes sense. Hermione isn't one to have a kid from wedlock and from what I know she isn't married. Plus he, erm…had his eyes," he said, nodding in Tom's direction. Tom blinked.

Voldemort's breathing became audible and both Tom and Malfoy took a few steps back. "This doesn't have to be a bad thing," he reassured himself. "I mean, I need someone to carry on what I will soon accomplish. Tom won't live forever," he began mumbling. "Yes, this is a very good thing. But we must act fast! We need to corrupt him while he's still young."

"Tom!" He turned around so suddenly with such a booming voice that Tom and Malfoy jumped high. "I have a mission for you!"

"And what is that, Lord Voldemort?" he asked, quickly regaining his fallen countenance.

He smiled a crooked smile, uplifting the ends of his mouth, as he said, "I need you to kidnap Hermione and her son."

xXx

EvilAngel-001: Okay, what do you think?