.
.
~ Coming Undone ~
by
marana1
.
.
Time Period: The Victorian era (mid-1800s to late 1800s)
Extended Summary: AU. It's the mid 1800s and Hermione, Ron, Harry, and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix are fighting against their opposing forces: Grindelwald's followers, which are comprised mainly of Purebloods and Pureblood supremacists. After two attacks on her life, Ron (her soon-to-be husband) and Harry have finally convinced Hermione that she is in no position to claim she can take care of herself alone. Enter Tom Riddle: the most highly recommended, intelligent, and caring man to watch over and protect her during the day – to essentially be her bodyguard. Little does Hermione know, Tom may not be as perfect as she initially believes...
Chapter 1
Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling.
Obeying someone else – especially when their orders went against what she, personally, wanted and thought was right – had always been hard for Hermione to do.
Today was no exception.
It had been exactly two days since she was almost captured by the dark, Pureblood supremacist forces.
It had been exactly one day and twenty two hours since Harry and Ron approached her, wide-eyed and fearful, trying to get her to agree to their idea – to hire a bodyguard to protect her.
It had been exactly one day, twenty one hours and fifty nine minutes since she disagreed with their idea and claimed it was nothing she couldn't handle. Since that moment, she was positive she'd said that statement about eight times to numerous people.
Just because she was a woman did not mean she couldn't take care of herself, yet, everyone in the Order of the Phoenix made it glaringly obvious that they thought the complete opposite. They thought she was being as stubborn as a mule. Hermione, on the other hand, simply believed she was proving an important point in this patriarchal society – women were not inferior, and yes, they could take care of themselves.
She sat resolutely, her arms crossed over her chest in a childish manner, while her fiery, brown eyes glared at the two men in front of her.
"I've told you both before, this is nothing I can't handle," she snapped.
Nine times, now, Hermione thought sourly.
Harry slumped his shoulders and stared at her in a way that clearly conveyed how sick of this discussion he was, while Ron gulped. Her fiancée had always been the smart one. Ron was the one out of the two that was actually afraid of inciting her wrath.
"This isn't up for discussion, Hermione," Harry barked. "He's here! He's waiting for you in the ballroom! You can't honestly expect us to just tell him to leave!"
"Yes, Harry!" she cried, her gown rustling softly as she stood from the stupid chair they'd insisted she'd sit in before trying to convince her that she did, in fact, need a bodyguard. "I do expect you to do that! I'm not bloody incapable of taking care of myself!"
"Hermione, this man needs a job. He's come completely qualified from so many people–"
"I don't care, Ron!" she yelled, turning her furious brown gaze to his. "I can't believe you two are so… so… misogynistic!"
"Harry," she heard Ron whisper, infuriating her even more, "what does–"
"It means," she exclaimed, "that you two think I'm inferior and incapable of handling myself because I'm a woman – it's an old, discriminatory way of thinking!"
The raven-haired man let out a long, suffering sigh.
"Here we go again," he muttered.
Hermione let out a little noise of frustration before stomping her foot, her stupid heels clanging dangerously on the flooring.
"We just want to keep you safe, Hermione," sighed Harry, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes wearily. "There've been two attacks on your life so far. After the first one, you insisted you'd be able to take care of yourself, and we relented. This, however, is the second attack and it's only been a month. You were nearly captured. Do you even know what that means or how serious this is?"
"I do," she replied, her expression softening at the desperate looks on her closest friend and her fiancé's faces, "But I'm perfectly capable–"
"Humor us, then," interrupted Harry.
The raven-haired man walked over to her and held her hand.
"We're not being misogynistic. We just can't bear to lose you, 'Mione. We're in the middle of war and you're valuable to the dark side – to Grindelwald. We need to keep you safe. We need to protect you. Allow us to protect you."
"We love you," added Ron, who was now at her other side and holding her other hand gently. "Besides, I can't very well lose you. Who else will I marry if I don't have my fiancée in one piece?"
A small smile wound its way onto her face. Hermione's brown eyes flickered between the two closest people in her life before she sighed reluctantly. After all, it wasn't every day Ron declared his love for her. Actually, he rarely ever did. She quickly shoved that thought to the back of her mind.
Not now.
"Fine," she relented, "I'll accept this."
The two men let out relieved sighs.
"Thank Merlin," mumbled Harry, "Let's go. He's been waiting to meet you for almost a half hour now."
"A little waiting never hurt anyone," she mumbled under her breath before being whisked away.
Harry and Ron just snorted in response.
It was darker than normal in the ballroom. The windows let in barely any light because of the dark, stormy day, and candles had been lit throughout the large space to counteract the gloom.
The brunette walked into the room, Harry and Ron on either side. Looking around, she caught sight of three men standing in the middle of the large, dimly lit space, talking faintly. One she recognized as Dumbledore, who had also supported Harry's idea to find her a bodyguard, but the other two she never recalled meeting. One of the two looked to be the same age as Dumbledore; they looked very similar, save the fact that the unknown man had a much shorter beard and seemed more feeble and wizened. The other she could barely make out. He was tall – taller than his counterpart – was much younger and had wavy, dark hair and pale skin. His face was masked in shadow, and he stood straight and tall, his hands clasped behind his back.
As they made their way over, the chatter paused and the men turned to watch them. Hermione straightened and tried desperately to look like she wanted to be there.
"Miss Granger," smiled Dumbledore, "How lovely of you to join us."
"Not of my own volition, I can assure you," she replied tightly.
She heard Ron sigh and Harry clear his throat as an awkward pause descended upon the six people.
"It's wonderful to make your acquaintance, Miss Granger," said the older man standing next to Dumbledore, breaking the silence.
"The same to you, as well, Mister…?"
"Ah, of course," interjected Dumbledore, "Miss Granger, this is Headmaster Armando Dippet of Hogwarts." He gestured to the man next to him. "An old friend of mine. I had recently told him of our… predicament and he graciously promised to help find someone to alleviate our situation. One of his best students–"
"My best student, actually, Dumbledore," he interrupted.
"My apologies," the wizard replied, smiling, "His best student offered to help."
Hermione nodded and smiled faintly before extending her hand, which the old man kissed quickly before releasing.
"Miss Granger," began Armando, "I'd like you to meet one of the brightest young men I've ever had the good fortune of meeting and instructing… this is Mister Tom Riddle."
Hermione's eyes slid from Dippet to the young man shrouded in shadow next to him.
"Hello, Miss Granger," said the man softly, his voice as smooth as silk. "It's lovely to finally make your acquaintance."
She watched as he took a step into the light, the candles illuminating his perfect skin, dark eyes, and aristocratic features. Trying hard not to gawk at his beauty, she swallowed hard and slowly offered her hand. Their eyes clashed.
"Same to you as well, Mister Riddle," she responded as his lips brushed over the skin on the back of her hand.
She didn't fail to notice his dark eyes were on her the entire time.
Tom watched on quietly as the people around him engaged each other in conversation, his eyes flickering between the two men on either side of Miss Granger, Headmaster Dippet, and Miss Granger herself.
He quickly came to the conclusion that this was a degrading job the moment his headmaster had suggested it, yet, he needed it. It would ferment his future plans and it was essential that he have the trust of the members of the Order of the Phoenix.
From what he'd heard about Miss Granger, she was more of an activist than anything else.
A Mudblood as well.
He refrained from sneering at the thought. There was nothing noteworthy at all about her. She was pretty, he supposed, but then again, he'd never cared too much about looks like many of his Knights. Headmaster Dippet said she was very outspoken about her views regarding Purebloods and Mudbloods and the integration of the two classes. On top of this, her impending marriage to the youngest male Weasley, Mister Ronald Bilius, was a topic of disgrace. A Mudblood and a Pureblood marrying? It was unheard of. That, coupled with the fact that she was a woman, made her a target for the dark forces. War between the two classes had been going on for centuries now, but never this violent. Talks of a new power, a man by the name of Grindelwald, had been surfacing for the past year now – that he was leading his own army to purge the world of Mudbloods forever. Tom could attest to this because it was true. Grindelwald was gaining power, and his main goal was to eradicate Mudbloods from Wizarding society.
Not that Tom would mind that, really. It's just that Grindelwald's idea clashed with his own, and he couldn't have that, now could he?
His eyes flickered from Mister Weasley to Miss Granger once again. What was so compelling about her? Why did everyone need her alive? She was nothing but a woman. A meddlesome, troublesome, gossiping, uneducated, idiotic woman. All of them were the same: good-for-nothings. He could see it in her eyes; she was already infatuated with him like the rest.
How revolting.
When he finally did achieve power, she'd be the first one he'd kill. It wouldn't even be a loss – she was a Mudblood, after all.
Pity, he thought, without a hint of remorse. Her bodyguard, the one that everyone has so heavily recommended to protect her and keep her safe, will be the one to kill her.
The young Dark Lord's eyes slid from their study of Miss Granger to the Head of the Order of the Phoenix: Albus Dumbledore. The dark amusement at the thought of her death vanished quickly. The old man was watching him curiously, his blue eyes penetrating. Immediately, he felt uncomfortable and vulnerable. Unlike the other men and women he'd met, this old man didn't immediately take a liking to him. In fact, if Tom was to be completely honest, he seemed to almost dislike him, or be wary of him.
That would not do. Not at all.
Perhaps I'll kill him as well when all is said and done.
With that comforting thought, Tom was able to get through the rest of the pleasantries and lunch.
Please do favorite/alert/review!
Tumblr: potterston
Twitter: mnadzz
