A/N: Ah, hello! Here is a sneaky little extra for Halloween that I got the inspiration for. It's a little bit Scarlet Letter, a little bit the Crucible, but I hope that it's unique enough that you enjoy it. It didn't quite turn out how I envisioned it, so who knows, I might do more with it in the future! You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions!

Please let me know what you thought of this! Happy Halloween!


Hermione whimpered, pulling the covers around her tighter, though it did little to stave off the cold, icy tendrils of wind sneaking in through the cracks of her little attic bedroom to twirl around her limbs in an embrace. Outside, the storm raged on, battering the little house and rattling the windows panes violently. But it was nothing to compare with what she felt inside.

"Hermione!" a worried voice called through the door. "Hermione!" The pounding of knuckle against the wood continued the more worried that Lily Potter grew. "Please, the minister is here. Just let him talk to you."

Knowing that she couldn't deny the woman who'd taken her in after her mother died for long, Hermione finally broke agreeing to let the man come in, even though the last thing that she wanted to do was talk to Tom Riddle. He wasn't a minister, not yet at least, he'd only taken courses down in Boston. But still, she was keenly aware of the fact that he would know that there was something wrong with her.

Something that was sure to get her in trouble.

As soon as she agreed to let him in, the door was being pushed open and Tom Riddle swooped in, his face made all the paler by the cold. His jet black hair was wind swept and his eyes, the color of the midnight sky, roved over her form prone on the bed.

Riddle turned back to look at Lily. "Could Miss Granger and I have a moment alone? I think she would feel more comfortable that way," he asked, his voice soothing and leaving no room for argument. Lily didn't need to be told twice.

He crossed the room slowly, and Hermione backed up pulling the sheets up to press against her chest, feeling exposed. Riddle sat down on the edge of the bed and gave her a charming smile. "Hermione?" he asked, not caring that he was invading her personal space. "Lily was worried about you. She said something happened today, but she couldn't get it out of you."

"It...it was nothing," Hermione lied, wondering if the sin was twice as bad if you lied to an almost Minister.

"It wouldn't be nothing if you were hiding away in here," he argued back, with a crooked smile. "Come on, Hermione. You can tell me. It will be just between us."

Gnawing away at her lower lip, Hermione considered his words. She supposed that if there would be anyone who could help her, Riddle would be the most likely candidate. "I don't know how to explain it," she started. "Pansy was just being so rude to me, so mean, and I... imagined something bad happening to her...and then, mercy, this is going to sound crazy, but...it happened." She pressed her eyes shut for a moment, until she could will herself to face him.

When she opened her eyes again, he was rewarding her with a smirk that seemed positively devilish. "I know exactly how to help you," he told her, a promise in her voice.

...

"I want silence!" Lucius Malfoy's cutting voice rang out in the small meeting hall that was stuffed full of townspeople, here to gawk at the proceedings. It took a few moments of exaggerating sushing, but eventually they grew quiet enough to hear what was going on. "Miss Granger, you are on trial for witchcraft. How do you plead?" he asked, playing the concerned citizen, but Hermione knew better.

"I am not guilty of witchcraft," she answered. Her voice was resolute and unshaking, despite her nerves. Her eyes scanned the crowd for a sympathetic face, but instead she found only ire and anger.

"You are accused of tormenting Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy," Lucius Malfoy continued on with his cutting, snarling voice. "How do you plead?"

"I never touched them in my life!" Hermione begged. "Please, why won't any of you just believe me?" she asked. But why should they believe her? She was little more than an orphan. She had no meaningful ties to the community aside from the Potters. It was easy to blame the bad things that had happened on her. And when the people accusing her were the children of very powerful mean in their village, well...it was no surprise that she was here.

"Why do you insist on hurting these children?" Malfoy snarled, his pale face going red. His long blond hair was held back in a leather thong.

She felt tears spring into her eyes, hating all the accusations that were being hurled at her. How could they call Pansy and Draco children, when she was the same age as them? "I never hurt them," she insisted. "How could I hurt them? I've been locked up in the jail all week."

"She came to me in the form of a black cat!" Pansy shrieked, enjoying the gasps of the people that had assembled to see the first witch put on trial in years. "She's been tormenting me every night. I know that it's her!"

Lucius turned and gave Pansy a placating smile. "You will have a chance to testify. I am sure that everyone here would like to hear your side of the story," he promised. Pansy did not look too placated, but she did reward Hermione with a smirk, no longer putting on the act of a scared little girl.

"Miss Granger," Lucius continued, his attention returning to her. "You are accused of putting your name in the Devil's book. How do you plead?"

Hermione could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage, the sound of her blood rushing through her veins drowning out the noise of the mob that had formed, wanting to see her punished. Christ, she thought wringing her hands together in her lap, they won't stop until they see me dead. "I am not guilty of putting my name in the Devil's book," she insisted, clearly enunciating so that her words couldn't be misconstrued. "Nor have I ever seen such a book."

She was horrified by the realization that her words were falling on deaf ears.

...

She didn't run into him again until the day that she was walking the goats from their pasture. He'd promised her so many things that day that Lily had let him see her, and they had frightened her. It seemed too unreal, too dangerous. She wished that she'd never even listened to a word that Tom Riddle had said.

"Miss Granger," his voice called out from the road, and she knew that she couldn't just ignore him. "I've been meaning to stop by and inquire after you."

She bit her lip, coming face to face with the handsome future minister, his black hair blowing in the wind. It was getting cold now, and Hermione wrapped her arms around her body to give herself a bit of warmth. "Oh, I am sure that you have many more people - more important people - to ask after, than me."

He chuckled at that. "They might think that they are more important," he agreed. "But you are special, Hermione, just like me. Have you thought any more about what I told you?"

She nodded, cautiously. Despite promising herself that she would forget about everything that he said, she found herself thinking about his terrible promises, again and again. "I'm afraid. I feel like I am spinning out of control," she admitted.

"That's why you need my help, Hermione. I can teach you to control it," he promised, before grabbing her hands in his. He opened her palm and placed a leaf in the center. It was brown and split around the edges, but clearly dead. "Just trust me. Close your eyes."

Wanting to believe him for even a moment, Hermione found herself following his instructions. He never let go of her hand, and she focused on the warm feeling of his fingers. The wind swelled around them, and Hermione could feel him pulling on that wild and dangerous power that she seemed to have inside herself. Her pulse was racing and she began to feel warm all over.

After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke again. "Open your eyes," he instructed, not using that stern voice that he used when preaching, but instead one full of wonderment and childlike wonder. "Open them, Hermione."

When she did, her eyes immediately landed on her palm, and the perfectly formed, perfectly green leaf that occupied it. "Did I...?" she asked, trailing off, unable to complete her question. It seemed too forbidden.

Tom smiled at her, but nodded. "Yes," he told her. "It was all you, I just helped you channel it."

Staring into his blue eyes, she couldn't stop herself from continuing. "And what is...it?" she asked. Her eyes immediately shut, knowing that she didn't really want to know the answer. "Witchcraft?" she tacked on, her voice so quiet that she wasn't even sure that he would hear it.

"No, Hermione, not witchcraft," he answered her. She could practically hear the superior smirk on his lips.

"Then what is it?" she practically begged, frightened of what it was that she had inside of her, bubbling up under the surface.

"Magic."

...

Pansy was already sniffling by the time that she took the stand to be questioned by Lucius Malfoy, though Hermione didn't believe it for a second. She prayed that none of the other villagers would be swayed by the lies that she was sure to spew, but she knew it would be hard not to. Pansy's father owned lots of land, after all.

"Hermione Granger has been tormenting me for weeks now," Pansy said, glaring at Hermione where she sat. "I think it was because she was jealous that I was having so many suitors at the moment."

Hermione was barely able to stop from scoffing, knowing that that was the most preposterous thing she'd ever heard. For one, Pansy had no suitors. But even if she did, Hermione would not be jealous. She did not feel that she needed a man to make her happy. She would be just fine on her own.

"And how did she torment you?" Lucius Malfoy asked, leaning on the fancy cane that he always carried with him.

Pansy sneered at Hermione. "At first she would just send her familiars," she said with a frown. "All manner of cats and animals. Crows to peer in my windows and whisper terrible things to me. Cursing me. I knew that it was Hermione."

For a moment, Hermione wished that she would be able to question Pansy in return. Hearing that she had followed her as a cat or a crow just sounded too insane to be believed. But she knew that it would only look bad for her if she was too harsh with the other girl.

"It wasn't long before just spying on me wasn't enough," Pansy continued. "I crossed paths with Hermione one afternoon while I was riding my horse. We spoke, and before I knew it a odd wind had come up making all the animals go wild. My horse bucked me off and I nearly broke my leg," the pug-nosed girl insisted.

Startled gasps rippled through the gathered people, everyone of the them staring at Hermione, whispering about how awful she must be to do that to poor Pansy. Hermione kept her gaze, unwavering, on the girl who was still testifying.

"I've seen her. Hermione," Pansy said, her voice dipping an octave, as though she were about to tell a very big secret. "Out in the forest, with a man."

"A man?" Lucius asked, his head tilted to one side. "Could you describe him?"

"No," Pansy said, shaking her head resolutely. "I never got close enough. But I know who he was all the same. It could be no one other than the devil."

Feeling real fear, Hermione wondered just how much Pansy might have actually seen. Glaring at the other girl, she knew that she needed to keep her quiet.

Just then, Pansy started gasping for breath on the stand, her hands beginning to claw at her neck in desperation. Her eyes were wild as she struggled to get even a breath of air into her lungs.

Hermione relaxed.

Suddenly, Pansy gulped in a huge breath, only to immediately point her finger towards Hermione in accusation. "There! You've all seen it! She's doing it right now as we all watch," she cried out, making a spectacle of herself. "Hermione Granger is a witch!"

...

Tom had showed her a power inside of her that she never could have imagined. For the longest time, Hermione had known that she had something unknown bubbling up inside of her, but it had always frightened her. Tom had given her the tools to explore what she had and how to control it, making her realize that it was a gift, not something to be feared.

It hadn't taken that long, but the young man had completely weaseled his way into her brain, in her thoughts, until his voice was the voice inside of her head.

She had wondered aloud to him that it seemed odd that he would know about magic when he was also training to become the village's minister. "The people of the village are desperate for someone to tell them what to do, for someone to exert their power over them," Tom explained with a sinister smirk on his lips. "But not you and I, Hermione. We are special. We have the true power to wield, to get these sheep to do what we want."

At first it seemed detestable to Hermione, to think of them that way, but she quickly came around to Tom's way of thinking. Each and every clandestine meeting in the forest, the seed that he planted only grew wilder. Hermione eagerly lapped up every ounce of knowledge that Tom was willing to share with her.

"You are progressing remarkably," Tom praised her, one crisp afternoon in the clearing that Hermione had come to think of as theirs. "But, we could accomplish so much more if we could meet more regularly, without having to worry about prying eyes." He brought his hand up to cup her jaw, his fingertips trailing along the soft skin of her cheek.

Hermione could feel her eyes slip closed as she let the intoxicating thought of spending more time with Tom fill her mind. She loved every stolen minute that she could find with him.

"Can you think of a reason that you would need to meet with me?" he pressed, further.

Her eyes opened, looking into the darkness of his. "I can come up with a reason to tell the Potters," Hermione agreed. Already, she was trying to figure out the best lie to tell them. Maybe she could mention something with books or her education. Lily was quite outspoken about the need for women to be educated.

"Good," Tom said, that smirk slipping back onto his lips. Then, he was leaning forward, until their lips finally came together in a kiss. Hermione had never been kissed before and she savored the moment, feeling as he moved against her. She gasped, feeling his tongue moving along the seam of his lips, letting him into her mouth. When his tongue slid against hers in a passionate twist, she felt as if her heart might beat right out of her chest.

She couldn't wait to see all the things that he would be able to teach her.

...

"Miss Granger, why do you insist on hurting these children? Pansy and Draco have done nothing to you," Lucius Malfoy continued his questioning, after hearing the sensational lies of both of the teens.

It was all Hermione could do not to roll her eyes at the suggestion that Pansy and Draco were totally blameless. They had made it their personal missions to make sure she knew that she didn't belong from the first day that she came to the tiny village on the coast with her mother, after her father moved to Australia. When her mother died, they had only increased their teasing, reminding her at every chance that she was nothing more than a penniless orphan. Hermione had often dreamed about getting even with the hateful pair, but until Tom, she hadn't had the tools to defend herself.

There was no way that she would admit any wrong doing to Lucius Malfoy, though. And she would especially not admit to the magic that she could wield, knowing the fate that would befall her.

"I've already told you this," Hermione whined, trying to keep a better composure of herself. "I didn't do anything to Pansy or Draco." It was hard not to get exasperated, when she felt as though nothing she said would convince them otherwise.

"Did you sign your name in the Devil's book?" he asked her sharply, perhaps hoping to catch her off-guard.

Hermione shook her head, sending her curls this way and that from the forcefulness. Honestly, she thought to herself, as though the Devil would have you sign your name in a book. "No, I didn't sign my name in the Devil's book."

"So what about Miss Parkinson's assertion that she saw you in the forest with the devil? Are you saying that she is lying?" Malfoy asked, raising one white blond eyebrow.

Hermione nibbled at her lower lip, knowing that this was likely a trap. "I do not meet in the forest with the Devil," Hermione finally answered. "I am not saying that Pansy is lying, but perhaps she is just...mistaken about what she saw."

"Then which man were you with in the forest if you were not with the Devil?" he countered.

Unbidden, Hermione's eyes searched the assembled villagers for a sign on Tom, but she didn't see any sign of him. Swallowing thickly, Hermione gathered her wits. "I can't think of any one in particular," she said, her voice no longer sounding as confident as it usually did. "It must have just been a chance encounter, someone I passed while I moved the goats."

Lucius Malfoy rewarded her with an awful smile. "I don't believe you, Miss Granger," he said, though it didn't shock Hermione. "I think that you have been meeting the Devil in the forest, that you have signed your name in his book, and that you have been lying with the Devil himself. Admit it."

Hermione did gasp at the hurled accustation. "I will not admit to something that I did not do!" she nearly shouted. "I did not meet with the Devil or sign my name in his book. And I did not lie with the Devil, either."

...

Once they were out of the open and instead sequestered in the tiny cottage where Tom lived, it seemed impossible to keep their hands off of one another. Hermione had been meeting him for a little more than a fortnight, helping him with his texts as far as the Potters were concerned, but really he was teaching her how to use her powers.

Hermione was amazed to know how much was possible.

"If anyone bothers you, you can make them hurt," Tom had whispered in her ear one time. The thought was awful and horrifying, but there was something about it that made her curious. She could still remember the first time she'd tripped Pansy with her magic and the way that the satisfaction had bloomed in her chest when she saw the girl's scraped, bloody hands.

Tom was eager to hear about how she used her magic against the other villagers. There was something about her whispered words that drove him wild with desire, until he was pulling her body against him, his fingers working to loosen her bodice so that he could slip inside and cup her breasts. She knew that it was wrong, but she didn't even bother trying to tell him that. She knew that he wouldn't care either.

When he would pull her back into his bedroom, Hermione was happy to fall back to the mattress with a sigh, lifting up her skirts while he would undo his trousers, revealing his manhood to her greedy eyes. If it had been anyone but Tom who had tried to lie with her, she could have sent a hex his way, but with Tom...she wanted to drown within his passion.

Since that first time that he lie with her, she was always hot and eager for him to have his way with her, and she welcomed him between her legs at every chance. She doubted that there could ever be anything better than the feeling of him thrusting forward into her, again and again, until her body would spasm around him.

It was wrong and forbidden, she knew, but that knowledge also just made her want him more.

Hermione was sure that Tom had ruined her for any other man. She was positive that she would never feel like this for anyone else, the feeling of him inside her and his kisses pressed to her neck would be forever imprinted in her mind. She would never stop wanting him.

How could she not when he'd opened her eyes to so much - the magic within her and the magic of how her body could feel? He'd given her the greatest gift.

...

"But Miss Granger," Lucius Malfoy's voice cut like a knife in the stillness of the room, everyone on edge, not wanting to miss one of the details. "You cannot expect me to believe that."

"Why would you believe that I have been lying with the Devil?" she countered, feeling rather like a cornered animal, about to be slaughtered. She wished that she had the power to destroy everyone in the room, but she didn't trust herself enough to try it. She was worried that the only way that she was getting out of the room was with a death sentence. "To me, it seems an unbelievable suggestion."

His smirk should have been telling enough. "You were examined by the doctor prior to your testimony here, today, when you were held in the jail over night," he said slowly, pacing back and forth across the room to make his point. "It was determined that you are pregnant, Miss Granger."

She had known that this moment was coming, but Hermione was still unprepared for the way that it hurt. She saw the looks on everyone's faces, the disgusted and disappointed way that they stared at her for being young and unmarried and pregnant. But, she wouldn't apologize for the baby that was growing in her womb, because it was proof of her love of Tom.

Jutting her chin out high in the air, Hermione made eye contact with Lucius Malfoy. She wouldn't let anyone see just how much it hurt. "I hardly see how that means that I must be in bed with the Devil."

"If that's the case, Miss Granger," Malfoy countered with an exacting smile. "It seems that it would be easy enough to disprove. All that you would have to do is share the identity of the child's father with us."

She swallowed, wishing that she'd been able to share the news with Tom first, so that they might have come up with a plan first. Then she would know what to say. "I fail to see how the child's father has any relevance to these proceedings."

"It's simple - either provide us with a name, or we must assume that your child was conceived by dark forces!" Malfoy called out, making everyone gasp in surprise. "Do you bare the spawn of the Devil, Miss Granger?"

"I do not carry the spawn of the Devil!" Hermione shouted back, losing her cool manner for the first time in the proceedings. It was just so offensive for her to hear her child spoken about that way.

"Then give us a name," Malfoy demanded.

"I will not," Hermione insisted, blinking back the tears.

Although, now that she thought about it, if the villagers had any idea what it was that the good, innocent Tom Riddle was up to, they might think that he really was the Devil incarnate.

...

"Pansy has been bothering me again," Hermione revealed one afternoon with a frown. "She delights in teasing me over the color of my hair or that my parents are dead. She has no idea what I am capable of." Her fingers twitched at her side, wanting to form a fist, but knowing that it was useless. She had never hit another person before, and knew it wasn't likely to do a lot of good.

Tom smirked, looking up from where he was sitting, his fingers running down the page of a large book. "You are right, of course," he said. "She has no idea what you can do, no idea of the power that resides inside of you."

The words were intoxicating as always. But then again, who didn't like being told that they were special? That she was powerful.

He stood, crossing the small room with relative ease, coming to stand behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a small kiss to her temple. "You should show her what happens if she is mean to you," he continued, instructing her always. "Pansy is a mean, spiteful girl, and you should make her hurt."

Hermione wanted to shake her head, to dismiss the idea out of hand, but she couldn't. Tom's wrath had already taken root inside of her, and she liked the feeling too much to let it go. Instead, she spun around in his arms, looking up at her. "I...I must confess to you," she said, softly, knowing the effect her words would have on him. "I already have made her hurt."

His dark eyes glittered in the dying lift of the afternoon. "Tell me. What did you do?" he demanded, his arms tightening around her, holding her safe to his chest.

"She was riding her horse," Hermione started, letting the memory of the afternoon fill her. "She was saying the foulest things about me. I spooked her horse, and she was bucked high up into the air, falling on the ground. I had thought that she had broken a leg, but, unfortunately, not. She is petrified now."

Tom cupped her chin, before kissing her soundly on the lips. It was a kiss so sensual that it was sure to mortify even the most liberal members of their puritan village, but Hermione loved the way that it made her feel. "You are so perfect, Hermione," he praised her, the words spilling from his lips. "You are such a good little witch."

She gasped at the word that he chose, but he was cutting off her protests with another kiss before she could voice them.

"Never feel sorry for what you are doing, Hermione," he instructed. "The world is already too full of people too weak to grasp the power that they themselves hold and use it to their advantage. Promise me you won't be weak."

"I won't be weak," she agreed, knowing that she would agree to anything that Tom said.

...

Hermione did everything that she could not to cry after her judgement was passed down from the smirking Lucius Malfoy. She knew that it was no great burden for him to declare her guilty, thinking that no one would miss the sad little orphan. Tucked into her jail cell, Hermione wondered if anyone would miss her. Would Tom? She hadn't seen him since she was arrested.

There was nothing that would stop the villagers from killing her now that they were convinced that she was a witch. All that remained was the decision of what to do with her child. Hermione knew that there were some factions who would argue that she be spared long enough to give birth to the child, only to face death once she bore it.

Others...She grimaced.

She knew that enough disbelief had been whipped up about the paternity of her child's father that there were plenty who would want to throw her into the sea with rocks sewn into her dress, pregnant or not. No one wanted the child of the Devil to be raised amongst them in the village.

Pulling her legs up to her chest, using them as a sort of shield to protect her from the chill that permeated the small, disgusting cell, Hermione tried not to let her thoughts grow completely out of control. Really, she had brought this on to herself. She'd grown too cocky, too sure of herself, singling out Pansy with her magic, enjoying making the other girl hurt. If she'd had a bit more caution, she likely would have avoided detection.

Who knew what her life would have been like then? Could she and Tom have ever been joined together in marriage? The child in her womb suggested not. She was sure to have been revealed as a harlot soon enough, as she doubted the timing would have been believable.

Still, she wished that she had gotten to see her lover one last time, to thank him for open her eyes to the power that resided inside of her. To tell him that she loved him with all of her heart.

She'd asked to speak with Tom, citing a desire to confess her sins before her sentence was determined, but she was told that he'd returned to Boston, something to do with his education. Another minister was being sought, but Malfoy could not promise that he would be found prior to her judgement being dispensed.

A noise startled her out of her misery. A whispered word - alohomora - caught her attention from the other side of the heavy wooden door. To her amazement, the door swung open. Looking up, her breath caught in her throat, Hermione was shocked to see Tom himself standing there, hand outstretched.

"You didn't really think that I'd leave you here to languish by yourself, did you?" he asked, helping her stand. She felt his magic settle over her as she was cleaned with a simple spell. "Come, me must go quick if we are to make it out of here unnoticed."

She followed him into the night.