AN: This is a Tomione AU inspired by the 1997 film Anastasia; it was originally intended to be a one shot, but I have decided to continue the story.

"Ten million galleons, Riddle." Abraxas muttered as yet another failed contender slunk off the dimly lit wooden stage in disappointment. "All we need is a girl who can passfor Hermione Black for a single evening, and we'll never want for anything again!"

Tom pressed his palm into his eye as he tried to get the sound of the last "Hermione" attempting to sing "like a pureblood" out of his head. The girl, Millicent Bulstrode, had murdered a perfectly innocent operatic aria in increasingly higher octaves until Abraxas had shouted over her to stop. Now on top of suffering through the hordes of talentless pretenders that the decrepit city of Knockturn hid in its cracks and gutters, he would have an ear-splitting headache to make the experience that much more excruciating. "Whatever," he said tiredly, opening his eyes again. "How many more auditions do we have today?"

"Just five," Abraxas said after consulting the sign-up sheet they'd surreptitiously posted in the back of the pub. "Um, the next one is—"

"Pansy," Tom interrupted, scowling as the familiar dark-haired girl sauntered onto the stage. "What are you doing here, Parkinson?" he snapped, fixing her with one of his darkest glares.

The insufferable twit who used to cling to him and Abraxas during their shared school years fluttered her heavily made-up eyes in his direction. "Pansy? Parkinson? I have no idea what you're talking about, Tommy," she cooed. "Don't you see?" Here she pushed her chest out and dropped her shoulders back to allow her fur-lined cloak to slide down her body as she struck what must have been meant to be a seductive pose. Her voice took on a sultry quality as she drawled, "It's me, Daddy—Hermione Black!"

The pain in Tom's head became sharper.

"Parkinson, stop messing around," Abraxas said, shaking his head. "People in London already know who your parents are, there's no way they'd believe that you're Sirius' long-lost daughter."

Pansy stuck her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. She looked like she was about to say more, but Tom cut her off with a sharp look. "Leave now, Pansy. We don't have time for you today!"

"Hmph!" Pansy drew her gaudy cloak around her shoulders and turned her nose up before stomping off the stage. Tom let out another exasperated groan. This day could not get any longer. And so it went on…

After the last girl had left they retired to their rented office across the street from the theater. Tom collapsed into his chair and allowed his shoulders to slump and his head to fall back as he staring at the cracked ceiling in despair.

"Between this week and the last, we must have seen every single girl in Knockturn!" he complained. "How is there not a single witch who can pass for Hermione Black?"

Abraxas didn't answer; instead he just reached into his robes and pulled out his flask of firewhiskey, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to Tom. Tom accepted it and took a swig, vainly hoping the alcohol would burn away his problems as it burned down his throat. When he finished, he handed it back to Abraxas, who took his own long drink.

"So what now?" Abraxas said once he'd swallowed, looking at Tom. "Do we keep searching?"

"The money's too good to stop," Tom said, letting his eyes fall closed as a sense of despair washed over him. "If we have to, we can widen the search. Try some of the surrounding villages. Why is there a shortage of curly-haired brunettes in a seventeen to twenty age bracket? You would think it wouldn't be so—"

He was interrupted by the loud bang of the light wooden door of their rented room being pushed open with far too much force. He and Abraxas spun around to face the intruder. Tom's hand instinctively grasped at the wand concealed in his pocket, but when he saw that the figure standing in the doorway was only a disheveled young woman, he relaxed his grip on his weapon and began to consider her.

The girl was nothing short of common and plain; she had frizzy brown curls that looked as though they hadn't seen a brush in a year and were doing their best to escape the confines of the headband that held them back. Her nose was the slightest bit upturned, and a light smattering of freckles dusted across her features. Her front teeth were a rather large, and were currently employed in nervously chewing on her bottom lip. Yet her eyes were bright and burning with a bold, determined light. It was hard to assess her figure as she was dressed in drab clothes of coarse brown fabric that hung shapelessly off her body, but she seemed rather lithe and petite. On one arm she'd hung a worn basket covered with a tattered red cloth, and in the other she held a writhing mass of ginger-colored fur that took Tom a full thirty seconds to identify as a large, ugly cat.

"Excuse us," Abraxas sniffed, giving the intruder and her pet one of his haughty, aristocratic glares, a leftover from his upbringing. "This is a private space! I'm not sure why that door was unlocked, but you're not supposed to be here, and if you do not remove yourself this instant, my colleague and I will be forced to—"

Tom cut his partner off by holding up a hand as pushed his chair back and stood up. He slowly walked across the room towards the girl, who stared at him for a moment before stammering out,

"Are- are you Tom Riddle?"

He cocked his head a bit, slowly starting to walk around her, his eyes sweeping up and down over her features. Was there something there? The hair was right, and her features, though plain, could reasonably be argued to resemble those of Sirius Black's muggle paramour… A change of clothes, a new hairstyle, and a few etiquette lessons might just render a complete transfiguration, one that could come close to being what they need… "Perhaps I am," he drawled after letting the silence hang for a minute. "That would depend entirely on why you want to see him."

Frowning, the girl twisted her head around to follow his movements and huffed slightly. "Look, I don't want to make any trouble for anyone. I just need to get to London, and I'm told that a man by the name of Tom Riddle is the one to see about it—hey, why are you circling me like that?" she cried. She whipped around to face him and released her grip on her cat so she could place a hand on her hip. "What, were you an owl in another life?"

Tom stopped his pacing and brought his hand up to his face, making a show of pensively stroking his chin while really attempting to mask the wicked grin that had spread across his features. And here he'd just about been ready to give in to despair! "I'm sorry, it's just you look an awful lot like…" he shook his head. "Never mind. Tell me, my dear—" he paused and frowned. "What did you say your name was, again?"

The girl looked at him suspiciously, but he just responded by giving her one of his wide, charming smiles, and after a moment, she cautiously replied, "well, I didn't, but I'm Emma."

Tom quirked one eyebrow. "Emma what?"

Her face clouded over with a look of longing. "Well, that's just it, I don't really know. I'm an orphan, you see, and I don't know who my family was. I have no memories of my childhood, and have been alone for as long as I can remember… That's why I need to go to London!" she proclaimed as her free hand moved to clasp what appeared to be some locket hanging around her neck. "It's the only clue I have to my true identity!"

A veritable orphan with no identity? How convenient! Tom looked towards Abraxas and saw the realization slowly creeping into the other man's eyes. He tried to keep his smirk relatively innocent as he looked back at their visitor.

"People were right to send you to me, Emma. You see, I do have the resources to get people to London," Tom said, keeping his tone careful and even despite his racing excitement. "Three people, in fact. Me, Mr. Malfoy over there, and Hermione Black."

Emma's eyes grew wide. "Hermione Black?" she cried incredulously. "But—look, I know there've been lots of rumors lately, but isn't she dead?"

"On the contrary, Miss Emma." Abraxas finally joined the conversation, coming over to stand besides Tom and placing a hand on his colleague's shoulder. "Tom here can personally attest to the fact that she is indeed alive; he was present in Black Manor the night of the attack."

Emma blinked, and then looked at Tom, caution and suspicion now lighting up her gaze. "Oh really? That's awfully convenient, isn't it?"

Tom smiled indulgently. "Nevertheless, it's true. My mother was a servant in their household, and I was kept around as a… playmate of sorts for the young Miss Black. It was actually through my assistance that she escaped, although I unfortunately lost track of her afterwards."

Emma snorted, and even had the audacity to roll her eyes. "Right. Sure. And before the Revolution, I was best of friends with Ariana Dumbledore! I'd still be writing her today, you know, if I could get an owl out of Knockturn."

Tom gritted his teeth. He couldn't help being the slightest bit offended at her unwillingness to believe his story; he lied about many things in his life without qualm, but for once he was actually telling the truth! However, his genial facade needed to be maintained if he wanted to charm her into cooperating, so he forced a smile and said calmly, "It doesn't matter if you believe me or not. Hermione Black is alive, and Abraxas and I have set out to find her and restore her to her family. My resources are limited, and I'm afraid I don't have enough magic to get more than the three of us into London."

Emma's face fell for a moment, before she shook her head and fiery determination lit up her eyes once more. "That's alright, I don't need you to bring me to London. If you just tell me how to get past the guards, I'm sure I can figure out the rest on my—"

"Do you have money?" Tom interrupted, knowing full well what her answer would be. She paused before slowly shaking her head.

"No, but I can—"

"Do you think my knowledge of the Order's weaknesses was so easily gotten that I can afford to give it away for free?" he asked calmly. He wanted to smirk at her crestfallen expression, but to his surprise, her dejection lasted only a second before she scowled and straightened her shoulders, and said firmly,

"I can see that you'll be of no help to me; very well, I'll just go find someone else! Crookshanks, where did you—Crookshanks, get away from him!" Emma bent down to retrieve her ginger beast from where it was vigorously rubbing itself against a mortified Abraxas' legs, leaving behind a mess of orange fur that Tom knew he'd be hearing complaints about for weeks. As the girl was muttering an apology to the scandalized former aristocrat, Tom decided it was time to move things along.

"You know, Emma, I'm not sure you've really thought about everything I've said," he began, giving her another another innocent smile as he reached out to stroke her cat's head. It hissed, so he quickly withdrew his hand.

Emma's brows knitted together as she attempted to sooth the angry feline in her arms. "What do you mean?"

"Well, here you are, looking for your home, at the same time that everyone else is looking for the poor, lost heiress to the most ancient and noble of the pureblood houses. Has it not even occurred to you that there might be a reason for that? That the answer to both questions might be one in the same?"

A stray curl had fallen into Emma's face, and with her arms full of the struggling Crookshanks, she had become distracted by trying to blow it out of the way, but as Tom's words sunk in, she stopped and allowed it to fall across her eyes as she gaped at him incredulously.

"Wait, are you trying to say you think I'm Hermione Black?"

"Think about it, Miss Emma," Abraxas said. "The greatest mystery of the age just happens to arise at the same time as you attempt to answer such a vital question about yourself? And besides, you've got the Black family look about you!" He gestured towards her form.

"Regulus's smile!" Tom offered.

Abraxas smirked. "And Bellatrix's hair!"

Tom reached out to take ahold of the girl's chin and tilted her head from one side to the other. "You're the right age, the right stature, I'm telling you, Emma, you could be the one they're looking—"

"Mr. Riddle!" Emma cried out, her voice suddenly shrill as she stepped out of his reach. "This is absolutely ridiculous! I would think I would know if I was the daughter of a sacred twenty-eight family, don't you?"

"Ah, but don't you have no ideawho your family really is?" Tom said, giving her a pointed look. "You could be anyone, couldn't you? A Smith, a Boot, even a Black!"

Emma's mouth opened and closed soundlessly a few times as she shook her head, looking between Tom and Abraxas and backing up towards the door. "I heard you were sketchy, but they never mentioned the fact that you're insane!"

"There's no need to resort to such name-calling," Abraxas chided, frowning at her. "We're simply stating a very real possibility. What with all the rumors, it's a wonder you hadn't considered it yourself!"

Emma scoffed. "Come on! I mean, look at me! No one in their right mind would think that I was a descendant of the Black family. The pair of you are downright delusional!"

Despite her words, Tom could see the slightest bit of doubt or confusion in her eyes, and he knew he'd have her hooked. Even if she truly couldn't be convinced she was Hermione Black, she'd have to be dumb not to play along, since he would get her to London if she did. Now all that remained was the final push, and for that, he'd utilize a bit of reverse psychology…

"Well if that's what you truly think, that I suppose it's for the best," Tom said, lacing his voice with notes of regret. "We really must save our resources for Hermione Black; I'm sure you understand. It's a shame we couldn't get you to London, but, c'est la vie!" Tom stepped over to the door and opened it while she stared at him. He gently put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her out into the hallway, smiling cheerfully once more. "Good luck with your search for an identity!" With that, he pulled the door closed, shutting her out of the room.

"Riddle! What are you doing!" Abraxas hissed, giving his business partner a glare. "You just pushed away the perfect Hermione—"

Tom smirked. "Wait for it," he murmured, leaning against the wall. Abraxas threw his hands up in the air, but ten seconds later, three sharp raps sounded from the other side of the door. Tom winked at the other man before pulling it open again.

"Well, since I don't have any memories of my life before the orphanage, I can't really say that I'm not Hermione Black, you know?" Emma said as she pushed her way back into the room. Her cat jumped out of her arms again as she began to pace around. "And if you think so, then really what's the harm in going with you to London to see? The Blacks would certainly be able to tell if I'm related to them, so if I'm not, it'll be fine!"

"I'm pleased you could see things our way, Emma," Tom said, managing to throw a satisfied smirk Abraxas' way without the girl seeing.

"Indeed! I must say, it's an honor to be the one restoring you to your rightful place, Lady Black," Abraxas said, holding out his arm to her. "Come, why don't we sit down and discuss the particulars of our endeavor?"

Emma eyed his proffered arm for a long minute before tentatively accepting it. Abraxas led her over to their table and pulled out a chair in an imitation of a gentlemanly gesture. As they were getting situated, Tom shut the door and secured it against any possible intruders or eavesdroppers. One couldn't be too paranoid in a place like Knockturn; it was actually a sign of how exhausted he'd been earlier that he'd forgotten and Emma had been able to get in.

Once that was done, he made his way over to where Abraxas was busy pouring some tea to Emma, whose hands he kept swatting away as she tried to assist him.

"You must learn to be served, Miss Emma." he chided. "You're a Black, after all."

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes, but accepted the chipped china cup from the pale blonde wizard. Tom took the seat to her left, and folded his hands on the table. "Now, my dear, why don't you tell us a little about yourself—well, what you remember, that is. Where have you—"

"Mreow." All of the sudden, there was the sound of a scuffle in the corner, and a moment later, Emma's mangy cat trotted over to where the three humans were sitting. In its mouth it was holding a struggling, slightly bloodied grey rat.

Tom would have thought that Emma might be disturbed by the sight of the rodent, but to his surprise, she started cooing. "Oh, clever Crookshanks! Look at you, you caught the big mean rat all by yourself!"
Abraxas had turned even paler than usual and his hand flew to cover his heart. "My Lady! I am utterly mortified that you there was such a disgusting creature in your presence! I promise, in the future, your accommodations will be much more befitting a lady of your status!"

Tom chuckled at his colleague's ruffled composure, inclined to be amused by the whole incident, especially since Emma didn't seem bothered in the least. However, his good humor evaporated quickly when Crookshanks jumped up onto the table and dropped the still wriggling rat into his lap.

The shock at having a bloody rodent land on his person was so great that he couldn't help shouting out and jerking back, which unfortunately caused his chair to go flying back and he ended up sprawled out on the floor. The rat took advantage of his confusion to make a dash towards freedom, slinking away into a hole in the wall before Crookshanks could go after him again.

"My word!" Abraxas cried as Tom pulled himself up and tried to regain his composure. It didn't help that the girl Emma had dissolved into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. "What sort of a display was that, Riddle?"

Tom glared at his business partner sourly. "Watch it, Malfoy," he growled, righting his chair and sitting back down. The cat was now sitting in the center of the table and swishing its long bushy tail across all of their papers. It fixed Tom with what he imagined was a reproachful look. Its mistress was still overcome with mirth at Tom's episode, but between bouts of laughter she managed to get out,

"I'm sorry, Mr. Riddle. Crookshanks only found me two days ago, and I haven't had the time to teach him proper manners—"

"You mean this creature is a stray?" Abraxas looked like he might have a fit from the scandal of it. "What if it's carrying diseases? It certainly is not a suitable companion for a young lady; it must go back out to the streets at once!

Tom just rolled his eyes. "These days, everyone's a stray in Knockturn. We can hardly throw them out based on that alone. Still," he added, frowning at Emma. "If it's going to be around, keep it under control."

Emma giggled again, but she did reach out and pick the bushy orange cat up, bringing him into her lap.

"Now that that's settled," Tom said as he smoothed back his ruffled hair and then folded his hands on the table, smiling widely at this unremarkable girl who could be the key to the biggest profit of his lifetime. "Let's get down to business."