A/N: Thank you all so much for the follow, favorites and reviews. It means so much to me that this story quickly got so much positive reception!
Warning: This begins out weird, but as the story goes along, IT WILL ALL BE EXPLAINED. So no flames please ;). Also, this story is not beta'd, so all mistakes are my own.
Chapter 2
xXx
Two weeks ago
Hermione and Theodore Nott, two Unspeakables for the Department of Mysteries, strolled through the halls of the Ministry on their way to the Minister's office in replace of their Department Head, Quentin Bulstrode. Originally, it was supposed to be a meeting between Quentin and Kingsley, but Quentin chose to send them in his stead instead. Hermione was his second-in-command and Nott was also high in the division. Rather, Quentin was too reluctant to speak with Kingsley himself, choosing to instead, take another senseless nap. Hermione did not like her department head, but she estimated that he was five years away from a hopeful retirement, so she strived through his constant annoyances and requests.
"What do you think Kinglsey wants this time?" Nott asked on their way to the office.
"Probably to speak about Goldstein's incident last week and how we're going to handle it. I hope Anthony won't be fired for this," Hermione answered, and Nott nodded.
"Be a shame," Nott said. "It was only an accident. So we're going to defend the chap right?"
"Course, Theo," Hermione agreed with a smile.
Her smile faded as her lower right side suddenly flared up in pain, and her whole body flinched and grimaced. That damn area had bothered her for years after the war ceased. She had initially surmised that it must be a sustaining injury from the battle, either a stray curse or a wound that was not fully healed. Yet, a year after the war and troubled intimacy, Ron made her see a Healer. After some diagnostics the Healer had told her that there was nothing there and there was nothing anyone could do, and that it was not at all detrimental to her health. So she left it alone. But that didn't stop it from flaring up every now and again.
Nott stopped walking as he studied her. "You all right, Hermione?"
"Yes, yes, I'm fine," she answered, pressing her hand against her side and putting on a straight face.
"You sure? Because I can talk to Kingsley about Goldstein myself if you need to go home," Nott implored.
"No, no, that's not necessary, this happens all the time. I can live with it," Hermione replied with a reassuring smile. "Let's go."
Reluctantly, Nott nodded once more, and he opened the door to Kingsley's office. While Hermione meandered her way inside his office, the pain flared up even more against her side. It was stinging and burning her, the scar testing her and laughing at her pain. Kingsley stood from his desk with a smile, and Hermione's face was passive as she and Nott shook his hand before they sat down.
"Good morning, Miss Granger, Mr Nott, I'm sure you know why you're both here. Make sure to pass this all to Mr Bulstrode," Kingsley began, but Hermione found it difficult to pay attention to the man. The pain in her side would not subside, and she reached for her wand inconspicuously in an attempt to assuage the pain. Kingsley continued to drawl on, and Hermione reassured herself that no doubt Nott was paying Kingsley every bit of attention he could. Her eyes squinted through the pain; it should be over soon, it should. It never lasted this long…
But Hermione opened her eyes the moment Nott screamed, "Shit!"
Her eyes immediately darted to Nott's shocked face, and for the first time in her life she saw a baffled Kingsley Shacklebolt.
Right there in front of her chair was an alarmed-looking Tom Marvolo Riddle as naked as the day he was born. Hermione's mouth dropped, and before she could compose herself, her pain subsided, and she pointed her wand against his chest.
"Oh, hello," the naked Riddle greeted, attempting a smile. "You see, I believe there must have been a mistake with my magic, erm, as you can all tell. So I'll be on my way, thank you."
Immediately, Hermione fumbled for a better grip on her wand and yelled, "Stupefy!"
A red light spurred out of her wand and knocked Riddle backwards, slamming and breaking Kingsley's desk.
"What the hell!" Nott exclaimed. "Who was that?"
"I need some answers, Hermione," Kingsley commanded as he stood from his chair.
"That-that was Tom Riddle, V-Voldemort," Hermione stuttered, not believing this to be true. How the hell could this have happened? He was dead. Everything had been perfect. And Harry…Harry…
Fuck.
xXx
Two Weeks Later
Two weeks ago, after Riddle appeared stark naked in Kingsley's office, Kingsley had issued that he be locked up in the Department of Mysteries inside the Room of Voices as both Hermione and Nott were Unspeakables. He declared that until the time was right, or when the circumstances surrounding Riddle's appearance was solved, no one besides the three of them would know about Riddle's presence, not even Quentin or the Auror Department.
Though, Hermione knew that the information must be released soon, not to the public of course. If people like Rita Skeeter got a hold of this information, the world would explode. But she knew that the information should at least be given to Harry. Every time she spoke to him, she wanted to scream and reveal everything. For now, Kingsley only wanted to determine whether or not this copy of Riddle was the real Riddle and not some devious ploy by a Death Eater, as the copy did not look a thing like the Voldemort they knew.
Lord Voldemort, or at least, some sort of reincarnation of his original self, still sat in the steel chair, smirking and toying with Hermione without uttering a single word. Surrounding the figure was an aura of mysteriousness that Hermione, Nott and Kingsley had unfortunately yet to solve.
"Ah, Miss Granger," Riddle greeted, his face passive. "Do come in, Nott's company was growing unpleasant, and I was missing my mudblood."
During the past two weeks, Hermione learned to ignore his constant degrading comments, no matter how much it made her blood boil every time that he spoke. Though, it made her blood boil each time she was forced to even look at him. He was no longer reminiscent of his snake-like form. Riddle retained his nose, and his face was aristocratic, with sharp features and thin lips. His deep black hair had returned to his scalp, it was a perfectly formed in a fluff upon his head, in the perfect way that would make someone desire to run their fingers through it. To her, he appeared to be reminiscent of what he looked like in his late twenties, however that was possible. Luckily, Nott had given Riddle some of his hand-me-downs, so that, as Nott said, 'No one has to see his junk anymore.'
Yet, Riddle's eyes still glinted red, revealing the treacherous psychopathic nature inside. His newfound existence was a mystery to the three of them, and now she was forced to spend most of her nights with him instead of tending to her normal duties. Whatever Death Eater or person had done this, whether it be a prank or a ploy, they would receive the highest form of punishment Hermione could concoct.
When Riddle came to them, Kingsley decided that he must be supervised by at least one of the three of them at all times. Even though it was quite humorous how Riddle came into being, Hermione wished he never had, even though the mystery was biting at her intelligence, beckoning her to solve it.
Kingsley said he would announce things about Riddle when the time was right, or when Riddle was confirmed to definitely be Voldemort and not some trick or ploy against their minds. Hermione desperately wanted to inform Harry, yet she did not wish to defy Kingsley.
So there she is every day, in front of the evil bastard who constantly smirked and chuckled, who only spoke with her. She despised him more than anything in the world, and she hated him for making her hide things from Harry and Ron. A thing like him.
"No response?" Riddle teased. "So unlike you, Miss Granger."
"You shouldn't be dignified with a response to a statement such as that," Hermione snapped as she walked towards him, pulling her wand out. His eyes looked towards her wand, and she gritted her teeth together. "Just the daily diagnostics check."
Riddle nodded his head slowly and stood from his seat and spread his long, pale arms out. She slowly ran her wand along his body. She reached her wand arm high to scan his head, but she would not let his height intimidate her, for she had special access at the moment to knee his groin. Also, she was the one with the wand at her disposal. When he appeared to them, he carried nothing at all; of course, he was as nude as the day he was unfortunately born.
"Done," Hermione muttered and immediately stood away from Riddle. He strode back to his chair and sat down, studying her.
She waved her waved and duplicated his chair, and pulled it towards herself at the opposite side of the room. She sat down and opened her purse which she had kept after the end of the war. She took out a manila folder that Quentin had bequeathed her earlier that day during her normal shift as a proper Unspeakable, not one babysitting a petulant ex-Dark Lord. She had to file some reports and collects notes upon a new conquest the department was trying to complete. She was happy to do anything that did not have to do with Riddle, even if it was in his presence.
Hermione ignored Riddle's eyes upon her as she browsed through the notes, making corrections as she went along.
"No books again? I'd really enjoy a book," he questioned, and she looked up at him and his devilish smirk.
"You don't deserve any entertainment," she snapped, looking back down at her work.
"Then why did the Minister send you to watch over me?" he teased.
She looked up and glared at him. "Don't you dare degrade me."
"Don't fret, now, Miss Granger. Your mere existence already does that for me," Riddle snarled.
"Fine, you want to talk, we'll talk," Hermione snapped and filed her papers back inside her purse. "How are you here?"
"Oh, Miss Granger." Riddle sighed and twiddled his fingers together. "You so desperately want to know, do you? It's tickling at you, teasing you, and it makes you want to scream, even torture me for a response. But I won't dignify you with one."
"As I figured," Hermione retorted. "But we'll find out eventually. How about let's discuss what I know."
"Do, do go on, I implore you," Riddle mockingly urged, feigning interest.
"During my meeting with Kingsley and Nott, you simply appeared out of thin air," she began. "At first I thought you were part of my imagination, rather, a part of my inner nightmares."
"So I frighten you," Riddle declared, inching further in his chair, a sly grin upon his face.
"You frighten everyone," Hermione stated plainly. "People called you, You-Know-Who, for many, many years, even after they believed you were dead the first time. They still call you that sometimes. You messed them up, Voldemort. "
"You're degrading my name with your filthy tongue. I suggest that you stop," Riddle snarled.
"So, Tom," Hermione said with a small smile. "Want to know what else I know?"
"What?" Riddle asked, his red eyes growing brighter.
"You look exactly like your Muggle father," she said, and leaned back in her seat, feeling victorious.
"Shut your filthy, little mouth, Mudblood," Riddle hissed, reminding her of her childhood enemy, Draco Malfoy. That's all this man could now amount to be, a childhood memory. She had forgotten about Riddle years ago, and she was able to move on with her life past the war. But here he was again, ready to torture more innocent souls.
Hermione smirked and pulled out her files again as she crossed her legs and resumed her work. She could feel his eyes still lingering upon her, but she would not let him bother her. For all she knew, he might not even be real. They would know when Kingsley's results returned from St. Mungo's. Inside of St. Mungo's, Kingsley claimed he had a confidante, who would inform him whether or not Riddle was human, a fake, or whatever the hell he could possibly be.
"I'm bored," Riddle suddenly complained after a few hours. "At least bring me a book. What's the harm? At least the voices around me are somewhat entertaining, but they're getting old."
"How about you just die?" Hermione suggested with a shrug as she continued to work. "I'm sure Hell will be quite thrilling. Tell the devil I say hello."
"I don't plan on it," Riddle quipped. "Rather, I plan on murdering everyone else, sending them all to the bowels of Hell where they belong. Twisting their pathetic little souls, and eating their hearts out for dinner."
"Which you won't," Hermione retorted. "You can't leave here, and you won't leave here. If anything, you'll finally leave here when you die, or when we choose to kill you."
"I can leave whenever I'd like," Riddle calmly replied. "I assure you."
Hermione looked up from her endless papers. "Good to know."
Riddle then became mute for her remaining hours in the room that day, and that was how she liked it. The voices within the room began to laugh, and she could feel their whispers tickling her ears, mocking her presence in the room.
At six in the morning, Kingsley finally arrived, and Hermione leaped when the knock on the door finally sounded. With a small farewell to Kingsley, she dashed out of the room, not looking back at Riddle, whose eyes never left her.
Once she was outside of the Ministry, she immediately apparated home, relieved to finally have a welcoming bed instead of Riddle's cold presence and an uncomfortable steel chair. She entered her small bedroom and gladly collapsed upon her warm mattress, falling into a deep slumber.
xXx
"Hermione, wake up," a voice urged, lulling her away from the beauty that sleep so rarely offered her.
"No," she murmured, her eyes still closed, wishing to fall back into the beautiful land of dreams, away from the nightmare that is her life.
"It's three in the afternoon. You wanted to go out at four. Remember?" the voice said in a soothing manner. A hand began to brush her bushy hair out of her face, and Hermione groaned, finally blinking her eyes open.
"Ergh," Hermione moaned as her vision came into focus, and she made out Ginny sitting on her bed. "Oh, Ginny, whaddya want?"
"Remember, we were going to go to that Muggle place you recommend to you know…" Ginny urged.
"I know what now?" Hermione asked, rubbing at her eyes.
"To discuss wedding plans!" Ginny shrieked. "Remember, you helped me out for mine and Harry's wedding, so I'm here to return the favor of course!"
"W-wedding!" Hermione exclaimed, sitting upright in her bed.
"Dammit Hermione, look at your left hand," Ginny snapped. "Ron proposed to you last night! On your birthday!"
"Right, right, sorry, not used to being awake right now," Hermione replied, taking deep breaths to let the shock flow out of her system. "Shit, I'm engaged."
"Yes, yes you are. Now get up and get dressed," Ginny ordered, standing from the bed and forcefully pulling Hermione out. "That's what you were wearing last night, Hermione! Merlin's beard!"
"Oh, right," Hermione muttered, looking down at her current clothes. "Let me, uh, let me fix that."
"I'll be on your couch when you're done," Ginny said, and she strolled out of the room.
Hermione groaned and ran her fingers through her hair, the last thing she wanted to do was to discuss her impending wedding. And remembering Ron's face only made the situation worse. She hadn't even remembered making plans with Ginny.
Hastily, she pulled on some clothes and quickly ran a brush through her hair. Ginny smiled at her when she finally left her bedroom and Hermione apparated them to an alley relatively close to a small Muggle café in London.
They turned the corner out of the alley and made their way towards the small café. At the counter Hermione ordered a coffee and some jammie dodgers to keep herself alert while Ginny ordered tea and a muffin.
"This place is adorable," Ginny cooed. "Now wedding time."
Hermione chuckled. "We haven't even set a date yet, and I just got engaged yesterday, not even twenty-four hours ago. Are you sure that this is necessary now?"
"Well, we do have to discuss a few things, like for example, I'm definitely your maid of honor," Ginny remarked.
"I thought that was pretty axiomatic." Hermione sniggered as she drank her coffee.
"And I think I know who can be the ring bearer or the flower girl along with Victoire or Teddy if the timing is right, which it better be. You don't have to get married right away," Ginny continued, a snide look in her eyes.
"Oh, and who's that?" Hermione questioned.
"Well, I've been meaning to tell you this for, well, not that long, but still. Anyway," Ginny paused and smiled, mischievousness laced in her eyes. "It could be my kid."
"Y-your kid," Hermione stuttered as Ginny sat back in her seat triumphantly and smirked at her. "You're pregnant!"
"That I am m'dear, and this kid," Ginny continued, gesturing towards her stomach, "will have a badass Bat Bogey Hex, I assure you."
"Oh Merlin! Congratulations!" Hermione shrieked, standing from her seat and hugging Ginny tightly.
"And of course, you and Ron will be godparents to this little fellow, or fella," Ginny said.
"Wow," Hermione said with a gracious smile. "I'm honored."
"You're welcome," Ginny remarked.
Hermione sat back down in her small, steel chair. "How far along are you?"
"Oh, about four weeks, I only found out two nights ago though, didn't want to take the attention off of you last night, birthday girl. It's probably four weeks anyway, but Harry and I are monkeys in the sack, we just go at it all the time, so it's hard to tell as we-," Ginny rambled, but Hermione cut her off.
"Okay, too much information." Hermione laughed.
"What? I bet you and Ron are monkeys in the sack as well. Wait, ew, my brother, I'll just stop there," Ginny continued, and noticed Hermione flushed red, her eyes darted towards the ground. "What, you don't?"
"Well, uh, I work a lot," Hermione muttered. "There's not much, uh, time, and since we don't live together yet. Oh Merlin, I don't know."
"It's all right. When your honeymoon comes along, that's all it's going to be, all day and all night," Ginny reassured. "Perk up! I'm pregnant!"
"It's fantastic, Ginny," Hermione commented. "I can't wait to meet the little guy or gal."
"And he or she will love a great babysitter," Ginny teased.
"Oh really?" Hermione sniggered.
"Yup!"
"Oh, shit," Hermione moaned, her eyes diverted to the clock on the wall.
"What is it?"
"I have to go." Hermione sighed and stood from her seat as she finished her coffee. "My shift starts in about ten minutes."
"Damn, they're overworking your arse," Ginny remarked.
"They have their reasons," Hermione mumbled as she walked over to Ginny and hugged her.
"Guess we didn't get any wedding planning done," Ginny said sadly, her lips pursed.
"It's fine, there'll be plenty of time to do all that crap," Hermione reassured as she parted the hug.
"Fine, but I'll be seeing you soon. And I mean it! Soon!" Ginny called after her after Hermione hurried out of the café.
"Goodbye!" Hermione called back as she dashed towards the alley. She waved her wand and apparated away near the Ministry's phone booth once more, on her way to the depths of Hell and Riddle's evil grin.
It made her sick.
xXx
A/N: Again, thank you all for the support, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Yes, things are weird, especially in the beginning and how/why Riddle's here. But trust me, it'll all be explained later in the story. Bit of a mystery, eh, ;)
Anyway, please leave a review (those little things right there get me all encouraged to write and stuff).
Love,
Montley